Date: 2012-04-09
From: Russel Field Shelter

To: Derrick Knob Shelter
Miles today: 9.2
Weather: clear sky

April 9, 9.2 miThe mountains began to change as I entered the thick of the Smokies. I couldn't necessarily tell the difference in the climb (Georgia had been difficult too) but the mountains surrounding the peak or ridge on which I flew looked more like Colorado's Rocky Mountains or the tall pine-studded sharps in Northern California. White rock at the top, bare creases and slopes, instead of the misty gentle blue humps. Elevation gains were equal in some parts of Georgia but I'd walked into a different state entirely.At the top of a giant bald mountain I'd just scaled I found a waterproof, Rite in the Rain note with ¢C.V.¢ written boldly in pen. A note for me! I stooped down and opened to an ingeniously compartmentalized rolled cigarette within the folds of the lined paper. Based on the width and make of it, I knew right away who it was from. ¢A smokey (mountains) treat!¢ the note read at the top. And then, by way of signing, it read: ¢See you down there, Wobbles.¢ It was the last I ever heard from him. He and Voltron were too fast. But I thoroughly enjoyed the cigarette, mixed with just enough green to get me high but not stoned or destroyed. And he'd rolled it so that it went out if I didn't puff it too often. He'd seen the way I salvaged cigarettes and smoked them at intervals. Revitalized and reinspired, I sauntered down the great mountain I'd just climbed, taking my time with this one, just enjoying the moment and the spectacular views. It had taken me about five hours just to get to this height. I savored the rest of my descent. I finished reading Much Ado About Nothing and left it in a shelter for someone else to read (or to start a fire with). The text qualified as an ultralite book because the pages were like Bible paper. I found a very large, thick knit sock with a hole in its toe. Just one sock. The other was probably still being worn or kept as a backup. Bored, I widened the hole by tearing it, took off my right boot, then slipped this single gargantuan sock up my leg. It came all the way up to my upper thigh, the tips of where my shorts dangled. I liked the asymmetrical, pirated look and the weather at this elevation was getting very, very cold at night. I could use it.I'd also been aware for quite some time that I was dangerously low on food. I'd entered the Park without resupplying because I'd descended into the entrance where all the main roads were at night. Also, I guess I'd stopped caring about myself. Listening to a frantic Thin Timber the day before trying to plan out how the two of us would survive on what he had for the length of the Smokies was enough for me not to want to be a bother. It wasn't fair that I was a loser. I'd even admitted to him that I had next to no money. Realistically, it was probably more than he'd bargained for when he'd approached me at first. ¢I want to hike with you, I want to get to know you,¢ he'd said. But this was impossible. I dusted some more of those hiker box almonds with a chicken-flavored ramen packet and called it a day. ¢Don't worry about it,¢ I told myself as I set my tent up behind the stone shelter, trying not to beg of the hikers inside. If I didn't want to listen to snoring, I didn't really feel like I had a right to impinge. But that night I woke up very hungry. I cuddled around my pack for warmth, though I knew my twenty degree bag was warm. I worried that those inside the shelter could hear me rustling around, that I was being rude, that I was offensive in every way.Eventually I told myself that this was nonsense, that I was crazy for thinking such things. The shelter was made of stone, after all. There was no way they could hear me. I climbed out of the tent with the intention of taking a breather and a piss. I was amazed. Just walking through the grass behind a tree was a fairy tale trip in itself. The bushes and grass pouffed gently with the wind. Clean, black night. Fine stars. Cold, absolutely silent.I was in the middle of nowhere.And I didn't realize that this lightness I felt was the beginning of starvation.