Date: 2003-03-01
From: Springer Shelter

To: Hawk Mt. Shelter
Miles today: 7.4

Day OneThe game is afoot!Woke up in Springer shelter to rain on the tin roof. Cricket was first up, and nearly packed before I even stirred. Due to the rough shape of FS 42, she was eager to get down the mountain before it got worse, and I couldn't blame her. Later we would learn that a car was stuck, but luckily it was not Cricket's vehicle.As her parting act of Trail angeling, my dear Southern Pines friend went out in the rain to the bear cables and brought in my pack.It was soaked, as we hadn't expected rain. All the padding dripped like a sponge. Lovely. You want to backpack, Sugar? Well, let's see if you are serious...Ah well, it was a day to wear rain gear anyway. The mist was heavy and a cold drizzle came and went. I walked Cricket down the Trail a bit, then we hugged. "No!" I teased, putting it on a bit. "Wait! Don't go!" It struck me this was my last link to home, and my link was walking down the hill to heated car seats and BoJangles biscuits. It was a huge thing for Cricket to have brought me down, nine driving hours one way, and girl, if you are reading this, I don't take it lightly. I am very grateful.After going to "scratch the litterbox" as Cricket would say, I moseyed up to the Springer summit with Bumpkin and Dog. Wench strode up a few minutes later, and Bumpkin's son Kevin shot the obligatory Springer photos.I asked Bumpkin if she wanted to carry Ted's flag today, as it would be her only chance. I will carry it tomorrow. It doesn't feel too heavy.Re: Ted's flag - he wanted to carry a flag down the AT that had flown in combat. Since it was likely we would be going to war during our hike, he wanted to carry it on "a peaceful mission." Though people sometimes use our flag as a bludgeon, this seemed like an idea I could get behind. Now that Ted was gone, four days before leaving for his thru-hike, his friends have decided to carry it down the Trail for him. Going down, we met everyone coming up. For the only time of the day, the sun cracked out.In the 42/ Springer parking lot, more of Pack 31 took shape. A/Train appeared out of the mist, waiting for his partner Red. A familiar red van was parked - it was Bett, trail name Swallowtail. She was handing out candy, oranges, apples. She gave me a banana, a bag of candy and a big hug. The hugs have been thick and free this week, and I am liking it. She also pinned some ribbons on me, to symbolize the women's hiking list we both participate in.Finally, after another round of photos (oh! how is my hair?), I walked on down the trail - one mile down, 2,161.8 to go...I always forget how hard backpacking is. I guess it's like childbirth. The pack is way too heavy, and my feet smash flat into the ground. Oh well. I know now, from experience, that the burden of the pack will become routine.I hiked the morning with Dog, Wench and Happy, who reminds me of my friend Hopeful, who I just learned was going to start a thru-hike on April Fool's Day. Both have a great attitude, tell stories and have a wry sense of humor.We took several pack-off breaks: Stover Creek shelter, Long Creek Falls, Hickory Flats. Terry and son came right behind. Lots of water over Long Creek Falls, and it brought to mind my waterfall photographing friends, Rich and KT. If you want to see some eye-popping photos, check out www.ncwaterfalls.comWe lunched at Hickory Flats, a church pavilion that Dog and I had stayed at on a hike in the fall of 2001. It was on that same hike I also met my Long Trail partner, Clyde. It was so chilly and wet, we all cooked something hot to eat.Less than 2 miles to Hawk Mt. shelter for the night. We knew today was an easy day, relatively speaking, but we were tired. Chalk it up to pre-hike stress, lack of time to train and poor sleep the night before. I look forward to when I get my Trail legs, in about a month.The shelter area is jammed with tents, but surprisingly, there is still plenty of space inside. People must be eager to try out their tents. I am grateful to be in and dry tonite.What luck! Bone Dancer, an anthropology graduate, has lugged a 7-pound banjo up from Amicalola this morning. This shelter in the Appalachian mountains fills with the lively sounds of his bluegrass picking, until his fingers start chilling, anyway.I am weary, wet and cold, and am turning in for the night.Tomorrow, Sassafras Mt. and the long pull after Justus creek.