Date: 2004-04-30
From: Sassafras Gap Shelter, NC

To: Pitter Patter of Little Feet
Miles today: 15.2

I was hoping that my first night in a shelter would enable me to get a decent sleep. It was a better shelter than most because it contained a loft in addition to the usual wooden floor which accommodates seven or eight people, or maybe a few more in a pinch. Here, there was ample room for everyone.My sleep was interrupted several times by the sound of movement, sometimes near my head. The source of the sound was mice. They made three kinds of sounds, a scurrying sound, a faint pitter patter, and a gnawing sound. It was the gnawing that bothered me the most. I worried that the rodents were chewing their way into my backpack. Before going to sleep, I had hung my backpack on a hook on a wall. Instead of closing off the opening to the interior compartment of the backpack, I had deliberately left it open. The strategy is to allow mice to easily access a backpack rather than chewing their way in. Once inside, they will hopefully sniff around for something to eat, realize that there is no food, and leave. (My foodstuffs had been placed inside a nylon bag--or bear bag--which was hanging on a tree). I sat up, reached forward, and gently shoved my backpack, hoping to scare any rodents that might be inside of it. I did not want to shake the backpack or rummage through it, lest I wakeup the other occupants of the shelter.In the morning, Jackie from Rabid Marmot Tribe announced, "Oh no! The mice got into my backpack." The rodents had chewed some holes into a shirt sleeve and a mesh bag.I was the last person to leave the shelter. As I organized my backpack, some birds flew on to the ground in the front area of the shelter and ate some crumbs of food which had accumulated there. I began hiking in a cool drizzle and used the umbrella for protection. Rather than wearing my rain jacket, I hiked in my usual short sleeved shirt and nylon pants. The pants have no water resistant coatings; this maximizes their breath ability. The umbrella kept me dry and enabled me to avoid having to wear a rain jacket which would have increased the accumulation of sweat on my upper body. Sometimes the trail would narrow as it passed through rhododendron shrubs. The large wet leaves would rub against my arms. At the top of a sharp ascent, the wind increased and drove the rain in a sideways direction. When this happened, I angled my umbrella accordingly.I descended a gap in the mountains to a road crossing. Three hikers¢Kevin, Woe and Moxie¢were eating lunch at a picnic table. I joined them.Near the table was a guard rail upon which a graffiti message had been scrawled. The first words read, "Throo hikers beware." The message, which spelled incorrectly the word thru, went on to say that most people who attempt to hike from Georgia to Maine in a single outing will fail.Why would someone want to convey a discouraging message like that? As is often the case, the ascent out of the gap was difficult. Kevin and I hiked at a slow pace. Our plan was to hike for several more miles and make camp at the next shelter. When we arrived there, it was occupied by several men whom we did not recognize. The shelter was small. I scanned the terrain for flat spots upon which my teepee tarp could be erected: there were no suitable spots. I decided to push on to the next shelter, turning a nine mile hike into a fifteen mile slog.My back was growing sore and a festering blister on the side of my heel was becoming more uncomfortable. The trail traversed several locations on steep slopes where blunt rocks were strewn all over. It became necessary to place my feet at unnatural angles, creating additional pressure on the blister. With three miles to go, I encountered a hiker traveling in the opposite direction. He was tall, bearded, and moving with a spring to his step. We stopped and chatted. I asked him where he was coming from. "Maine," he replied in a soft spoken tone of voice. I said to him, "You're the first southbounder I've met. When did you start?"He said that his hike commenced back in August. During the winter, he got off the trail during the two coldest months. As a southbounder, he would sometimes travel for several weeks without seeing other hikers. (The vast majority of AT thru hikers travel northbound). At the start, he had anticipated the isolation he would face. This solitude, he said, had enabled him to better grow as a person.This man impressed me with calm and self confident demeanor. There was a kind of sparkle in his eyes, as though the stars over his head were perfectly aligned. I was encouraged by the observation that he was carrying the same model of backpack that I was using.I reached Cable Gap Shelter shortly before dark. It was a small structure, occupied by The Rabid Marmot Tribe and two men who I was unfamiliar with. With little daylight remaining, I hurriedly strung up my teepee tarp, cooked supper, and performed camp chores. In the meantime, hikers Moxie and Woe arrived, followed by Kevin.I removed my filthy hiking shoes, put on some flip flop sandals, and rinsed my feet in a stream. In the darkness, I walked to my tarp. The blister on my left foot scraped against the tip of a sharp object, probably a stick. The pain was excruciating.Here under the tarp, I have just inspected the blister under the light of my headlamp. The blister has grown into a large dark blob, which means that blood has accumulated inside of it. Furthermore, it appears that a second blister has formed under the first. Until now, I have been managing the blister with frequent applications of moleskin. But now, the condition is growing worse. I hope it will look better in the morning.