TRAIL DAYS 28-29
Sat, Mar 19, 2016 Bic left before I did. I took more time than younger hikers. I never saw her again.
The sky was clear through barren branches outside my tent but it would cloud over as the day progressed. While we hadn’t yet seen any bears that fact that they had been in the area, perhaps the year before, was evident in clumps of their wiry black hair along the trail.
Hiking involved lots of ups and downs (I know, right?) but nothing severe or terribly eventful. We passed Mollies Ridge Shelter before coming to Russell Field Shelter just east of the trail. I can picture well the low lying grasses through which the narrow dirt trail passed into scattered woods to our first Smoky Mountain shelter. These were altogether different than shelters farther south or north. They were stone with fireplaces and a roof over and open porch area. There was often a large tarp hung over the entire expanse of the opening to keep out the wind and snow. It wasn’t yet real cold – but it was going to be.
Day #28 Birch Spring Gap > Russell Field Shelter 8.3 miles
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Sun, Mar 20, 2016 There were maybe six to eight of us packing up that morning and heading back to the trail. Somewhere before The Smokys, Theo and I had hiked along a section of the trail with beautiful frost on the trees but my tablet was out of power and I was frustrated not to have pictures. Today would be different. I had become accustomed to using my tablet for photos while my camera was being repaired. It saved the day! And what a day it was!
Back on the trail we were in a wonderland. Frost was everywhere – on every twig, blade of grass, foliage of all shapes and sizes, on bushes and trees – frost such as I have never seen before. There must have been a strong wind during the night at Russell Field Shelter because the frost on the tree branches was flared out to the side in the direction of the wind. Long, flat blades of hoarfrost stretching from the branches horizontal to the ground as if to turn them into airfoils. As the wind caused the branches to collide, large pieces of thin, flat, white ice would fall to the ground like manna from heaven.
I could not stop taking pictures. Every bend in the trail brought a new scene, different frosted shapes – the atmosphere itself was frosty, grey and closed in. We were in a mythical land on a misty trail stretching out ahead into the grey-white foggy distance. I confess to my own wild and wintery March madness when I tell you that, from shelter to shelter that day, I took 287 photos, a mere fraction of countless memorable scenes!
I got to the Derrick Knob Shelter near 4:00 p.m. with green grass still evident beneath the frosted trees. Other hikers were already there and more were to come as the snows began to fall.
Minute Man was there without his grandfather. The trail was a little too rough for him. He might come back later. After dark, “Tinker” showed up and I was sure my “oldest hiker” status was lost to one who looked like Father Time himself. He had a long, white beard and bald head. This was the first of several times I allowed myself to inquire with more than idle curiosity. “Do you mind if I ask how old you are?” “Sixty-nine” came the answer. Two reactions: “I’m still the oldest” and “Holy shit! I’m older than HE is?”
For the longest time, I was 18 years old in my head. That’s just how “old” I was. Then, I think somewhere in my late 60s or early 70s I conceded that I was maybe 23. Learning that I was older than “Father Time” startled me.
There are creaks and aches and the occasional shot, fierce arthritis pain in my thumb joints that suggest I may have left my 20s behind some long time ago. But that’s only temporary. The ageless life in me takes over along with gratitude for mobility and I move forward on. If you’re still breathing, you’re young!
Someone started a fire in the fireplace and we were all glad for the tarp over the entrance to keep snow and wind outside. It was cold. There was a bench in front of the fire and people huddled around it drying out socks or other clothes and some sat on the ground near where Theo had found a spot.
It was here that I watched Minute Man prepare his supper with an MSR (Mountain Safety Research) stove that functions like a Jetboil stove. Its base was a fuel cannister and it efficiently transferred heat to a cylindrical pot fixed above it. It was much heavier than my homemade coke-can, alcohol stove for sure but it was much easier to use and much faster heating the water. I looked on with a little bit of envy wondering if I would make a switch.
We were full that night. The shelter had a floor and an upper deck, each able to hold 6 and full. Another 8 showed up. We were thick in the March 1st bubble of hikers.
We crammed extras in on the floor and deck but the overflow had to sleep on the cold ground. Two such hikers came late and ill prepared with no sleeping pads to insulate them against the cold ground – they would not sleep much that night.
Day #29 Russell Field Shelter > Derrick Knob Shelter 8.9 miles