March 29, 1997 (Day 10 – milepoint 91.2 – Albert Mountain)
After a peaceful rest, Ned and I got to moving again in the early afternoon. We were dry, the day was clear and sunny, and Ned demonstrated why his pursuit of a degree in Storytelling is such a good fit for him. I was just a kid at story time all day long. And since his stories filled the gap of time and miles so well, we arrived at a trail name for Ned – Void. He seems to like it.
The hiking was relatively mild today right up until the final two mile approach to the summit of Albert Mountain. The trail went practically straight up along the steepest pitch of the mountainside. We both had to strap our poles to our packs so we could scramble up on all fours. I’d like to congratulate and shake the hand of the person(s) who designed this section of trail. Creative, ambitious, and well worth the struggle.
The fire tower on top of Albert Mountain offers spectacular 360 degree views that were especially spectacular during sunset, casting shadows on the expansive Southern Appalachians. Old, rolling, weather-worn, blue-tinted mountains as far as the eye can see. I have officially declared my undying love for the Southern Appalachian Mountains.
Void and I set up camp in a tight spot with a view near Big Spring Shelter (mile 98). Nice, clear, starry night following the tail end of a bright orange sunset, town lights 2000 feet below, Hale-Bopp Comet clear and obvious. Full stomach, hot chocolate in hand. Easy company.
-Aquaholic
March 29, 2009
It’s good to be writing again. I wrote a lot throughout the 90′s – adventure chronicling, lots of poetry, children’s stories, an animated screen play – but it’s all been stored away in a tote box for 8 or 9 years.
Back then I was just a guy writing about my experiences. When suddenly I had to be responsible for others, I wasn’t ready to turn my writing hobby into a career. Now I find myself being magnetically drawn back to it.
I always wanted to do something meaningful with my Appalachian Trail journal, especially after I read Bill Bryson’s book, A Walk In The Woods, about his A.T. experience in 1998. A well-written and hilarious account of his excursion, it raised significant awareness around the A.T. and represents much of mainstream America’s perception of the Trail. When the Appalachian Trail comes up in conversation, I often hear comments like, “Oh yeah, I read the book.” They’re talking about A Walk In The Woods.
The irony is that his experience was dramatically different than my experience and, I would argue, most thru-hikers’ experiences. Every story is deeply personal. Most are as much a social adventure as they are a wilderness adventure. All are about reaching and then overcoming personal limitations. Bill Bryson’s experience was interesting and valuable, but far from what is typical of a Thru-hiker.
March 28, 1997 (Day 9 – milepoint 85.0 – Standing Indian Mountain)
Roaming Gnome tweaked his knee and took the day off. He might be done, unfortunately, but is considering finding a way to the Nantahala River to meet us in a few days.
A little over 4 miles into the mildly rainy morning, Ned and I crossed the Georgia-North Carolina state line. One state down, only 13 to go! Our welcome to NC was harsh. A long steep climb coupled with a heavy downpour of rain, we started today at around 2900′ and ended on top of Standing Indian Mountain at 5500′. After a quick stop at the very full Standing Indian Shelter, we headed to the summit to make camp and enjoy a potentially nice sunrise in the morning. Others at the shelter mentioned concern of lightning, but we heard it was suppose to clear and were confident the worst had passed.
We were joined at the summit by Roo (from Chicago) and Yard Dog (from South Carolina). After a couple of hours up there, Ned shouted over to me from his tent to discuss the intensity of the thunder and lightning. I wasn’t sleeping and was open to suggestions. Since we were at the highest point for miles around, we agreed we should get lower for a little while until the storm passed. We woke up Roo and Yard Dog, all put on our rain coats and walked down through the woods about 30 yards. The four of us, shivering and wet, sitting on the ground in a torrential downpour, surrounded by thunder and lightning, with full appreciation and respect for mother nature. We all agreed there was no place we’d rather be.
Storm passed. Back into our tents. Storm returned. Back down the hill. Roo and Yard Dog stayed in their tent this time. Brave or lazy?
After a while, it was like being at the disco up there – heavy rain and thunder providing the beat and strobe light lightning never more than 2 seconds between flashes. A few blinding body jarring hits fortunately avoided the tents and us as Ned and I sat through the concert for over an hour.
Storm passed. Back in our tents. Storm returned.
We weren’t sleeping, so at around 4 am we accepted defeat and broke camp. Roo and Yard Dog elected to stay. Every part of me and every piece of gear was soaking wet. Ned and I walked the six miles down the mountain to Carter Gap Shelter where I now write. We actually did catch a beautiful sunrise through the scattering clouds on the way down. Everything is hanging out to dry. We arrived at 6 am and nobody’s here. That is good because I’m grumpy and probably look pretty scary.
Aquaholic
March 28, 2009
Big snow storm this week in Colorado so I took advantage and went skiing today. Another great day up there that got my contemplative juices flowing.
Though I have been able to land a few consulting projects, technically, I have been unemployed now for two months. I often feel the pressure to just go after any old job that pays… There is plenty of logic to that and it is difficult to put into words why it feels so horribly wrong at this moment.
I trust what I am feeling. I move closer to the right path when I allow my heart to lead. But when I am in my head, I get distracted, and it is difficult to progress.
Fortunately, I was not in my head today.
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