[at-l] A continuation of the crap...

[athiker at smithville.net (Felix)]

"The heart is a tender thing..."

12/24/98 I got up and went in to Mt. Moma's to tell her
thanks for dinner and Merry Christmas. She said, "Well, ya better sit
down and have a cup of coffee." I did. I also had a cup of cake, with a
little Santa on top. We talked for a while. It was very nice. I went
outside, to the payphone, and called Pokey. I hadn't talked to her in
six weeks. Since the day she left the Trail in Linden. It was good to
hear the old girl's voice. I cried. She cried. She said "You're breakin'
my heart here." I suppose. I hung up, turned and walked across the
parking lot in another heavy rain. Emotions were leaking out of my very
existence (I don't even know what that means other than it was an
emotional little walk)

I got my Smokys permit at the Ranger station and Ranger George gave me a
ride to the Trail. We had a nice chat. His two-way radio kept talking
about roads being closed and how bad the weather was. Kinda exciting. He
let me out and said something like "I'm supposed to tell you to be careful, or 
something. But, I know you won't. Good luck." I headed into the Smokys. The 
Trail was covered with chunks of ice the size of golf balls. I cranked the 
Walkman and hiked
on. My thoughts were swimming in the conversation I had had with Pokey.
I wasn't paying attention to much around me other than the Rhododendrons
that were hanging down on the Trail, covered with ice.

I got to Davenport Gap Shelter and stopped for a quick snack and to
check the register. As I sat there, I heard a God-awful sound. A tree
had come crashing down just behind the shelter. Actually, it was just
the top half. But, with the extra weight of the ice, the sound was
incredible. I thought "Wow!!!" I went back inside the shelter. Another
crash. I went back outside and did a little closer inspection. It was
just then that I realized that I was in the middle of a full-force ice
storm Every tree was bent, or sagging, because of the extra weight of
the rain and ice. Trees were popping, exploding. A tree would groan a
few times, and then, at a point nature chose to be the weakest, it would
explode and the top would plummet to the ground, ice flying off the
branches at impact. It was so cool, and scary.

I decided I wanted out of the shelter. I figured I'd have a better
chance seeing a tree coming at me from outside. I signed the register
and headed up the hill. The next few hours were some of the most
incredible hours I've ever spent. Watching nature do her thing, from the
inside, was amazing. Climbing through treetops with branches covered in
ice as think as your wrist, listening as the next top falls 30 feet in
front, or behind you, is an indescribable experience. (That's why I'm
doing such a poor job of describing it.)

This went on for nearly two hours. As I climbed higher on the ridge, the
air got warmer, and the rain remained rain. I could still hear trees
falling below me. I was glad it was over, but glad that I'd been part of
it, too. It rained every step this day. I took a break at Cosby Knob and
not again until Tricorner. The shelter there was a mud pit. It usually
is. Somewhere is a scanned copy of what I wrote in the register that
night. I'll look for it.

...it cleared enough for it to get cold. Freezing cold. I woke up the next 
morning, 12/25/98, Christmas Day, and headed
up a crunching, frozen Trail. I was glad. Crunching is better than
sloshing. The sky was actually clear above, and the valleys below were
full of the 'smoke' that is the namesake of these mountains. At one
point I saw what I thought were bobcat prints. I don't know if there are
bobcats here or not. It could have been a fox. I don't know if there are
foxes here or not.

I made really good time this day. I was surprised to find the Trail
crowded from Icewater Spring to Newfound Gap. It was a beautiful day.
Mid-twenties and clear. I got to Mt. Collins shelter a little before 5.
That shelter is a beautiful place just before sunset on a crisp, cold
Christmas evening. The fire the two boys from Cincinnati had built was a
beautiful thing, too. I'll never forget the one who looked at me and
said "That fire'd cost you $8,000 if you bought the wood at a
convenience store." I laffed then. I laff now.

I had an enjoyable evening with these two guys. They didn't necessarily
practice some of the LNT techniques the way I'd have liked for them to.
But, they were harmless, overall. They gave me my first-ever drink of
Jaegermeister. Nyquil from the liquor store. They also gave me
hair-covered cheese and salami. In the dark, it all tastes the same. I
smoked a cigar.

12/26/98
My sheltermates were sleeping in their tents
inside the Shelter when I left between 8 and 9. It  was a crisp
18?. The sky was clear and the trees roared with high winds dancing with
the branches. I made good time (too cold to stop) to Clingman's Dome.
Climbing the tower was a very satisfying thing. The highest point on the
Trail, one of my favorite places on Earth, another landmark
'accomplished' and what I thought an ominous song in my head (John
Mellencamp's "Your Life is Now". It was the first time I'd ever heard
the song, and thought it odd that John was telling me that, perhaps,
this moment was what it had all been about. Wasn't it?) The wind chill
on that cement top had to be below zero. I didn't spend much time
hanging around. I headed back to the Trail with a nice little adrenaline
rush. I kissed the sign. I always kiss that sign.

Once I got  to lower elevations, the winds died down and the day was
beautiful. Mid to upper 20's with plenty of sunshine. My favorite hiking
conditions. I stopped at Derrick Knob for a snack and found a note from
my  friend Albatross. I had missed him by minutes somewhere along the way. I 
hiked
on. It was a thoroughly enjoyable day. I was cruising along and having
the best time of my life.

The sun was starting to set as I climbed Thunderhead. I picked up the
pace a bit to see if I could get to the summit in time to see any of it.
See it I did. As I hiked through the Rhododendron maze that makes up the
summit of Thunderhead, I noticed the powder-blue sky was clear and
beautiful. I had no idea what else there was. I got to the pile of rocks
at summit-proper. I put my right foot on top of the pile and balanced
myself with my ski poles. As I lift myself up, raising my head above the
Rhododendrons, I was. That, I believe, was the defining moment of my
life. That was, I believe, the most, and possibly the only, religious
moment of my life. It was, without doubt, the most incredible single
moment of my life. I said "Yes!" I said it again.

I enjoyed things from the pile of rocks for but a few minutes. When I
stepped off that pile of rocks, I was invincible. I hiked away from that
pile of rocks feeling like my feet were inches off the ground. What an
emotional high. I got to Spence Field S. with the plan of stopping if
someone else was there. It was still light enough to see the new
bear-bag cables as approached the shelter. No people, no firewood, no
Felix. As I got back to the AT, as I was making my first steps south,
toward Russell Field, "Got You Where I Want You" (the song of the hike)
began. "Yes", I said again. I got to Russell Field feeling good. I took
my pack off and ate some M&M's while getting things ready for the night.
"Yo! Felix!" I said to my ownself. "What are you doing? You don't want
to stop. Hike on. " And, I did. Hiking after dark in the Smokys, running
on adrenaline and emotion, is an incredible thing. Incredible, indeed.
When I laid down at Mollies Ridge, at 9:30, I was still wound up. I'd
love to read my register entry for that day. The best day of my life. A
day I saw no other human.


-- 
Felix J. McGillicuddy
ME-->GA '98
"Your Move"
http://Felixhikes.tripod.com