5/26/00
Day 65
Campsite below Max Patch Summit
751.9 miles

If you were paying close attention - and why would you be that anal? - you might notice by the day and date that I took 2 zero days after I arrived in Hot Springs.  What happened is that I got up early yesterday and went out to grab breakfast at the Smoky Mountain Diner.  When I got back I quietly started packing up my stuff, trying not to disturb the guy I was sharing the room with.  Outside, it began to rain - quite hard.  Then there were heavy rumbles of thunder.  I started packing the last few items slower and slower.  Finally, I was just sitting on the bed listening to the storm.  I stepped out into the hallway, thinking I should try to find a weather forecast, when I ran into a couple who had planned to "slack-pack" that day, but had cancelled before their shuttle got them halfway to the drop off point because of the weather.  I decided that if one day had done my right leg some good, two days might even be better.  As it turned out, the rain stopped and didn't start again 'till late afternoon.

I spent the day quietly.  I went into the music room, picked up a guitar, and tried to remember the chords to some songs.  Then I walked around town a bit, had lunch, and brought back a pint of Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia.  I had seen a copy of Earl Schaffer's WALKING WITH SPRING (Earl was the first man to complete a thru-hike of the trail) on one of the bookshelves, so I spent the afternoon reading it after slurping up the last of the ice cream.  Considering the poor condition of the trail at that time (1948 - war neglect) his accomplishment is nothing short of amazing.  The Trail has been re-routed quite a bit since he first did it.  I read up through when he reached Harper's Ferry, but a lot of the place-names were unfamiliar to me because of the relocations since that time.  In 1998, Earl (at the age of 78) completed a 50th anniversary thru-hike.  They tried to name a shelter after him but he wouldn't let them do it because it had a wooden sleeping platform and he thinks that shelters should just have dirt floors.

Considering how much information I have at hand - like maps with elevation profiles, and the databook with distances to the next shelter, water source, or road crossing, and the thru-hikers companion telling me about the services available in the next town, and Earl had NONE of that when he did it the first time - it makes me feel like such a wuss when I complain about the trail being so hard.

Today I did finally make it out of town.  The sky was still a tortured grey, as it has been for days, but the mists and overcast gradually cleared as the day wore on.  My original plan had been to go about 15 miles to the Roaring Fork shelter.  But I got there about 3:45 and the right leg had been holding up really well (either the rest, or the brace, or both, had helped), so I decided to push on another 5 miles and find a place to camp near Max Patch.  Several people had mentioned that this was a special place, so I wanted to maximize my chance of getting some view in case it was raining or in the clouds tomorrow.  Of course, it got darker and started raining on my way here.  But it was stopping by the time I reached this campsite, in the last bit of trees before the Trail enters grassy, open fields near the summit.  I dropped my pack and took a quick look.  After I pitched my tent, cooked and ate dinner, and hung up my food bag, I walked up to the summit and saw the view on the far side.  The wind was pushing bits of mist through the hollows and curling it over the hills.  Even though the more distant peaks were hazy in the approaching dusk, it was still a soul-satisfying spectacle.  If I'm lucky, I'll get to see the vistas again in the morning light.