Sharing the Trail with Friends (March 5-9, 2011)

"Suicidal hiked in the pouring rain. When I arrived there were tents everywhere and the shelter was full of boy scouts and their shit was everywhere so I layed <sic> down the law of the AT with their troop leaders." Suicidal, 4/10/11, Matt's Creek Shelter.

JT Hill on Top of a Bald (March 8, 2011)

The legend himself, Suicidal, had a meltdown over some teenage boys sleeping in a
shelter. This is a full grown man, aged 45 or so, losing his mind in front of a bunch of boy scouts. When I met Suicidal he was still talking about this encounter, as if the boy scouts had begun a Steve Seagal-level blood feud with him. I think the rain really set him off. Suicidal's logic is that the shelters should be reserved for AT thru-hikers only. While this logic has merit, it's exactly wrong. But who cares? I love this guy and his vindictive streak. Here is a man standing by his principals, even if it means getting in the faces of some fresh-faced boy scouts and their do-gooding scout leaders.

After we left Franklin, NC via Winding Stair Gap all hell broke loose. It rained relentlessly and the fog of death set in, a blanket of white fog that covers the mountains and obscures the views 30-50 feet in any direction. We also camped and decamped in a downpour for the first time. This activity was a nightmare.

Wayah Bald was supposed to have one of the better views but we just scurried past it in the cold and wetness. At one point I huddled under about 6 inches of corrugated roof over a bathroom to eat my snack with the scent of feces wafting out to me through the door. Any break over 5 minutes leaves you freezing and you have to hurry back to hiking to warm up.

We've fallen into a routine at this point. JT Hill and Guido argue with me over gear and trail knowledge (I have superior gear and trail knowledge). Sensei is the spiritual leader, knowledgeable and not prone to extreme highs or lows. I try not to bring all my pessimism to the group at once, lest the weight of it drown them. I do casually mention to JT Hill and Guido that I have class, class derived from wealth, and that they are downtrodden and live in a trailer in Connecticut. When they demand to see pictures of my sister I remind them that they are middle-class trash and uneducated. It's a fun dynamic.

We finally make it to the NOC (Nantahala Outdoor Center) in North Carolina and take a break at the hostel that's on the trail. We hitch a hide to town and back. On the way back the driver tells us, with some degree of tact but not too much, that the NOC is a piece of garbage and all the jobs are imported from out of state. The NOC is a big rafting and outdoor center right in the middle of the Nantahala River and the AT. I can't blame the gentleman for hating the NOC. It isn't exactly blending into the background.

On the way out of the NOC I set up camp in the rain and my tarp almost collapses overnight it gathers so much water. In the morning I suffer through more wind and more downpour. When I make it to the shelter that next night my iPod is destroyed from rain and my sleeping bag is soaked. Rain is miserable. It's what makes everything bad on the trail. I'm even more miserable. Miserable, miserable, rain.

2,023.9 miserable miles left.