Sept 25

Let's do the time warp again

Woke up this morning to the sounds of loons, and a thick fog lifting from the lake.  The woods around us were clear, the cloud hovered above the water only.  The sun had hardly risen above the trees by 9am.  I waited around camp as long as possible, drying the dew on my tent fly in the sun.  More accurately, I just didn't want to leave this campsite.  No one else really did either.  I was the last one out though, on the trail around 10am.  Also of note, last night marked the 6 month anniversary of my first night on the trail, way back on Springer Mountain.  Six months ago today, I headed off from Springer, starting on this trek.  The hiking this morning was easy.  There were several intersecting trails looping around in this area.  Staying on the AT wasn't difficult  but it did require paying a bit of extra attention to the blazes.  After a pair of easy climbs, I made it to the lean-to at West Carry Pond for lunch, right at noon.  Just over 5 miles in 2 hours.  That feels great.  Finally.  Our group all ate lunch there, but oddly, everyone didn't arrive in front of me.  Apparently, some of my friends got onto that loop trail back there near camp, and ended up hiking a couple of bonus miles.  Whoops.  Tomato was explaining the confusion, thinking to himself - I know we've been walking for a while, but this all looks familiar.  Like stepping into a time warp or something.  At first we all thought it was just another case of trail madness setting in, but we realized that they probably just got on the Hemlock Trail and looped back to the campsite.  After lunch, we all headed out, walking along beside West Carry Pond.  Truly beautiful hiking.  A slight breeze was making small waves lap onto the shoreline just beside us.  At the end of the pond, a side trail led to Arnold's Point - a thin peninsula that jetted out into the middle of the pond.  I took the side trail for a bit just for curiosity's sake, but as the trail became more overgrown, and the peninsula became narrower, I turned around and headed back down the AT to try to catch up with everyone.  A couple miles later, the trail crossed Sandy Stream.  The bog bridges there were scary; off balanced and half-sinking into the water.  The enjoyable hiking continued as I walked beside another pond - East Carry.  Still clear, mild, and breezy.  I crossed a gravel road, where a nice, well built bridge led over a marshy section of the trail.  The entire afternoon has been so enjoyable.  Hiking on truly flat terrain, for the first time in I don't know how long.  The trail is a bit muddy, but I'm not complaining.  I'll take this any day.  It feels so good to be hiking at a good pace again.  Walking alone, behind the group, I had a lot of time to think today.  I thought about the trail.  I reflected on how far I've gone, leading me up to this point.  I thought about it all being over in the very near future.  I knew that just ahead, I would be entering the most remote section of the trail.  I wondered what that would be like.  What was strange about all of this was I was starting to feel the same emotions that I had felt when I had just started my hike.  Nervous excitement.  It was like everything had come around full-circle.  Reminiscent of stepping out onto the trail for the first time,  I had a great sense of exploration again.  I was simultaneously apprehensive and excited, about the prospect of what lies ahead.  Once again, I felt like I was so far away from home.  It was a strange cocktail of seemingly opposing ideas.  Happiness and sadness, strength and weakness, confidence and uncertainty, contentment and wanting.  I knew where I was, where I had been, and where I needed to go, but somehow I felt lost in these wild woods.  Despite the heaviness of these emotions, I was light on my feet, and totally relishing the beauty of the forest.  Late in the afternoon, I stopped at a cold, clear spring.  Previously lost in thought, I now realized that I was thirsty.  I was sitting there drinking some water, when Apache pulled up behind me.  I was immensely confused.  I thought I was behind him.  Neither of us could figure out what happened.  A few minutes later, Atom Bomb pulled up.  How was he behind me too?  We all rehashed the hike this afternoon, from leaving the shelter where we all stopped for lunch, to this point.  We were all wrong about who we thought we were in front of and who was ahead of us.  We gave up trying to figure it out, and headed to the lean-to at Pierce Pond.  When we got there, Rainbow Eyes was sitting in the shelter, unpacking his gear.  Now we were really confused.  How was he the first one into camp?  When did he pass us?  So we went through trying to figure it all out all over again.  But now we thought - where's Old Tomato?  Everyone agreed that he was still behind.  I agreed, but I still couldn't explain at what point I got ahead of him.  Sure enough, he pulled into the shelter a few minutes later.  He had the same problem, not knowing who was in front or behind him.  Time warp.  It's not like any of this mattered.  I'm sure there's a simple explanation.  It was just odd that none of us could make any sense of it all, and we each had a different idea of who was first, second, and so on.  Anyway, the shelter area here was fantastic, and just a few yards away from the pond.  I picked a tent site on a small rock ledge right next to the pond.  There was just enough dirt and moss on top of this flat rock for my tent to fit.  Around me on the shore were pine and cedar trees.  Although this was a beautiful site, while we were setting up, we also found out that this shelter has some tragic history.  A few weeks ago, a fellow thru-hiker named Parkside, drowned in the pond.  He was only about 10 days from finishing his hike.  Other hikers have since made a rock cairn next to the pond, along with a log that was carved with the epitaph of 'RIP Parkside'.  There was a photo of him hanging on the wall of the shelter, which included notes from his family, and the park service, about the dangers of swimming.  What they think happened is that he got into some deeper water, hit a cold spot, cramped up, and sank before anyone on the shore could get to him.  Terrible.  I can't even begin to wrap my head around that.  I didn't put my tent fly on tonight.  I could see the stars, and light reflecting off of the pond.  An indeterminable animal's call echoes across the water.  A picture perfect setting to end a great, but exceptionally strange, day.  Rest in peace Parkside.  

Late afternoon on Pierce Pond.