AWOL on the Appalachian Trail by David Miller Read Free Book Online Page A

there is enough sun exposure to make me uncomfortably hot. The terrain is rocky, and evergreens are the dominant trees. The weather is clear, and I am treated to excellent views from Charlie's Bunion, a rocky feature four miles up from the gap. I'm headed for Tricorner Knob Shelter, which will make for the third long day in a row on my sprint through the Smokies. I am tiring from the effort, and again I feel knee pain.

    Charlie's Bunion, Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

    Of more urgent concern is the gastric percolation that I am experiencing. While all of the woods are potentially a rest stop, thick forest growth prevents me from getting off the path. When there is a clearing, there is a steep drop-off. I can wait no longer and crash through the foliage. Hurdling fallen branches is a true test of my continence. I'm forced to make four more stops like this before reaching the shelter, sputtering like a near empty bottle of mustard. I'm worried that I may have picked up the dreaded Giardia bug, and I think back through my stops at springs to get water. I have used a water filter or water treatment chemicals every time I have refilled my water bottles, but I may have been careless enough to get a residue of untreated water on my bottle. 15 Could I get sick from a tiny residue of bad water? My supply of toilet paper is exhausted after the second stop. Then I recycle my Georgia guidebook pages. Next I move on to rocks--the smoothest, cleanest ones I find. They're not as bad as they sound.
    After a restful night's sleep in the crowded Tricorner Knob Shelter, I head out into a windy, gloomy morning with an irrational fear of a tree falling on me. With the recent storms, there are blow-downs all over. I have heard but not seen trees falling. It rains for over two hours. In the midst of the storm, I come to another shelter and go in for a reprieve from the downpour. Another hiker and a ridgerunner named Ron are in the shelter. They've stayed the night and are getting ready to brave the rain. The hiker is decked out in a hooded rain poncho and high gaiters. He makes an unceremonious exit from the shelter, making it clear that there is no love lost between them. Ron makes a "Wall Street" comment about the hiker, who is attempting to thru-hike, so that becomes his name. 16 I also tell Ron of my fears about falling trees. He reassures me by telling me I am much more likely to get struck by lightning. For good measure, he tells me the story of two hikers who were killed some years ago when lightning struck a shelter.
    By the time I reach the next shelter, the rain has stopped. A hiker is out front having lunch. I introduce myself, and he answers with disdain, "You just met me at the last shelter."
    It is Wall Street, but I failed to recognize him without his poncho. We have a curt conversation while I eat my lunch. I look over the shelter register and see an entry from the Cardinal, with the familiar bird sketch. This entry is longer than most, because it is his last entry. The Cardinal explains that he is grateful for all that he has learned about himself, but will be stopping now, with 234 miles on his boots.
    "I haven't seen your name in any of the shelter registers," I mention to Wall Street.
    "I don't sign them," he retorts. "I don't see any reason why I should."
    Instead of a privy, there is a PRIVY AREA sign to one side of the shelter. It is a minefield of soft spots where droppings of previous shelter denizens are buried in shallow holes.
    Beyond the shelter I am on a nice downhill stroll. My stomach is more settled, and I am certain that I suffered only garden-variety diarrhea. I'm relishing the success of making it through the Smokies. Not long ago I viewed this park as the first test of my hike; a test that I've now passed. I f an itch on the back of my right heel.
    North of the Smoky Mountains National Park, there is a confusing road walk on segments of three different roads to get hikers over the Pigeon River and under