Skywalker--Close Encounters on the Appalachian Trail by Bill Walker Read Free Book Online Page B

the terrain wasn’t as flat as I’d originally thought. Getting out of my bag to make some tarp adjustments in the dark, I was amazed at how cold it had gotten. Not only had the temperature dropped precipitously, but the wind was roaring. I was to be continuously amazed in the early going at how powerfully, almost overwhelmingly, the wind blows at night in the mountains, even after calm, nice days. Channels of wind could be heard originating from seemingly miles away as it thrashed through the forest toward me with gathering intensity.
    I put on every ounce of clothing I had, which was six layers in all, including two sets of long johns. Over the next couple hours I tried every position I knew to get warm, but nothing succeeded. Compounding my misery were the menacing creatures I imagined in every shadow and sound in the black as pitch night. My food bag was in my backpack, right next to my legs, which could be inviting to a bear. Then there was my new bogeyman to worry about, wild boars. What in the hell am I doing out here ?
    I finally remembered that in my backpack was an item I picked up as an afterthought at REI. It was an emergency space blanket that weighs only four ounces. The package showed a shivering, desperate-looking man out in the woods with this blanket wrapped around him. It had seemed like a pretty good bet for four ounces. Lyle Wilson, the outfitter back at Neel’s Gap, had urged me to throw it out, but I uncharacteristically asserted that I would keep it as an ace-in-the hole for the worst conditions. So, here deep in the mountains, in a state of great distress, I finally pulled it out of the box and slipped between the aluminum foil layers. The idea is that the aluminum foil traps the body heat, and indeed it seemed to be working. It helped turn a disastrous night into merely a bad one as I was able to relax my muscles and even sleep some.

     
    A sign on the bulletin board read:
    CAREFUL!
     
    BLACK BEAR SEEN BETWEEN HERE
AND SILER BALD SHELTER
STOLE A HIKER’S BACKPACK
SHOWS NO SIGN OF FEAR OF HUMANS
     
    As I started the climb out of the gap and up Indian Mountain along came Seth from behind after another early start. “Really comforting sign back there, huh” he said, “and we have to worry about that bear for the next twenty-six miles until Siler’s Bald.”
    I climbed to the top of Indian Mountain and saw an overall-clad sixty-ish fellow, called Billy Goat. Listless from such a poor night’s sleep and overwhelmed by the nighttime cold in the mountains, I sat there in the shelter sullenly chatting with this stranger. Morale was running dangerously low. My fitness for the entire enterprise was being called into question. Soon, it became clear that it was time for a bowel movement. This was one of the few shelters on the trail without a privy—the small outhouses built by the local trail clubs. After fumbling through my backpack I pulled out some “Wipes” and asked Billy Goat if he was familiar with them.
    Sensing that I was a bit uneasy with the task ahead he lit up and said, “Yes, they’re great.” I nodded dutifully, when he added, “You can wash your face, your hands, and your rear end with one wipe. The order is what’s important.”
    Never was any advice more appreciated.
    After sixteen miles for the day I arrived at USFS 67 and looked around for the trail. It appeared that it might go up the dirt forest road when I spotted a blaze on the steep embankment in front of me. This was Albert Mountain. In a preview of New Hampshire’s White Mountains, I started scrambling up the boulders using all fours. Lucky breaks have a way of evening out; this could have been outright dangerous on a bad-weather day. In fact there had to be hikers who flat out wouldn’t be able to make it up this single section.
    Soon I was at Big Spring Shelter, and was reunited with several friendly faces, including Scottie Too Lite. After being deep in the dumps so early on in the day, my spirits