He left his schoolhouse early in the search for firewood.
So hearken all ye hikers sitting round the fire at night
Remember Little Ottie and his life imperilling plight.
Great to hear the Hoot Owls at night with their deep, haunting HOOooo....HOOooo. Woke to fog much as I had yesterday except this morning it was even thicker. Donned my rain jacket for a little added warmth and protection from all the dripping moisture from the trees and plants. As I made the ascent up to Apple Orchard, walking through some dew laden grass left my feet cold and my shoes and socks soaked. The old Air Force radar facility could barely be seen through the soup. I may as well have been walking through a cloud. Who knows? Perhaps I was. Dropping down the other side of the mountain, conditions got better providing more visibility.The Guillotine was a unique little feature, an angled boulder hanging precariously over your head, wedged between two rock walls. Certainly wouldn't cut off your head if it fell, but crushing your skull was a distinct possibility. Blooming rhododendron continued to line the trail at times, creating clumps of color attractive to the local bee population. On passing, I could at times catch the sweet fragrance and hear the thrumming buzz.
A long and leisurely fifteen mile stroll down to the banks of the James River, left me at the A.T.'s longest foot-use-only bridge just as the rain began to fall. Seems as if the fog lifted into the sky to add its water content to the gathering clouds. The only way for the heavens to get rid of it all is to dump it back on the ground and have this river carry it away. I carried on, the steady drops drumming a staccato on the hood of my rain jacket and pack cover, eventually gathering together to trickle down my legs and into my shoes. Squish-squish. As the rain intensified, I was looking forward to a break at Johns Hollow Shelter. On arrival, I met three youngsters already hunkered down. They appeared to have made up their minds to call it a day. The downpour that followed confirmed their decision. We all dug into our packs and pulled out some things to snack on, grateful to have a roof over our heads,the mood pretty subdued.
It was only 15-20 minutes when it came down like cats and dogs. Afterwards, though it continued to sprinkle, I chose to press on wishing the boys a pleasant night's stay. On the way up to Punchbowl Shelter, I actually managed to punch through the clouds. It was really neat to see the low clouds sweeping like breaking waves onto the tree-lined shores of the ridge. A somber moment was had at the monument on Bluff Mountain marking the spot where four-year-old Ottie Cline Powell's body was found after he went missing in the fall of 1890. Tears always come to my eyes when I think of that poor lost lad and the fear he must have felt before dying alone up here, the cries of the search party, friends and loved ones never reaching his ears. I believe that all hikers that pass this way wish they could have been there for him. The woods that bring us so much joy in nature must have become a terror for him. As it is now, many leave tokens and offerings at the site. A toy car, a rubber ball, an assortment of coins---all things that a little boy would like.
Well, it was back down into the misty rain on the way to Punchbowl, where a good group was gathered at the shelter. A young couple from Fredericksburg out section hiking cooked me up some spicy soy bean mixture upon hearing of my long soggy trek. Wow! What a luxury to have warm food. Spoke at length about the PCT with Punchy and Longbody, who showed a keen interest in one day making it out west to try their hand at that trail. My main concern is, "What's the weather going to be like tomorrow?".
Rhododendron Blooms
The Guillotine
Above the Clouds
Little Ottie's Monument
Flower on Forest Floor
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