Offering the best so far of A.T. scenery.
It didn't rain at night but a heavy dew put the wet on my tarptent. Out on the trail around 6 a.m., I soon met Snorkel and we passed through the Grayson Highlands together in the fabulous morning light. I wonder if early colonists found any similarities between this region of windswept grasses, rocky outcrops, stunted trees and bracken to the Scottish Highlands, the Midlands or Ben Nevis in Wales. Walking in such a landscape reminded me of my mother's favorite book, Wuthering Heights. We both enjoyed seeing a group of six or seven ponies trimming the grass along the trail as they browsed. Extremely tiny for horses as the tallest would only come up to my waist, but well-built and insulated with a thick layer of hair to weather the harsh conditions up here even in the winter.
At one point, upon reaching a trail marker, Snorkel and I came to the conclusion that we'd overshot a trail junction and were no longer on the A.T. Felt a little red-faced to have such a thing happen to such experienced hikers, but it did. Time to backtrack! Twenty minutes later we discovered the reason for our error. The Appalachian Trail cut sharply to the right between two overgrown rhododendron bushes that partially obscured the turning path. In addition, the wooden trail sign was so weathered that even up close it was difficult to make out the words and recognize the direction arrow. Later on the trail we met Craig from Germany. He was waiting for his hiking partner Heinrich, who fit the description of a guy we passed as we were making our way back to the A.T. It appeared that we weren't the only ones fooled that day. We continued with Craig to Old Orchard Shelter where we took a break to fuel up on high calorie food and refill on water from the nearby creek. Craig was going to park it there until his friend caught up. I hoped that when Heinrich had reached the trail marker he had reversed his steps, like us, and got back to the true trail so Craig wouldn't have long to wait.
Most of the day was a big push for Partnership Shelter, a destination we'd both had in mind since we met this morning. The weather slowly deteriorated until at six in the evening it started raining. Nothing heavy but rather steady. The last mile or so for me was tough going because the muscles were tired from the mileage and the body was sapped of strength by the cold and wet conditions. Needless to say, the shelter was a most welcome sight. Even with the earlier detour in the highlands, we'd covered 36 miles by 8:30. Not bad at all.
After settling down in the loft upstairs, Snorkel went out to order some pizza. There's a phone hot line for that very purpose at the Mt. Rogers NRA Headquarters. In the meantime, I changed into some dry clothes, realizing as I did so how hungry and cold I actually was. When Snorkel returned with the food, we sat opposite each other in the small space at the foot of the ladder leading to the loft. Words can't describe how incredibly good warm pizza and mini-cinnamon rolls are when you can see white puffs of exhaled breath as you're eating. It certainly raises your appreciation for the simple things in life and how they can completely satisfy.
Partnership shelter is unique for the fact that it actually has a hot shower. However, on this chilly night I had to laugh at the words of one of the female hikers, Toaster, who was sharing the space upstairs. She said that she had seriously thought about taking advantage of the opportunity to have a shower, but was put off by the thought that after emerging from the hot water, she'd have to dry off and get dressed in the cold with her feet on the frigid floor. "In the end", she stated succinctly, "I felt it was just better to remain warm and smelly." Now that's a motto for a thru-hiker! To my knowledge, all at the shelter that night went to bed shower-less.
Day Dawns on the Grayson Highlands
'Tween the Rocks
A Chance Encounter with Snorkel
Feral Ponies
Shaggy and Stout
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