Project Eveningland

4/30/2023 Sunday

You can mix peach and strawberry instant oatmeal, if you want to. There was one packet of each in a basket in the kitchen—the real sugary kind. I needed something easy. The mixture has a fruit-punch vibe to it that I dig, being the sophisticate that I am. I paired it with perfectly cooked toast dripping in butter. Just a dash of salt, too.

We cleaned out the rental house, but I think we forgot some stuff in the refrigerator. I took a can of pineapple juice for the road. Ben drove us back to Taylor Mountain Overlook, with a stop at Stanimals Hostel in Glasgow to drop off some extra food (we will stop there next, in a few days). Taking a detour to Glasgow meant a slightly longer, but much less winding, drive. Benny thrilled at the fog up on the ridge, which we reached via the Blue Ridge Parkway. He loves fog. A Colorado boy through and through, but a sucker for them Eastern mountain mists.

I leapfrogged with some real nice folks: Boxer Mom, a middle school teacher with a middle-school-teacher level of energy and a sweet boxer named Otis who falls asleep in her arms when she holds him like a baby; Alabama Chowder, now with his dog Peja (pronounced PAY-uh); City Dog, a graphic designer from NYC whom we met back at 655ish and who struck me immediately as very conscientious. A few others too, but mostly I walked alone.

I was fighting off another headache. Damnit. But I did fight it off! It just made the day somewhat of a bummer. Still, we didn’t get nearly as much rain as we expected.

I set my sights on Cove Mountain Shelter, just under 11 miles out. I wanted a shorter day to reset myself. Cove Mountain is one of the rare-ish dry shelters. And not just a little dry: the last water headed northbound is 3.4 miles before the shelter. I lugged four liters uphill, but after that the path leveled out and was easy walking.

The rhododendrons here are well on their way to full bloom. I’d be distressed at the apparent effects of climate change, but I took a sacred vow never to associate negative emotions with rhodie blooms. There’s also a tall shrub blooming like pink and white firecrackers. I’ll post a pic so someone can identify. I can tell you the terrain of any part of any trail I’ve ever hiked, but I can’t identify plants worth a damn.

A thin strip of dark, threatening clouds gathered over an adjacent ridge. Didn’t look too neighborly. I pushed for the shelter but fell short and got caught in some light rain. The winds were exhilarating! Such energy and excitement! It reminded me of watching a thunderstorm arrive from the safety of our front porch as a kid. It’s raw, intimidating power, but it makes me smile.

When I got to the shelter the whole gang was there, waiting out the rain. Wedge stayed for a bit but decided to push on—he prefers to camp near water. Zeke, a retired HR rep, said she felt relieved I was staying because it meant she wouldn’t be alone tonight. It’s not a popular shelter on account of the dryness. It’s not a desert or anything; it sits in a tall, swaying, gorgeous forest. There just aren’t any streams or springs. That’s a plus in my book. Fewer people, cleaner site, reduced bugs, less chance of bear activity.

I thought Zeke might be a retired nun when I met her. I do not mean that to be pejorative! She’s got short hair and very practical glasses. I don’t know what else it was about her habitus that pushed a “nun button” in my head. I only bring it up because it gave me an idea. What about a stage play, set in an AT shelter on a rainy day, where a series of very different people meet over the course of a day. One character could be a dashing, queer atheist (~38 years old, very charming and popular). He went to Catholic school and has lunch with a retired nun. What would they talk about? What’s the denouement? This is why I’m not a fiction writer—I can never decide what should happen in a story.

Two other dudes showed up, but they tented. I was torn between setting up my tent or sleeping in the shelter. There were a few OK sites near the privy, but they didn’t look that well drained and there may be more rain tonight. And for now it’s just Zeke and me in the shelter, so plenty of room. It’s nice to be able to look out on the trees blowing in the strong winds. Could be a bit cool tonight and tomorrow. There’s another reason I like dry camping: creek valleys and the like are so cold and clammy at night!

I think I may have to take a break from pouch fish for a little while. Something flipped my “tuna switch” and now the thought of it in my food bag is super unappealing.

This is the second time I’ve waited out rain in Cove Mountain Shelter. I’m 15 miles short of where I left off in 2021. Just 15 miles ahead and there’ll be new (to me) trail