Project Eveningland

6/12/2023 Monday

Despite the threatening forecast and sky, no rain came overnight. We were out hiking by 7:30—Neil is an early bird. How far can we get before the storm?

The tread was mostly easy. More old railroad grade, or else something level enough to be mistaken for it. This morning we talked about leadership and mentoring, which makes the conversation sound much more square than it was. For one thing, I got on a jag about neoliberalism, but I never used the actual word.

We found a less metallic-tasting spring and switched out what was left of our water from last night for cool, clear, fresh spring water.

We passed the site of Yellow Springs Village, which had lots of spots to camp but no ruins that were discernible from my cursory inspection. We sat on some rocks near a trail junction to have a late morning snack.

Intermittent rain began shortly after 11. At first we “made a break for it” because we were only 1.2 miles from a shelter. Eventually I stopped to put on my rain jacket and later Neil put on a poncho that covered his whole pack and made him look like a giant snail.

The shelter was .3 miles down a very level side trail—another road or railroad grade. The ground looks as if it is made of coal or charcoal or something else black. Rausch Gap Shelter itself is built into an old hill. The foundation is an old rock wall. This shelter says it was built in 2012. It was rebuilt.

We weren’t alone for long. Electro arrived soaked to the bone then another guy and a couple from Austria. The crowd got to be too much for me and I decided to tent right near the shelter, on a spot so marginal that people kept talking to me with that are-you-sure lilt. It’s near the edge of a steep drop, but not close enough to be hazardous. I’ve been doing this for years, I said, which isn’t strictly true. I’ve been backpacking for years but only recently learned to tent in insane spots. Insanely well drained!

It was a lot of work to set up my tent in the rain. The process introduced moisture. It always does. But when I was done I climbed in and took a nap. Fifteen feet away, in the shelter, the stone began to seep water in the downpour. A mouse got flushed out from beneath the shelter. There was a giant spider on the ceiling (I had named her Shelly before I retreated to my tent). Including her sharp, pointy legs, Shelly is about the size of a lime. The roof leaks. They all still agreed it was better to stay in the shelter than tent in the rain.

Other folks came in and they were SO wet. (David Letterman audience: how wet were they?!) They were so wet that one of them jumped in a creek to dry off! The shelter is full and the later arrivals went off in search of tent sites. My little spot was the only even semi-workable patch near the shelter. There were plenty of grassy sites back up the hill. Those’ll drain well but it’s annoying, long grass.

I went back out for dinner during a lull in the rain. Just after five.

The ants in the shelter have created tons of sawdust. We watched a group bring clumps of the stuff out of a log. Another ant cleared off the stone shelf below, but I couldn’t discern why.

Every once in a while a wet hiker would come down to get water from the piped spring right out in front of the shelter. I like the social noise of the shelter as it sounds from inside my private, clean tent, just far enough away to be mostly indiscernible, but still comforting. The rain started back up as the evening wound down. I’m looking forward to cooler temps, though mostly what I want right now is dry. Rain today and tonight looks to be measured in inches.