6/19/20 Day 44: Laurel Creek Shelter (675.2) to Niday Shelter (687.8)

Friday, June 19 6:41pm 12.6 mi

AT 675.2 Laurel Creek Shelter → AT 687.8 Niday Shelter

Weather: Mostly good – there were some NASTY looking clouds early in the day as I crossed the farm pastures and as I got to the ledges later in the day, the wind whipped dark clouds over the ridgeline where they became darker yet, roaring with thunder and unleashing torrents of rain on the other side of the mountains. Light rain tonight.

Trail Conditions: Walking the tall, ungroomed farm fields is wet walking after a rainy night, but is safe. The ledges later in the day were mostly dry, but the wet parts were SLICK. I nearly wiped out twice.

My Condition: Ready for a hostel, a washer dryer, and some drier weather

Saw a spotted doe take off like a bolt of lightning today. The Keffer Oak was incredible – dwarfed any of the oaks at my house in Georgia, and those things are massive. The Bruisers Knob cairns were also a sight to behold. Otherwise, short, uneventful day. Spent some time thinking on how big a difference the smallest of degrees can make. With a map and compass, miss your mark by a degree or two and you can find yourself miles and miles from your target. In life, the smallest of events can make worlds of difference. A degree or two different and my life might look totally different. Had I shown more openness or vulnerability, or held back from saying something I shouldn’t have, in certain moments, I might be in a totally different place. I might have been a video game programmer or a park ranger instead of a camp professional. There are so many daily variations where a small, seemingly insignificant moment can pass you right by, or not, and go on to completely change the course of things. I need to do a better job keeping my eyes, ears, and heart open to these moments. LOBO got into the shelter late.

Post Trail Analysis

The Keffer Oak is one of the two largest, and oldest, trees along the entire Appalachian Trail, estimated to be about 300 years old. I sat my pack down next to the base of this monstrous tree, and just kept stepping backwards as I tried to take in the sheer size of this behemoth. It had so many arms and tendrils branching off from the massive trunk. What stories this tree must have! The Bruisers Knob cairns were apparently located near an old apple orchard, and their existence may or may not be related – it sounds like they’re still somewhat of an unsolved mystery. Someone had left a handwritten note in a plastic bag near the blue blazed trail down to a shelter and water source urging hikers to avoid it. “You don’t want to stay at this shelter. It’s a decently steep ½ mile downhill and from there, an additional ½ mile downhill for water. But the biggest reason is currently a resident whipperwill (bird) that makes a “siren sound” the entire night. You’ve been warned...push on…” Whippoorwills can be quite insistent, and I didn’t need water and wasn’t quite ready to stop yet, so I pushed on. I walked past a sign for the Eastern Continental Divide today as well. The shelter tonight had a very nice privy, built as an Eagle Scout service project. Hope it wasn’t a crappy experience for those scouts! The fire pit, sadly, was chock full of garbage. I always find it quite disappointing when my fellow hikers fail to uphold their end of Leave No Trace. In a normal, non-pandemic year, I would have picked up as much of it as I could. This year, I was always hesitant to pick up garbage, and there was garbage aplenty on the trail – discarded masks, crushed cans, empty bottles, tin cans, candy bar wrappers, the list goes on and on and on. I was ever mindful of the risks of COVID, and did not want to unduly put myself, or the communities I’d later be passing through, at risk if I were to pick up the virus from picking up that garbage. That, and I was still salty about North Carolina’s decision to wrap up and tape off their trash cans at the trailhead parking lots. I also realized today that my hands were becoming rather unrecognizable - new creases and lines were appearing where there previously were none, and my belaying callouses had migrated to serve as trekking pole callouses.

Previous Day

Next Day