Thursday, Jun 25 8:40 pm 20.5 mi Guillotine and weather station
AT 755.3 Cove Mountain Shelter → AT 775.8 Harrison Ground Spring Campsite
Weather: Hot and sunny/overcast
Trail Conditions: All uphill seemingly. Just kept going up!
My Condition: Achilles felt good today upon waking and climbing, which is when I felt it most yesterday, didn’t cause any discomfort today. Lower back rash – maybe from permethrin, maybe from new shirt rubbing new place
Today I’m going to talk friendliness. Mile 758-771 was pretty steady climbing, with short descents sprinkled in. About a quarter way through my long climb, I crossed paths with a hiker – yellow shirt, pink gaiters. Trail etiquette gives the climber the right of way. He had no intention of getting over, so I scramble up the embankment right into a patch of nettles. Despite this, I smile, say hello, and wish him happy trails, getting just an “mmhm” from him. Definitely not a friendly dude. Oh well. I got to the Thunder Ridge shelter, already occupied by 4 or 5 older folks. I greeted them with a “hey! How ya doing?” as I walked to the picnic table, only to receive the stinkeye and silence from all but 1 of them. I always dread walking up to shelters which are already occupied, because from my experience the above welcome is pretty much standard (granted, we ARE in the midst of a pandemic). Maggie and Jacob from the Lambert’s Meadow Shelter on 6/21 were such a pleasant exception – it’s raining, I’m just trying to get to a dry place, but as I’m walking up I’m greeted with an enthusiastic “hey! Come on in, you ALMOST made it here before the rain. Are you a thru hiker?” and so on. I tend to stick to myself, but I’d like to emulate Maggie and Jacob's example on the trail, making sure anyone and everyone feels welcome to join in, whether it’s just me or a group of people. It sucks when your existence is barely acknowledged. On the flip side of the coin, there was one other tent at Harrison Ground Spring tonight. Rather than barge in on whoever it was, I set up my tent in a clear spot near the entrance, and gave them space. I don’t see a problem with this approach either – if we cross paths, I’ll be sure to offer a hearty hello, but lots of folks are out here for different reasons, and I know space and solitude can both be very sweet. Social dynamics are complicated! Maybe I just overthink things.
Post Trail Analysis
Narrator: “He does overthink things.” Running Bear was the other person at camp that night, who I know to be a perfectly pleasant person. The spot where I pitched my tent was actually a pretty darn lousy spot, on a slope, with roots in all the wrong places, and swarming with mosquitos. Rather than dare venturing closer to the other hiker, I made do. Social dynamics ARE a tricky thing. Unfortunately, I know that the world can be a scary, sometimes dangerous place for solo females. From my time working overnights at the gym, I know I’ve had more than one woman ask me to walk her out to her car, just to make sure she gets there safely and no one follows her out, or pops out from behind another car and grabs her. It breaks my heart that someone would need to live fearing the actions and intentions of others, but scary situations have happened and unfortunately harassment, stalking, assault, abduction, and worse are all too real. The “me too” movement, for me, really shone a light on how pervasive the problems are in society today, and it breaks my heart. Like I said, I would have been perfectly friendly had our paths crossed naturally, but I wasn’t going to infringe upon her solitude. Friendliness is another tricky social dynamic. On one hand, we were in the midst of a pandemic. I know that I tried to keep my interactions brief and at a distance with people I was seeing for the first time, but I always strove to be cordial. I tried my best to be as welcoming as possible, hauling an extra water jug to camp the night I thought Hummingbird may finally catch up to us and holding a special ceremony to welcome in new members of our trail family. I tried to steer controversial conversations about the politics of mask wearing into opportunities for both sides to gain perspective from one another, and ultimately onward to different, less heated, topics. Hiking isn’t always sunshine and daisies – it’s hard work most days, but I think it’s worth mustering up the relatively insignificant energy it takes for a smile, a friendly nod, a wave, or a hearty hello. After all, we’ve all got something important in common – hikers hike! Also, somewhat related – one of the unfriendliest things a hiker can do is setting up their tent inside a shelter. I brought a tent, and happily used it most nights. Some hikers (foolishly, in my (not that important or meaningful) opinion) don’t bring tents, however, and count on using the shelters along the way. When I strolled up to the Thunder Ridge shelter, still pretty early in the evening, the less-than-friendly group, sure enough, had their tents taking up all the space in the shelter. I understand that everyone has different levels of comfort – backpacking can be cold, wet, and buggy. A shelter generally eliminates the wet, while a tent generally eliminates the buggy, and can help reduce the cold better than an open-sided drafty shelter. People do it because it knocks out multiple things that make them uncomfortable, but the reality is that it’s a selfish act. A tent, occupied by one, is taking up the same space that could potentially fit two-three hikers. I never made a fuss when I saw someone do it, but unless it was late enough into the day where it was clear that doing so wasn’t putting anyone out, the act of setting up a tent in a shelter always got under my skin a little bit.
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