April 21, 2000 -- Day 21
Destination: Siler Bald Shelter
Today's miles: 14.5
Trip miles: 190.9

Last night, I lay awake watching the storm from the lower shelf of the two-tiered shelter. The storm never passed directly overhead, but the lightning was constant for a long while and lit up the forest like it was midday. It would have been neat to see a bear as the lightning flashed, but all I saw was a mouse jumping off Joker's water bottle, and the pouring rain on the other side of the chainlink. As the lightning flashed again, I beheld the source of the smell my nose had detected: A man two spaces over had lit up a potent cigarette. I then remembered what he'd said earlier--that he never smoked at home, but had started up on the trail. (I'm still trying to figure that one out.) When the lightning flashed yet again, I made a yuck-face at him. I'm pretty sure he saw me, but the glow from the cigarette continued to move from his mouth to flicking position in the darkness. I think smoking in shelters is a no-no, but I didn't have the guts to ask him not to.

Saw some critters over the past couple days. Yesterday, a brown and yellow snake stuck its tongue out at me as it lay across the trail. I stuck my tongue out at it, it back at me, and that went on for several minutes until Joker came along and moved the snake to the side. Also saw a large white-tailed deer at Mollie's Ridge shelter. The deer was wandering around a tent and didn't seem at all afraid of the people sitting in front of it. This morning, a huge horned owl perched in a tree outside the shelter. He or she watched us watch him or her for a few minutes. Just as I brought out my camera, the owl left.

Now that I'm once again under a shelter roof and inside my sleeping bag and liner, rain jacket, fleece pullover, and thermal undies, I can giggle at the funnies flying around. There always seems to be something to laugh about. The uncomfortable day of hiking I just experienced now seems sort of ... fun. All I know is, if I see the person who said, "The climb from Fontana Dam is really tough, but once you get up into the Smokies, the rest of the hiking through the park is easy," I'm going to pop him in the nose. I've grown weary of hearing how-it's-gonna-be-isms from other hikers, as well as from people in towns. I'm tired of the tales of gloom and doom, of being told, for example, that the Smokies are a place to get in and out of as quickly as possible, that we should rush to get to shelters before other thru-hikers, and that such-and-such a mountain is really difficult or, conversely, that a section is "cake." We each have our own experiences out here, and, so far, mine have been quite different than the how-it's-gonna-be-isms I've heard. Today was not"cake" for me.

As I said, it was cold and wet. I walked alone much of the time, over grassy balds shrouded in thick fog. There was no sense in wishing it were sunny and clear, so I tried my best to enjoy the day for what it was. As time and miles went by, however, that mindset became more and more difficult to maintain. I was crabby by mile ten. There was a lot of gully-walking today, the trail was muddy and slick, and there were plenty of loose rocks and roots to make up for yesterday's relatively clear path. Bah humbug!

But now I'm warm and happy and still laughing with the group in the shelter. Someone just said, "To most people, this would be torture," and even that made us howl. I don't want to be anywhere else right now. Must be losing my marbles.

--Ramkitten