Day 93 September 23: Serious Rain

From the cozy dryness of the shelter I heard the wind blown tree branches as they hit the forest floor with a snap or a thud.  I could tell through the darkness it was raining but not hard, not yet.  The weather forecast predicted heavy rain to begin around the time I would say goodbye to the safety of the shelter and face the dragons I expected to encounter on a day like today.  At 6:45am, the time of the sunrise, I ventured to the trail without doubt or hesitation.

Even though the sun was rising behind the dark clouds and dense forest canopy, there was insufficient light to hike without a headlamp.  The bright beam cast by the headlamp projected fat enough to reveal two small dot-sized reflections.  At first I ignored the tiny points of light while I focused on the wet trail in front of me.  A moment later I looked back into the darkness and the light cast by the headlamp revealed a deer about 40 feet away.  The presence of the beautiful animal predicted good luck in my way of believing.  Would this be the case today?  No doubt the deer was not happy with the rainfall but was better adapted to it than me.it

The rain fell hard, and the rain jacket I wore felt sufficient even after a sudden, slight drop in the temperature.  But not for long.  Rain water flowed over my shoes, unimpeded by the rocks embedded on the trail.  The rushing water soon went over my ankles,  and I continuously paid attention to my body temperature as the rain and wind became more intense.  Hypothermia is a concern in cold, wet conditions.  I was not in that zone yet, but I needed to stay ahead of the progressively lower temperature.  Under dense tree cover I pulled out of my backpack nearly all of my spare layers of clothing: fleece hat, wool buff, base layers for top and bottom and a long sleeve shirt.  I could barely push the shirt buttons through the button holes because my fingers were getting cold.  I took this as a hypothermia warning.  I struggled to take off my shorts over my shoes, and next pulled up my bottom base layer over the same wet shoes.  This would have looked hilarious to any passerby if there were any. After the clothing struggle I felt warmer and ready to go.  

I wondered how many more miles to the Pines Mountain Shelter, my destination for the night.  In the rain I struggled with my unresponsive smartphone and I managed to get a weird result.  In one hour I had hiked only 1.1 miles!  “Huh?”  I know I walked more than a mile!  Then it came to me.  “Fuck!” I shouted, loud enough anyone to hear, but nobody was around. I was walking in the WRONG DIRECTION!  But how?  I recalled a trail junction about one mile back where the dark conditions made finding the white blaze to follow difficult.  While circling to find a blaze I must have headed for the blaze that took me back to where I had already hiked!  Angry at myself I thought, “how do I prevent doing something so stupid?” The compass function on my watch is the obvious solution.  The desired heading in the area was 270 degrees, and the digital compass confirmed I was now walking correctly.

This experienced hiker just wasted one hour in the worst rain storm I have ever hiked through.  Can I still make it to Pines Mountain and the dry shelter?   If not, should I return to the shelter I started from two hours ago?  While walking in the downpour I debated, but my gut was telling me not to give up. I concluded to keep going.  I had an escape plan, too.. If the torrent continues and is a safety problem there is a road ahead where I could escape the trail and hitchhike out.  The rain was supposed to lighten up at 5 pm, still a long time.   Could I make it until then?  I was determined to try.  In tough moments on the trail my experience informs me to visualize myself at my intended destination.  I just needed to put one foot in front of the other, forget the wetness that covered every inch of me, and repeat every step all morning and afternoon with the shelter as my goal. 

But my feet got soaked even more as the rainwater got deeper and deeper as the morning poured on.  Pooled rain on the trail was six inches deep.  I sloshed through it.  I crosses a swollen stream pouring heavy and fast around rocks strategically placed to create stepping stones above the stream.  Today the steps were barely high enough. I kept going with enough warmth and determination but with soaked feet.

My situation in the torrential rain was better than two people I encountered on the trail.  They were in a rush to carry their gear out of a campsite which I assumed was flooded.

At about 11:00 the rain appeared to be falling slightly less than the peak earlier. Later, I began to notice a brightening of the sky.  Patiently I watched this trend continue.  By noon the rain stopped entirely and rays of sunlight cast a brightening glow on nearby trees.  I read the updated weather forecast elatedly.  The storm was over!  When I reached the road that was a possible escape route I sat down to enjoy lunch in the sun.  I felt proud of myself.  I stayed composed even after walking in the wrong direction.  I made adjustments to stay warm.  And I had a escape plan in case it got unbearable.  There is a saying in long distance hiking: If a bad day occurs have faith that things will improve eventually. Don’t panic, have faith!

When I reached the shelter feeling victorious a surprise was waiting for me.  Friend and Triple Crown hiker Jeff Zimmerman was waiting for me to arrive.  A few days before Jeff texted me to offer his help. We agreed to meet in Duncannon in one day.  But Jeff took a nice 3 mile evening hike up to the shelter from a parking area.  His backpack had a gallon of water and Fig Newtons.  A day that started perilously ended perfectly.  The trail provides! And friends & trail angels, too.

See my real-time location produced by the InReach unit I carry and a daily log of my progress on the trail.