Read Part I

We finished the climb and started walking along the ridge. It had stopped raining, but everything was wet. Each step was a splash of water being forced out of my wool socks. I could see the water seeping up through the laces of my new boots. They didn’t look so new anymore. The trail was a mess, more mud than anything else. I had given up trying to avoid stepping in mud or water. I slogged on not caring where my feet landed. We reached the Deer Lick Shelters and took a break.

There were already two hikers there for the night. One of them was a thru-hiker we had met at PenMar. The other was a heavy guy who was happy to chat with us. He lit up a cigarette as he explained that he was on a 4 week section hike. I couldn’t help but think that it was hard to believe that a man his size who smoked (3 cigarettes in the time we were there) was going to walk everyday for 4 weeks. My dad was tired and actually so was I, although I did not realize it at the time. My brother and the dog, as usual, showed no signs of tiring. Dad kind of wanted to spend the night there, but we talked him out of it, mostly because that would have meant walking 14 miles or so on Sunday. I was relieved. That section hiker creeped me out.

We headed back on the trail, having agreed that we would spend the night at Antietam Shelter, right next to the Antietam creek. The guide book had said that as you descend from the ridge you will hear the babbling of the Antietam Creek. As we descended from the ridge we heard not babbling but the roar of water rushing out of the mountains. We found that the babbling Antietam Creek was more of a roaring river. It had flooded its banks and the little bridge that the trail crossed was unreachable. We could have waded across the stream but the water was moving very fast and there was a trail labeled “High Water Blue Blaze.” We could see the shelter across the stream from us, so we knew we wouldn’t have to go far. We took the detour. We were wrong. The detour took us over a mile around to the shelter. Having already laid eyes on the shelter, that was the longest mile I had ever walked.

After walking in rain and mud for six hours or so I had arrived at my destination: the Antietam Shelter. To say I was disappointed would be an understatement. It was not a very nice looking structure. I looked inside and it was worse. I don’t know if can express to you how dingy this thing was. Even a great shelter isn’t much more than three walls a floor and a roof. This one had all of those things, but the floor was worn and there was a one foot gap between the front of the shelter and where the floor began. It had some trash and debris at the bottom of it. We could not reason out what purpose this gap existed for other than some sort of flood protection, but that didn’t really make sense either. My dad and brother assured me that there were many shelters that were better than this. The Deer Lick Shelter we had stopped at earlier certainly was nicer. I didn’t really care though. At least I was done walking. I took off my boots and changed into dry clothes. We cooked dinner and ate it. I was feeling much better. Its amazing what a hot dinner can do for you. My brother pitched a tent and called it night (although it was before 6 PM.) He went in the tent and pulled the dog into the vestibule. My dad and I sat and talked. After a while we saw a hiker coming up the trail. The water had receded enough that he was able to walk across the creek. He walked up, took off his pack and asked if there was room in the shelter for one more. We assured him that there was. He introduced himself. His trail name was Notes.

Notes was a thru-hiker. He was a young man, just out of college. He had decided to walk the whole trail before he was saddled with a job and that sort of thing. He was going to be a teacher. I envied him. I was already saddled with a job and a family. I knew that if I was ever able to thru-hike it would be under totally different conditions. We talked to him as he made his dinner. He told us of many of the people he had met and things he had seen. He told us how bad the mice were in the shelters in the Smokies and in Shenandoah. He said that this shelter wasn’t the worst he’s seen but it was the worst he’d ever actually stayed at. I was fascinated. A real live thru-hiker. I listened raptly to every detail he had to offer. And I watched how he managed his food and his equipment. He was so more efficient than we were. This wasn’t something different for him, this was just dinner. He had walked over 900 miles on the trail before we met him and that had an effect on the way he dealt with this stuff. I made mental notes on how I would do this or that better next time.

Finally I crawled into my sleeping and tried to get some sleep. Notes laid in his sleeping bag scribbling in a notebook as I closed my to sleep. He was still writing when I dozed off. I think I know why they called him Notes.

Continued in Part III