My first night on the trail would be an emotional roller coaster. There were 5 other people staying at Gooch Mountain Shelter located at mile 15.8 on the Appalachian Trail. Two men were there with their 15 and 17 year old sons to camp. They had hiked in and using the shelter as a weekend get-away. Unlike the other "hikers" they were not the least bit concerned with pack weight, had no interest in my ultralight camp stove or my freeze dried dinner. They were carrying biscuits their wives had made and bottles of rum. They has assumed ownership of the shelter, though they were happy to offer me a spot. I wanted to stay in my tent…it was my first night out and I had something to prove. Plus I didn't love the idea of all of us shoulder to shoulder with mice running over the top of us all. (The shelters on the AT are notoriously infested with mice.) I went around back to select my campsite from those available (based on absolutely no criteria whatsoever) and began the task of "making camp."
My first night in the woods was not smooth. It took me a long time to set up my tent and sleeping bag/pad. I couldn't get all my stuff together to go up to the shelter to make my dinner. Things weren't packed right. I was nervous. I didn't know what to do first. Plus, I was pausing every few minutes to send a cryptic and increasingly desperate text message from my personal location device to my husband. Sending a message on this thing is a lot like sending a text message in 2005. There was no keypad, I was using numbers and arrows to tap out my change of heart. My first message was pretty reasonable: Checking in. I am stopping for the night. The next one: What if I don't want to do this anymore? The third: Would you be able to pick me up tomorrow?
I headed up to the shelter to make my dinner – freeze dried black beans and rice. The fifth person who had pulled into the shelter for the evening had set up his tent nearby. I can't remember his real name (nor can I recall the names of the family of four…in my mind I called them "the good ole boys.") but his character was familiar to me from years of bike racing. He was a "gear guy." He wanted to discuss your every gear selection…"Aluminum? Interesting choice. I went with titanium. Saved 10 ounces." He had tried his song and dance with the good ole boys but they were having none of it. They hadn't made selections…they had just brought their stuff out to sleep outside. I was an easy target. "How much does your pack weight?" "WHAT? Are you crazy? 45 pounds is insane. You will never make it." And so it began…I omitted the part about my facial care products and full toiletry selection, but otherwise we discussed every item in my pack. I was already feeling doubtful and this wasn't helping. I said goodnight to the good ole boys and gear guy and headed to my tent. It was about 8pm. I sent one last message: I will check in tomorrow and see how I feel. I turned on my lantern and settled into my book, One Hundred Years of Solitude (oh, the irony).
I dozed off with a cool mountain breeze blowing and awoke to raindrops on my face. It was raining. Slowly, but gaining momentum rapidly. Oh shit, my rain cover! I hadn't put the rain cover on my tent – because it wasn't raining…duh. Lesson #29, that can change FAST. I scrambled for the rain cover tripping over tent stakes as I tried to attach it in the dark (and in the rain). When I finished I climbed back into my slightly less cozy tent and tried to sleep again. I surprised myself by falling back to sleep and waking up at about 6:30. I pulled my food back down from the bear cables, made breakfast and coffee, chatted with the good ole boys (who were enjoying a hearty breakfast) and packed up my stuff. I was back on the trail by 7:30 and things were looking much better as I started off for another day on the trail.
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