[at-l] Finally made it to Springer

[David Addleton]

for a week-end trip, that is. With a backpacking meet-up group at
http://www.meetup.com/

A cold and rainy Saturday greeted me; the weather radio predicted pea-sized
hail around nightfall, but it never came.

I'd left early Friday and hiked from 3Forks to Stover Creek Shelter in the
evening. The trail has been rerouted to the new shelter and latrine: instead
of the steep climb to the right at the end of the old, nameless FS road, you
switchback to the left and down. They installed it last Fall. It has an
aisle down the middle of the first floor, a great innovation; and sleeps 4
or 5 on each side. There's an upstairs loft. Both have windows in the rear.
There's a porch with a giant table and benches all around the perimeter.
There are pegs galore in the sleeping areas, but none in the porch area.
Mice have already moved in. I slept under my tarp between two trees in a
hammock, with only my legs in the bag. The first night was warm enough for
that.

I was supposed to meet my group at the parking lot below Springer on
Saturday at around 10 am, but they arrived late. I was wet to the skin
hiking up there to meet them and cold from waiting for them and decided to
hike without them to the Springer summit. My assault on the summit went
smoothly -- only three bottles of oxygen and no burned retinas; I'd left my
gear at the Stover Creek Shelter, planning to return and dry out and letting
them hike up to Springer and back using the BMT, because they liked to hike
miles. But they wanted to stay together as a group and didn't want to get
wet. So we went to the Stover shelter and lunched. It quickly filled up
because of the rain. A women's PE class from UGA showed up and took over all
the tent spots. My group decided to hike down to a camp site they'd seen
after going to view Long Creek Falls and returning in the afternoon. I'd
wandered close to hypothermia and then dried out by then -- after someone
had built a fire -- and agreed. The next morning dropped to around 38F with
drizzle and we left.

The ridge runner at the summit said he counted 15 leaving on a thru hike. He
said there were over 50 the last week end. We camped with two, Pete from
coastal Virginia and Sunny from Boston. I told all the others I was just
finishing up my sobo thru and offered stolichnaya and they didn't think I
was much of an [trail] angel. But the Russian economist dude to whom I'd
promised it if he joined me liked it. We drank it with his spicy organic
garlic Saturday night as darkness gathered. There were rumors of bears, but
we never saw one.
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