Seuss and Trillium
Seuss instantly became my hero. Hiking out an abandoned dog.
I ended the day at Jerry's Cabin Shelter. It is another full house, as I caught up with Featherpack Matt and his brother, Bill. Off trail, they want to start up a canoeing and guide service. They came up from Canton, GA.
J: 5/3 - up this a.m. and out into the cold. Rain caught up this morning with more cold and wet. 14.6 miles from Jerry to here. I have to say, nothing about the day's hike is memorable except the temps, the damp, and the desire to keep pushing on. The Trail has been hopscotching over the NC/TN line, so technically I suppose I'm in my third state. Of course, Clingman's Dome is literally on the state line, so we bagged that third state claim over 100 miles ago.
Oh wait, this is choice. We're all laid out on the shelter floor like planks, up against each other's sleeping pads like a quilted throw rug of down and synthetic bags. Otter, Permagrin, Pieps, me, Fox, the Featherpacks. We have our food bags hanging from the rafters over our heads, packs hanging from the few nails in the studs or wedged up against the walls. We can see our breath on exhale. Did I mention it's cold?
And it's not dark yet, but if you aren't moving by hiking, and you aren't cooking or dashing out to the privy, then you're going to be in your bag with your sleeping cap on, watching the shelter mice brave the light scurrying across the tops of the walls. Maybe you're rubbing a sore knee or calf biting with cramps, or toes you know are down there somewhere. Unless you're Pieps. Because if you are, you can, in one swift move go from laying horizontal to completely vertical -- still fully zipped up in your bag. Now, you're hopping and dancing back and forth, not really gasping or squealing -- kind of in between. After a few seconds you finally let out 'MOUSE! - F'ing MOUSE!'.
To be fair, Pieps isn't afraid of mice or the sight of mice. But when he's half asleep, and a sheltermouse makes a jump to a stuffsack hanging from the ceiling, and it misgauged the leap, hits the side, can't get a grip on the nylon as it slides down the fabric, and drops clean into the small opening of a zippered down bag with a big stinky hiker human in it -- well, the first thing you do is run deeper into the dark of the bag.
And that is what the mouse did. And what Pieps did. Except in his momentary panic, he couldn't get his hands up free enough to work the zipper down. So hopping in place like a large puffy jumping bean was all he could do. Save for that first bit of going vertical -- an athletic feat I don't think any of us could manage if we tried.
Pieps did get the bag unzipped. The mouse did escape. And eventually, we got some sleep that night. But we moved our food sacks so they didn't hang directly overhead.