Off to Beauty Spot, May 6
Stayed with Babbles and Travelin'/Wandering Jack at Curley Maple Gap S.
Traveling Wanderer Jack was one of those souls who didn't 'hang out' with the other hikers on trail. He kept to himself for the most part. We were all 'different' personalities out there, but like any collection of people, politics and cliques develop. Jack wasn't part of any clique. He had a harmless habit of talking to himself. Most of the rest of us might do so while we were alone, on trail (and not likely to admit it). Jack didn't have as many reservations.
We had all breakfasted at the picnic table next to the shelter. Breakfast was usually pretty monotonous. For me, it meant lighting my whisperlite and boiling up a liter of water for a double pack of instant oatmeal, poptart or granola bar and mug of tea. While the water came to a boil, I'd roll up my old poly sleeping bag, new sleeping pad, and get my pack in order. Once breakfast was done, clean up, brush up and prep for the day's hike (lacing up the boots, gators, etc.).
Babbles packed and was the web breaker. That means she was first out of camp -- and encountered all of the spider webs on trail first -- for the rest of us. Nothing says 'wake up' like a sticky web across the face, the one you see coming only at the last second, when your momentum commits you to go through it.
I hung back, jotting down my entry in the shelter register. Jack was talking with himself while he packed up. Part of his dialog stuck with me, to the effect: 'They go into town, dress up in airs, and go to churches. Repenting for the week before, too blind to see we're living in the church out here, every day.'
That's close. I wish I had taken a minute to write down precisely how he worded it. His was more poetic, and offered a glimpse of a person I wish I had grown to know better. Jack was hiking a different hike, and we wouldn't share miles or shelters again, but there was more to him than the rest of us understood. Because he was different. And yet we are all different.