#123 Niday Shelter to Four Pines Hostel - Day 57: ATMM 687.8 to ATMM 704.6
“Look at me, I’m surfing the trail!”
4/27/22
Morning arrives. Reluctant to move after sleeping cold with the noise of violent wind bursts banging into the side of the shelter deep into the night, I force myself out of my sleeping bag.
The air is still cold. I reach into the sleeping bag to grab my coat.
The sun shines directly into the shelter. It’s welcome sight. The rays warm my face.
Papa is packed and tightening the laces of his boots. He’s almost ready to leave the shelter. I’m just getting started on my morning chores.
Still adjusting to the rhythm of the trail I once again start my hike around nine a.m. But time really doesn’t matter that much out here. Where do I really need to be that a clock should concern itself with me?
I walk east into the clear morning sun. Sun beams shoot through naked trees so blinding I miss the large Black Snake sunning itself in the middle of the trail. I startle it before its rapid wriggling startles me. The sound of it smacking the dry leaves on it’s frenzied exit from the trail pulls me out of my sun-blind stupor. Stopping immediately in my tracks I wait until it settles down and moves on before I continue on. As you know, I am not a fan of snakes.
On the way up Brush Mountain I pass a lady named Harmony and am passed by a guy named 53. The scenery for most of the climb is breathtaking, causing me to forget how taxing a climb it really is. Reaching the ridge, I find a welcoming spot to relax - a wooden bench. It’s a good place for a snack break and to change my socks.
The trail widens for a while across the top of the mountain. A cool breeze blows from the left.
I stop to toss a small rock onto a pile surrounding a monument to Audie Murphy, the most decorated US soldier in World War II who died in an airplane crash on the slopes of Brush Mountain in 1971.
Strong winds meet me on the other side of the ridge. Leaves blow up the sides of the mountain like tidal waves, one after another, blowing up and over me, like I’m tube riding. “Look at me, I’m surfing the trail!”