[at-l] And....again...

[David Addleton]

felix is one of the best writers I know . . .

he ought to be published . . .

he could be if he collected all his posts and put them together in some
kinda TroutFish'nInAmerica fashion and sent them off to some New York
publisher . . .

On 12/24/06, Richard Calkins <racalkins at msn.com> wrote:
>
> Felix:
>
> Memories are really important, and I appreciate you sharing yours.  You
> will always be an important part of my memories of the trail, with that
> little phone call you made to a dejected and pitiable through-hiker, sitting
> all alone in a sad little motel room in Robinsville, North Carolina, hoping
> against hope that his broken leg wasn't really all that broken, or at least
> that it might somehow miraculously heal in the coming few days before he
> would test it by starting up into the Smokies.  But alas....  And yet, hope
> was not gone.  Six weeks later, I was back, heading up into the Smokies
> again, and this time, not having to limp painfully back down the mountain,
> and drag myself across Fontana Dam clinging to the railing for support.  No,
> this time, I could keep going, and in no small measure it was due to the
> support of friends and strangers alike that I was able to come back.
>
> So....thanks for the memories.
>
> Merry Christmas
> Longhaul
>
> Oh, and have an indescribably happy new year.
>
>   ----- Original Message -----
>   From: Felix J<mailto:athiker at smithville.net>
>   To: AT-list<mailto:at-l at backcountry.net>
>   Sent: Sunday, December 24, 2006 8:19 PM
>   Subject: [at-l] And....again...
>
>
>   "The heart is a tender thing.."
>
>   So, eight years ago this morning I got up and went in to Mt. Moma's to
>   tell her
>   thanks for dinner and Merry Christmas. She said, "Well, ya better sit
>   down and have a cup of coffee." I did. I also had a cup of cake, with a
>   little Santa on top. We talked for a while. It was very nice.
>   I went outside, to the payphone, and called Pokey. I hadn't talked to
>   her in
>   six weeks. Since the day she left the Trail in Linden, VA. It was good
> to
>   hear the old girl's voice. I cried. She cried. She said "You're breakin'
>   my heart here." I suppose. I hung up, turned and walked across the
>   parking lot in another heavy rain. Emotions were leaking out of my very
>   existence (I don't even know what that means other than it was an
>   emotional little walk)
>
>   I got my Smokys permit at the Ranger station and Ranger George gave me a
>   ride to the Trail. We had a nice chat. His two-way radio kept talking
>   about roads being closed and how bad the weather was. Kinda exciting. He
>   let me out and said something like "I'm supposed to tell you to be
>   careful, or something. But, I know you won't listen. Good luck." I
>   headed into the Smokys. The Trail was covered with chunks of ice the
>   size of golf balls. I cranked the Walkman and hiked
>   on. My thoughts were swimming in the conversation I had had with Pokey.
>   I wasn't paying attention to much around me other than the Rhododendrons
>   that were hanging down on the Trail, covered with ice.
>
>   I got to Davenport Gap Shelter and stopped for a quick snack and to
>   check the register. As I sat there, I heard a God-awful sound. A tree
>   had come crashing down just behind the shelter. Actually, it was just
>   the top half. But, with the extra weight of the ice, the sound was
>   incredible. I thought "Wow!!!" I went back inside the shelter. Another
>   crash. I went back outside and did a little closer inspection. It was
>   just then that I realized that I was in the middle of a full-force ice
>   storm. Every tree was bent, or sagging, because of the extra weight of
>   the rain and ice. Trees were popping, exploding. A tree would groan a
>   few times, and then, at a point nature chose to be the weakest, it would
>   explode and the top would plummet to the ground, ice flying off the
>   branches at impact. It was so cool, and scary.
>
>   I decided I wanted out of the shelter. I figured I'd have a better
>   chance seeing a tree coming at me from outside. I signed the register
>   and headed up the hill. The next few hours were some of the most
>   incredible hours I've ever spent. Watching nature do her thing, from the
>   inside, was amazing. Climbing through treetops with branches covered in
>   ice as think as your wrist, listening as the next top falls 30 feet in
>   front or behind you, is an indescribable experience. (That's why I'm
>   doing such a poor job of describing it.)
>
>   This went on for nearly two hours. As I climbed higher on the ridge, the
>   air got warmer, and the rain remained rain. I could still hear trees
>   falling below me. I was glad it was over, but glad that I'd been part of
>   it, too. It rained every step this day. I took a break at Cosby Knob and
>   not again until Tricorner. The shelter there was a mud pit. It usually
>   is. I have a transcribed copy of what I wrote in the register that
>   night in my desk. I look at it every now and again.
>
>   --
>   Felix J. McGillicuddy
>   ME-->GA '98
>   "Your Move"
>   ALT '03 KT '03
>   http://Felixhikes.tripod.com/<http://felixhikes.tripod.com/>
>
>
>
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