I’m with Nokia, that day approaching Dragon’s Tooth was my toughest of the entire trail. As I look back though, I can see that alot of it was self-created.
It was a beastly hot and humid May day (and here I also agree with those who point out that VA is where the will-sapping mugginess hits). You spend the day approaching The Tooth hiking on a very dry, rising ridge; I was dehydrated and out of water. My feet hurt like hell (shoes problems, unrelated to VA, but another obstacle). I was hiking alone, the last of a big crowd by miles. I was also trying to beat the afternoon thunderstorms chasing me up the ridge.
AND - the land kept rising imperceptibly as it rolled and pitched - an inclined-plane Roller Coaster of its own. I was pushing to meet the restaurant shuttle to famous The Home Place restaurant from the former Four Pines hostel, so deadline pressure fed my internal negative mindstate. My time was beastly slow despite tremendous effort at hurrying. (Which became a theme - my least favorite sections of trail were those I was forced by earlier choices to hurry along to meet someone or some postal deadline).
And then, like Red Hat, I hit “The Tooth” just as the skies broke open and the wind howled. I had wanted to explore the Tooth but time pressure and weather led me to chuck it (and I plan to go back to play in this area.) I also well remember those slick rungs and rock. My thoughts were poisonous at that point, and the clock was ticking.
Rain stopped and sun beat down as I approached the hostel sweat-soaked, bedraggled, played out, completely melted. Totally fried. The shuttle to The Home Place had left 15 minutes earlier. The owner of the hostel made a joke about the last one having to go back and hike the section again, and my usually impish sense of humor completly fled; I just shot him the most hateful glare. Ever have days like this?
The next morning, when I stood up, I almost fell down. My feet were a mess, everything in my body screamed, and I felt deeply sluggish, without energy. I managed to slack the six miles back to the hostel from the post office, and in the tropical heat I struggled, watching helplessly as everyone else just zipped ahead perkily. No one else seemed to be utterly sucked out as I was. I didn’t want to go home, but it was clear that I couldn’t go on. It was the first time it ever occurred to me that I might not be physically strong enough to make it.
Do you see how I set myself up? In another time - fully hydrated, no time pressure, sound feet, good weather, companionship, an acceptance of the uphill nature - that section would have been a piece of cake.
Interestingly, I got back, drank ALOT of water, ate some ibuprofen, ate a double lunch, left my friends to go on ahead, fell asleep exhausted until 6PM, woke, ate some more, drank some more - and I was able to go on again if not as good as new, at least as good as a battered, wiser thruhiker with some energy.
This incident taught me to never make long-term decisions about my hike while wasted. It also taught me that while my desire to continue the journey was strong, I couldn’t quicken my pace to that of others or a timeline, or ignore my body’s needs. The power of good hydration, rest and calories in restoring the ability to hike along is miraculous. And, in respecting that, I found I WAS physically strong enough to make it to Katahdin.
Jan LiteShoe
