![]() ![]() Eating Lipton’s Cup-a-Soup noodles with our fingers reminded us of our dinner along the “Roller Coaster” in northern Virginia, when I had forgotten to pack our sporks, and we had to manage macaroni and cheese with our fingers. It was an oversight we wouldn’t discover until we stopped for lunch at Fullhardt Knob Shelter. When we packed up, we forgot our sporks on the table. When the Sunday morning sun woke us up, we made our breakfast of oatmeal and coffee on the picnic table in front of the shelter. Maple and I retired with the sun, played a game of backgammon, and then slept well, bundled up in our long underwear and sleeping bags with liners. Already he has had several falls, and I fear that it is only a matter of time before he injures himself. My only real concern is for Alpine, who has made it a habit to hike at night using his headlamp. They were all quite friendly, and it was a real pleasure to get acquainted with them. At dusk, Maple accepted their invitation to make smores. They had begun their journey in January and were presently accompanied by several college friends on spring break from Illinois–friends who were getting a taste of the backpacking life. Among them were four north-bound thru-hikers, the first that we have come across this year: Hot Rod, Alpine, Sub-Zero, and his partner, Golightly. Seven young people had arrived before us. We filled our dromedary, continued our hike, and arrived at Wilson Creek Shelter before 4 p.m. We knew that Wilson Creek, an abundant water source, was a half mile south of the shelter, and since we weren’t looking forward to adding a mile to our hike (back and forth from the shelter), we took advantage of what appeared to be a small spring that crossed the trail about a quarter mile north of our destination.
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