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Musings
of a Thru-Hiker Muskrat
Creek Shelter The weather cleared that evening at
Muskrat Creek Shelter. After eating a hot meal and a couple of hot chocolates, I felt much
better. So much so in fact, I wished that I had pushed on down the trail.
But it was not to be. I
spread my gear, got comfortable, and began
to write in
my journal as the others started to settle in the shelter. The
threesome from Orlando quickly unpacked and changed in to
pajamas and little down booties. I
could not believe my eyes. They
continued to bicker among themselves as they were doing early that morning
when I met them. Soon they had all
three stoves going and hot coffee
was brewing. They mixed some sort of potatoes, rice, and leftovers
for a meal. It was far
less appealing
than the
pancakes. While
they prepared their meals, they jostled for territory and continued to
pick at each other as
brothers often do when they are too close for too long.
Slow Poke capped off the evening entertainment (really
it was hard
to upstage the pajamas and footies) with his dinner preparation. Still
chain smoking he spread out his cooking gear.
Several pots, in a variety
of sizes,
pans, lids, cups, a mixing bowl, plates, knife, fork, and spoon.
I am not sure what he
actually ate,
but he
had plenty of
cooking utensils. One pinkish concoction appeared to have jello and strawberry
breakfast drink in it. As the
steam rose
from the cup,
it began to congeal. Even in
the woods I could not imagine eating anything that color and consistency.
One dish had rice and beef stew,
another had soup, still another had
some sort
of dough
mixture that approximated a gooey uncooked biscuit.
To this he added a few fig newtons, a dessert, and
hot tea with
a spoonful of sugar.
From the appearance of things his cooking gear alone weighed at least
twenty pounds. Perhaps not that
much, but at least twenty times what I carried!
My cooking gear including my
stove and
windscreen weighed less than
a pound. Surely his weighed much
more. Perhaps that is why he took
so many breaks to
smoke. I also
carried a
one ounce bottle of campsuds to clean my dishes( one half of it remained
unused at the end of my trip). Slow
Poke carried a quart
bottle. In fairness I should
point out that it was only half full at this point.
He boiled a fourth pot of
water and
liberally applied the soap concentrate.
His dishes were squeaky clean and dried quickly
as water
evaporated from
the hot
surfaces. This
was incredible: a
seven course
meal and
more cooking
gear than a kitchen!
He spent longer doing dishes that night than I spent
eating and then
cleaning all
day. The
trail is
full of
incredible experiences; as
darkness fell, one of the punkers noticed "Ed Garvey was here"
scratched in the ceiling of the A-frame.
"You ask me:
LI PO Peace, Slim Copyright
1991-2000, all rights reserved This
is a fictional account of an actual Thru-Hike in 1990. Any resemblance to
specific individuals or events is purely coincidental.
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