Pinefield Hut - Criminal Plan

Pinefield Hut to Hightop Mountian Hut 9.0 miles

So these people were back, arguing with each other through the night. We stole their books. They were in the tent, and there was no good way to get them back to their owners. There was only one person that knew that we were in the tents; this big, white-bearded man sleeping in a hammock named Boyd. We knew that he wouldn't say anything because he thought these people were 'tards as well. These were our options.
High Risk:
Sneak back to their tent in the middle of the night, after they had stopped arguing and return their books into their tent, or just outside. At this point, we didn't think they noticed that the books were gone. If they noticed them outside the tent, they would have known something was up.

Medium Risk:
Leave our tent in the middle of the night. Place them in the other empty tent and blame it on the people that weren't even there. It would look like their tent was broken into, but not by us. The downside to this is that they would likely also notice that we were outside because our tent was in proximity to theirs.

Low Risk:
Blame someone else.
Score.

In the morning, we packed our things as normal and I placed the books in my pack. We walked down the hill to the shelter. At 6:30 in the morning, Boyd had packed up and left. We never saw him again. At the shelter, Troop 14 was hanging around. It started raining, and it was getting really dark. No matter what happened, today was going to be a bad day. The mystery people were still fast sleep in their tents. Also in the shelter was Pat, a nice man from Alabama that was going from GA to Harpers Ferry where I now type. (I may have mentioned Pat before. We met him coming up from the road in Rockfish Gap. We stayed with him every night from the entrance of Shenandoah to almost the terminal end. He started having knee problems, and was getting into camp later and later each night. We heard that he dropped off the Trail in Luray, VA just short of the end of the park. Hopefully, with a little rest, he will be able to get back onto his goal). Also in the shelter, was a bearded man who was very nice. A thru-hiker whose name we never learned. At 8:30 Troop 14 departed on schedule leaving just 4 of us in the shelter plus the two sleeping idiots on the hill. Pat and the thru-hiker talked, and Hannah distracted everyone (accidentally on purpose). She stated that she needed to go to the privy. As Pat and the thru-hiker looked to see where she was going, I slipped the books out of my pack (already open when Hannah went to get the toilet paper) and placed them on the wall of the shelter next to the register.

All Shelters have a register where anyone staying the night can sign and say anything they wish. These registers are often kept as a trail record at the Appalachian Trail Club Headquarters for the particular club that maintains that section of trail. Next to these registers, hikers will leave items of particular use to those that will come after them. "Trail Magic" refers to any items that are found on the trail that are left as anonymous gifts to hikers. For instance, strictly utilitarian trail magic might include Knorr Sides (formerly Lipton) which a hiker might pack normally. We sure do. They are delicious. More extravagant things are donuts, soda, beer, or even books!! Well, sitting next to the register were two BOOKS by Bill Bryson. As Hannah came back, the thru-hiker started looking around the shelter for some magic. He discovered the books in the corner and started reading one of them. At this point, we decided to leave just because our time had come. The people on the hill never awoke and never confronted anyone. If they came down and asked the thru-hiker what he was doing with their books I imagine he would have said, "I don't know. They were just sitting right over there." It was the perfect crime. Perfect.

What was not perfect was the weather. As I mentioned, it was raining. The forecast for that day called for "scattered showers." The rain decided to scatter and settle right over where we were hiking. Mist rolled in, and my glasses were fogging so bad that visibility was limited to about 20 feet, or less for me. Those who were more visually inclined ( Hannah ) were asked to lead. I kept fearing that there would be some large animal (bear, especially bear with cubs) that I would fail to see. With Hannah in the lead, I felt much better. Well, there was this time when I had to tell her to stop because she almost walked into a deer (deer in SNP are shameless), but I digress.

I was wearing a rain jacket and rain pants. My pack was covered in nylon. My glasses were wet and foggy, and so was the trail. My shoes soaked through in the first twenty minutes, and it was warm. As I continued to walk, I started to sweat. Soon it didn't really matter that I was wearing rain clothes because they were just as wet inside as they were outside. We just had to keep trekking. It was meant to be a long day, but with the rain, it felt like an eternity. By the halfway point, my feet were all wrinkly and white. They burned like they never have before. My skin was tender and ripped easily. Every step was a chore. I was sweating, but I was cold. The biggest reward of the day was to get to camp, pitch a tent in the mud and crawl into a likely wet sleeping bag. I can't say that my mood was good.

The camps kept getting smaller and smaller, and the tent sites fewer and fewer. As we continued hiking, we were joined by more people who competed for these sites. Luckily, only Troop 14 had beat us, so we selected our sites, pitched the tent in record time, and got in. The sleeping bags were dry and so was the inside of the tent. We fell fast asleep for the next two hours. I was awakened by the sounds of neighbors on each side setting up their tents.

The rain had stopped, but it was still a miserable situation to be in. Since it was about dinner time, I thought that Hannah would like to get up as well. I started rubbing her arm and stroking her face. It seemed like it would be a pleasant thing to wake up to, but this was not the case. She sharply remarked that I was being annoying and that I should immediately stop. As she woke up, she was pissed that I wasn't doing anything and that I interrupted her repose. Well, to make a long story short, she was annoyed at me and my time prioritization skills (or lack thereof in her mind). We made dinner by the shelter, but it was awkward because we weren't really talking to those who were there or to each other. The bear bag was hung and we decided to go back to our tent. We talked things over for a while and came to some conclusions. I woke Hannah up with good intentions. If I nap too long in the afternoon, I can never get back to sleep. Since Hannah does not have this problem, I should let her nap as long as she needs. She wakes up faster than I do, it seems. If there is something that needs to be done, I should wait until I'm ready and then let her know. We do things in a different order, but we both meet deadlines. We have to sometimes agree to disagree on the order upon which these things should be done. This is where Hannah gets annoyed with me most. I can do nothing about this, since, in the end, everything does indeed get done. Well, we had this circular and awkward conversation until about nightfall. We each turned over, and I think Hannah dozed off. However, my mind had thousands of thoughts going through it. I hated the rain and not being dry. I missed the comforts of home and my family. I thought of the sacrifices that my parents made to get me what I have. I thought about my social life and how I've changed in some ways, but in others have remained exactly the same. It all hit me at once, and I cried myself to sleep.