Blood Mountain Pt. 1

The Appalachian Trail between Blood Mountain and Hiawassee presents an early challenge for thru-hikers in the earliest stages of their journey toward main, both due to the terrain and the notorious reputation of area. Blood Mountain, a tough climb in itself, is made even more of a challenge due to its reputation for harrassment and unfortunate interaction between the backcountry Georgia locals and hikers attempting the climb. Indeed, the shelter on top of the mountain, just a mile from highway __, is permanetly closed to campers. The year I attempted my thru-hike, a female backpacker was abducted at gunpoint from the shelter, and was reported missing for some time until her corpse was recovered by a search party some weeks later.

Having reached the southern base of Blood Mountain the previous night, my second on the AT, I was determined to make an early summit and push for a long day to make it to the shelter before the road to Hiawassee, nearly 20 miles down the trail, in a single day. However, that night, I had endured my first encounter with the most ferocious, tenacious, and terrifying beasts I would encounter on the trail: the common field mouse. Starved by a dearth of natural food sources in late Spring, these tiny terrors had learned that they could live in abundance in the various shelters that dotted the trailside every few miles. Night after night, they thrived on the various crumbs human backpackers would inevitably leave behind, and once darkness fell, would run rampant along the shelter walls as they began a nocturnal feast. Though I would eventually become acustomed to the nightly mice raids, that night I had slept little as the fearless rodents fell like rain from the rafters, making little ploping noises on my sleeping bag when they happend to fall. I spent the night hours huddled at the bottom of my sleeping bag, holding the open end closed, hoping none of the fearsome creatures were motivated enough to gnaw their way into my safe space. Though the vicious rodents had dissapeared by the time the sun returned the next morning, I found one last trace of their terror when I went to drink from my Camelback — apparantly in their desparation for food, one mouse had decided to gnaw apart the bite valve, which I hadn’t thought to pack away with my other supplies. Unfortunately it wasn’t until after I had put the end of the tube into my mouth that I noticed this regrettable fact. Needless to say, I was delayed in my departure that morning, but managed to begin my ascent up Blood Mountain and make progress toward my goal, albeit at bit sleep deprived (and thirsty).

Despite its macabre name and reputation, I remember a beautiful morning as I climbed toward the top of the open, rocky summit. As I reached the top, I met a few other day hikers, and spent a few minutes resting in the ancient shelter on top. Unlike most newer shelters on the Appalachian Trail, this one was fully enclosed, and made of stone blocks. It was unusual to build a shelter on top of a mountain, with no reliable water source. The insides of the stone walls were covered with 60+ years of graffiti, which gave it a threatening aura. I didn’t want to imagine how it might have felt for the poor female thru-hiker who had been abducted only weeks before from this very spot. There were still missing person notices describing her appearance and last known location, even though her decaying corpse had been recovered weeks before.