Miles: 102.0 | Leaking shelters, relentless rain, and the quiet devastation of reaching the 100-mile mark without the celebration I imagined. No views, slick rock faces, bruises earned the hard way, and a difficult decision to turn back for safety. This is a day about disappointment, doubt, and learning that milestones don’t always feel triumphant — even when you’ve earned every step.
We woke up at 8am in Rock Gap Shelter. In a small puddle of water. We looked up and realized the entire roof had duct tape patches on it that we hadn't seen in the dark. I was really groggy from the Seroquel. Slowly we got up and packed up our packs. The rain beat down. I was so sick of rain.
We left around 9am and slowly made our way southbound up to Albert Mountain. I hiked a bit ahead of Michelin and waited for him at Long Branch Shelter. We were both feeling down and achey. We discussed and decided not to stop at this shelter. We could make it over Albert today or camp at the gap right before. We arrived at the gap to 15 'NO CAMPING' signs. We walked a few feet away from the gap and stumbled across the 100 mile sign.
I felt like a fraud and a failure. In the rain I posed next to the 100 mile sign, trying my best to look happy for this momentous occasion:
Cold and wet next to this all important sign, the moment didn't feel real. After tomorrow I would technically, yes, have walked 100 miles. But not without emotional turmoil, exhaustion, injury, and complicated friendships.
Upset about the rain, we trudged on up to Albert Mountain which was supposed to be my very first 'real' view. I had yet to see a single view because of all of the rain and fog (or 'smoke' as they call it here). The view was non-existent. I was so angry. I had no reason to be angry. That's not true. I had every reason to be angry. It felt like I'd been living in a cloud for a month!! It was depressing and cold and ANNOYING. I just wanted to get to camp and have a fire and socialize. Instead we get to camp eat and get dry as fast as possible and go to bed at exactly dark to stay warm with little socializing. I was sick of it! I was sick of not seeing views that I climbed thousands of feet upwards for! Sick of having frozen shoes in the morning and eating when I felt nauseous and feeling behind. It all was getting to me.
Here's the view we saw: (I was too exhausted at this point to even cry at my disappointment)
Eventually we got over our annoyance and pain and put our packs on to go down the other side. We attempted to start downward: one clumsy idiot and her friend with a knee injury over a sheer rock face... I, of course (living up to my name), fell flat on my ass. A large bruise now plasters it to prove it. We tried to continue after the fall and kept slipping. It was rough. We called Whisperer, who had attempted this section Southbound just a few days before, for advice. He said that even without rain that section was hard and he almost fell. It's over a quarter mile of sheer rock face and 2 more miles downward. It wasn't safe.
With heavy hearts Michelin and I stood there for a long time trying to decide what to do. And for a moment, Mother Nature tried to cheer us on. The clouds separated slightly and we saw a view... of the tower... not the mountains... but still!!
We cheered up a little and decided to go back to the last shelter, Long Branch, and try again in the morning.
At the shelter we were met by Yogi, who I hadn't seen in forever!! Two women, now known as Pancake and Popcorn, who were sisters thru-hiking together, and a couple of others. We made dinner with them as the sun went down and the chill set in. We settled into our sleeping bags soon after dinner.
I couldn't get warm. Michelin slid as close to me as possible. Still cold. Yogi lent me his closed foam pad and used Michelin's inflatable one. Michelin made the ultimate sacrifice for me. With the closed foam pad I was finally warm. Michelin was warm, but surely he was uncomfortable.