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not a problem. My challenges have been knee pain, blisters, and a swollen bunion, but for the moment these problems are manageable. Thru-hiking is more demanding than I had imagined. In spite of the difficulties, this is where I want to be.

    The morning weather radar shows clearing skies, a fact I can confirm by looking out of the window. Without hesitation, I ditch my plan for a zero day in Fontana Village, pack my things, and hop a shuttle back to the trail. I'm barreling into the Great Smoky Mountains under clear blue skies.
    Ridgerunner Roger "Manysleeps" is on the trail about a half mile up from Fontana Dam. Ridgerunners are ATC employees and volunteers who oversee the trail. Roger has manned his post from 7:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. every day of the hiking season, counting thru-hikers. I'm northbound thru-hiker number 927. He tells me that the dropout rate for thru-hikers has consistently been 50 percent before finishing the Smokies. Ninety percent of the trail is still ahead.
    There is a crowd of thru-hikers headed up from the dam, at least six from Fontana Village and eight more from Fontana Dam Shelter. It is an exciting, fresh start with so many hikers heading out from the same point. I walk across Fontana Dam with Crossroads. He comments on all the young people, and how he is the old man in the crowd at the age of thirty-five. His assumption that he is older is an ego boost. I want to put on some miles today because I fear that the first couple of shelters will fill up. Last night and this morning I ate AYCE meals at the inn. Dinner was the only time in my life that I was purposefully gluttonous. I believe it paid off, and I hike energetically all day. I feel excitement in passing other hikers. One by one they fall back. I make good miles despite gaining three thousand feet in elevation, getting a late start, and stopping with two hours of daylight remaining. Snail and Patience are the only other hikers from the crowd to make it this far. We stay at Spence Field Shelter, beautifully set among an orchard of flowering Sarvis trees that rain white petals down on the grassy terrain.
    Right from the start of my second day in the Smokies, the trail goes into a number of PUDs (pointless ups and downs), some of them very steep. This lasts until Derrick Knob. My knee is holding up better, and as a result I hike faster and wear out more quickly. The trail has few blazes in the Smokies. Many times I walk hundreds of yards without seeing a white blaze. Anxiety over getting lost adds to my weariness.
    I peter out near dumpy Double Springs Shelter. Recent rains have swamped the grounds, and puddles extend all the way into the shelter floor. Black flies (biting, gnatlike bugs) swarm the area. I take a long break, eat, and have a dose of Vitamin I. 11 Feeling better, and inspired by clear weather, I march up Clingmans Dome. Once above fifty-six hundred feet, the trail buries itself in a spruce-fir forest with the look and smell of a Christmas tree lot. The dome is capped by a tower with a long ramping spiral walkway. From the observation deck, I can see that all of the larger firs have been killed. 12 I have to drag myself up and over one more mountain to reach the shelter. This was a hard day of hiking. Mount Collins Shelter is in good condition, having an excellent privy and bear cables. 13

    I am fond of this shelter due to my previous visits here. This shelter is easily accessible from the road leading up to Clingmans Dome. In 2001 my family and I took an impromptu short vacation in and around the Smokies. One day we parked on the access road and hiked in to Mount Collins Shelter. I wanted to show the kids a bit of the trail and let them see a shelter. While we ate lunch, a former thru-hiker showed up.
    He had done the trail after he retired. He returned to walk a section of the trail and to place a plaque in honor of a hiker who passed away at a shelter north of here. The unfortunate hiker had a heart attack during the night, and