Grey Wolf - Riff Raff

           I was in the 100-mile Wilderness at the end of a long day when I reached a sign that said the shelter was inconveniently placed atop a very sharp drop off.  A pathetic and murky water source was at the bottom.  All I could think about was getting my gear off and not put it back on until the next day, so without thinking of the logistics I climbed the steep hill.  Looking back down the small cliff made me realize I should have filled up at the bottom.  Damn it.

            As I slid 100 feet back down to fill up, Smurf walked up and I warned him about the hill.  We both filled up and headed back up.  There were two older men at the shelter and a trail repair crew camping off to the left.  One old man was massaging his feet with toes bent and curled in every direction.  He was frail... and SO old.  He looked at least 75.  How is he alive out here?  The other man was hiking his final state of the AT after doing a state each summer.  Fourteen years of work and I felt like an asshole for trying to do it in 3 months.

Looking haggard while resting by a cold stream for lunch.

"Wooah, hey guys. I know it's late, but I just got this euphoric runner's high man," the stoner hiker said as he approached the shelter.

            I don’t think it could be a runner’s high when you’re not running.  I think he was just high.  He called himself Grey Wolf.  He was a hilarious nuisance to everyone on the trail.  Grey Wolf had disgustingly dark greasy hair and a face flush with bad decisions during puberty.  He was probably in his mid to late 20's and wearing a shirt with the number "69" on both sides.  The shirt was like a jersey with "Riff Raff" on the front and "Grey Wolf" on the back.  Grey Wolf showed up right at dark and proceeded to dump all of his gear all over the shelter to rummage thru much like a monkey rummaging thru his own feces to see which piece its going to throw at you. 

"Ohmmmm yeah this is the stuff maaan, carbs," he moaned as he ate as loudly as humanly possible. "I'm putting in big miles so I have to eat."  Thank you, John Madden of hiking. Your ideas are rich with intellect. Fuck tard.

            Grey Wolf ate his meal, lit a joint and told me about Rif Raff even though all I did was offer him some Tylenol for his hurt feet.  Rif Raff?  Apparently it's a group of hikers that take hiking verrrry seriously.  So much so, that they're kind of nasty to people that aren't into it like they are.  Another hiker, Iceman, would later tell me they were a ridiculous attempt at a hiking gang.  Ha!  I'm learning so much about the popularity of the trail and I just started.  Never thought I would hear "hiker" and "gang" used in the same sentence.

            As I got ready to crash, Patrick (Freight Train) came up to the shelter looking exhausted.  He was a 19-year old from New York City who weighed 260 lbs and was carrying a pack with too much weight.  Combine that with the hiking and you have one extremely dehydrated man.  He looked down the hill where the water was and the mere thought of walking more just crushed his spirit.  Patrick didn't even want to eat.  He just wanted to go to sleep.  I talked him into eating and gave him my water claiming that I'm "over hydrated" even though I hardly had any.  He needed it more than me and I knew I could make it to the next water source in the morning a few more miles south. 

            As we all finally got some shuteye, Grey Wolf had other plans.  He kept rummaging thru his gear with a bright light on.  After 30 minutes he took all of our stares as a hint to at least turn the light off.  He just turned it from a white light to a red light.  Not a big help in a small shelter.  Grey Wolf eventually calmed down from whatever he was high on and went silent.

            Every couple of hours thru the night ole Grey Wolf would awaken, light a joint then a cigarette... with the red light on.  I don't even know if it was weed he was smoking.  I've smelled weed before and whatever he had smelled like burnt shit.  Maybe it was meth.  His teeth were rotting and it looked like he itched the hell out of his face.  Who knows... I just wanted to get some sleep.

            Grey Wolf's behavior continued until 4 in the morning, when his alarm went off and he decided to get on the trail.  The alarm was Darius Rucker's cover of the song "Wagon Wheel."   I left shortly after he did since I was already up and the old farts were sawing some serious logs.  About halfway thru the morning I came up on someone sitting Indian style in the middle of the trail.  The trail is only wide enough for one person.  Who would block the trail?  Yep, it's Grey Wolf.  He was picking at his feet.

"Oh heeeey maaaaan, am I in your way?"

"Nah, you're good," as I scrambled around him.

            The guy couldn't even find me.  I walked right past him and he was talking to me with the Stevie Wonder head sway trying to figure out where this voice was coming from.  I hauled ass and hoped to not run into him again.  Not so lucky.  I would see him at another shelter on my last night in the 100-mile Wilderness.  It was pouring outside and hikers were coming in.  We fit 8 dudes in a shelter made for 5 or 6.  Grey Wolf's habits continued.

            We all woke up to "Wagon Wheel" as Grey Wolf lit something funky then a cigarette and off he went.  An hour later he showed back up.

"Did you forget something?" I asked.

"Noooo maaaaan I think I went the wrong way."

"Oh, well the AT South is right there."

            Now, everyone gets turned around at certain spots, but if you mess up from a shelter... I have to wonder how you even got your pants on in the morning.  I pointed right at the trail and Grey Wolf looked at it, then looked in the wrong direction, then the AT south, then back at me.

"Thanks maaaan!"

            And off he went... in the same, wrong fucking direction he just came from.  I never saw Grey Wolf after that day.  If I had to guess, I would say he got lost and then consumed by the elements all the while hallucinating that he was cuddling with a lynx.  Ohhhh Grey Wolf.