Weekly Overview
Day 43
June 14, 2019
- Route: Daleville, VA (Mile 729.7) to Cove Mountain Shelter (Mile 754.7)
- Daily Mileage: 25 miles
My dinner at Ballast Point Brewing (along with another night sleeping in the RV) was a nice treat. It was like a reward for pulling a lot of big miles days this past week. But, now I feel like I need to keep my head down and try to see if I can’t catch my trail family.
Keith brought me back to Daleville around 8:30 am and when he dropped me back at the trail, I could feel it was going to warm up to another very hot, humid day. My goal was to hike 25 miles today, and I’m hoping — against odds — this will close the gap a bit with everyone who’s ahead of me.
During the first hour of the day, I saw a black bear scamping off into the woods, which put a smile on my face. And I got to start a brand new section in my Guthook app. The ‘Southern Virginia’ section of trail runs from Damascus to Daleville. So today, I got to begin the ‘Northern Virginia’ section. As arbitrary as that transition sounds (I’m have so much of Virginia yet to hike), that little shift made it feel like I’d made considerable progress.
ESCAPE ROOM
This morning began with a pretty steep 5-mile climb from Daleville to the top of Fullhart Knob. When I got to the summit, there was a 2-story shelter calling my name, so I stopped for second breakfast. As much as I enjoy hiking by myself, I’m beginning to miss seeing familiar hiker faces throughout the day. Everyone I know is ahead of me now, so now I’m encountering lots of new people.
Most of the hikers had already rolled out by then as it was after 10 am, but there was still one hiker lingering in the shelter with his sleeping bag still thrown across the wood plank floor.
As I read the shelter log, I could see a Luna left a note for me and amused myself reading about how Gear Boy nearly lost his sunglasses (again).
As I flipped further back in the log to see who else had been there, the lonely hiker in the shelter started trying to strike up conversation. He seemed a bit wired, and was drinking a can of crappy beer he brought from town. Before long, he was on a really long diatribe about all the fun he’d had with some friends when they went to an escape room in Roanoke.
Now, I’ve never actually been to an escape room. But I understand the concept. It seems like a entertaining way to spend a few hours. However, this experience seemed to blow this guy’s mind. He couldn’t shut up about the damn thing. He wanted to give me a blow-by-blow account of EVERYTHING they did in the room to find their way out. He was just still so excited by it all.
I’m sorry, but the more he talked, and the more animated he got about the experience, the more off-balanced he began to sound. That’s when I realized a few things:
- I’m starting to get creeped out by this guy.
- He’s drinking beer at 10am, and I have no idea how many of the beer cans sitting nearby he’s consumed. Are they from today? Is he drunk? Is that why he’s so weirdly gung-ho on this escape room narrative?
- I’m all alone in the woods – a solid 5 miles from anywhere – with a really weird guy.
So, it was a no-brainer that it was time to move on instead of taking an extended break here. I’m not saying this guy was a threat. After all, there are a lot of unusual people out here who seem oblivious to social cues. But, I needed to hike 25 miles today. So it was time for ME to move out!
BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS
After Fullhart Knob, the AT was filled with lots of ups and downs. The day continued to get warmer and more humid, and I found myself drinking so much water that I needed to stop to filter more frequently than I did in the past. One of my knees was also beginning to hurt quite a bit and I wondered if amping up my mileage these past few days had caused the discomfort. I hope my body holds up because I really want to push.
There trail followed and criss-crossed the Blue Ridge Parkway much of the afternoon. The Blue Ridge Parkway is a 469-mile scenic road that runs from North Carolina all the way up to central Virginia. It’s managed by the National Park Service, and showcases the beauty of this stretch of the Appalachian Mountains with numerous scenic overlooks where drivers can stop and take in the views.
As I approached the Peaks of Otter overlook, I stumbled upon a sign about the Appalachian Trail. I suspect this sign hasn’t been updated since the mid-1980s. The attire the hikers wore in the accompanying photo and the giant size of their external frame backpacks, was seriously outdated. And it also told readers the AT was only 2,050 miles long (it’s currently 2,192 miles due to changes and re-routing over the years).
The overlook provided some nice views though and I decided it was a good spot to stop and rest in the shade of some nearby trees. As I was sitting there, an older pickup truck drove up and the driver asked if I was an AT thru-hiker. When I confirmed that I was, he stopped, got out and opened up the back of his truck to reveal a cooler filled with cold bottles of Powerade and some fresh fruit. Trail Magic!!
I thanked the driver profusely for his generosity as I was quite thirsty when he found me. I hadn’t gotten enough water today, and the next source was still a good 2 miles ahead of me. As we chatted, he shared that lived nearby and thru-hiked the AT in 2018, and was now just out helping here supporting his nephew who was attempting his own thru-hike. Man, I love this community of people along the trail. When past hikers come back and support those of us who aspire to follow in their footsteps, it just fills my heart.
WATERLESS NIGHT
My end point for the day was Cove Mountain Shelter, which was not idea in terms of its amenities. One of the reasons I tend to stop near a shelter is because they tend to have a privy and a nearby water source.
The absence of a privy isn’t a deal-breaker, but I’m starting to find them to be a convenient perk that alleviates the need to dig a cathole. Despite my super crappy, junk-filled diet, my body is becoming has become very regular in it’s digestive timing. So having a privy available when I first get up is a really nice fringe benefit.
A reliable water source, however, is a much bigger reason to camp near a shelter. It means I don’t have to stock up with enough extra water for dinner, cleaning myself up in the evening, and breakfast. So over the past several hundred miles, I’ve developed a daily routine that assumes I will be camping near a water source.
Unfortunately, Cove Mountain Shelter was nowhere near water. There was a source 3.4 miles before it and another source 2.6 miles after it. I wasn’t going to stop and camp at the earlier water source because it was essentially just a spot near where the AT crossed the Blue Ridge Parkway near Bearwallow Gap. Sleeping that close to the road wasn’t a good idea.
But, I wasn’t convinced about walking all the way to the next source either for several reasons. First, it would have meant hiking a 27.5 mile day – which would be my longest day yet and perhaps beyond my current physical strength. Second, the comments in Guthook described it as a small stream flowing across the trail, and very slowly. There was no guarantee that it would be enough water to support me overnight. And it was in the middle of a long descent, with no indication on whether there were any flat spots nearby to even pitch a tent. It could literally just be a stream I stepped over on my way down the hill.
By the time I made it to the shelter, I was limping from my knee pain, so I knew this would have to be my stopping point for the evening. I’m glad I’d tanked up at the last water source because it was going to be a dry camping experience tonight!
Day 44
June 15, 2019
- Route: Cove Mountain Shelter (Mile 754.7) to Marble Spring (Mile 779)
- Daily Mileage: 24.3 miles
I was up early this morning and already on hiking by 6:45 am. One of the benefits of camping somewhere with no water source is you have a motivation to get up and go find the next one. The morning was relatively easy with the first 4 miles going downhill.
About 7 miles into the day, I stumbled up a giant double-decker shelter. The Bryant Ridge Shelter is one of the largest on the entire AT, with space for approximately 20 hikers inside. Although it was completely empty when I arrived, it was an ideal place to stop for second breakfast and rest my feet in anticipation of the long challenging ascent ahead of me.
The AT dropped down to 1,272 feet at this shelter, but would climb back above 4,000 feet again this afternoon on the way to Apple Orchard Mountain. As I trekked up the long climb, my emotions started to get the best of me. I’d begun to feel overwhelmed, frustrated, and even a bit angry.
FEELING IN THE DUMPS
I’m a little bit embarrassed to openly admit my feelings here – but I think every hiker experiences these low moments and it’s important to present my authentic journey – not a sugar-coated one. So here’s the raw, uncensored version of what was rolling through my head today.
When I began this thru-hike, I did so as a solo hiker. I knew from all my research that the AT is one of the more social trails. And truthfully, that fact kind of scared me a bit. As an introvert, I tend to feel exhausted after any sort of extended interactions with people. Going to big social events with lots of people is something I dread. And I’m usually looking at the clock the whole time to see when I can leave without offending anyone.
So, the idea of being on a trail — day in and day out — with a whole bunch of strangers was a bit daunting. How was I going to avoid that feeling of mental exhaustion that overwhelms me when I find myself in other big social situations? How was I going to avoid the crowds of people?
Despite these worries, I’ve met some truly awesome people thus far. And they’ve only enhanced my hiking experience. Often they turned out to be the folks who had a similar sense of determination or mentality toward this trail. In a way, as I was formed this close group of friends, they insulated me from feeling anxious in the midst of the bigger trail community.
With that exclusive community of friends, I feel accepted, understood, empowered, loved, respected, and encouraged. I am able to be vulnerable around them without any sense of insecurity. I don’t have to be “on” all the time. I just have to be me.
In a way, I’ve really come to depend on my trail family (a very scary proposition for an independent, stubborn introvert). We don’t need to hike together every mile or every day, but just knowing they were there to share this experience with me kept me in good spirits when the miles were harder than expected. They were who I commiserated with and sharing this journey with them has been my good fortune.
But now, I’m a full day behind my trail family. And this separation is not like the other times where we spread out into smaller groups. This time EVERYONE else is ahead of me. I am all alone. I feel like I’m hiking the fastest and farthest I can to catch up, but I’m still just as far behind as before.
Suddenly my trail family is upping their distance to 23-26 mile days. This is exact same distance that I’m able to put each day. So, I don’t know how I’m ever going to possibly catch up. I have no chance to cut the distance between us if we’re all essentially hiking the same distance day after day. And this dilemma is making me feel like shit!
I didn’t realize how much I really WANTED to hike with these people until now. I didn’t recognize how much I’d come to rely on their humor and camaraderie. My initial plan to hike the AT all by myself from Georgia to Maine was just fine… until I met them. And now I feel like a teenage girl who’s been dumped by her first love.
I felt depressed by this crappy situation, and then my insecurities started to grow. Did I misinterpret this whole trial family thing? Were they taking this opportunity to put distance between us because they were tired of me? Had I distorted the good times we had together?
The rational part of me knows I’m not being “dumped” by my trail family. They are simply ahead of me on the trail. It’s not some sinister plan to leave me behind. We are simply hiking the same miles each day because we all have similar physical abilities and that’s what the terrain allows. Plus, I never asked them to wait up for me, so it’s REALLY not fair for me to resent them for being ahead. What were they supposed to do???
THINGS ARE LOOKING UP
I’m not proud of the pity party I was throwing for myself today. But that’s the weird thing about this trail. Every emotion and feeling is amplified in this environment. Small joys put you over the moon with happiness; and minor setbacks can feel overwhelming. I seriously considered not sharing this internal roller coaster of sentiment, but as I said above, I want this journal to be authentic and true to my thru-hike. And when I look back on it, months or years down the road, I want to remember my experience as it occurred. Good. Bad. And Ugly.
As I made the final push up and over Apple Orchard Mountain, a few things lifted my mood tremendously.
The first like bit of joy was a touch of trail magic. Some members of a local hiking group were out checking on the Cornelius Creek Shelter (which had a remarkable clean privy I might add!) and they saw me sitting all alone at the picnic table during my lunch break. They had a bag full of brownies and Little Debbie Cakes and kindly offered to share them with me. That little bit of generosity definitely put a smile back on my face.
A little while later, I passed near a weather radar station that I can only describe as a miniature white ball that reminded me of Walt Disney’s Epcot center perched at the top of the mountain. It was the weirdest site, but reminded me of all my great memories as a kid visiting Disneyland and Disney World.
And, then there was the Guillotine. The AT passes between two giant boulders and descends down a few steps between them. Perched above the trail, and wedged into the crevice between the boulders, there’s a round boulder suspended like a guillotine blade. It was definitely a cool spot and one of those weird sites that just make you want to smile wondering how exactly that boulder got trapped there.
STEALTH CAMPING
Since there were no shelters in the 12+ miles between Thunder Hill (mile 772.5) and Matts Creek (mile 785.1), I decided to end the day at Marble Spring. I spent last night at a shelter with no water source. Tonight I would do the opposite. I’d stealth camp away from any shelters, but near plenty of water.
Guthook described the Marble Spring as saddle with a 100 yard side trail to a gushing spring with abundant water. When I arrived, the area was wide open, and there was only one other hiker nearby with a tent set up. I gave him a wide berth and looked for a flat spot away from any unwieldy tree branches that could break off in a strong wind and crush me. And, then I reveled in being alone.
Although the day was filled with some angst, I think I’ve made my peace with hiking alone. Eventually I’ll catch up with my people. But until that time comes, I need to enjoy this journey. I came out here to hike the AT – and the absolute best hiking partner is the one I started with. ME.
Day 45
June 16, 2019
- Route: Marble Spring (Mile 779) to Punchbowl Shelter (Mile 797.2)
- Daily Mileage: 18.2 miles
Camping up at Marble Spring last night was an unusual experience. Although there was a second hiker in the area near me, we didn’t really interact. After some initial pleasantries, he kept to himself and I to myself. It was super tranquil and quiet without all the usual noises that surround a shelter — like people walking around, vehicle sounds from nearby roads, or voices talking all the time.
As a result, there was a lot more wildlife activity around me. Deers walked right up onto my tent and started munching on leaves just a foot away. Squirrels scamped around as I cooked my dinner. It was a completely different experience than what my prior stealth camping experiences. I was able to really enjoy nature.
THE CATHOLE GAME
Unfortunately, stealth camping away from a fixed shelter also meant there was no privy nearby. So, I needed to dig a cathole this morning when nature called before breakfast. This was only the 4th cathole I’ve needed to dig in close to 800 miles, which is rather amazing when you think about it.
Some of my friends back home have asked me the bizarre question of “where do you poop in the woods?” I always laugh at their obsession with this little detail. After all, the abundance of shelters with privies along the AT (plus all the bathrooms in towns) mean it’s not all that different on the trail. Sure, you have to bring your own toilet paper, but availing yourself of an outhouse isn’t all that primitive.
Consider this, indoor plumbing didn’t even start until the 1840s. Before then, people needed to use an alternative, which usually involved a outhouse of some sort. Even after indoor plumbing was invented, it still took nearly a century to perfect, and by 1940 only 2/3 of homes in the US had flush toilets and running water in their bathrooms. Fast forward to 1960, where 25% of homes in 16 states still lacked indoor plumbing. That isn’t that long ago people.
I know it seems odd to most of us today. Almost all of us grew up with a flush toilet in our household. But, this is a relatively new advancement when you look in the context of human history. So, explaining to curious friends how I “go in the woods” is akin to explaining to millennials what it was like growing up with just 3 TV networks to watch or how we cooked before homes had microwaves.
As I reflected catholes this morning, I mused about how many more I’d have to dig before Katahdin. And now it’s become a game in my mind. I’m averaging one cathole for every 200 miles. Can I get all the way there with fewer than 10 catholes total? How low can I get that number? 8? 6? Hmmm.
FATHER’S DAY
As I turned on my phone this morning I noticed it was Sunday (days of the week are pretty irrelevant out here) and discovered that it was Father’s Day. Oh man. I didn’t get Keith anything for his big day. So, I took advantage of the cell service up on one of the ridges to call him to wish him a Happy Father’s Day and update him on my location. As it turns out, he and Finn were still in Virginia and fishing on the James River today. And I was going to cross the river near where they were fishing in less than 8 miles!!
We took advantage of the coincidence and decided to meet up for lunch in a town called Glasgow. Woohoo. I was so excited. I’d get to see my family one last time before they took off toward the Delaware coast in just a few days. And we could even celebrate Father’s Day!
With a bit of spring in my step, I headed down the trail toward the James River. It was mostly down hill and I was nearly to the bridge that crossed the river by 10 am. But, then something caught my eye on the trail. It was a snake. And it wasn’t just an ordinary rat snake or garter snake. No, this was a copperhead!
As I stopped on the trail to let it move along, the sun glinted off it’s coppery-red head and there was no mistaking what I’d encountered. But, then it suddenly stopped and turned its head toward me. We both stood completely still waiting for the other to move. I was NOT going near that venomous bastard and decided to wait it out. But, the longer I stood there, the longer it remained motionless.
Finally, I decided to retreat a few feet back up the trail from where I’d come from, in hopes that it would move along. No such luck. It just stayed on the trail. Then I picked up a few small rocks and lightly tossed them in the snake’s direction to encourage it to move along. Still no luck. We were in a stalemate. I needed to get past it, but I didn’t have much ability to get around it because the trail dropped off sharply on one side and was thickly wooded on the other.
Our stand-off lasted another 3-4 minutes before it finally started to slowly move off the trail. When it was starting to go over the edge, I took a few step forward on the trail, but then the snake stopped. And we were right back to where we started. It wasn’t moving. After another two minutes of complete stillness ( I felt like I was holding my breath the entire time) the snake finally continued on its journey and left the trail.
I quickly moved past the area, but now I was on high alert. If there was one copperhead, were there more nearby??
JAMES RIVER BRIDGE
Less than a mile after my snake encounter, I made it to the James River and the massive footbridge that crossed the river. The new red-colored bridge was nearly 1,000 feet long and is the longest bridge on the entire AT.
Near the abutment, there was plaque in a boulder. As I stopped to read it, I learned this was the James River Foot Bridge, which was dedicated to the memory of William T. Foot (1946-2000). Bill Foot was a trail worker and avid hiker who vision and persistence made this modern footbridge a reality. The plaque explained that not only was he was a former AT thru-hiker and president of a local AT trail club, but he and his wife biked/hiked the American Discovery Trail all the way from Delaware to California. Wow!
Crossing the bridge, I could see a railroad bridge paralleling it off to my right, and the mighty James River flowing beneath us. Beyond, in the distance, the Blue Ridge Mountains were perfectly framed and I couldn’t wait to meet up with my two guys at the opposite side of the river.
Keith and Finn met me at the trailhead and we drove to nearby Glasglow, Virginia. This trail town eagerly welcomes thru-hikers and even built a shelter in a small park area inside the city limits. There was plenty of space for hikers to tent, and they even built an outdoor shower stall for the AT hikers (which I eagerly availed myself of before we set off for our Father’s Day lunch).
After a quick stop in Glasglow, we headed further up the road to a town named Buena Vista, where we stuffed our bellies with Italian food to celebrate the holiday. I wanted to linger all day in the cool air-conditioned restaurant, but knew I couldn’t. I needed to get at least 10 more miles of hiking in this afternoon.
OH THE HEAT!!
Back on trail, with my pack full from a minor resupply at a Dollar Store in Buena Vista, I could feel the heat and humidity hit me with a wallop. The elevation profile for the afternoon included an insanely cruel climb back up from the James River. It was now 2 pm, and the mercury was cresting 90 degrees, but it felt so much hotter than that.
I departed the trailhead with 2 liters of water in my pack, and I knew I needed to make it last. The next water source was 14 miles ahead. It was a brutal journey trying to ration my water while tackling the mountains on what must have been the hottest day thus far of my entire AT thru-hike.
As I climbed the relentless and steep incline, I started to feel dizzy. My lips were dry as the Sahara, and I was sweating profusely. Additionally, my heart felt like it was trying to beat out of my chest, and my pulse was racing. The only way I could make any progress was by walking 20 steps then stopping to rest 20 seconds while I waited for waves of nausea to pass. Then I’d repeat it again.
As I rested up against a tree, and woman with insanely ripped calves rapidly passed me, but then stopped to ask if I was ok. I told her yes, but it wasn’t really true. I felt horrible. My heat hurt, my stomach turned, and my vision felt like I was on a roller coaster. The last time I felt this bad was the day I entered the Smokies. And that’s when I finally put two and two together. I hadn’t been sick going into the Smokies after all. I‘d been feeling the signs of heat exhaustion.
Shit! I needed to get this under control. Heat exhaustion is not something to take lightly. After years in the military, I’d known the signs and what to look for in my soldiers. But how the heck was I supposed to take care of myself?? I needed to be smart here. Better to stop and rest until the temperature went down than to collapse on trail miles from civilization. I couldn’t move to a cooler place, but I could take my pack off and rest for a bit and drink more water. As much as I didn’t want to run out of my limited supply, I needed to stop these symptoms before they got worse.
Eventually, after about an hour, I felt like I could at least try to continue. I deliberately kept my pace slow. I just needed to make progress. There was no need to attempt a normal pace. The goal was to make it to the first shelter or water source and that was it.
I didn’t roll up to the Punchbowl Shelter until nearly dark. It was next to a swampy pond, but there was a small spring flowing below the pond. It seemed to take forever to fill up my water bladder and I drank an entire liter of water before even attempting to set up my tent or make dinner.
I sat on the picnic bench outside the shelter trying to muster the energy to return to the spring again. And that’s when I officially met the woman (with the spectacularly muscled calves) who’d passed me on the way up. Her name was Viking and she was from Iceland. She seemed shy, but her English was very good and I could only imagine how warm Virginia must feel to her coming from a cool, nordic country. I wonder if it’s ever gotten up to 90 degrees Fahrenheit in Iceland! But, she still powered through that afternoon climb better than me.
Day 46
June 17, 2019
- Route: Punchbowl Shelter (Mile 797.2) to Seeley-Woodworth Shelter (Mile 822.5)
- Daily Mileage: 25.3 miles
I didn’t sleep all that well last night. The frogs in the swampy pond near the shelter seemed to be croaking at a crazy loud volume all night long. And this noise causing me to wake up over and over. I was able to put the interruptions to some good use though, and I chugged water each time I woke up in an attempt to hydrate as much as possible.
It never really cooled off overnight, and it was going to be another hot, humid day. I didn’t want to fall prey to another heat injury like yesterday. It’s weird how I didn’t connect the dots about how I felt back at Fontana Dam until I experienced the same exact symptoms yesterday. And then my mind pulled up the severe dehydration I experienced in Spain last September. I need to be more careful than ever now about taking regular rest breaks and drinking lots of fluids.
CAMELBACK SANTA
After meeting Viking at the shelter last night, I did my best to introduce myself to some others. I figured that just because I’m not with the people I’ve known for the last 800 miles doesn’t mean I can’t make a few new friends. After all, I may be hiking about these people for the next few days (or weeks) while I try to catch back up to my trail family.
I left Punchbowl Shelter with plenty of extra water and started hiking around 6:45 to try to beat the heat. Just as I was leaving, an older guy named Camelback Santa was heading out too. We seemed to be hiking a similar pace so I spend the first half hour of the day getting to know him. I wondered aloud how he got such and unusual (and long) name.
It turns out Camelback Santa is from Phoenix, Arizona, and he got his trail name back there. One of the popular peaks to hike in Phoenix is Camelback Mountain, and many day hikers consider it to be a fairly difficult trek. He likes to dress up as Santa Claus during December and waits at the summit to cheer hikers on and reward them with hugs and candy canes when they finally make it to the top. Although he’s not hiking the AT in his full Santa suit, he is sporting a lot of red, including a red hiking shirt and red gaiters. So, I guess that’s his schtick.
After about an hour of hiking together, we passed the 800 mile mark, and stopped to grab some photos of the large sticks someone had formed on the trail to commemorate this milestone. In hindsight, I wish I’d taken a photo with Santa to show what he looked like, but I completely failed on that front.
AMBASSADOR
Much of the morning was downhill followed a flatter section with plenty of water. But then we had the massive 3,000 foot climb up to the summit of Bald Knob near mile 811. My goal was to get to the top before the worst of the heat picked up so I didn’t have a repeat of yesterday afternoon’s blunder. I started to pull ahead of Camelback Santa and told him I was going to push to the summit before stopping for an extended lunch.
When I arrived, I was rather surprised that Bald Knob wasn’t an open bald like it’s name would seem to indicate. Instead, it seemed to be pretty wooded. As I looked for somewhere to stop and eat lunch, I could hear a bunch of voices. I followed them until I found a group of hikers popped down on a rocky ledge with some decent views of the valley below. There was ample shade and room to join them – and soon I was introducing myself to a whole new crew of people.
One of the most interesting people in the group was a British woman named Ambassador. I started peppering her with all kinds of questions about growing up London, what she thought about the US, and why she was out on the trail. I asked about her trail name too, and figured it might have something to do with her fancy British accent. As it turns out, she adopted it because she realized that it was surprisingly rare to see a black woman (like herself) on the trail.
It’s true. You quickly realize that people of color are very much unrepresented on the trail. The typical thru-hiker out here seems to be a white guy in his 20s with a beard. I kinda knew to expect this environment from reading Zuul’s blog (Brown Girl on the NST), because she’s been pretty candid about sharing her observations about race and the outdoor community. Sadly, it’s quite possible that there were more people from Germany or the UK thru-hiking the trail this year than brown and black American hikers. We really need to change that!
CRAVINGS
The afternoon following Bald Knob was filled with lots of PUDs, and I found myself hiking around much the crew I’d met at lunchtime. Our favorite topic of discussion seemed to be food, quickly followed by our upcoming plans to stop at Devil’s Backbone Brewery.
Devil’s Backbone is located near mile 845, so it was just another day or two up the trail. It’s known to be exceptionally hiker friendly and even has a 100-acre field set up where hikers can tent and stay while enjoying the brewery. Everyone was super excited about the prospect of stopping there, and we discussed all the food and beer we hoped to try when we passed through.
Personally, I was obsessing over french fries. I was craving salt (it must be all the sweating), and all I could think about this afternoon was how good a big plate of fries would taste right about now. It didn’t even matter what type of fries they were. They could be crispy shoestring fries. Or I could go with thick cut steak fries with a side of ketchup. Or maybe some big wedges of potato browned with salt and garlic. Waffle fries were fine too. As were sweet potato fries. But what I’d really love is some gourmet fries with truffle oil and parmesan cheese sprinkled on them? Man, oh man. I couldn’t stop thinking about fries!!
INJINJI
My food obsession was eventually interrupted by the weather though. There were extremely dark clouds moving our way. The wind picked up a bit, and soon the rain began to fall. My clothes got soaked again. But, at least it was mostly over after 45 minutes, and I might have a chance to dry out this evening at the shelter.
As I made my way toward the Seeley-Woodworth Shelter, I had to cross over several branches of the Piney River. Someone had made a rock path across, and if I stretched, I was able to hop across the tops of the rocks and keep my shoes and socks dry. I took the crossing slow, and was rather proud of myself making it all the way across each one without falling into the river.
But, then on my final stretch between the last rock to the dry trail, I stepped on some leaves that were covering up a big puddle. My right foot plunged down to my ankle and now it was completely soaking wet. Damn it!! I plodded the remaining mile to the shelter with one dry shoe and one the other one squishing like a sponge. When I finally arrived an peeled my shoes off, I also noticed that I’d blown out the big toe on one of my socks. Oh for crying out loud!
I guess this was foreseeable. I love my injinji toes socks because they do a really good job of preventing my toes from rubbing each other and getting blisters. But now I was going to have to ditch this damaged pair of socks in the next town. I’m 95% sure Waynesboro has an outfitter in town and I really hope they carry Injinji socks. Until then, I guess it’s a good thing I carry a spare pair.
Day 47
June 18 , 2019
- Route: Seeley-Woodworth Shelter (Mile 822.5) to Reed’s Gap (Mile 844.6)
- Daily Mileage: 22.1 miles
It rained pretty hard overnight and my wet clothes from yesterday didn’t get any real chance to dry out. Putting on soggy, moist clothes is one of those things I truly dislike. You don’t think about the luxury of having dry clothes when you live in front country. But, much like having clean clothes (that don’t reek of sweat or body odor every day), it’s an extravagance I won’t take for granted ever again.
As Camelback Santa and I rolled out of camp this morning, he started to ask me more about my life before the trail. Because of my more introverted nature, I don’t tend to share a lot about myself with people. I feel somewhat protective of my old self and want to shield it from too many questions. Talking with Santa was different though, and I found myself hiking with him for several hours this morning.
RESILIENCE
As Santa shared more about the life he’d temporarily put on hold back in Phoenix, he asked me about my own career. I opened up a little bit and shared that I’d served in the Army. He had never been in the military, so he had a number of questions about what my personal experience was like, and asked whether it made me better prepared me for a challenge like the AT.
That was an interesting idea. Although the AT is really challenging, it’s more than just the physical stamina. You have to maintain a strong level of mental resilience too. I think that’s where military service really helps prepare us for a challenge like this. Military veterans have already endured lengthy periods where we’ve had to give up a sense of control while working toward a long-term goal. Whether it was the basic training experience, a combat deployment, or serving in garrison – we’ve already experienced many of the same emotions and hardships that others out here on trail are feeling for the very first time of their adult life.
Because of this, I knew I really needed to pay attention to mental aspect of this journey. So, in the month’s leading up to my departure, I re-read Zach Davis’ Appalachian Trials, and I took his advice to write down my reasons for why I’m on the AT.
I put these reasons inside the front of the little yellow journal I’m carrying. And every day — particularly the days when I’m feeling overwhelmed — I look at those responses to remind myself of the bigger picture. I enjoy living in the moment, but stress, frustration, fatigue, and all the other all-encompassing emotions have a remarkable way of making you forget why exactly you are out here.
SPIES & PRIESTS
Santa and I parted ways up near Spy Rock when I ran into Gazelle and Sorte this morning. I was a bit surprised I caught up with them already. A few weeks ago, Gazelle seemed to be miles and miles ahead of everyone, and seemed singularly focused on her effort to finish this trail before school began in September. But ever since she met Sorte, she’s modified her approach to the AT. Now she seems to be enjoying just hanging out and taking detours and strolling up the trail at his pace.
I’m so happy that she found a new sense of joy with a partner on trail. For a while there, I worried that she was attacking the miles with such a vengeance that her journey would be just a blur. Her new, slower pace seems to be infusing a sense of wonder and delight in her as she shares the experience through Sorte’s eyes. And so, after climbing up Spy Rock to see the views, I departed feeling pretty happy — both for myself and Gazelle.
As the day was beginning to heat up, I found myself struggling up toward the top of a deceptively difficult climb and the Priest Shelter. This shelter is notorious among hikers because of its amusing (and sometimes absurd) shelter log entries. Most shelter logs are just places to leave short messages for other hikers or document that you were there on a certain day. However, hikers began using the notebook in the Priest Shelter as a confessional of sorts.
Most of the ‘confessions’ in the shelter log are about humorous antics or embarrassing things that occurred on trail. Although much of it involved potty humor, it still made for fun reading. I thumbed through a few recent pages the log during my break and was surprised to find myself chuckling quite a bit. It’s amazing what creativity some of my fellows hikers can muster when presented with a challenge of this sort.
UNEXPECTED CLOSURE
As I relaxed at the shelter, I overheard some hikers talking about Devil’s Backbone Brewery (my intended destination this evening). One of the hikers was very animated, and it sounded like she was saying the brewery wasn’t open today. Soon, another hiker arrived with similar news. He said he’d called the brewery to ask about their shuttle service from the trailhead, and was told they were closed. What the heck?? It was a Tuesday. Why would they be closed?
Hearing about the potential closure was like a small punch to the gut. I’d been looking forward to this stop along the trail for more than 800 miles! This made no sense to me, and I’m not one to blindly believe rumors. After all, life out on the AT can be a bit like high school. One person says something, and then the news spreads like wildfire – with the message mutating just a little bit as each hiker repeats it. I wasn’t going to believe the brewery was closed until I verified it myself.
I didn’t have any cell service at the Priest Shelter and would have to wait about .7 miles until I reached the summit of Priest Mountain to get some. I pulled up the Devil’s Backbone website, and sure enough, they were closed today for employee appreciation day. Oh c’mon…. Are you kidding me? Why would you hold employee appreciation day right in the middle of thru-hiker season in June? Doesn’t that seem like something you could do in February instead?!?
FLIPPING
I’ll admit I was more than a little disappointed after confirming that news about the brewery. As I navigated the long descent down Priest Mountain, I also had time to focus on the problem, and I think I’ve come up with a pretty good solution to the whole Devil’s Backbone debacle. I was going to flip!
Flipping is a common thing hikers do when they start running of out time. If you’re hiking a long trail like the AT too slowly, you might realize that fall is coming quicker than expected. The states at the end of the trail (like New Hampshire and Maine) are going to be impossible to hike when covered in snow. So, instead of continuing to head north and risking an incomplete hike, you might flip up to Katahdin and begin hiking the AT southbound all the way back down to the point where you got off trail. This technique allows you to get all the miles, albeit in non-consecutive form.
Flipping was the answer to my Devil’s Backbone closure today. I could continue hiking north all the way to Reed’s Gap (the trailhead closest to the brewery). Then I’d jump ahead to the town of Waynesboro. Tomorrow, I could return to the trail and hike southbound from Waynesboro back down to Reed’s Gap and enjoy going to the Devil’s Backbone brewpub when it was open again. I would still make all the miles, I’d just be hiking one of my upcoming days southbound.
IN THE DRINK
With a plan in hand, I was feeling pretty optimistic. But, I still needed to get to Reed’s Gap tonight to make it work, and that wouldn’t be easy. The 3,000+ foot descent down from Priest Mountain that I’d just completely had a mirror image. After crossing the Tye River, I’d have another 3,000 foot ascent right back up to the summit of Three Ridges.
Before heading up this massive climb, I decided to top off my water at the river between the two peaks. The Tye River was more than just a small creek though. It was so broad it had a long suspension bridge across it. There were lots of people wading into the water for fun, but most of these people were sticking along the banks because the river was moving swiftly in the middle.
I dropped my pack at the edge of the river and went to fill my water bladder up. Unfortunately, there were a bunch in tiny fish swimming in the pools of water closest to the bank. I didn’t want to accidentally scoop them up, since I still had to filter the water, so I decided to hop on some boulders to get a littler further out into the middle of the river. If I gathered the swifter moving water, not only would I fill my water bladder quicker, but there was a better chance I’d have fresher water too.
I nearly lost my balance while bending over to get the water, but luckily, I managed to stay dry. Now all I had to do was rock hop all the way back to the bank where my filter and water bottles were waiting on the bank. I hadn’t realized how far I’d come out, and I needed to really watch my step to avoid falling in.
I slowly worked my way to within 3 or 4 feet of my final destination, and only had one more boulder to go. As I hopped onto it, the sole of my shoe slipped on a wet spot. Before I knew it, I was flying backwards, and with a giant splash, I fell straight into the water. I wasn’t just slightly wet. I’d fallen ALL the way into the river and was now sitting in a two-foot deep wading pool with all the tiny fish I was trying to avoid gathering up. Oh, for crying out loud!
I walked out toward the bank with my drenched clothes clinging to me and my shoes and socks making squishing noises. Today was not turning into my day, was it? First, I’d learned Devil’s Backbone was closed on the day I was supposed to hit it, and now I’d landed in the drink and would have to hike the rest of the afternoon in soaking wet clothes. UGH! The only bright side was I my wet clothes would act like air conditioning and cool me off whenever a breeze hit me. But, I’d also have to worry about chafing as my wet clothes rubbed against my on the remaining 10 miles as I made my way to Reed’s Gap.
WAYNESBORO
The hike up to Three Ridges was just as difficult as I’d imagined it would be. And near the top, the trail transitioned from a dirt path to large rocks, so it was super slow going. Dark clouds started to form again, and I wondered if I’d get hit with another afternoon storm like yesterday. I didn’t much care about getting wet (after all, my clothes were still pretty damp) but I didn’t want to have to walk on wet rocks given my penchant for slipping and falling.
The storm seemed to hold off though and the rest of the afternoon was rather uneventful. I eventually made it to Reed’s Gap around 5:35 pm and hoped to hitch into the town of Waynesboro. There wasn’t much traffic near the trailhead (possibly because the brewery was closed), but I was able to one bar of cell service on my phone. This turned out to be just enough coverage to get an Uber, and soon I was sitting in a nice Jeep Grand Cherokee riding in luxury the remaining miles to town.
The driver dropped me off at Grace Lutheran Church, which operates a donation-based hiker hostel during the peak months when thru-hikers are coming through town. Luna was already hanging out inside, and Gear Boy and TM were on their way! Woohoo. The gang was back together again. I was in heaven.
When Gear Boy and TM arrived, we all headed down to Ming Garden, an enormous AYCE Chinese buffet that’s legendary on the AT. We stuffed our bellies with so much Chinese food and laughed and joked about the past week apart. We shared stories about other hikers we’d met. I shared how sad I’d been without them. And then we talked about our plans for the rest of the trail. At the end of the meal, I was just so happy. It’s amazing how the small things can bring such joy!
Day 48
June 19, 2019
- Route: Reed’s Gap (Mile 844.6) to Rockfish Gap / Waynesboro, VA (Mile 863.6) — Hiked SOBO
- Daily Mileage: 19 miles
Today I needed to flip back south to cover the miles I’d missed between Reed’s Gap and Waynesboro. I was able to get a ride out to Rockfish Gap and was back on the trail around 8 am. Now all I needed to do was hike the next 19 miles south back toward’s Reed’s Gap. And from there, I’d hopefully arrive in time to get that delicious craft beer that I’d been dreaming about for so long.
The first 7 miles of the day were super easy and fast as I made my way toward Humpback Rocks. Shortly thereafter, the train became more difficult, and it was punctuated by meeting hikers I already knew. Most people didn’t know about my plan to flip, so when they saw me hiking south they wondered if I was lost. I assure them I was not. I’d flipped up to Waynesboro last night and was just hiking back down to Devil’s Backbone to make up the miles. I might be a purist in the sense that I want to hike every mile of the AT, but no one says I have to it all NOBO, right??
l ran back into Gazelle and Sorte just before lunch, but it was lightly raining, so we didn’t talk for long. I quickly updated them on the rest of the crew’s plans. Gear Boy and TM and Gearboy had plans to get back on trail later this afternoon. But, Luna intended to take a zero today so he could buy new shoes and try to locate someone to sew up a rip in his pack. So, maybe she’d get a chance to link up him this evening in town.
I passed several other hikers I knew and they were all heading to Waynesboro tonight too. Despite wanting to stop and talk to each one, I had to remain focused. After all, the hiker shuttle to Devil’s Backbone was supposed to pick up people at Reed’s Gap around 3:30 pm. I didn’t want to miss the shuttle and lose out on my second attempt to get to the brewpub (or have to road walk the additional 5+ miles from the trailhead to the brewery).
DEVIL’S BACKBONE
I popped out of the woods at Reed’s Gap with 15 minutes to spare, and there were about 8 hikers already waiting at the trailhead for the same shuttle I’d hope to catch. Ambasssador was even there! She shared that she’d fallen behind the past few days due to knee pain, so most of the people she’d been hiking around the past few days were already at the brewery or further up the trail.
Just then, an extended cab pickup truck drove up filled with 8-10 hikers. One of them was Camelback Santa. He’d gone to the brewery for lunch and was heading back to the trail to try to get some more miles before sundown. Amabassador and I bid him goodbye and soon we were riding to the Devil’s Backbone Basecamp.
The shuttle dropped us off at The Meadows, which is a campground (with a full bathhouse!) just steps from the brewery and restaurant. Many of my fellow thru-hikers were already setting up their tents there so they could enjoy eating dinner at the brewpub and sampling all beers on tap.
Ambassador and I were eager to use the bathhouse to get cleaned up before eating. And, by the time, we finally arrived at the brewpub, we were surprised to run back into Camelback Santa again. He’d started to hike when he realized he left his water filter behind in the shuttle, so he had to catch a ride back to the brewery. He’d located his filter, but rather than returning to the AT, he’d let the DB vortex pull him back in and now planned to stay the night too. That’s the danger of nice places like this. The comfort can make you throw all your hiking plans to the wind!
I hung out with everyone for a few hours while relaxing with a beer, and then had plans to meet up with a good friend, Kevin. As luck would have it, he was in town for a course at the University of Virginia, and staying with his friends Tom and Wayne back up in Waynesboro. Kevin drove me back up to town, and then the three us went to dinner at Stable Craft Brewing – one of my other favorite breweries in the area. I felt so spoiled to get to stop at not one, but TWO craft breweries in a day! And I also ordered those fries I’d been craving for so long too!
Day 49
June 20, 2019
- Route: Waynesboro, VA (Mile 863.6) to Blackrock Hut (Mile 884.4)
- Daily Mileage: 20.8 miles
After my superb dinner with Kevin, Tom & Wayne last night, I made an unfortunate discovery. I accidentally left my trekking poles behind at the Devil’s Backbone. It was too late in the evening to drive back down there to get them, and honestly, I’d been thinking about swapping them out for a new pair anyway. The locking mechanism on one of the poles was broken, and if I put too much weight on it, the pole would collapse. I also found that the rubber handle grips on the poles were constantly slipping in my hands while I was hiking. So, maybe it was for the best that I’d forgotten to them there.
Tom was kind enough to drop me off at the grocery store on his way to work, and I thanked him for being such a gracious host and opening his home to a virtual stranger. Once again, I’m bowled over by the kindness surrounding this trail community.
My good fortune continued to pile up after the grocery store too. I’d planned to walk the two miles to get to the local outdoor outfitter that morning, but then a guy in a Jeep Wrangler pulled over and offered me a ride. Before I knew it, he was dropping me off at Rockfish Gap Outfitters, where I was not only able to get a new pair of trekking poles (with awesome cork handles), but also a second pair of Injinji socks to replace the one I’d blown the big toe out on a few days ago.
As I was wrapping up my business at the outfitter, Luna texted me to say he was on his way. A trail angel was giving him a ride up to Rockfish Gap, and he’d even agreed to stop and pick me up too! Man, sometimes the universe just seems to align! I have a good feeling about this next stretch.
FANCY FEAST
The trail angel who picked me up had Luna and a third hiker in his car too. I’d seen this hiker before when I was at the church hostel two nights ago, but I didn’t know her name. It turns out she and Luna had both taken a zero in Waynesboro yesterday and spent a second night at the same church hostel.
As we made our way toward the entrance of Shenandoah, she introduced herself as Fancy Feast. With a trail name like that, I had to hear the story. She shared that she was from Vermont and had studied geology before coming out here to hike the trail. Initially, she’d be given the trail name ‘geode,’ but it changed after a small incident in Hot Springs, NC.
While she was in North Carolina, she decided she wanted to make a simple alcohol stove so she didn’t have to rely or carrying a stove and heavy fuel canister. Many hikers make homemade fuel stoves using a metal container like an empty tin can or beer can. She spotted a small can in one of the hiker boxers and figured it would be the perfect size to try to fashion an alcohol stove. It didn’t have a label on it, but it was shallow like a single serving can of tuna that comes in some of those lunch kits with crackers and packets of mayo.
The can needs to be empty to turn it into a stove. When she opened it and and smelled the mystery contents, it looked and smelled like some sort of tuna salad. Never one to waste anything, she found a packet of mustard and pickle relish in the hiker box and and added them to the can’s contents. While eating it, she began to wonder if it was really tuna salad. It tasted a bit off, and that same size can also could contain a fish-flavored cat foot too. Without a label she’d never really know, but she feared that she’d just eaten a can of Fancy Feast cat food with mustard and pickle relish.
And so that’s how Fancy Feast got herself a new trail name! You have to love stories like that.
100-MILE CHALLENGE (REDUX)
Just north of Rockfish Gap, Luna, Fancy Feast and I made it to the southern boundary of Shenandoah National Park. As we arrived, I had the feeling that I was coming home. I already knew this stretch of trail intimately well. Back when I lived in Virginia, I’d decided to do what I called ‘The 100-mile challenge,’ where I’d convinced myself I could hike the entire 100-mile section of the AT that ran through Shenandoah over a four-day period. I have extremely fond memories of this challenge because Shenandoah is a really beautiful section of the trail, but it was also a brutal experience.
My ambitious plan to complete 100 miles in just 4 days meant I’d need to hike 25-mile days. And while I was in good cardiovascular shape from running, my feet definitely were not used to tackling such long distances each day. It was akin to running four back-to-back marathons. By mile 40, I ended up with some really bad blisters on my heels, and my feet were so swollen I had difficulty putting on my shoes. I genuinely worried I might not be able to finish it. I persevered and toughed my way through the entire distance, but I also learned a lot of lessons along the way about not biting off more than I could chew.
Hiking this section again of the AT was not only going to bring nostalgia and familiar sites. It was also a chance to redeem myself. I’m now a smarter hiker who knows how to listen to my body (most of the time). After 850 miles, my feet are conditioned to hike bigger days. And, most importantly, I don’t have an arbirtary deadline that I need to follow. I was going to slow down and hike Shenandoah in five days this time around, and hopefully savor the experience instead.
SHENANDOAH NATL PARK
When we got to the entrance of Shenandoah, we needed to get our backcountry permits and attach them to our packs for the duration we were in the park. Unlike the Smokies, we didn’t had to pay for the permit or arrange for it ahead of time. We just needed to get a tag from the box on trail, fill it out, and leave the duplicate carbon copy behind in the box for the park rangers.
Unfortunately, when Fancy Feast looked into the permit box, it was just filled with prior hiker’s carbons. There weren’t any blank tags left for us to fill out. So, the two of us left our packs behind with Luna and schlepped down a 0.4-mile side trail to the ranger station to get them. With a fistful of blank permits in hand, we returned back to the AT, filled them out, and were finally on our way.
It was now close after 11 am, and we had a long way to hike yet. Luna and I hiked together until lunch, which we ate near a patch of grass with some old metal tractor seats cemented into the ground as a makeshift rest area.
There were lots of little climbs, and we had to follow a detour off trail due to some construction, but it was otherwise a pretty ordinary day. I keep hoping to see some black bears because this is what Shenandoah is known for. But, my luck didn’t hold. The closest I got was some bear scat on trail and some signs warning me about potential bear activity. Oh well, there’s always tomorrow, right?
After a 13.5-mile waterless stretch, Luna, Fancy Feast and I ended our day at Blackrock Hut, the first official trail hut in the park. (The 3-sided AT hiker shelters are referred to as ‘huts’ in Shenandoah. Meanwhile, the term ‘shelters’ is reserved for the 4-sided rental cabins scattered throughout the park.)
It rained on-and-off in the late afternoon and evening, and we didn’t arrive until close to 8 pm. The spot I found for my tent was pretty sloped, but it was far better than trying to cram into the double decker stone hut with the others who arrived long before us. On the plus side, we didn’t have to waste any time hanging a line for our bear bags from one of the the trees. Each of the huts has one (or more) bear poles to hang our food off.
WEEK 7 OVERVIEW
- Lowest Mileage Day: 18.2 miles
- Highest Mileage Day: 25.3 miles
- Number of nights sleeping in my tent or AT shelter: 5
- Nights sleeping at a church: 1
- Nights at a friend’s home: 1
- Number of days with rain: 3
- Number of awesome breweries visited in a single day: 2
- Total miles hiked this week: 154.7. miles (my biggest week yet!)