Meet Virginia

Well, I did get a bit sick, but very intelligently decided to push on through it. After five miles, MacGyver (and my body) convinced me to sit down and rest. That rest turned into a nap, which turned into a night's stay at that first shelter. That was too bad because it put Happy Feet and Parkour an extra day ahead of us, but it did allow Nigel and a new buddy Swayze to catch us. We chatted for a bit, but for me, most of the night was spent curled up on a sleeping mat, working my way through multiple trips to the woods to solve my cramping problem. Those trips are never fun, but particularly not so when you have to dig a hole on every go around.

The next day, Friday, I felt much better and we decided to do a 22-mile push to meet up with Sam. It was a very long, but very pretty day, and we all enjoyed the scenery through a lush forest. We had a great encounter with trail magic about six miles from our destination.  A man named Rob Bird used to run a hiker hostel in Dalton, Massachusetts called The Bird Cage.  He actually ran a convenience store, but he helped hikers so much they suggested he start a hostel.  He ran it out of his home and never advertised or charged.  Kindness like that earns you a bit of celebrity status amongst hikers, and he housed over 300 hikers per year.  Unfortunately, he retired last year and moved to Tennessee so we won't have a chance to stay there. What is nice is the trail magic he still does. He parked a van near a road crossing and had two coolers full of beer, soda, water and snacks for hikers.  We all sat and chatted with him for an hour or so, took down some beer and soda and exchanged info with Rob. He will be headed to Austin in the winter, and I promised to return the favor with a round of brewskis when he wanders through.

We moved on and stumbled the last few miles into camp where we were greeted with yet more trail magic! There was a flyer advertising a hiker breakfast the next day at the next shelter, Roan High Knob Shelter nine miles away.  We decided to get up nice and early so we could catch the breakfast. Then Sam rolled in with some tall boy Pabsts and a few bottles of Canadian Club; coincidentally at that exact same moment, it became unlikely that we'd get up early enough for breakfast. We had a great night catching up, and because it was so clear, Sam and I decided to cowboy camp next to the fire. It would have been fine, but because of a miscommunication, Sam didn't bring a sleeping bag so he nearly froze to death and didn't sleep at all that night. Live and learn I guess.

The next day we got out of camp around 8:00 and took off for the breakfast feast.  While hiking, Sam decided to try our packs on and promptly regretted that decision. I think they are down around 35-40 pounds now, but still not the most comfortable thing to wear all day. We powered up several tough peaks, the last one the toughest of all, The Roan. We were just getting to the shelter when we ran into a jolly old man who told us all about how great the breakfast was. That's right: WAS. We apparently just missed the last course. Our overdramatic disappointment elicited the desired reaction. The man, Pat, asked us if we wanted a bag of oranges, apples, energy bars and ham steaks. We carried it all up to the shelter and began to feast. When we started gathering wood for a fire to cook the ham, Pat reappeared and asked if we cared if he hung out for a bit. Of course we were thrilled to hang out with a man who put on a huge hiker feast out of the kindness of his heart. We chatted for a bit, and then he asked us if we wanted charcoal for the fire.  Then he said, very mysteriously mind you, "You guys want to see something cool?" Every guy alive knows the answer to that question is an obvious yes. "Everyone, follow me." The way he said it made everyone know that declining this invitation was not an option. So we followed him deep into the woods, not on any trail. After maybe a quarter mile, he turned and walked out in front of a rockface. He looked around, presumably to make sure we hadn't been followed and nodded towards the rocks. "What do you see?" I was about to feed him the answer he wanted ("I see nothing but a rock!") when MacGyver blurted out "It's a hidden cache of some things. See the yellow tarp?" Pat's face dropped as he nodded.

It was indeed a hidden cache with charcoal, lighter fluid, a dutch oven, a wok and many other implements of cooking destruction. For all the sarcasm of my last paragraph, let me clarify to say that it really was very cool, as was Pat.

We sat around the fire cooking ham steaks and chatting with Pat. He told us about some personal issues he was going through, and how hiking and talking with hikers is therapeutic for him.  So much so, in fact, that he decided to begin an annual hiker feast. It's amazing to think that this man's solution to his problems is helping others. It seems like such an obvious, but under-utilized coping strategy. In any case, he was a very selfless man and we thoroughly enjoyed our afternoon with him. We capped the feast with some peach cobbler in a dutch oven over the coals. After thanking Pat profusely, we continued on our way to Overmountain Shelter.

Overmountain Shelter is my favorite place on the trail thus far. I thought it would be harder to choose, and there are tons of great places I've seen, but this place was very, very cool. It's an old red barn positioned in a field of tall grass. The front side faces a valley with two ridgelines converging in the distance. To the left are The Humps, a series of grassy balds, and to the right is a dense forest. The front side of the barn faces east for the sunrise, and on the first floor of the front half are open bunks. There is also a great fire pit square in the middle of the perfect view. It was a great time with new friends and old friends. We enjoyed some fresh veggies courtesy of a couple of section hikers, we enjoyed some whiskey courtesy of Sam, and we enjoyed a lot of ambience courtesy of Mother Nature. It is definitely a place I plan to return for a section hike in the future and I would recommend everybody else consider doing the same.

The mood was dampened a little bit the next morning when we found out that Dr. Seuss had experienced his first battle with Noro virus during the night. It was so bad in fact that he decided to stay an extra day and take a zero at the shelter with his brother MacGyver. Since Sam had to be back for work the next day, we decided to hike out and I would stay at a hostel in the town of Roan until Seuss and MacGyver came through in the next few days. The plan was for Sam's sister-in-law Teddy to pick us up at the road crossing. She would bring Sam to his car and she would bring me to the hostel. However, when we met up with Teddy and her new dog Pepper at the road crossing, it had just started to rain in earnest. Teddy insisted that we come to the house to take a shower and do a load of laundry, and between the weather and the delicious peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and Dr. Enuffs (the best soda ever made) that she brought along, it was an offer I couldn't refuse.

When we got to the Jablonski farm, Sam's in-laws Pam and Ric were waiting for us with wide smiles. They were very insistent that we should stay there, eat dinner and spend the night. I was pretty hesitant because my friends wouldn't know where I was, but when Doc Ric suggested that we go to the man cave and have a few beers, I thought that my friends would be able to handle themselves for a day. We had an excellent stir fry dinner, good conversation and a great evening overall.

I can't overstate how kind Teddy, Pam and Ric were to me. I am truly appreciative of the genuine kindness and hospitality that I was shown. Also, Rick sent me on my way with a bag of dried apples, dried kale chips, some Texas Pete hot sauce, and a book which I regretfully forgot on the kitchen table.

The new plan was to hike to the next shelter, Mountaineer Shelter, nine miles up the trail and hunker down until Seuss and MacGyver came through. Sam drove me out to the trail, and after saying farewell, I was back on the trail. No matter how nice a night in a town is, it's always relieving to get back on the trail. I enjoyed a nice short hike at a leisurely pace knowing that I had nowhere to be at any specific time. After a scenic walk along the river, I arrived at the shelter, but I was not alone. I would be sharing the shelter for the next day and a half with Sharkey. Sharkey was an old man who (according to him) was a millionaire from Hawaii. He also had a dog with him that he "rescued" in Roan, but based on the collar, leash, well-fed looks and behavior of the dog, I have to think Sharkey stole him off of someone's porch. I spent the.remainder of the afternoon listening to how much young people suck, how stupid thru-hikers are and how the world is coming to an end. Certainly this guy was a pathological liar, and generally speaking just a creepy old man. I took a nap to avoid further conversation, but I was woken up when someone came walking down the path.

"Axl!"
"Happy Feet! How the hell did you get behind me?"

What a sight for sore eyes! It turns out when he and Parkour went through Roan, they stayed at the hostel in town. Happy Feet ended up staying there to work for a couple of days (and, as he later admitted, to let us catch up with him). Parkour had moved on, but he planned to zero twice in Damascus, so we had a chance to catch him a little later. It was a great day and there was much rejoicing. Even moreso when Nigel and Swayze rolled in a little later. They had also zeroed in Roan so that Nigel could wait on his wallet to.be returned to him (he dropped it at the breakfast feast).

We were all chatting around the fire that night when Sharkey came out of the shelter. He had removed a bandage, and something was falling out of him. GRAPHIC CONTENT ALERT! He asked if one of us could hold back his skin while he excised a large mass from his own side. Gagging, I told him no, none of us were qualified, we didn't want to, and he would almost certainly obtain a life threatening infection if he tried surgery in the woods with a dirty old pocketknife. After much debate, we convinced him to walk back into town the next day and see a doctor. The final sentence went something like this: "Sharkey, you have a staph infection, and if you don't see a doctor, you are probably going to die." Convincing enough I suppose.

After a long night of thinking this crazy person was going to kill us, or at least infect us with some sort of zombie-like disease, we awoke to him having disappeared. We later confirmed that people did indeed see him going back towards town.

Nigel headed out early, and Swayze decided to try a 24-hour straight 60 mile push. Swayze is a crazy man in a good way. He hiked the Pacific Crest Trail last year (the west coast's equivalent to the AT) and this was his second go around on the AT. He also planned to hike the Continental Divide Trail the length of the Rockies next year. He works construction half the year so he can hike the other half. He is extremely intelligent about hiking, but he is also modest about his achievements. Humility is not the most common attribute of accomplished hikers, and for him to act the way he does at the age of 23 tells me that he will have a long fulfilling outdoor career. Going 60 miles into Damascus though, we thought it would probably be the last time we saw Swayze. I for one plan on no 60 mile days.

MacGyver and a much healthier Seuss rolled in and we carried on together after the reunion celebration. The next few days were very fun, but somewhat uneventful. We did pass by Laurel Falls and went for a very, very cold swim. We followed that by wandering into a small town to have a meal and buy some hot dogs and beer for the evening on Watauga Lake. The weather prohibited us from an evening of swimming, but we had fun at the shelter near the lake anyway. A new hiker friend Runaway marveled at us carrying 18 beers up a mountain, and also helped us finish them. The final day in to Damascus was a 26 mile push, and even though it was raining we made excellent time. Just before getting to town, we crossed into Virginia, the state where we would be hiking for the next 500 plus miles.

We waltzed down Main Street in Damascus, and as we were walking by the Blue Blaze, a local bar and restaurant, who should walk out the front door? Parkour (who had changed his name to Babyface), Nigel and Swayze! We got the band back together! Babyface zeroed three days so we could catch him, and we celebrated hard!

After many, many pitchers, we went over to the hostel to crash. Our plan was to head out the next day, but we had a date with destiny the following morning. We went back to the Blue Blaze for breakfast, and Happy Feet saw the pancake eating challenge. The record was currently fifteen full sized pancakes, and Happy thought he could take it down. Now, Happy Feet is 6'4" and a former college offensive lineman. This boy can eat some food, and this morning would be no different. Sixteen pancakes later, the last three with ice cream on them, Happy Feet emerged victorious. There was a time that I thought I could competitively eat, but in Happy Feet's presence, I realized what a farce that had been. Watching him eat pancakes was like watching Steinbeck write, or watching Picasso paint, or watching Ditka drive the Bear bus to victory at the Indianapolis 500. True greatness must be immortalized, and Happy Feet and The Fellowship had such an honor in the form of a personalized brick outside the building. With the new title came a monster stomachache and we took another zero. We did a lot of lounging that day, and prepared to leave the next afternoon. We didn't leave before I managed to get my hands.on a pair of jorts that became my camp shorts. With that purchase, I realized that about 90% of what we do out here is with the intention of making the rest of the group laugh, not taking hiking intelligence into consideration at all. Thank God for the other 10%!

As we hiked on out of Damascus, we spent a little time on the Virginia Creeper trail which is a beautiful bike trail that zig zags over rivers, and it was thankfully very flat. That didn't last long. The terrain was rapidly becoming much rockier, and I was feeling it in my soles, every night my feet were feeling more and more beat up.

Despite my aching feet, I had a moment of clarity while hiking shortly after Damascus. I know how hippie this sounds, but I felt for the first time in my life a very equal and positive balance in my life. Every aspect of my life, health, work, relationship, joy, friends, family, finances, all of them were in harmony and I was very happy with all of them. I'm usually a laid back guy and I'm generally very happy, but this was a calm feeling I was not familiar with. It was very surreal and pleasing. I think I'm getting my money's worth on this hike for sure.

We were really starting to increase the mileage, usually doing at least 17 it 18 miles per day. We are kind of locked in on that pace for a couple months, as I am taking a weekend off in August to go a wedding in Jackson Hole, Wyoming with Kat. Of course I had to buy a plane ticket, so now I need to make sure to be where that plane leaves from at the right time. Incidentally, I am very excited to get a chance to head back to Wyoming, especially with the company I'll be keeping and the festive circumstances.

Anyway, the next few days were very fun. Some brief highlights were the wild(ish) ponies roaming the Grayson Highlands (another must see for everyone), breakfast on the interstate (which also included morning beer), seeing another bear and lots of huge black snakes (no, that is not a Full Metal Jacket reference), and the great whiskey miracle of 2013. This occured when MacGyver found two bottles of whiskey while searching for firewood. We figure someone carried them up the mountain and then realized that large glass bottles were not best idea to hike with. Having that same mentality, we drank it all that night. I really needed it to take the edge off of my feet, which now aside from being unbearably painful were also very red. There happened to be a former Corpsman in the shelter that night who told me that my feet weren't just sore, they were pretty badly infected.  With what you may ask? Trenchfoot! For those of you unfamiliar, trenchfoot was a common affliction during WWI and WWII, and was.usually a result of walking too much in wet socks. Like Lieutenant Dan said, "You gotta take care of your feet!" Gary Sinise, I'll never doubt you again.

I decided to hike backwards to the last road crossing and call a shuttle, jump up the trail to Bland where I could see a doctor, and where everyone else would hike through in four days. The only problem with my plan was the lack of phone service from said road. I hiked about eight miles before someone finally noticed my thumb and gave me a ride to the doctor. There was a medical student that tended to me, and I felt terrible. She was a very nice young lady, and I apologized in advance for the smell.  She.scoffed a bit and informed me that she was in the medical field and she was immune to bad smells. When she took off my shoe however, her face twisted into a nightmarish grimmace, and I had to laugh. A hiker's smell is nothing to underestimate, and if you do so, it is 100% at your own risk. I was prescribed some antibiotics which I had to claim the next day, and I went next door.to Pizza Plus. After I devoured a pizza, I caught a ride with the delivery guy to the Big Walker Motel.

The next morning, I walked over to the gas station to get a ride back to the pharmacy. I scouted the parking lot and found a winner. Frodo was a good ol boy, as backwoods as they come, and I thought he could use the ten bucks more than most. I hopped in his pickup and away we went. The dialogue went something like this:

Frodo "Are you a cop?"
"No."
"Are you getting anything good at the pharmacy?"
"Just antibiotics."
"(Darn). You got any weed?"
"No, I'm sorry but I don't."
"Are you sure you're not a (stinking) cop?"
"Pretty sure."
"Sweet, well my cousin is going away for 4-7 next week, some (stinking stuff) with his wife/second cousin stealing his (stinking) identity. That (stinking mean lady) bought about a hundred thousand dollars of pills, and now he's getting (fornicated) by the cops. Anyway, we're having a party in the woods. There's gonna be five or six gallons of shine and a bunch of (morally questionable women)."
"Well, it's a definite maybe."

Now, it assuredly would have been a great story. Almost anything is worth doing for a good story, but as I was a bit concerned about being robbed and murdered, I decided against going. Being murdered, I thought, would most certainly put a huge damper on the trip.

I went back to the motel, and Sam showed up shortly thereafter. When he'd heard I was laid up, he decided to come out and spend the weekend. It's a good friend who drives three hours to hang out in a town called Bland. We went out to a local swimming hole called Dismal Falls. That's not a joke. Dismal Falls is located in Bland, Virginia. The falls, incidentally, were neither bland, nor were they dismal. They were actually quite scenic and fun, and we swam for a bit before heading back to the motel. We went out to a bar for some dinner and drinks, and had a great Skype date with Kat. It was (almost) like she was there with us! We rounded off the night by heading out to see the new Superman movie. SPOILER ALERT! I haven't gone over every movie I've ever seen in my head, but I feel confident saying that Superman was among the worst three movies I've ever seen. Don't waste your money on this over-advertised garbage. If you're dead set on seeing it, wait a month or two and grab it out of the three dollar movie box at Wal Mart where it is destined to reside. It was comically bad. So, so terrible in every possible way. Blah.

Well, the next day, Sam brought me out to Pearisburg, where everyone was slated to walk through the following day. The motel looked like something right out of 1978 Miami, fully equipped with parking lot fights, a family of nine living next door and a recent hiker overdose. All in all, it was a pretty classy joint. I was honestly waiting for Tony Montana blowing my door open with a rocket launcher.

The next day, the whole gang rolled in, Seuss, MacGyver, Happy Feet, Babyface, Nigel, Swayze and two new friends, Sparrow and Spooky. One of the first things everyone did was jump in the pool. When Happy Feet jumped in, his previous shoulder injury became significantly less previous. He climbed out of the pool with his left shoulder hanging about three or four inches below where it should have been located, a clear dislocation. I'll give you one guess who heroically came to the rescue. That's right, it was MacGyver! He worked a few miracles, fixed Happy's shoulder, and then walked across the pool water back to the hotel room. We aren't certain, but we think Happy can throw a baseball 95 miles per hour now, and may indeed win Rookie of the Year.

The rest of the night was debauchery that included (but was not limited to) beer, China Buffet, hockey, a very intense reenactment of Happy's injury (for artistic purposes only) and more laughing and fun than anyone has a right to.

A bad weather day forced us into another zero, but now, after four days off, I'm very eager to get back on the trail tomorrow. I am now not technically a thru-hiker as I've jumped about 80 miles, but I am very comfortable with our lack of interest in the "purist" mentality. We are all looking to have as much fun as possible. A positive, fun, challenging, life-changing experience is more important than arbitrarily checking a box by hiking every single mile. We are out here to enjoy it, and I am very confident saying we are all getting our money's worth. We have now hiked about 630 miles, and we are really in a rhythm. I am very excited for the next leg, and I swear I'll try to update with more frequency/less length. I hope you are all getting outside and enjoying the beautiful summer. Especially when your alternative is that horrible Superman movie. So bad. Enjoy the outdoors, and until next time, happy trails!