AT notes #6: Damascus to Pearisburg, VA

5/12

Today was a zero day to help assuage some of the shin and heel pain I accrued from the long days since I got back on trail. I did some reading, chatting, and eating: Burritos again with a milkshake afterwards.I also decided to stay in Damascus because rain was soaking the highlands north and I wanted to make sure I'd have a clear day to walk among the wild pony herds in the strange canadian landscape of the Grayson Highlands.

Mt. Rogers, the tallest point in VA., is a short blue blaze off the AT in the highlands. During a trip during the fall I'd walked up there at night to summit and found it completely surrounded by trees--no vista at all. Knowing this I knew I could pass it now for the rich views throughout the highlands ahead. The Grayson highlands comprise the last stretch of significant elevation until northern Mass. and I intended to wait for a clear day to truly celebrate this land.

5/13

I made some phone calls from this payphone in Damascus that requires no money--truly magical. Sidestep was kind enough to wait for me as I talked at length with Heather before she left for work. We then set off along the trail as it led out of town. The AT here overlaps with the Creeper Trail, an railroad gauge converted to bike path that leads from Damascus up hill to Whitetop Mt. As we walked out of town the AT quickly turned off the Creeper trail and led up into the hills. The forecast called for clouds today and sun tomorrow--perfect set up for the highlands.

The rest in Damascus was helpful but I still needed healing, and worse I'd felt strong pain in my shin. The forest extended on and at times I caught sight of the Creeper Trail running parallel and flat. I'd felt that the two trails should just be united especially since the elevation changes seemed unecessary when there the Creeper Trail was flat and undulating and already there. Eventually the trails united for a spell. It crossed a bridge where the photos below were taken.

The trails again diverged as we went up to our campsite at Lost Mountain. Sidestep and I found spots for our tarps under the cover of a grove of hemlocks behind the full shelter. I went to the privy and I found that someone had written the entire "Lorax" and I gladly stayed a little longer to read a bit despite the obvious sensory limitations.
5/14

Up with the sun, Sidestep and I traveled on towards the highlands. We followed the trail up through a field of cattle, past an abandoned brick house (which we thought should be converted into a hostel) and up the trail bordered by a green forest floor. By mid-morning we had ascended to Buzzard Rock to gaze over the hills and flatlands that extended southwest. The canopy had ceased and the hills were just grass, trail, and rock.
As we approached Elk Garden and the road there we found a small sign. On it was written, "Trail magic ahead, Tinkerbell." Naturally this quickened our pace as trail magic always does, and it had been awhile since we were blessed with gifts for our journey. Tinkerbell turned out to be a very tall man. He had some egg/sausage biscuits he'd baked, along with some fresh fruit. He'd thru-hiked the year before and we actually knew some mutual hikers. We thanked him and crossed the road and stile into Grayson Highlands.

We shared the trail with some cows for awhile and then the trail took us up to the ridgeline of the highlands beginning withThomas Knob. From there the trail continued a long the ridge to this large rocky outcropping. We climbed to the top to enjoy lunch with a wide vista of infinite forest below (no pics--batteries died). The trail became a climb over boulders of granite and saddles of grass in between. And finally we got to visit the wild ponies who populate the highlands, left as the vestige of European settlement in the mountains who've long departed.

This was one of my best days on trail and I loved every minute of the beauty before us. The day consisted of long walks through wide open meadows and the constant warmth of the sun.
We walked through the entire highlands and set up camp late. We could see a thunderstorm approaching the highlands from our vantage point well below as we sat by a campfire fueled by the wood some lovely person had left. As the rain started to fall,we retreated to our tarps and prepared for a stormy night. This storm was particularly vicious as my tarp blew in on me all night despite the extra stakes and tight pitch. There was also leak over my head and feet, but there was nothing I could do except curl into the fetal position until the morning.

5/15

Moving out into the damp morning Sidestep and I talked about the pizza we'd order tonight. Partnership shelter where we were bound is close to the highway and the area's recreation headquarters is there also, with phone service and showers. To be able to do these things from a shelter along the AT was indeed novel and glorious.

The rain came again and with it damp cold. The pain in my shin now was almost unbearable and yet I labored on. After 10 miles we came to a road. I could barely walk and Sidestep felt sick. We walked towards Troutdale, VA with no other choice. The rain became hail and no one would pick us up. I remember seeing bikers pedaling uphill getting pelted with frozen precipitation and thinking they definitely had it worse.

We started cursing cars and feeling pretty desperate. Finally a van pulled over just as the clouds gave way a bit. The driver turned out to be the trading post owner (the only grocer and restaurant in town). She offered to open if we needed any supplies (as it was Sunday), but we felt adequately supplied as this stop was not planned. Pulling up to hostel at the Baptist church we surveyed our new digs. The two room house was a spartan floor with a few chairs, a port-o-john outside and showers in the backof the church...the best part was the heat--we had the place warm in minutes. How quickly our luck had changed.

After we showered and took care of drying gear we began to wonder what next. At that time Rael, a man I met at the hiker hostel in GA where I began this journey, showed up--now with a huge beard. I recognized his sharp northern speech first and eased into conversation where we uncovered our past meeting. He'd expected never to see me again because I was hiking pretty light, but here we were again in much different context.

I delayed thinking of the big questions of how serious my injury was until after dinner. Dinner came first from a local gentleman and his wife. Locals in Troutdale often drive by the hostel on Sunday when the trading post is closed and offer a warm meal. Two such offerings came to us: one a meal of country ham, biscuits, and cobbler; the second was beef stew and biscuits--and we ate both. Both were fantastic and so graciously provided. We all got a chance to speak with the preacher who initiated the building of this hostel for thru-hikers. He took great care to make sure we were well and comfortable--stopping by several times to check on us.

5/16 -- 5/17

The next few days consisted of resting and eating every meal at the trading post. Thru-hikers continued to pour into this tiny burg to escape the nasty weather. We'd heard of an inn outside of town and decided to treat ourselves to a night with a bed and some TV. The Fox Hill Inn (above) was a quiet old bed and breakfast atop a green hill with views of the sloping mountains around. I spent the day reading and testing the strength of my leg.
Still unable to hike out, Sidestep and I devised a plan to make the long hitch to the next big trail town: Pearisburg. The goal was two-fold: to allow my leg time to heal by skipping the 110 mile section; and to catch up with friends who were likely there preparing to hitch back south to Damascus for Trail Days (the major AT festival).

The hitch was very tricky involving first the short hitch from Troutdale to Marion. Once in Marion we were located along I-81 and could hitch to the Pearisburg exit about 70 miles north and from their 30 miles northwest to Pearisburg. A complicated hitch, but possible with a good smile and attitude.

Coming out of Troutdale was easy, we found a ride at the Trading post. But in Marion we stalled for awhile. A brother and sister section hiking had the same plan so we joined thumbs in Troutdale for the journey.

The first hitch from Marion was only two exits. And the next only 20 miles. Now in Atkins we looked for the perfect hitch. Waiting in front of McDonalds at the exit we danced, smiled, and waved our sign made in the process of hitching. It now read: "AT hikers going North on 81 or Pearisburg," as we had marked out the towns we already reached. We caught the attention a student at Va. Tech who ultimately decided to give us all a ride the whole way, which was well out of his way. We scored and knew it thanking him profusely.

In Pearisburg we picked up packages at the PO and found the hiker hostel at the Catholic church and some familiar faces.

5/18

I woke this morning sleeping on a picnic table outside a hostel in Pearisburg.The sun was seeping through the fog surrounding me on this hill overlooking a mountain ridge and bright green grass. There I met with folks I had known since the early days and inquired about my friends. It seemed they intended to make it here before Trail Days but had hitched in early to Damascus to get a campsite.
I knew the end to this hike was near, but I still entertained the notion of setting off again in a few days. Now recumbent for several days I felt the need for the movement that walking around town and down the hill from the hostel to walmart couldn't satisfy. I eventually destroyed my fears of not making it to Maine, of not hiking every mile and I embraced the moments before I would leave the trail for now.

(So pimp, with so much food to figure out what to do with)

5/19

I told Sidestep I'd have to rest long enough to stop hiking this hike. And that today I'd be traveling home. I arranged a ride to Blacksburg where there was a bus that would take me to Roanoke; there I would board the greyhound traveling home to Norfolk and my parents. I phoned them and Heather the night before as soon as it was final in my mind. So quickly I found myself at home 2 months after I'd flown out to Atlanta.

5/20...The floor in my headquarters room, where I had done all the logistical work was still full of boxes bound for places like Hanover, NH and Rangeley, ME. I eventually cleaned all of this up during the few weeks I stayed at home. I was eager for my next adventure. I found myself home in time to go to a friend's wedding and catch up with old friends. I convinced them briefly I had come off trail and hitched the 6 hours back home just for the wedding. It was a beautiful celebration.

Most of the 500 miles I've seen is a corridor that expands ever-forward and when it ceases to reveal a lake, a river valley, or bald mountain vistas, you stop and and really treasure such a gift. And accordingly, I treasure my experience and look, forward to finishing the hike as I set off from Troutdale into those loving hills again.

I caught up with my friends north of Roanoke as I drove out to New Mexico. I spent the night with them and enjoyed all of the benefits of a thru-hiker zero day: swimming, wiffle ball, beers, and food. I donated all of the food I bought for the other 2 months I expected to be on trail to them. They used this food to help them get farther north. They all stopped hiking in northern Va and Penn. and either went home or on other trips out west. We still keep in touch now that they live in Reno and me in Boulder. I expect to see them sometime this spring. We'd talked about hiking the PCT together in 08' and it sounds promising.

Now winter here in Colorado I look forward to the mountains here this summer. I've begun planning small trips along the Colorado Trail and other wilderness areas near Boulder.

The rhythm of walking everyday in a new place along a strip of trail extending from foot to horizon is when I feel all, and thus celebrate my spirit.