Rain/Forest

After a few days of easy living it felt good to put in some big miles again. We started from where we had started the previous day and headed back up into the mountains. Beetlejuice, 2 Pack, Goatman and myself got a solid but slow start and managed to make it 15 miles to Rod Hollow Shelter. 2 Pack and myself soaked in the river just outside the shelter and but for a tiny (adorable) shelter mouse it was a relatively uneventful evening. If that bugger had come into my sleeping space though it would've met a tragically untimely end. 

This morning we set our alarms for 5am, aiming to set out early to avoid as much of the rain/thunderstorms/hail/tornado warnings as possible. We actually got on the trail just before 6:00am and started booking it through the roller coaster. The roller coaster, for those unfamiliar, is a 13 mile stretch of trail with aggressive ups and downs of approximately the same magnitude. Basically, it's a pain in the butt but the section is home to both the Virginia/West Virginia border as well as the 1,000 mile mark. Pretty badass. 

Let me touch briefly on the fact that I have not completed all of the first 1,000 miles. I know. I'm a yellow blazer. However, I have gone through an insane amount of injuries, trials and tribulations to get here. Hike your own hike is the constant motto along the trail and that is precisely what I'm doing. I do hope at the end of this adventure to go back and complete all of my missed miles but for now it is infinitely more important to me to be with my trail family, giggling up a storm and sharing stories at shelters. As far as I'm concerned that's what this is about. 

As we descended the second bump of the roller coaster the sky darkened to the point where I almost got out my headlamp. Here it comes. The thunder started shaking the sky and eventually the rain came in torrents. For the second time I found myself, with 2 Pack, stranded on an exposed rocky ridge line in the midst of thunder and lightning. Perfect. And with Goatman's feet in dire shape (he hasn't had them checked yet but he has definitely fractured a bone in his foot) we needed desperately to get to the first shelter 7 miles in.

We eventually made it and hunkered down with the other people still at the shelter including, to our surprise, Roadrunner, to wait out the remainder of the storm. Beetlejuice, 2 Pack and I decided to hike out an hour later but Goatman, his feet still swollen and sore, decided to hang back and recover. 

As soon as we began our ascent out of the shelter, the skies cleared and it was like a new day. Sunny, beautiful and disgustingly humid. You can't win them all. We lunched atop another bump in the roller coaster on a large outcropping overlooking the last of Virginia. 

We pushed on another few miles to come to the 1,000 mile mark and the end of Virginia. Thank goodness! We took pictures and goofed around until we realized that the sky had again begun to darken and we were in for a second nasty storm with 5 miles and 2 climbs still to go. 

It started to rain shortly after and then it started to pour. Not rain, but the kind of torrential downpour with aggressive wind that causes poor visibility and less confident drivers to pull to the side of the road. Shockingly quickly, the trail went from dirt and rocks to a quickly flowing, shin-deep river that washed over our shoes and drenched our socks. I immediately gave up all hope of staying even remotely dry. 

The descent was equally brutal. I slipped and stumbled through the river, struggling to keep Beetlejuice in my line o sight and frequently turning to make sure 2 Pack hadn't fallen and drowned in the trail river (a serious concern). 

At the bottom of the hill the rain finally began to lighten and I was physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted. The last 4 miles were mostly 2 Pack and myself bemoaning the infuriating nature of the trail, still covered ankle deep with water, and scaring day-hikers (a favorite pastime). 

We finally arrived at Blackburn Hiker Hostel at 5:00pm and treated ourselves to 3+ rounds of dinner. It was glorious. We are now cowboy camped out on the deck enjoying a cool evening breeze before a slack pack tomorrow into Harpers Ferry to catch up to and bid goodbye to Kermit who is getting off the trail. Should be a glorious, hopefully rain-free, day. 

SoBo

Good lord does it feel great to hike again. The weather has been decidedly different this time around with summer kicking into its hot, humid glory but it has been an absolute dream. 

After a few glorious days in DC, Makeda (my own personal trail angel) drove me to Harpers Ferry so she could pick up baby Harper (who is now living the good life in a swank DC condo with a loving mother) and drop me off down in Front Royal, VA. 

In speaking with my hiking buddies, it looked like I would be able to start hiking south from Front Royal and catch them somewhere after Luray to turn around and hike back. 

That Saturday I didn't get back onto the trail at the road crossing until well after 3:30pm and with a pending uphill climb I knew I wouldn't be putting in many miles that day. It didn't help that my resupply consisted entirely of protein bars, honey roasted cashews and fig newtons purchased at a Sheetz gas station en route to the trail. 

The air was thick and heavy as I trudged back into tick country and up onto the ridge line and into the Shenandoah's. I made it a confusing 6ish miles (my AWOL guide was remarkably poorly marked) before running into an old friend, Roadrunner, who was heading down the hill and out of the park. His shin splints were bothering him so he was planning to get to town to pick up some new shoes. In speaking he mentioned that there was a nice stealth campsite just up the hill which sounded like just the spot I was looking for. 

When I finally arrived I briefly contemplated pushing on before realizing  that my body needed time to readjust to the daily grind of hiking. I set up my tent and got situated, scarfed down a protein bar and the promptly had no idea what to do. My phone was dead, my headlamp battery was quickly dwindling and I had no book to read. My only option was to read my AWOL guide so I decided to sleep. It was 7:30pm. 

It is terrible being separated from your hiking group on the trail. There is safety and companionship in numbers and when a bear stumbles into your tent at 2:00am there are other people to commiserate with.

After a fairly restless night I peeled myself from my tent well before sunrise and set out as the sun was peaking over the ridge line. The hiking was simple and enjoyable, my spirits lifted by the knowledge that I would be crossing paths with my friends at some point to end my journey south and continue northbound. I was worried with my phone dead that I was missing information from them but I knew they were planning on hiking past Luray a few miles so I should be good. 

Around lunchtime I arrived at Elkwallow Wayside - a stop at a road crossing where hikers, bikers, etc can stop and grab a hot meal and resupply somewhat. I saw Red Knees upon entering the store and immediately mauled him with hugs. He informed me that Beetlejuice, Goatman and 2 Pack were a ways behind but that he thought they were planning to aqua blaze? Perfect. 

I kept walking south slowly, waiting to see them emerge from around a corner. I waited. And waited. Finally, 20 miles into my day (and at almost 4:00pm) I found a fellow hiker that had an external battery that could charge up my phone (Goal Zero solar chargers aren't worth half of what they cost) and check my messages, of which I had over a dozen. 

Of course, loads of messages from the tribe, informing me that they were gonna do a short day and go into Luray to watch the NBA finals. Thankfully they were as far south from Luray as I was north so I once again slung on my pack and began to trudge south. 

When we were reunited at the road crossing it had been a 24 mile day and I could not have been happier to see my friends, along with their new companions Kermit, Grinch and Monk, all of whom I had met previously. Perhaps most shocking was that Barbarossa was there in a pick up truck, ready to pick us up and drive us to a barbecue at his house. 

The dinner was fantastic as was drinks at the bar after where we watched the Heat beat the Spurs in Game 2 (to Monk's delight). After the game, Barbarossa drove us back to the trailhead as it began to pour. Instead of hiking up we opted to go up to the public restrooms a bit up the road and hide from the thunderstorms in the safety of two handicapped restrooms (remarkably clean, mind you). 

The next morning was gross. The air was thick and the fog hung low, with gusts of rain and wind whipping through the mountains. I thought to myself - I've hiked these miles. I don't want to do them again, especially in this rain. So instead of rehiking, Goatman and I stayed behind with everyone's packs and tried to find a way up to Terrapin Hostel, just outside of Front Royal. 

Thankfully, Barbarossa was able to drive us up and there was some semblance of room at the hostel (read: it was cozy). We took a long afternoon nap and resupplied while we waited for our friends. It was good to be reunited again. 

The next day, in order to be around a television for the Heat game we opted to slack pack backwards 12 miles to Terrapin and spend an additional night. The Heat got destroyed but it was a lovely, quick hike that included a surprise run-in with Ms. Janet and her van full of hiker trash. That night we all got our own beds and slept amazingly, ready to put in some good miles the next day. 

Catching Up

Alright anonymous blogosphere friends that allegedly follow this dribble that I call a blog - brace yourselves. I've been off the grid I realize and I intend on catching up. I've got a cozy couch so grab a glass of wine and let's begin shall we? Where did we leave off...

Yes, right. I was planning to slack pack 15 miles southbound back to Meadow Creek Campgrounds. That didn't happen. Candypants and I decided instead to catch that ride and hike north from the drop off 15 miles out. Yellow blazing? Yes. Happy blazing? Also yes. Hike your own hike. 

We set off at a reasonable pace but very shortly after my shins started screaming. Candypants trekked on but I slowed down substantially into the shelter at the gap before the James River. I cursed everything the whole way down the trail. I hated the trail, my legs and the state of Virginia. I hated my friends and family at home for not coercing me into staying when I was home, I hated my trail friends for letting them let me talk myself into big miles, and more than anything, I hated myself for thinking such hateful thoughts about all of these beautiful people.  

When I found CP at the shelter, we looked at each other and knew that we would be making it to Buena Vista that night come hell or high water. We hiked another mile or so to the foot bridge that crosses the James River and found Mama and Papa Bull and a few other friends (names are escaping me). We waited for almost an hour for Mama Bull to jump from the bridge but her nerves were getting the best of her so we opted to move on. Across the bridge I found Dinner Party and Zip and decided to go for a quick dip. It felt glorious. When I emerged from the water there was an older man there surveying the area, clearly on the job. CP and I quickly determined that he was heading west and that he had room for two thru hikers that were Buena Vista bound. 

We got dropped at the edge of town and trudged in to the Bluedogart Cafe. The guy that worked there set us up with a room upstairs and we set out to stock up on alcohol to celebrate the 25th anniversary of our dear friend, Candy Pants. 

3 bottles of wine and several cases of beer later we returned and decided it was dinner time. Don Tequilas it was. Large Margs it was - Jumbo Texas Margs, to be precise. We eventually ventured back and befriended SNL (the previously mentioned employee at the Bluedogart Cafe). He offered us his yard to camp in for the following night when our friends arrived in town. Yes. Please. 

The following day was a blur of reunions, jumping in rivers and ridding ourselves of ticks. It was glorious (minus the ticks). That night we again ventured to Don Tequilas and the Texas Jumbo Margs made a repeat performance but this time with a group rolling 15 deep. It got weird and glorious and new nicknames were created and that is all I can say about that right now. 

The next day we woke up scattered across SNL's lawn, my face was plastered to the fence and I was soaked to the bone, my only solice in the fact that I had a dry down sleeping bag (down would have been ruined in the damp night). We all eventually migrated inside and settles ourselves in front of the television and a veritable onslaught of Disney movies. Yes please. The Hardies breakfast sandwiches didn't hurt either. (That's a lie. Yes, they did).

That day a good portion of the Tribe hiked out. Mowgli, myself, Animal, Scarecrow and Avocado opted to camp in the park and wait for Rock Ocean to pick us up the next morning. I purchased six and consumed one beer before passing out under the stars. When I awoke all beverages were gone. Thanks guys. 

We packed quickly with Rock Ocean's pending arrival and when we saw that Vanagon pull up we were ready to go. As I hoisted my pack up, however, mid text to Beetlejuice to inform him of the plan, I heard a familiar voice screaming, "HIKER TRASH!!"

I started running before I knew what was happening and when I eventually realized the screaming, orange-haired man as Headstand I only hastened my pace. We mauled him with love despite the fact it had only been a week since our parting. I sprinted back to my phone and told BJ, 2pac and the team that they had to make it to the music festival at Devils Backbone but I couldn't tell them why. 

The reunion was glorious. Many thanks to Shredder and G-Hippie for making it a reality. We ate and drank and listened to music and watched the stars and enjoyed the company of not-so-long lost friends. It was perfection. 

The next morning the Tribe split again and either returned to the trail or yellow blazed to where they needed to be. I for one knew that I could not hike with shins in my condition and with a pending job offer back in Napa I decided it would be best to hitch a ride up to Harpers Ferry. WV with G-Hippie and Shredder. 

Exhausted, I slept the majority of the way through Virginia. When we were close, G-hippie called a fellow Riff Raff member, Bonzo to see if he could host me for the evening and, thankfully in a town as expensive as HF, he could. 

One of the first things I noticed upon walking into Bonzo's house was the jeep parked in the driveway - I had seen that license plate before, back at Trail Days. He had picked me up and driven me back to tent city and offered me a beer.

I was in good hands. 

Once inside I was a bit skeptical until I looked under the coffee table and spotted the most precious thing I have ever seen: a tiny, several week old (at most) kitten, sleeping on a folded American flag. I was in love. I named her Harper. 

She had been trapped in a window well as a baby, rescued only when Bonz's dog, Rio, had heard her cries. She took to me instantly and, of course, I was in love. She had quasi-severe conjunctivitis in her eyes so we scheduled an appointment with the vet to get her checked out. 

After two days of kitten loving in Harpers Ferry, I took the train over to DC to see all of my actually long-lost loves, Hannah, Adam, Makeda, Cary...the works. It has been an incredible few days in the city that has always had my heart, though emotional at times. 

I had a moment today, somewhere between a coffee-less coffee date/reunion and the glass of wine that I am enjoying now that life is fudging incredible. In the last three months I have fallen in love over and over with these amazing people that I have met on the trail, despite only knowing them for a few weeks or months. I have toiled and fought with myself, mentally and physically, only to realize that the trail is where I want to be because of the difficulties, the confusion and the unadulterated love that has brought me here. I am hiking my own hike in the only way I know how, despite the constant worries about the state of my life when I return from the wilderness. 

I kept this silence from my blogging for a reason - I wanted to get all of these thoughts in order. I realized, however, that I have been trying, since I was a pre-teen, to organize my thoughts and emotions and if it hasn't happened yet then it sure as hell won't happen now.

I love. And I struggle. And I cherish and fight and explore and a million other things that make me who I am today. I am just so thrilled that I have found people who love and support me for this tangled, bizzare, loving, obnoxious bitch that I am. 

Back to the trail on Sunday, friends, and I promise to keep you updated. 

Further Ailments

My foot feels fantastic - for the record. My right shin and hip however, now those are different stories. 

On the way into Daleville, VA we did just over a 15 mile day mostly downhill. It was a breeze up until mile 14 at which point my right shin decided to become a ball of pain as a shin splint came roaring through. I slowed my pace but by that point I was already hurting badly. Thankfully, it was only another bit of downhill into Daleville where an outfitter and ample resupply awaited us. 

We (Red Knees, Barbarossa and myself) managed to hitch a ride to the main shopping center where we immediately stopped by the outfitter - my "new" Keens were turning out to be slightly too minimalist for my newly recovered foot so I traded up for a pair of violently purple Salomon Synapse trail runners. They are fantastic. I asked the outfitter for ice for my shins and they looked at me like I asked if they had any eye of newt and toe of frog to get my cauldron going. They mumbled something about 10 pound bags of ice at the grocery store. 

Thankfully, the server at the Three Little Pigs BBQ restaurant was much more accommodating. After quarantining us smelly vagrants to the upper outside patio (smart move, buddy) he brought me a large bag of ice which I put on my swollen shin and it immediately began to help. 

We finished dinner in reasonable time and planned to continue on to the campsite over in Troutville, the next town over. When I heard mention that Gravy was coming to meet us and could give us a ride I immediately stopped and sat down to hopefully rest my shins further. 

An hour later as the sun is setting quickly over the horizon, a motorcycle pulls up in front of our crew in the parking lot and whipped off his helmet. It was Gravy. Apparently no one had asked which vehicle he would be taking and there was no way all 7 of us plus packs would fit on that bike despite our unmatched powers of ingenuity. 

Barbarossa, Red Knees and myself immediately took off to take advantage of what daylight we had left and made it to the road in Troutville just as the last bits of light were leaving the sky. A 1.5 mile road walk got us the rest of the way to the Troutville Park and Fire Station where we set up for the night. It was good to be with the tribe again but the quick walk had wreaked havoc on my shin. I popped some Advil and called it a night with my sleeping bag sprawled across a picnic table in the pavilion. 

Our little crew set out earlier than the rest of the tribe the next morning, eager to get in some good miles. My shin still bothering me, I took it very slow up the first hill before settling into a good pace. At the second shelter of the day we stopped (around 1:00pm) to take a siesta and wait out the heat of the afternoon before finishing our hike. An hour later 2-Pack and Goatman showed up letting us know that the remainder of the tribe had opted to go to Waffle House and wouldn't be leaving until later, if at all. 

We finally got to the last shelter at around 6:00pm after some beautiful views from the Blue Ridge. I soaked my foot and shin in the cool spring water next to the shelter on and off all evening, added my last splash of bourbon to a cup of peppermint tea and popped a few Advil. I should be fine by the morning, right?

Wrong. Shin splints suck. Plus upon waking the sore on my side that I had covered with moleskin was in crazy amounts of pain. There was nothing to be accomplished by sitting in the woods except going through food too quickly so I slung on my pack and started walking. My shin and hip throbbed the whole 9 miles, no matter what speed I took it so when we found Team TNT doing trail magic at the swimming hole at mile 9, just down the road from Meadow Creek Campgrounds, I floated the idea of taking a short day and everybody got on board (with the exception of Red Knees, who had already forged ahead before I reached the magic). 

We got an adorable cabin, purchased a 10lb bag of ice and went in to relax. My hip still throbbing I decided I needed to take of the moleskin to see what the problem was. As I peeled off the moleskin I screamed - yellow pus was pouring from the infected wound as I ripped off the bandage. Roadrunner immediately went back to the store and purchased hydrogen peroxide which I poured on the wound after cleaning it out. 

Once the shock wore off I grabbed the peroxide, some shampoo, soap and a towel and headed to the bathroom for some aggressive cleaning treatment. Two showers and two dousings with peroxide later I felt slightly less woozy and afraid I was going to die. 

For the rest of the day I sat reclined with ice on my shin and my hip exposed to allow the wound to dry out and scab over. Beetlejuice arrived later in the evening, having opted not to zero in Daleville the previous day, and we all sat around playing cornhole, card games and drinking beer until midnight. 

I woke up feeling much better but still in no condition to hike. My friends headed on but I managed to talk the remainder of the Tribe (Candy Pants, Animal, Scarecrow, Mowgli and Gump) to come up to the campgrounds and ultimately stay the night. I think I will try to slack pack 15 miles tomorrow back to the campgrounds with Orange Peel, her dad (I'm blanking on his trail name but it begins with an "S" - Sparky I think?), Trouble and Hobo. It will be almost all downhill and with no weight it will be good to see how it goes. 

I am exceptionally frustrated with my body and it's lack of ability to stay in one piece. If it isn't one thing, it's another and it is driving me batty. I know I went quick out of the gates after Trail Days butI truly   thought I could handle it. If tomorrow doesn't go well I have an opportunity to do work for stay in the area which will give me even more time to recuperate. Fingers crossed. 

Flash Thunderstorms and Poisonous Turtles

What hasn't happened in the past three days of hiking? It has been fantastic, terrifying, hilarious and perfect. 

After our reunion with Candy Pants and Two Pack we decided over dinner to wake up early and tackle the mountains that the morning had in store.

In the morning our alarms went off at 5:30am sharp and we peeled ourselves from our wet sleeping bags, thankful for the frosty mornings to be (hopefully) behind us for good. We were on the road before 7am which made us the first group to reach the huge container of cold sodas 500ft before the summit of the mountain. De-licious. 

The day went slowly and smoothly with all of us taking our time and enjoying the scenery. It was beautiful and sunny with views of rolling hills back to the mountains we had just completed. The last climb of the day up to the ridge line was brutal - pretty much straight up for a 1500 ft elevation gain (the Revenge of Jacobs Ladder, Red Knees deemed it - affectionately). At the top we took a good long break to let our hamstrings recover before setting out for the next shelter. 

As we got to the first shelter the sky began to darken and we heard thunder far in the distance. The shelter was a ways off the trail so we opted to push on. After a mile or so on the ridge line it began to rain. And then thunder. By the time the lightning began rolling through, Barbarossa, Red Knees, Two Pack, Candy Pants and myself were mid rock scramble on an exposed rock ridge line. Perfect. When the hail started coming down, the girls all finally gave in and found shelter beneath a slight rock overhang. It didn't help much but it kept us from being pelted by the marble-sized hail (I MAY be exaggerating a bit). 

When the rain finally subsided we emerged, soaked to the core, and began to trudge on. I wiped my mental copy of my last will & testament from my mind and went back to walking. The rocks, however, were slick with the fresh rain and our girl Two Pack just about slipped off the rock on several occasions. It would've been scary if we weren't all giggling deliriously. 

The decent into camp was slippery and slow, especially with our wet clothing on. The sun was beating down yet again so we all stripped down to our very basest layers (we kept it PG don't worry!) and finished the hike with our clothes drying on the back of our packs. Are we ready for hike naked day? You bet!

That night we knew the rain would be back so we quickly set up tent and made our dinners under the protection of our rain flies. Not before, of course, us finding a black and yellow turtle making his way through the camp (a turtle? Really?). I, of course, did the smart thing and stayed away from it, fearing that it's neon yellow coloring indicated that it may be poisonous like some brightly colored frogs. At least this was my logic. Le sigh. 

We woke the next morning to find the entirety of the tribe had rolled in late the night before and we were finally reunited for good! The hike was simple and thankfully dry over the Dragons Tooth (beautiful view) and we got into Four Pines Hostel by late afternoon. 

The hostel is nothing more than a three car garage emptied out and filled with a motley assortment of questionably stained couches, cots and recliner chairs. There was a makeshift bathroom in the back which had septic tank problems and definitely required shower shoes but for the price (read: donation based), it was perfect. 

When we arrived the cots and couches had been claimed so we cleared a huge space on the floor for our epic slumber party. That night the owner of the hostel, Joe, drove us into the Home Place restaurant for all you can eat traditional, home-cooked southern food. It hurt so good. 

Today we left late after waiting around most of the morning for our laundry and did a short, relatively easy 10 miles over McAfee Knob, hands down the most widely known view on the AT, falling at about the 700 mile mark. 

It is beautiful where we are camped, amongst a rock outcropping just below the summit but it is cold and I am wiped. Headed to Daleville tomorrow!

On The Road Again

I was nervous to hike again. I'm still nervous every time I put my boots on and go out on the trail. What if my foot goes out? What if I hurt myself worse than before? ... But what if I don't? What if I get out there and walk my badass butt back to Maine?

The power of positive thinking, Obie. 

The first day back - the Sunday after Trail Days - me and the Tribe planned to slack pack from Woods Hole Hostel the 10 miles into Pearisburg. 10 miles with no pack weight sounded fine by me. 

We got to the hostel around noon and I was eager to get going but we were still anxiously awaiting the remainder of the tribe (when I arrived it was only Candy Pants and myself - Barbarossa and Red Knees decided to go straight to Pearisburg). When 1:30pm rolled around with no sight of them I decided I had to start walking - I had no idea how quickly I would move on my foot, even with fairly easy terrain, especially with the quickly approaching rain. 

At first I was skeptical. My foot felt stiff and unused to tackling hills. I walked slower. Eventually I worked out the kinks and began to pick up the pace - okay this feels pretty good - but every so often a rock would hit my foot the wrong way and scare the crap out of me, making me slow down again to a snails pace. Once I hit the downhill into town I was feeling pretty good and was making good time. The terrain was beautiful and green and the switchbacks helped keep the trail from descending too steeply. 

And then I was looking into the eyes of a black bear. Just standing right there in the trail. We both froze and gave each other our most impressive stink eye for a solid second before he bounded up the hill. 

Breathe, Obie. Breathe. 

It was FUDGING AWESOME! I forgotten foot and practically skipped all the way into town, well ahead of my anticipated schedule. Woohoo! And to top it off there was a car at the edge of town with a few hikers who drove me to the hostel. Brilliant. 

The rest of the Tribe didn't roll in until well after 10:00pm (apparently they hadn't begun hiking until after 4:00pm - thank god I left early!) and they were up for a while but I retired early. 

The next morning Red Knees and I got an early start (just after 7:30am) so we could take it slow as we headed out of town. I didn't know how many miles I would do - I planned to listen to my body and play it by ear. 

First we did 7 miles to the first shelter. Feeling pretty good. Lets keep going. Then we did a few more miles to a campsite. I retaped my foot (the four day old tape was getting loose) and felt good. Lets walk to the campsite that would put us at 15 miles for the day. Perfect. After am hour we felt pretty fantastic. So we hiked 6 more miles to get to a campsite called "The Captain's". 21 miles in total and I felt fantastic. Super slow pace with an early start really did the trick.

"The Captain's" is actually the backyard of a trail angel that lives directly across the river from the AT. He lets hikers camp in his backyard and provides them with ice cold sodas. Brilliant. The best part? You have to take a zip line across the river to get to his house. Oh yeah. 

I didn't sleep very well but woke up happy and remarkably not sore and ready to take on the day. Today was tough - from mile 3 to about mile 7 was covered with jagged rocks which made it tough to get good balance. With my foot getting sore I took probably half a dozen breaks and walked at a glacial pace. 

We decided to only do 12 miles today to get right before a big climb up to the next ridge line. Finally, a few members of the Tribe showed up (Candy Pant and Two Pack) and let us know that the rest of the team was pretty far back. But knowing the 40 mile days they put in? They'll be here in no time. 

We are going to play tomorrow by ear. Maybe 12 miles, maybe 14, maybe 20, who knows. Lets see what the foot says. GOD does it feel good to be back!!

Tail Dazed

I have so many conflicting adjectives to describe Trail Days that I don't even know where to begin. Exciting, dirty, excessive, exhausting, happy, sad, weird...I could go on but I won't. 

After a fairly painless but nevertheless excruciatingly long flight into Tri Cities (with yet another mile long cross-airport run to catch my connecting flight) I finally was reunited with Survivor Dave's Gun Crew (Jolly and Tie Dye). God it was good to see them. TD squealing in excitement when she saw me and giving me an impressive bear hug was maybe the greatest way to arrive back to the trail of all time. Jolly arrived shortly after and the reunion was blissful. 

The whole drive into Damascus my heart was pounding I was so excited to see everyone. As we drove through the center of town I scoured the crowds for anyone I even remotely knew. As we crossed the bridge to Crazy Larry's I saw a familiar face (well, familiar beard) and I did everything short of jettisoning myself from the moving vehicle screaming, "Barbarossa!!!!!!"

Thankfully Tye Die's husband had the good sense to pull over the car which I threw myself from to go and give him a big hug. He informed me that the Tribe was down in Tent City and that they had some prime real estate staked out for me. I felt bad to leave Jolly and Tie Dye but I could not wait to see more of my hiking buddies. 

As we were walking into tent city (TD's hubby, Co-Pilot had driven us over) who do I see but Headstand, Candy Pants, Two Pack and Goatman. I just about got arrested for trying to attack hug them before paying my $5 due to get into the camp grounds. Bliss. A few hundred yards away by the tents were Beetlejuice, Red Knees, Animal, Scarecrow...everybody. More aggressive hugging ensued. 

The next 3 days were a blur of walking through all the gear vendors, catching up, inebriation and attempting to find free food at any expense. 

Tent City is one of a kind. It is divided into the prairie (an open grassy area) and the forest which is directly behind the prairie. In the forest many past and current through hikers set up huge mini-cities with music, grills and chairs. They had names like Poundtown (their slogan was "go big, get some"), Riff Raff, Billville and of course there was Ms. Janet's tent with the bonfire to end all bonfires. Not only were there flames at least 10 feet in the air but there was a drum circle that played into the wee hours of the morning so that hikers could get back to their roots and dance around the circle, often throwing in articles of clothing to feed the fire. 

Apparently what happens in Tent City stays in Tent City. 

The car accident at the parade rocked the city (no one died - the woman who was pinned under the car only suffered a broken pinky toe!) as did the hundreds (I would surmise) of arrests for public intoxication and possession of illicit substances (read: marijuana). For a small town that is a hell of an event. 

I was not even a little sad to depart from Damascus by the time Sunday rolled around. It was time to hike again and test out this foot.