Trail Letter 3: 3/18

15.2 incredibly painful miles for me today. The blister on my pinky toe, left foot grew to about the size of a marble, while another blister (very painful also) developed on the right of the heel on the same foot. ‘Twas most definitely the most painful day yet. When we set up camp, Bigfoot helped doctor me up: I poked a hole in the heel blister skin and squeezed all the pus out. Put gauze on top of that, and may moleskin it tomorrow. Bigfoot popped the pinky toe blister, soaked up the pus, then cut all the excess skin off (ow). I then used a cotton alcohol swab to disinfect it (double ow), then we gauzed it up. Feet are very important in this endeavor, so I have to take very good care of mine — something I’ve apparently failed at thus far.

Passed a troupe from Warren Wilson College today — they were doing trail maintenance. The looks I got from the college kids ranged from curiosity to admiration to disgust (I am pretty gross, I s’pose). Told them thanks for keeping the trail in shape.

When you spend much consecutive time under no roof, you’ll start to notice your mood somewhat reflects Nature’s. I guess it happens when you live every day under a roof, but it’s been far more apparent to me, out here.

Some of these feelings – the ones brought about by warm sunsets on windy days or rolling fog in mountain range vistas or even drizzling dreary rain – they’re so far from describable, but the peace and centeredness they bring make it hard to imagine that somewhere hate exists and fights live. Well worth the pain.