Trail Letter 8: 4/21, 4/22, and 4/23

16.3 spring showery miles today. The weather’s been teasing us for two days now — sprinkling, then sunshining, then pouring, then warm-and-windy-ing, then cold-and-calming, etc. Thanks to my run down from Dragon’s Tooth yesterday, my left shin is feeling splinty, so I decided to take it easy today, along with wrapping my shin with the Ace bandage.

I saw a turtle today; he was chillin’ right beside the Trail. I got some pics. Fire Juggler said he saw the turtle eating a worm, but I didn’t see it.

Today’s trek took us by McAfee Knob — one of the most popularly-known photographs of the AT, mostly due to it being the banner at www.whiteblaze.net. Good view, and I could see large thunderclouds moving our direction. Also hiked by Tinker Cliffs — excellent views and home to these interesting-looking birds called turkey vultures. Saw an older couple on the Trail — she was sketching the tree that produces the “red bud” and asked me what the flower was called, to which I replied, “You’re asking the wrong person.”

I hiked the second half of the day behind Fire Juggler — he’s 27, from CT, has a great attitude and heart, and a playful spirit when dealing with the world. Had some good conversation, but I still prefer hiking solo. Tomorrow’s an into-town day for a resupply — think I’ll be in Troutville or Daleville.

4/22

20.6 feelin’ good miles today. The shin splinty thing was nowhere to be found, and the blistered callouses on the feet are becoming less painful.

Woke up at 5:30 am this morning, packed up, and was out of the shelter by 6:20. It feels more energetic and is much cooler to hike in the early morning. You also have the best chances of seeing wildlife in the early am. Anyway, I rolled into Daleville, VA around 10 a.m., resupplied at Kroger, and ate a heap at a Mexican Restaurant. I ordered the Xango-cheesecake rolled in dough, then deep fried, then covered in sugar and cinnamon, then drizzled with honey and chocolate syrup, then whipped cream and a cherry on top. My insides hurt the whole way up the “out-of-town” mountain.

I’m here at the shelter with 4 other guys about my age. There’s Launchpad, Jak the Mummy Conductor, Jack, and Leprechaun (who packs a backpacker’s guitar). Actually Lep is only 17.

Had two constant reminders of civilization today — first, I walked under a few sets of giant power lines, and I could hear the buzz from quite a distance. It’s quite a unique sound. Secondly almost all the miles today were done on the presence of interstate noise. It’s a trade-off, I s’pose — if I want my hot shower, fridge, etc. I gotta have my power lines. If I want apples and spinach all year round, I gotta have my transfer trucks…

Alright, I’m itchin’ real bad to strum this guitar, so I’m out for the night.

4/23

20.6 feelin’ not so good miles today. My left shin was splinty from the moment I woke up — I s’pose it’s due to my fast pace yesterday. So needless to say, today I hiked much slower and more painfully. I also stopped earlier in the day than normal — it was hard to make myself quit, but I know the shin needs it.

And it gave me time to bathe in the icy spring water. I washed most of my body including my hair, so now I don’t smell like landfill. I also did some laundry — my shorts were looking rough.

Saw a few hawks today, along with the first dragonfly this year. Walked by a newt and 3 or 4 lizards, and I almost ran over a deer. I crested the hill, and there she was about 10 ft. in front of me. We were equally surprised, I think.

Before I left, I was talking to a friend — she said, “I think I might be addicted to running.” I couldn’t understand how you could enjoy struggling like that — being sweaty and pushing muscles and aching joints… but now I get it. I love backpacking every day — pushing tired limbs up mountains, only to painfully descend and repeat. You take it a day at a time out here — if you’re gonna finish. I never think about how much is left, or how much is finished, and sometimes when the urge to return to the comforts of “civilization” finds me, I quickly remember the emptiness that accompanied that lifestyle (relative to this one) and I take another step.