Day 335 - October 1st

The rain found me on the first day of October. A displeasing amount painted the bottom of my tent and the rain shell was rightly soaked but no sun greeted me. There would be no drying off this morning. I packed everything wet because you can't always wait for perfect conditions to get somewhere. Already I miss the Shenandoah.

A produce stand appeared roadside and it was the most beautiful thing ever; I desperately needed veggies. Like many of the people living near or in the Shenandoah, the owners have their own farm and sell their fruits directly from there. For $1.27, I bought two apples, two sweet peppers and an ear of white corn. Taking shelter from a drizzle under a tree, I munched on an apple and the corn. This is where I should have been paying more attention. After I finished eating, I set off down what I thought was the correct direction. I didn't realize until a mile later I'd walked back in the direction I started! So much for internal mapping. The roads all look the same now.

To make up for time, I hoofed it to the next town Amissville without stopping. I asked around for a coffee place and was directed to Hackley's, a quirky locale with all manner of knick-knacks and snackables for sale. Bonanza was on and two cowboy toughs wrestled out their grievances. I dropped my pack, got coffee and asked if I could eat the food I brought with me. David, an older guy with a mullet, said I could and that the coffee was on him. I paired the sweet peppers with the last of my summer sausage and cheese, warmed my stomach and brightened my eyes with the gifted coffee. It was good to be warm and drying off. I stayed in Hackley's for some time and got to know David and his employee Betsy a bit. David and his wife Tony, with whom I interacted later, regularly act as trail angels for thru-hikers, handing out food and offering rides into nearby towns. I love the relationship between civilians and hikers in this area! I succumbed to the smell of pizza and ordered one myself. David gave me a free scoop of ice cream and I settled down before the television to watch Bonanza. I left an hour later, taking an apple David tossed to me as I exited.

I walked to the next town Warrenton. It took several hours. In need of new food, I sought out a grocery store. Luckily a food lion was nearby and I stocked up on everything I'd been needing for some time now. It was dark by the time I left the grocery store but there were woods nearby and I was not worried. I hardly ever think about what to do about finding a home for the night anymore. That is one skill I know I have acquired on this trip. I bedded down beneath pines after hacking my way through some incorrigible grasses and tall bushes. Pines manage their undergrowth much better than other trees and they guarantee a clear, flat campsite. My tent was still wet (the sun never really showed up at all today) but I put out my plastic sheet and piled in anyways.

Day 334 - September 30th

Day 333 - September 29th

September 29th, Day 333

Waking up was difficult. The last 75 miles knocked me out and last night I fell asleep in the woods, laid my tent under trees that will always be home to me now. I received disconcerting news late last night from my phone and I’ve been unable to let it go. The problems we wrestle with can permeate every unrelated thought until associations are built so even the trees seem troubled today. To shake off my ill humor I returned to the dining room where I ate last night for some coffee. I ran into three thru-hikers Sardine, Redbeard and Puddin’. They were as exhausted as I was and we bonded over it. Trading stories, we learned we had knowledge in common, the kind you glean from walking long distances. How to engage strangers, how to walk downhill, that sort of thing. Sardine and Redbeard both have quality Paul Bunyan beards and the same stringy, rugged look of most hikers I’ve seen. Pudding, a young woman was part of their “graduating class” of SOBO hikers; you inevitably see some of the same people if you walk at a similar pace. She camps without a tent (!) and travels super light. I tried to imagine camping in Louisiana without a tent and shuddered. I suppose her cowboy camping is facilitated by the AT shelters though. I wish I could drop the full weight of my tent!

Through collective willpower we eventually hauled ourselves to our feet so we could get walking again. Walking doldrums find everyone at some point, I guess. I couldn’t seem to propel myself more than a couple miles at a time before I succumbed to the desire to sit down. Not in a particularly good mood or possessing much energy, I reached a picnic area and claimed one of the benches. A couple families had fires going and lunch spread out on the tables. I watched a dad and six or seven boys gesticulate over their smoking fire and yammer in French which sounds pretty damn cool when it spills out rapidfire. As I was sitting there probably looking worn out and bored, a man walking by started talking to me. Ron Collins is a local who likes to bring his family up to the Appalachians and that’s why they were here. He then invited me over to have lunch with them, an offer that broke through my overcast mood. I ate a big pork chop, nearly a whole tomato and, most importantly, a plateful of salad. In between bites I told stories and interacted with everyone. The Collins were an easy gang to get along with and I was grateful for their company. They gave me an apple too which I tucked into my bag. Interactions like these seem magical but by now I know that they stem from the common goodness and generosity to be found in almost anyone you might encounter.

Granted new energy from a hot meal I tried to make the last few miles out of the park but I couldn’t bring myself to leave. Not only was I still tired but the problem I had been tussling with all day had defeated my momentum somehow. It reminded me of all that remains uncertain beyond the boundary of this walk that is soon ending. I’ll be away from the woods where I feel safe and delving into the cities where I do not. They tear you apart in tiny ways. So, I stayed. For one last night I threw my tent down under stars you could see and tried to hold some part of the Shenandoah in me as portable strength for when I need it. I sat on a rock overlooking the yawning valley and applied new ink to my flag. Looking for America, it says.

Day 332 - September 28th

Looking For America reporting from the Shenandoah. My flag is in the process of being inked anew.

Day 331 - September 27th

The beautiful and sinister timber rattlesnake!

Day 330 - September 26th

Looking for America is back in action.

Day 329 - September 25th