Project Eveningland

4/4/2023 Tuesday

The Damascus Diner is an oasis of human warmth on a cool spring morning. Heavens, that sausage and that sausage gravy! I can still taste the slight peppery bite. They only had bananas as a fruit topper for the waffles I ordered.

I headed out shortly after 9:30. Stopped at Broken Fiddle to leave my extra food in their hiker box. Followed the Creeper Trail (that’s a bike trail) out of town and then the AT split off to go uphill. It meets up with the Creeper Trail again about 13 miles later and they overlap for almost 3/4 of a mile. It was tempting to just stay on the Creeper Trail the whole day and skip all the pointless ups and downs, since you end up in the same place anyway. I decided not to.

I did a 16 mile day. Saw two groups of weekenders headed in the opposite direction. Their gear looked HEAVY as hell. One was wearing a full, baggy pair of denim jeans. Oh, look, that one has a big old cranberry juice bottle full of water hooked to the outside of his pack. That’s gotta be a comfortable way to haul five pounds of water weight.

I felt a little heavy myself. I must be carrying many more pounds of food than usual. Let’s put a “rush order” on eating the heavy cheese and peanut butter. I felt oafish and slow and sore, even though I just took three days off. Here and there a wave of tiredness will pass over me, and I can tell it’s the lingering effects of the anti-protozoal medicine.

The sun was out in full. A summer sun. Beating down. The trees are still totally bare. I sweated way more than I usually do and probably could have drank more. I couldn’t find a good pair of hiking shorts in town. The undercarriage of mine have completely worn away. There’s a lining in there, which is intact, but pretty soon it’ll become a very good thing that my underwear are the same color as my shorts.

A couple of speed-demon ultra types passed me in tiny packs. They were going nobo, like me. A couple. I didn’t see anyone else, excepting the bicyclists I could see down on the bike trail below. I stopped for dinner at a bench where the AT rejoins the Creeper Trail to cross a bunch of rushing creeks. Today almost made me tired of rhododendron. Almost. I’d quite like some more shade, though.

The ultra types were at the shelter (Lost Mountain Shelter) and I think we are the only three here. They’re both forest ranger types. She works for NFS. He fights wildfires. They live in Oregon. The guy’s name is Lefty and he has striking blue eyes. I can’t remember what the woman’s name was. Something to do with a bag? They’re doing 20-25 per day building their average (including days off) up to 18 per day.

At Lost Mountain shelter area, there’s a clearing full of perfect tent spots. And a privy. Now that we are in Virginia again, we will all poop in luxury. The plywood walls! The metal mesh! The unspeakable foulness of the depths! How I missed it all.

The moon looks almost full. There’s some kind of howling in the distance. Probably coyotes. It’s soothing. I feel grateful for a good, honest, regular old AT day.

I forgot to mention that I thought I heard my first whippoorwill a few nights ago but it might have been a dream.