Project Eveningland

4/17/2023 Monday

The “safari” tent was a bit cold, but Wedge and I agreed it was worth it. We took in the mountain views from our little covered deck. The breakfast bell rang at eight, but by then I had already eaten and mostly packed up. Wedge went down to the main house (our tent was up the hill), excited at the prospect of another excellent vegetarian meal. But first, the “gratitude circle.”

They have a tradition at Wood’s Hole. Before each meal, everyone stands in a circle and each person says their name, where they’re from, and one thing they’re grateful for. They used to hold hands but the pandemic killed that (thank the gods!). Oh, I should have said that was what I was grateful for! Not holding hands! Instead, when I participated last night, I said “I’m grateful that I get to sleep in such a neato tent tonight.” I had no desire to participate again. Life at Wood’s Hole has a hippy vibe, but the regimentation is too much for me. There’s a rule against trying to check out during breakfast, which I accidentally trampled because I missed the reminder at the gratitude circle (or whatever the heck it’s called). To each their own. I’m glad we stayed and glad we left soon after. It is a charming, quaint place, with a compelling history and delicious food.

I walked away with a block of Muenster and a small, fresh loaf of bread that was still warm in its paper sack. So you can see my ambivalence. I wish this iconic old hostel continued success, especially among those lovely people who thrive there.

I do wish there had been more hand soap at the hand washing stations, both for myself and for others. There I said it. There’s been a lot of “food poisoning” on the trail lately. A statistically improbable amount. No one wants to say they have norovirus.

One of the men working at the hostel assured Wedge and me that the uphill driveway back to the trail was harder than any part of the hike to Pearisburg.

The hike to Doc’s Knob shelter was rocky but went fast. An icy breeze kept me in layers. I added a puffy when we stopped at the shelter. That shelter features a large front deck with a little spring right underneath. I ate about half of my block of cheese and the bread. I had eaten a big chunk before we left—a second breakfast. It was too much cheese. I started getting a migraine.

I did what I could to head it off. Lots of water. Electrolytes. A medication my doctor prescribed. I’m ignoring an inconvenient truth, though. You can do everything right, but a 12-mile hike in the sun is still a 12-mile hike in the sun. And that’s a relatively short day out here! You’re just not gonna feel very good. I’ve been trying to make a difficult choice about a writing project, too, so that’s been keeping my cognitive system a little too active, a little too focused.

My sunglasses are beat to hell. My sweatshirt looks like a troll’s handkerchief. I’m out of a bunch of stuff. Feeling run down and negative.

The ridge walk offered beautiful views of the valley below. I hopped from green-spotted rock to green-spotted rock, blessing the soon-to-be-tall grasses on either side of the trail for not yet being long enough to tickle my legs and allow who knows what to hitch a ride. I think Wedge was genuinely disturbed when I explained why chigger bites cause such unbearable itching.

As I came closer to the main access point of Pearisburg, the forest around me seemed to burst with extravagant growth. Tiny blue flowers cover the ground around the trail in delicate little mounds. It looks like you could fall backward into it and nap for 100 years. Not recommended.

A young army vet, Surplus, joined me on the descent and asked for info about the hostel in town. I told him we’d be calling for a shuttle anyway from VA-100. A woman picked all three of us up in a new minivan. “It’s so nice,” Surplus offered. “Not for long,” said the driver. Isn’t it nice to be reminded that Things Fall Apart? It is so easy to forget that entropy rules the universe!

Angel’s Rest is a friendly, welcoming place with a terrific bathhouse and a nice selection of loaner clothes.

I was compromised by the hike. I mostly avoided a migraine but it left me utterly, utterly drained. I don’t think Wedge is overflowing with ambition either this afternoon. There’s an additional layer of suffering: everyone’s been saying how much easier Virginia is. So you feel like you should be having an easier time and getting more miles.

We got Mexican food and debated another backward slackpack. Wedge wants to mitigate long water carries, which is fair enough. But the only slackpacking options they offer are 20 or 22 miles. I don’t wanna. I simply can’t do more slackpacking right now. The in-and-out and rushing around and ironclad commitment to a particular number of miles are inconsistent with what I’m after out here. I offered to meet up with Wedge after if he wants to do it. He’s undecided. I need to spend the next five days in the woods. I need that routine and that tranquility. Benny, my love, will be waiting on the other side.

We are staying in the “Relax Shack” at Angel’s Rest (it’s a little finished shed with windows and power; pretty deluxe). I asked for a spot in the “Tension Barn” but they said it was full. What a shame—that’s probably where I belong.

We are taking the day off tomorrow. I’m doing a careful resupply.

Don’t forget, you can watch Wedge’s account of this and other days on his YouTube channel: https://youtube.com/@Wedgehikestheat. To sync up the blog and the videos, just match up the day number.