Project Eveningland

4/28/2023 Friday

Ben is sitting beside me as I write this. He’s watching clips of “gender reveal parties gone wrong” online. He’s silent (watching on phone) but occasionally bursts into laughter.

Last night we got 1-2 inches of rain and the power went out before midnight. Didn’t come back on until late morning.

So we took another rest day today. I’ve only just now felt up to packing for three food carries (one to take with me on tomorrow’s day hike, one for our walk to Glasgow, and some extra stuff for Glasgow to Waynesboro, which I’ll drop off in Glasgow tomorrow or Sunday when we drive through). I also consolidated gear and put my absolutely disgusting prescription orthotics into a brand new pair of shoes that I bought yesterday. The 12W boots were working against me; I think just regular 12 will be better. The outfitter in Daleville carries my brand of boots in every size I could have wanted, bless them. I dunno who’s keeping things in stock over there, but they’re doing great.

Once the power was back I put our egg bakes (one meat, one veg) in the oven. After breakfast Wedge and I drove to a local, tiny little grocer, Davis Groceries, which has been in business since 1950, unless I misread. I wish I had bought a hat or a T-shirt there. Wedge made small talk with the clerk and I didn’t have to. Lovely, lovely.

We will probably hike to 745 or so tomorrow, and then resume our hike from there on Sunday. I’ll miss Benny when he goes, and it hurts to think about him leaving soon. At the same time, I know it’ll help my mental state to spend a few nights in the woods and get back to my hiking mindset. Let’s get this AT-thing done, Benny and I agreed, so I don’t have to try again any time soon.

I’m having some “mileage thoughts” also. Twenty-plus-mile days are easy for some. They’re never gonna be easy for me because in addition to hiking, I’m writing. Obviously. That means I don’t just get to roll in at night and fall asleep in my tent. I keep forgetting the scope of the writing. If I reach Katahdin in less than 210 days, I’ll come out with around 150,000 words, just over half the number of words in Harry Potter and the Order of the Fucking Phoenix. For more literary folks, let’s call it a quarter of War and Peace.

Mom suggested that I “take breaks” from blogging. I reminded her—sounding to myself like a whiny teenager—that I’ve been journaling daily for over a decade. When you skip something you’ve done every day for a decade, and you’re an anxious type… need I go on? So there’s no escape now, not from journaling anyway, and I’m not complaining. I’d be writing in any case and it’s really not that much more work to share it here. However, I’ve got to be more realistic. Most of the other hikers to whom I am comparing myself are not sitting down to write 700 words each night. They’re smarter than that. So it’s not a good comparison, Doug!

Ok, enough kvetching. I’d rather spend my words tapping into those feelings I had before my planned AT hike in 2020. I don’t know if you remember or not, but there was a pandemic that year. If my AT plans hadn’t been scuttled by Covid-19, I would have probably failed miserably. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t have the experience or gear.

If only it were possible to convey to you the longing I felt then. I don’t fully understand it myself. It’s the woods. They whisper and cajole and promise things I know they can’t deliver (e.g., the kind of thru-hiking experience you see in the movies or on YouTube), but I go back again and again anyway.

When I was a kid we used to drive through the Shenandoah on our way to the beach for family vacation. My young self stared at the rolling forests and green mountains, stretching as far as I could see from my seat in a crowded family minivan with an AC that worked only intermittently, and less so if the van had to “climb” a long hill. Looking at those woods through the grimy (probably) window was the first time I can remember feeling the pull. What is in there? What would it be like to spend time there? It’s just over 100 miles away by trail—shall we find out together?