Project Eveningland

5/8/2023 Monday

During the night a mouse chewed all the way through the hand strap of my trekking pole. And then ran off with the strap! It probably had a nice cheese scent because I’ve been eating and walking.

The temperature in the morning was a delight. Cool and dry. Though the ground is still wet enough for those awful brown centipedes to be out everywhere. Bleccch. There was one hanging out on a rock near my tent last night. I named him (“Lamar”) so he’d seem less threatening.

The morning began with some… wait for it… ridge hiking. For a change. Lots of wildflowers in bloom, including one with pink and light yellow colors that made me think: pink lemonade. Just about everything made me think of food or drink today.

I was so hungry that I resorted to socializing with day hikers. It’s gotten that bad. I chatted with two women around my age who were out hiking. They asked me how my hike was going and I said, “wonderful, but it’s been a little bit of a lean few days because I didn’t pack enough food.” Then they asked 4-5 questions which I answered generously. They were shocked when I said I had been out for over 80 days. Then, just as they were leaving, one asked me if I’d like a granola bar. “I’d love one!” I said. It was a blueberry fig bar. I sang for my supper. I gabbed for my granola.

Less than a quarter mile from where I left the two hikers, I got a real wake up call from a rattlesnake. Someone once told me that they were worried because they’d never actually heard a rattler. They were afraid they wouldn’t know the sound. “You’ll know the sound, I promise,” I told them. There’s some piece of your brain that knows that sound. My brain acted and I leaped away.

I waited for a while for the snake to move. It looked young, very dark coloration. I didn’t take a picture because I don’t want to remember what the snake looked like. It was a tight spot. There was simply no way around. So I hopped onto some rocks next to the trail that I judged too far for him to want to lunge. But he still rattled at me. Or she. Or they. Women can be snakes now!

After that I tried to be extra noisy and aware on trail. It was prime snake weather: hot, sunny, humid. They love to be out in these conditions. (Later I tried to hitch a ride from a passing truck, but when the window rolled down there was a snake driving! They got me again!)

I’m listening to Nemesis Games and just skipping the chapters I don’t want to hear. I love the way the springs and creeks wash dirt away and make all the tiny rocks look exotic and colorful. It was brutally sunny up high, less so down low where the foliage has transformed into an absolute jungle. Flowers everywhere.

I stopped for lunch at Paul Wolfe Shelter. I ate the last things I had: some beef jerky, a packet of peanut butter, and gummy bears. That is one sweet shelter. It’s got a covered picnic table! The flies come swarming up out of the toilet in a big black cloud when you use it, and can you blame them?

I ran into Let’s Go and Bean. I hadn’t seen them since Damascus. Bean had torn a calf muscle and they left the trail to get treatment. They hiked south to this point from their home in northern VA because they said the terrain up there was easier to recondition on. Now they’re hiking back to Damascus and then they’ll flip back to northern VA. We talked while sitting next to the ruins of the Mayo Homeplace, an old foundation and tall chimney made of field stone. The house must have been built right into the hill. It’s the kind of audacious land use I have come to admire in Appalachia. I allowed Let’s Go to interview me for Instagram. I’m not nuts about appearing on the internet in such a disheveled state.

A few hot and sweaty miles later and I was at Rockfish Gap at the confluence of several highways. Town stress hit me fast. The app says the visitors center is full of useful info. But it’s 1/4 mile uphill and there’s a sign at the bottom of the hill warning that it is closed. The other buildings in the area look post apocalyptic. I sat in the shade of an old garage or store—boarded up and decaying. The smooth concrete and protection from the sun made it a great place to sit and wait—when you have backpacking gear, you can make yourself comfortable in a great many settings.

There was a mixup. The hostel shuttle I called for picked someone else up. That person had been waiting on a trail angel who ended up driving me into town.

I’m staying at a tiny little renovated cottage originally built for a copper miner in the 1920s, according to the listing. So charming. So climate controlled. I can’t decide whether to head out on Wednesday or Thursday. I’m gonna go out for a long stretch in any case, because in the Shenandoah you can resupply right on trail in a few places.