Project Eveningland

5/18/2023 Thursday

My tent site last night was extremely rocky. I bent another two tent stakes. It didn’t look rocky; it looked grassy. There was some light snoring. That privy though!

So well maintained. So clean. It was a privilege to poop there. Also I woke up with an alternate title for yesterday’s post. Could have been “Non-Human Centipedes.” Too obscure a reference?

The forest has dynamic lighting right now. The newly thick canopy seems in constant motion; the steady sound of shifting leaves fills the air. I marveled at little “gardens” of small plants grown into spaces in dead logs where dirt collects.

I can tell I am out of the core of the Shennies—fewer people about. I walked across innumerable gentle ridges. Tall grasses softened the edge of the path, though here and there they’ve been cut back by trail maintainers.

Late morning I passed a huge doe that had died across the trail. It was a recent death—no flies yet. I could not tell what had killed the deer. It felt ominous.

By noon I arrived at Elkwallow Gap, which has a wayside with a little grill-type setup where you can order outrageously priced food. Lots of ranger-types and official looking people around waiting on food. Outside it was breezy and cool enough for me to need a sweatshirt to sit and eat at a shaded picnic table. The food was expensive, but the portions were generous. The little potato curls—like French fries, but not curly fries—were the highlight. There was no soap in the men’s washroom, which the employees also use. I’m glad I didn’t see that until after I’d eaten.

Around the wayside were several missing persons posters for a young man who was last seen about two weeks ago. A few miles past the wayside I walked out of a section that had been closed with red signs (I was leaving the closed section, and hadn’t seen any “closed” signs on my way in). The signs said there were search operations underway. I wish that young man and his family the very best.

The last few days I’ve been unusually sore, mostly just in my feet. My miles haven’t been that high. Today was only 13.5 miles but it felt like much more. When I reached the gap where I was to meet the shuttler, I felt tremendous relief to be taking a break. The pickup point was a shady little parking lot. I watched a bunch of NPS vehicles come out of a fire road with a chain across it. A young man who looked like a fratty, southern Penn Badgely got out to unlock the chain and let three cars out. Grumpily.

I fell asleep briefly leaning against my pack with my feet up on a rock. Wayne and his wife Robin showed up fifteen minutes early and drove me into Front Royal. Lovely people. They stopped at 7/11 so I could get snacks. I don’t think I was much for conversation.

Stumble Inn is a super nice hostel. Wedge stayed here and, according to 1/2 the couple who owns the place, talked me up such that they were looking forward to meeting me. Oh, dear. I shall have to try to be less tired for breakfast.

My buddy Carolyn will pick me up tomorrow on the way to a retirement symposium for our mentor and friend, Linda Flower. I’m looking forward to it, not least of all because I miss being carried somewhere in a car.