Date: 2004-05-28
From: The Place - Damascus, VA

To: Lost Mtn Shelter
Miles today: 15.8
Weather: overcast clouds

The morning of the 28th was gray and raining. There were some misgivings about having missed the great hiking weather of yesterday but there really had been a lot to do in town. After my customary bowl of Total Raisin Bran and cup of Tang the pack was packed. The cake was carefully wrapped in my puffy yellow jacket and stowed at the top of the main compartment of my pack. Then the top pocket was gently strapped on.One of the guys whom I had joined for breakfast yesterday greeted me in the parking lot as the rain fell. He had told me yesterday that he was heading out today as well. Now he asked if I was heading out with a concerned look on his face. To my response of yes, he could only say ¢ but, it¢s raining.¢ I turned in amazement and walked on. Rain:Having hiked for most of my life, I have developed certain philosophies or perhaps superstitions. It¢s fairly obvious to me that if I let the weather win it will not yield. If I show determination and preparedness, it just may realize that it cannot squash my spirit and give up. I pulled the hood of my rain jacket over my dampening fuzzy head and started walking.While hiking in town, it certainly was not going to give up. The forest was still a couple of road walk miles away and it kept raining. A convenience store lured me in for a bottle of real orange juice. That's one thing truly missed on the trail. By the far north end of town, my boots were already wet. The thought of wet boots at the shelter tonight came to mind. With my head bowed down I plowed into the driving rain right to the door of that last bike shop on the north end of town. After dumping my dripping wet pack just inside the door I shed the wet rain jacket too. The Crocks were still there. Decision time was here and it was the white ones with the heal strap, the only choice really. These could be worn on water crossings without fear of slipping off and sailing down stream. The guy stopped un-boxing bikes and charged me $20. Cool. Maybe it was a close out thing. Maybe he took pity on this drowned rat of a thru-hiker. Maybe he just goofed. Who knew. They are bulky so they got strapped to the back of the pack.With a deep breath and once again clad in rain gear I plunged into the rain wondering if maybe the purchase of a snorkel might have been a better idea. At least the rain was no longer in my face as the trail now turned left onto another road and left the constructs of town. It wasn¢t too much further where the trail entered the woods. Within the hour the rain stopped. The rest of the day wasn¢t sunny but it wasn¢t raining either. I win.After bopping around in the woods for a while the trail popped out on a gravel path. This was the Virginia Creeper trail. What¢s that, you ask. Me too. The Virginia Creeper was a railroad in the early 1900¢s. It had lots of trestles, sharp curves and steep grades. Initially this route had been use by the Native Americans and later by the pioneers including Daniel Boone. Now it is a 33 mile bike path, hence all the bike rental shops back in Damascus. Right here it also followed a good sized river with rafting and kayaks also available for rent in Damascus. Shortly after crossing a bridge the AT turned sharply left off the Virginia Creeper trail into the woods and down a steep bank.The trail continued uneventfully up and down. There were occasional other hikers. A woman was hiking north and complaining about Wingfoot and his Handbook being wrong. She was concerned about getting to the next shelter today. I gave her some encouraging words but she didn¢t really want to hear them. It sprinkled from time to time but not enough to be concerned about. I also passed a couple of guys just starting out on a section hike. They were carrying entirely too much of course. They quizzed me about a bunch of stuff. They were struggling a bit, one more than the other but that¢s ok. The trail started to climb and I resumed my stride.At a sharp turn on a steeper section of trail a flattish side trail took off to the left for Saunders Shelter. A roof for lunch in case of rain seemed to be a good idea. The flat blue blaze trail soon began to descend. Boo. Then it became obliterated by a nasty multi tree blow down. This probably happened in the storm two days ago. It took an awkward side-hill bushwhack to get around it. The shelter was nice enough. Some one else showed up and went for water. I just ate and left. This was far enough down. There was a loop trail with an unofficial looking sign that claimed to rejoin the AT but retracing my steps seemed safer. Besides this would be a short enough day anyway. Lost Mountain Shelter was just 0.4 miles past Lost Mountain. It was a good name because the summit certainly slipped by unnoticed to me. It was a nice shelter with a nice big privy. The water source was good too. My new camp shoes were great. It was tough stopping so early in the day. It had only been 15.8 miles and it was only late afternoon. The thing was that my plan was to spend tomorrow night at Mount Rogers, the highest peak in Virginia, to celebrate my birthday. That was only 12 miles from here. This short day would give me the chance to get to know some other thru-hikers.There was Slow Train. He was from Hawaii. He¢s lived all over the world with the US Army and the NSA. He grew up in Pennsylvania. This was his second thru-hike. His first was seven years ago. His plan was actually to do about half the trail this summer and to celebrate his 70th birthday on the trail in July. That made me really happy. He was doing just fine. I would not have pegged him at that age.A guy we'll call Hummer showed up. He was no spring chicken either. He talked quite a lot. He liked telling unsolicited stories like the one about how he met and proposed to his wife on their first date or something like that. Eventually, Slow Barbara came in. She was an elementary school teacher. She had gotten a leave of absence to finish the trail with the stipulation that she maintain a journal for the students through the web or email. She was pretty happy with her accomplishment and rightly so.Doc Narly spent the night in his tent beside the shelter. We invited him into the shelter but he refused and insisted he wanted to stay in his tent. Days later his reasoning would become quite apparent to me. He was a Vietnam Veteran perhaps a medic. He was really laid back and just a nice guy. Crazy Legs and Tall Tales, who shared the room back at The Place, came through and tented somewhere nearby.There may have been someone else at the shelter too. This might be where I first met Ole Man but that¢s not for certain. It was a leisurely evening for me. We talked, cooked, ate and slept. It was a good night even if it was only a 15.8 mile day.