Date: 2011-05-10
From: Nida Shelter

To: Four Pines Hostel
Miles today: 16.7
Weather: few clouds

(In which I stay at the Four Pines Hostel and finally set up some mail drops)Eventually I do move from Kelly Knob, of course, my inner hiker urging me on. Before the shelter I hear a startled hissing and turn to see my first rattlesnake. Careful to give it enough space, I take out my camera and record the occasion.After the sun has set I realize that I've gotten my first sunburn since Georgia. After my early sunburn experience on the trail I would lather myself with SPF 100 every morning, no matter the weather or terrain. In the past month I've gradually cut back, skipping it entirely on cloudy days and reducing the amount I use depending on the tree cover. But finally this has caught up with me and neglecting to put any sunscreen on my arms and walking over several open pastures has made my arms pink and itchy.I sleep inside the shelter for the first time in several nights, grabbing the last of the six spots. The night is warm and my burnt arms feel hot and itchy in my sleeping bag so I sleep with my arms outside my bag. While I'm trying to fall asleep I hear the whine of mosquitoes, some of the first I've encountered on the trail. I pull my arms back in the bag, but realize that I have already gotten numerous bites. I cinch my bag up, but still I get more bites on my forehead and I have a hard time falling asleep, and wish that I had set up my bug-proof tent.In the morning I feel less rested than usual and my arms itch from the combination of sunburn and mosquito bites. Hiking while tired is slow, and feels even slower, the miles dragging on. On one of my many breaks I find that the new book of one of my favorite science fiction authors, is available on the Kindle even though it has not been printed yet. I buy it while I have service from a ridge, and read several chapters during my morning and afternoon breaks, more than I've read outside of hostels since I started.* * *Hiking the trail is the first time that I've spent time around a significant number of people who regularly smoke marijuana. Pot is at least as popular on the trail as cigarettes are off the trail, and I would estimate that 15 to 20% of hikers smoke it openly, with likely more hikers who do so more discretely. To my surprise, the prevalence of pot has not caused any problems that I've observed. To the extent that I can observe the effect of pot on those who smoke it regularly, it seems to mostly make them more friendly and relaxed without noticeably impairing judgment.Alcohol is also not a problem on the trail, for the simple reason that it is far too heavy to bring on the trail in any significant quantity. In town, however is another story, and many hikers regularly binge when they finally get access to it. In contrast to pot, alcohol seems to often have a strong effect on those who drink it, having the seemingly magical ability to bring out the inner belligerent jerk in otherwise polite and friendly hikers, and noticeably impairing good judgement. After spending time on the trail, it's odd to remember that alcohol is the legal drug of choice in the outside world.* * *As the day wears on, I grow even more tired and my arms grow even itchier. I have to rub my arms every time a spider web that catches on my arm, and every inchworm that drops on them from the trees makes me writhe. By noon I want to stop hiking, but having underestimated food in Pearisburg, I need to buy snacks at the upcoming gas station to get me through to Daleville.I take a side trail to see Dragon's Tooth, hoping against hope that the sign promising orange juice trail magic is not out of date. Alas, the two OJ containers in the cooler are both empty, and my disappointment overshadows all of the potentially interesting rock formations.When I finally reach the road crossing, I jog with my light nearly foodless pack downhill to the gas station, covering the 0.4 miles in a few minutes, and load a basket up with candy bars, orange juice and ice cream. I leave the store with a pint of ice cream in one hand and a plastic spoon in the other, ready to get down to business. A slightly overweight man walking out of the store with two Dr. Peppers in his hand looks at me, looks down at his drinks and then holds them both out to me. "Do you want these? I just bought them because..." his voice trails off, as if after seeing me he know longer can remember why he bought them. I can't refuse and tell him that they will be greatly appreciated. This act of spontaneous trail magic touches me as much as any planned hiker feast.I had planned on hiking on, but the next shelter isn't for six miles, and despite the fact that I've covered less than 17 miles (less than my daily average, including neros), today has been one of my two most difficult days so far (the other being the day after my 35 miler into and out of Damascus). I decide to walk up the hill to check out the new mysterious hostel that is not yet listed in the guidebook but that two section-hiking southbounders mentioned.The Four Pines Hostel is a three car garage behind a normal looking residential house. Joe, the proprietor, nods to me and tell me that the cots are all claimed, but that I am welcome to the floor, the straw hayloft in the barn, or to set up my tent on a patch of grass. Just after I arrive I see lightning off in the distance, and I am supremely glad not to have kept hiking. I shower, lay out my sleeping bag and pad on the garage floor, and watch as hail hammers the ground outside, blissfully dry inside the garage.* * *We receive word that a group of seven hikers, caught in the storm, are holed up in the gas station, and Joe drives down to retrieve them. The garage, already comfortably full, becomes crowded as the wet hikers hurry in, rubbing their welts from the hail. The new hikers carry jumbo sized cans of beer, and soon become loud and rowdy. The previous garage occupants move away from the beer crowd, retreating to their cots to read or try to talk over the noisy ruckus of the drinkers. Having already written the earlier paragraph about town drinking, I am not exactly excited to witness it first hand yet again.I take a few minutes to observe the dynamics of the drinking group. Most of commotion, I discover, is instigated by Squirrel, a particularly loud and intoxicated hiker, but the influence of one hiker is enough for the entire group to become progressively rowdier. I imagine models for the social interactions of young male drinkers, calculating the chain reactions of oneupmanship and jockeying for attention, but soon grow bored with the group and ignore the rest of their crude jokes and stories.They eventually leave the garage, seemingly encouraged by Joe to take the party outside once it is late enough for other hikers to start going to bed and the weather has calmed down. The garage becomes quiet again, and I think of parallel timelines in which I am soaked and huddled in a hastily set up tent. Letting go of my hiking urgency and coming to the hostel was surely one of the best decisions I've made so far on the trail.* * *Note: I've finally set up my first two mail drops, Jeffrey StylosC/O General DeliveryWaynesburo, VA 22980Please hold for AT hiker, ETA 5/19/2011Jeffrey StylosC/O General DeliveryHarpers Ferry, WV 25425Please hold for AT hiker, ETA 5/26/2011If you feel compelled to send your excess baked goods or other edibles, the USPS shipping time calculator should give you a sense of which date would work better depending on when and where you are shipping from, and I will do my best to give the food the appreciation it deserves.