Date: 2003-05-23
From: Paul C. Wolfe shelter

To: US 250, Rockfish Gap-Waynesboro
Miles today: 5.0
Weather: overcast clouds

Man, was I ever glad to be in this fine shelter last night! It outright poured down, banging on the tin roof all night. Next door Mill Creek charged down its stony streambed, drowning out anyone's snoring.Stoic as I try to be - ha! - it still takes every scrap of will I possess to put on cold, wet clothes on a cold, wet morning. Everything's wet - cold bra, cold shorts, wet socks, wet shirt. It is foolhardy to put on one's "dry" layer, it would only become sodden.And speaking of dry - there ain't no such thing in this temperate rain forest. Of course, I wear raingear, put items in ziplocks and trashbags, put on a pack cover. But the humidity is pervasive. The sleeping bag is damp to the touch in the morning, the pack clammy, the camera and hiking pole locks fussy about condensation. I should add, however, the best-performing item in my pack, pound for pound, is my one-ounce Hefty Cinch sack rain skirt. The bottom of me is the driest part. But one needs to be STRONG to wear it, the cracks about "bag ladies" are endless and predictable. We got a lift at the Visitor's center from the priceless 84-year Kirk Snell, who had his own techniques for merging in traffic.I made it to the PO and waddled away with many packages. I have to carry all this? All kinds of Trail magic. Boxes filled with goodies.The question de jour: should I zero here in Waynesboro? The bod is weary, everything reeks. I'm so sucked out by this cold and wet. But, more rain and chill is predicted, so what's the point? Get cold and wet tomorrow or get cold and wet the day after? If I zero here, I'll be a day late and many dollars short...I make the typical thru-hiker decision: no decision at all. Keep the options open. Lay back on the world. See what transpires. I'll see how I feel later.Ever see a thru-hiker cross the street in town? It's fun. If we remember to look both ways before dashing into the automotive fray, we still forget we can't run. The traffic bears down as the realization hits: I'm about to become a hood ornament on a Ford pickup! We hop and hobble stiff-legged to the median line and try to make like a slip of paper, as several tons of vehicle whiz past inches from our trail runners, knocking us back and blowing fumes in the backwash. Mama! We load up at Weasie's Kitchen, a famous pancake joint. Chaos, a hiker from this year has just broken the women's pancake eating record - she downed 19. Woman! I'm proud to be sharing the Trail with you. Three flapjacks loaded me up.Of course, Weasie's homemade chocolate cake might have had something to do with that. So rich and moist! I can't eat that stuff at home normally. But out here, my revved metabolism gobbles it right up and begs for more.Speaking of which - for my friends who have written with envy of my no-limits eating, you should know this: it's not as if we are eating lobster bisque, gingerbread with lemon-butter sauce, creme brulee, Chicken Kiev. Alas, most of the town calories come in the form of culinary drek - Hardee's breakfast biscuits, DQ Blizzards, Wendy's Hamburgers and such. I am sorry to say. I mean, they are what is there, on every corner. Fast and cheap. Perhaps a chain of Frugal Gourmets would fly along the AT...We hit the wonderful Waynesboro library for internet access, then retire to the room for phone calls, pizza, laundry sorting. I order another pair of Salomon shoes, to be stretched and shipped northward to PA. Yes, I am liking them. Miraculous to walk with just the ordinary hiker ache-and-throb. No more walkin' on busted glass!Another hiker, Siesta, shows up at our room to take a shower and watch some TV.There is too much distraction, and I find I didn't get as much done today as I had planned. Ah well... whatever...