Date: 2007-10-24
From: Bear's Den, VA

To: Front Royal, VA
Miles today: 0.0
Weather: light rain

Aaaaaaaaaaargh. I had heard NOBOs talking about the "Virginia Blues," and I'm pretty sure that I got them. NOBOs experience them because they are chugging along and they get to the south end of Virginia, and the state never seems to stop (there are 530 miles in VA). So, mine weren't of the same origin, but I definitely got in a funk.The last I wrote, I was in the middle of the Rollercoaster, a 13.5 mile section with 10 climbs. I spent too much time sitting around at the hostel we were at, though I did get to talk to the people from Merrell, and they agreed to send me a replacement pair of shoes since mine are in the process of suffering from a catastrophic failure (soles are missing chunks). My last pair of the same exact shoes lasted for 800 miles, plus two months of daily use before starting at Katahdin, and this pair had only been with me for around 300 miles before they started to fall apart. I left at 2pm with 10 miles left to go. Barbarossa and Uly were road walking along with Jean Pierre to skip the rest of the Rollercoaster, but Andrew, Runway and I stuck with the white blazes. We arrived at the first shelter, which left us 6.9 miles to go. The ATC water report said that there was only one, rather poorly identified, water source between there and the shelter we were headed to, so I tanked up with 60 ounces (lots of weight). We sat around and talked, and before we knew it, it was 5! I hate walking in the dark, so I was rather unhappy that I had lost track of time and was going to need to walk in the dark. My headlamp is rather dim due to its small size and weight, and I'm just not a fan of night hiking. So, I was in a funk before I even left the shelter, and I was carrying tons of water. I started to get angry when I crossed a huge stream about a mile south of the shelter, after a big climb and drop. I really got angry as I mentally mapped the trail (I don't carry trail maps), because it seemed like we were going over all of these little hills just to go over them. The book says that the trail corridor is really narrow, and that's why the trail is like it is. That sounded like a load of shit to me; it sure seemed like we were going over these stupid hills just to go over them. I continued to get angry as I walked past 5 more perfectly good water sources; why weren't they mentioned in the Companion??? The icing on the cake was getting to the end of the rollercoaster to find a sign that had a rather mocking warning of sorts from the trail maintainer. Then, to put the cherry on top of the now-iced-cake, there was a stream about 10 yards away from the sign...grrrr. I arrived at the shelter to find Barbarossa, Uly and Jean Pierre sitting back enjoying themselves, and spent about 15 minutes venting my frustration. I am sick of walking. No questions asked. Walking sucks. However, I still really like the trail. But, I'm feeling one of my itches for change come on. I have a rather short attention span, and I tend to need to change things up every few months or so. I have spent the last 3 months walking through the woods, with very little variation. Yes, I did go to NYC and the beach, but those were temporary; I wanna go try something totally new, or atleast be somewhere making money to support future adventures. Despite all this, I came out here to kick the AT's ass, so there's no way that I'm not going to finish. Barbarossa suggested getting off and going NOBO in the spring. I don't particularly fancy that idea. So, I spent a few seconds doing some math, and have decided that December 8th will be my day on Springer Mtn., Georgia. I will be d.o.n.e. I have to average almost exactly 20 miles per day (20.31401, to be exact), in order to finish by then, even with the 3 days I'm going to take off next week. I have enjoyed walking with the group, but they're going slower than I'd like to. Additionally, whenever I mention that I'm going to speed up, Runway says "You aren't one of those mileage people, are you?" I have trouble hearing this from her, because we started on the same day, and at the same spot; so far she hasn't done a thing differently than I have. So, that's the situation.The next morning, the 23rd, we awoke and headed to the first road crossing, US 50, where the book said we could hitch .9 miles to a restaurant that was great for hikers. We hitched. We arrived. The restaurant was closed. Also, I got stung by another bee while walking down the trail to the road. I continued to be unhappy, as it was about 2 inches from the sting that made my leg hard and painful. We did set up camp in front of the restaurant and cooked lots of food, and dumped our trash. Uly and I hitched back to the trail, and we headed to the next road crossing, where we hitched with Barbarossa to Linden, VA. When we arrived at the road crossing, we saw someone with a backpack about 100 yards down the road, stumbling along looking drunk. The farmer that picked us up stopped to pick up the stumbler, who introduced himself as Seeker, and said he was SOBO. We had never heard of him; he was one strange kid. We got to the PO, and while Barbarossa and I were sitting outside, a lady pulled up, asked us if we were thru-hikers, and then if we wanted an apple pie. We said yes, and 15 minutes later, there we sat, eating an amazing apple pie. We were really hungry, and didn't offer any to Seeker, but he was kind enough to take a picture of us as we finished. Seeker got a knife sent to him, and the first thing he did was run his finger along the blade to see if it was sharp. This resulted in a rather large cut (logically), but he acted surprised, and proceeded to stand there with blood dripping from his hand acting clueless. I told him to get away from me, because I had no desire to have a stranger's blood dripped on me. He acted surprised that we had concerns about him dripping blood and standing over us. Still looking for hot food that wasn't so because of our camp stoves, we headed towards a restaurant that was supposed to be only .6 miles away. It ended up being 1.5 miles (thanks again, Companion). The food was overpriced, low quality, and the wax ring under the men's toilet was non-existant, so when you flushed, you were blessed with a gushing of the last person's deposits...it got me totally pumped for eating there. We went to the gas station afterwards, though, and got 24oz cans of beer, then got a ride back to the trail with a guy who was filling his truck up with gas. We arrived at the shelter to luckily not find Seeker, and settled in for the night. It ended up being me, Barbarossa, Uly and Jean Pierre. Drinking cheap beer and eating Mac & Cheese improved my attitude a bit, which was good.It rained all night, and was raining when we got up, so we hustled to the road and hitched into Front Royal, the northern gateway to Shennandoah National Park. We walked for a few tenths alongside the border fence for the National Zoo's research station, but unfortunately did not spot any exotic animals. We got a ride in the first 5 minutes, though, and they dropped us off about a block away from the outfitter. We left our stuff there, as the owner was super duper ultra mega hiker friendly, and had the chillest dog ever. I grabbed lunch at a little restaurant across the street, and then coffee to warm myself up, after walking across the town to a bookstore that happened to be closed on Tuesdays. I got a Washington Post, which I still have not read much of yet, but the stories that I did read were interesting. Sucks to live in San Diego! To celebrate Barbarossa's impending last day, we went to the grocery store and liquor stores and stocked up. We also all switched to non-cook foods, because they were in the process of implementing a complete fire ban in the park, which included (rather stupidly, we thought, stoves in the backcountry). Brandon, from the outfitter, gave us a ride back to the trail, and we hiked up to the shelter. It was still raining, and we arrived to find a super slow spring, and a really leaky roof. Uly and I rigged up my ground cloth to take care of the biggest leak, and we set out to drink and eat. Uly had packed in French bread, olives, brea and some other cheeses and a bunch of really tasty grapes, along with 5 liters of wine. I packed in a six pack of Magic Hat #9 (glass bottles; what else?). Runway had her usual 750 mL bottle of Jim Beam, as well. We drank and ate and drank and ate, and Runway started to get rather crazy. She was jumping on people and acting rather out of control. I didn't mind until she jumped on my back as I was laying in my sleeping back writing in my journal, because it had started to get cold and my long johns weren't keeping me warm enough outside of my bag. I wasn't too pleased, as she was pounding on my back and putting lot of weight on my knees. I made a few comments about how I wasn't ammused, which didn't seem to make much of a difference. I don't think she's aware that I will not hesitate to beat the tar out of someone who jeapordizes my completing the trail by jumping on my knees and hitting me in the back all because they can't control themselves when they're obliterated.