Date: 2013-06-23
From: Stealth camp near North Marshall Mountain

To: Stealth camp near Manassas Gap
Miles today: 18.8

The clouds rolled in last night, and it rained off an on until sun rise. I'm glad I had the rain fly up. When I looked up from my bed, I noticed a tiny bit of light shining in. At first it was pleasant little twinkle, but then I realized it was a hole. It looked suspiciously like a mouse-made hole, but since it was singular, I'm guessing it must have gotten pinched in the bag somehow. Hmmm.... Looks like I'll need to bust out the duck-tape. It was 6:45, almost 7 o'clock before we started moving. I guess we were both pretty tired from yesterday. But the head-ache was gone, and I was feeling bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I walked out to the rocky overlook. The hazy purples of the evening before were gone, and in the morning light the hills were slatey blue, edging towards indigo. We sat on logs for benches, swatted at gnats and ate our breakfast.I did a stupid, stupid thing, though. I decided to do a preemptive DEET coating. I sprayed my legs and arms and the back of my neck. I noticed how the chemicals had dissolved some of the writing on the side of the bottle. Scary, I thought. The morning air was a little cool, so I put on my brand-new Patagonia rain jacket. Within seconds I could feel the waterproof inner-layer start to stick to my skin. The bug spray hadn't yet dried/absorbed into my skin, and now it was melting my jacket. I pulled the jacket off quickly and turned the arms inside out. I touched the sticky white inside. A dirty brown fingerprint remained. I tried to wipe away some of the chemicals, but it only seemed to smear it around. Damn it! I put the jacket down and huffed my bum down on the log. I glared at it and cursed under my breath. Redspecs agreed, this sucked. We headed down the mountain, Redspecs a ways ahead. Somewhere near Hogwallow Flats (I love the names!), I stepped on a rock hidden beneath some leaves. Plunk. I went down. The right ankle twisted, but with a lighter pack the twist wasn't too bad. My left knee managed to keep its newly formed pink skin. But the twist was enough to merit being wrapped. So I wrapped the ankle, wiped the dirt and leaves off my clothes and kept walking. I guess the Shenandoah National Park wasn't going to let me off too easily.Karma passed me along the way. I hadn't been aware the we were so close to the northern end of the Park. Only 2 or 3 miles later, I was passing the self-registration kiosk. Woohoo! Thank you SNP for a great week We stopped at the Tom Floyd Shelter/Wayside for lunch. There was no restaurant, just a lovely porch in front of the shelter and couple of picnic tables. We hung our tents up to dry. This is the shelter that Big Foot Jim helps to maintain. I had hoped to see him, but I guess it wasn't to be. But big hello, Big Foot Jim! I miss your smile out on the trail. I hope you are well!I did see Emperor. He was headed southbound. The last time I'd seen him was a month ago, and he was hobbling around with a shin-injury. He'd taken a month off and was now hiking southbound. I picked his brain about the trail that we had ahead of us. I was eager to get to Harper's Ferry (Show me a hiker that isn't. I bet you can't), but I was leery to get seduced by the flat line the elevation chart showed ahead. Trail designers would never let us off so easy.As soon as we left the park, it got rocky immediately. No more smooth, flat trail. We stopped at a stream right before US 522. There was a long boardwalk that straddled a little stream. I wanted to soak my foot and knee. Redspecs loved the idea of getting an afternoon siesta. The water had warmed considerably since my last soak, but it felt good just the same. After an hour or so, we headed on. The trail followed along a high cyclone fence with the barbed-wire facing outwards. They were looking to keep people out, not in. The fences and vegetation felt like Jurassic Park. When we passed a sign saying that this was a breeding area for the National Zoological Reserve, my feeling cemented. Now it really felt like Jurassic Park. There was a long hot climb. It wasn't so much steep as steamy. My handkerchief was soaked with sweat. Perspiration poured out of every possible place sweat can pour out of. Redspecs was feeling spry, and I was crawling along. My right ankle and foot were barking. We had a miscommunication as to where we were meeting. Redspecs took a side trail to a shelter (the guide said there was an solar shower that he thought I wanted to use), but he didn't leave his hiking poles out (our sign that one of us has gone off the main trail). So I continued on for a mile down to the stream I thought we were meeting at. When I got there, he wasn't there. I dropped my pack and walked another .1 miles out to the road to see if he was there. Nope, no Redspecs. Damn it. I went back to my pack, sat down and ate a Snickers. I checked my phone, but there was no cell service. My options. 1) Wait for him and hope that he doesn't think I've gotten hurt and goes back to look for me. This option could last for a while. 2) Hike back a mile to find him. This option would take more effort on my part, but would render quicker results. It was getting late, and I was ready to call it a day. I grabbed my poles and started the 1 mile climb back up the hill to find him. Fortunately within a quarter of a mile we met coming around the corner. We both apologized and headed back down to the stream to collect water. We walked to the road, and I noticed that the ground was covered in mulberries. Score! The tree in front of us was ladden with plumb, dark, juicy berries. Clearly, other hikers have no idea what mulberries. I pointed out the tree to Redspecs, and we started a half hour mulberry feast. The berries were light, crisp and juicy. A perfect balance of sweet and tangy (a rarity for mulberries I find. Usually, I think they are a bit on the sweet side). I just have eaten at least a pint of mulberries, maybe more. By the time we were done, there wasn't a black berry within arm's reach. We were in heaven! Fresh berries!But our day still wasn't over. We had planned to camp in the grassy meadow atop the next hill. When we got to the top, the light was golden. The field of grain was tall and soft. There was a bench under an apple tree. We sat down and looked at the scene in front of us. Glorious. We looked behind us. On the tree was a picture of a tent with a circle around it and a line through it. No camping allowed. They'd read our minds and denied our wishes. Darn it. So we hiked down the hill and snaked into the woods. The sun was getting low in the sky. The rocks were back, scattered liberally on the trail. My poor feet and knee were tired and starting to hurt. I'd asked a lot of them today. Redspecs found the one flat place in a 2 mile stretch. You could hear the roar of interstate traffic, trains crossing nearby and planes flying overhead. Oh well, it would have to do. We set up our tents and made dinner as the sun slid behind the far hill. Redspecs grumbled about the traffic noise. But I was mesmerized by the fireflies. They were everywhere. And the forest was full of forest noises. I left the rain fly off tonight. I'm staring up at the dark silhouettes of trees against the periwinkle night sky. The yellow fireflies are doing their dance. I smile. I'm happy.