Date: 2019-05-25
To: View Entry
Miles today: 0.0
Weather: light rain

I'm up with the birds at Tom Floyd shelter just north of Shenandoah. Thankfully there was no rain last night on my open deck cowboy camping perch. Clammy and Food Truck intend to drop into Front Royal for most of the day to resupply and clean up before hiking on. They're going about 10 days between motel stays (neither is keen on hostels) and won't be overnighting again until Pennsylvania. I'm headed to town with them, but then I have to part ways and get back to my car at the far end of Shenandoah. Not sure how yet. I'll figure that out later.The four miles to the road are mostly downhill and pass quickly. The trail crosses a meadow with western views over the Smithsonian Biological Preserve in the last mile. Flip the Trailman, a local shuttler, has left a trail magic cooler a half mile from the road with knockoff Mountain Dews. I down the first half eagerly, but it's not really my cup of tea. Food Truck helps polish it off. At the road Clammy tries hitching even before we cross to the west bound side, but as soon as we are on the proper side, with room to turn off, I stick out my thumb and the first vehicle pulls over. First time that's ever happened! It's a local guy in his work truck. He's prepping for his contracting licensing exam. He drops us off at the Front Royal diner, where we demolish a large breakfast. Rose shows up halfway through and joins in. The four of us walk over to Martin's supermarket. I know we're in the north now because it's part of my home supermarket chain - Giant - and accepts my discount card. While they resupply I sip cold tea outside and chat with a father of four very young kids who was an avid hiker pre-fatherhood and is looking forward to a time when the kids are old enough to join him. Meanwhile he picks my brain about good section hikes as the kids tug on his hands and run around the propane filling center. Rose says goodbye to head back to the trail. She always has a smile, though she must have tough days like we all do. She's already hiked the El Camino and parts of New Zealand and seems likely to hike more after the AT. In fact she plans to hike home to Quebec once she reaches Katahdin. I wish her well. Meanwhile the rest of us walk a mile to an outfitter on Main Street in Front Royal's historic and quaint downtown. The combination outfitter, bakery, and brewpub offers free showers and laundry to hikers, and we take full advantage. I don't feel anywhere near as filthy as I did hiking last summer. The weather has been very pleasant with low humidity and little rain. But I know I still stink and the shower feels amazing.The chalkboard wall in the hiker room is signed by scores of hikers with their name and hometown, many with creative sketches. I recognize a few names. My entry is easy since it covers both! Bluegrass and Sunshine appear as we're finishing up and she adds a colorful entry of their own. On the way out the bakery hands me a slice of cake - it's customer appreciation day. For me, it's Front Royal appreciation day! The guy at the outfitter snaps my picture with a large carved wooden bear stationed outside before sending me on my way.One reason for lounging here all morning was to give Fast Lane a chance to catch up. We know he pulled a long day yesterday and started only 11 miles behind us. But after several hours I need to start my journey to my car, so I say goodbye to Clammy and Food Truck as they eat their cake. I hope to see them again when they pass through Pennsylvania.I walk back towards the supermarket where route 340 heads south out of town. I manage to reach Fast Lane on the phone only to find out he just got into town but went directly to the outfitter rather than the market. So I missed him by only twenty minutes, after five days of being a day ahead of him.My car is not exactly nearby. In fact it's way down at Rockfish Gap - over 100 miles by the AT and over 80 miles by local roads through Shenandoah Valley. I've called several local shuttlers already this morning. Only one was available and wanted $160. It's Memorial Day weekend so my choices are limited. I opt to hitch. I think secretly I wanted the challenge, and a little unplanned adventure.I've never hitched more than a few miles, and always into town or back to the trail. The longest I think was ten miles to Gorham from Pinkham Notch in the Whites. It's straightforward getting picked up near a trailhead. Everyone knows where you want to go and nearly everyone is headed there anyway. But hitching eighty miles through four or five towns on a route not usually used by hikers requires a lot more patience. I've never hitched two or more rides in sequence, but I figure I'll need at least four rides and probably more like eight to ten. One to get out of town, another to get from wherever they turn off the main road down to the next town. Times four or five towns.Front Royal is a lousy place to hitch from. Route 340 is clogged with tourists headed into the national park, not where I want to go (it takes three hours just to drive Skyline without stopping). There's no shoulder to turn off. On a whim I stop at another outfitter at the edge of town to ask for directions, in the hope some trail angel or kind customer will give me a lift. No luck. I'm given the card of another shuttler, but when I call he's working at an outfitter in Luray and not available for five hours.So I walk a mile out of town, past the turnoff for the park, and stick out my thumb. I walk backward while hitching, thinking I might as well cover distance as I wait, but I know this is dumb. Better to find a good spot, be patient, and get a ride then to walk into a narrow or dangerous stretch just to cover a little distance. No way I can walk any meaningful portion of that eighty miles today.Sure enough, patience pays off and a truck pulls over after a few minutes. It's another local contractor. Good guy, but he's turning off in just a mile so he can't take me very far. Still, he goes a little out of his way to drop me at Shenandoah Caverns, saying it's a hot day and I can get a drink there.Unfortunately it's also a horrible stretch of road for hitching - narrow and winding with embankments on both sides causing poor visibility. I'm starting to regret my plan. None of the cavern-goers are getting ready to leave, so I start walking down the road. Since there's no shoulder I walk on the debris-strewn ribbon of dirt and gravel alongside. Traffic is lighter - bad for hitching but good for walking. No one could stop safely even if they wanted to. After a while the road widens a bit up ahead, so I stick out the thumb. Visibility is still a problem - drivers going in my direction have little time to see and decide whether to pick up this grizzled backpacker. Then, during a lull, out of the blue a van going the opposite direction slows and the driver asks if I want a ride. Well, yeah! Dre, the driver, makes a U-turn and takes me 15 miles. He's using me as an excuse to visit his in-laws in a rural hamlet near the highway and see their new puppies. He's not familiar with hikers or the AT, just didn't want to go home yet. Having reached the turn off to his in-laws, Dre drops me in the middle of nowhere, nine miles north of Luray. But at least it's a highway with wide shoulders and visibility for half a mile - ideal for hitching. Still, this third hitch takes awhile. Uncounted cars pass with nary a glance. Patience, Valley. No one knows you've been standing here for five, ten, fifteen minutes, rejected over and over again! Not sure I have the mental fortitude for bumming rides. I feel like I'm doing it wrong. Should I smile more? Are my poles threatening? Do I look too desperate? I want to walk while I wait, but again, that's just dumb. I'll be walking into another unhitchable cattle chute. Finally, after God knows how long, a guy from Winchester, Virginia stops. He's visiting his daughter in Luray and takes me the next nine miles into the center of town, dropping me near Uncle Buck's diner where I breakfasted with my son last year. Of course the middle of a town is a tough place to hitch for various reasons, not least of which the adage that hikers at the trailhead look like hobos in town. After three rides I've only come a quarter of the way. This may take all day at this rate ... and then some. And it's really hot now. So I grab a milkshake before walking out to the bypass. Lots of tourist traffic - and two state police cars (hitchhiking is legal here, right? Let's not find out) - but no one stops. Tough place to pull over, and the 211 and 340 traffic is merging. I walk a mile up the road along a grassy shoulder, not even thumbing since no one's going to pull over here. A black pickup pulls off a few hundred yards ahead near a chain link gate. Taking a call? Going to open the gate? I maintain my pace, unsure if he is there for me. Or am I keeping him waiting? Should I be hurrying? No, that's presumptuous. Then I see him in the mirror, watching me. Yep, he is waiting on me. "You want a ride or what?" comes the gruff voice as I approach cautiously. "Well, throw it in the back". Not sure whether I should hop in back along with my pack until he invites me upfront. The driver is Trevor, 52-year-old Luray native and proud union carpenter. He agrees to take me the sixteen miles to Elkton, as far as I dare hope from one ride. Trevor wants to talk. Literally. He's not the listening type. People who listen to him make the best conversationalists. But I know which side my bread is buttered on. I soak it all in. His job history, his family, his likes and dislikes, his regular demonstrations of why he'll never be married and why he likes it that way.Eleven miles in, at the town of Shenandoah, a car show is diverting traffic on to back roads. I expect his patience is wearing thin and I am not interesting enough to bother with much longer. Another six miles to Elkton. More talk. Originally this was as far as I asked, figuring no one would be going all the way to Waynesboro. But he's clearly not busy and is using me as an excuse to take a road trip. He's just finished a story about donating a kidney to his teenage nephew. He was the only match but he didn't just volunteer it. He waited for his nephew to ask him for it, to teach him a lesson to be direct and ask for what you want in life. Of course he said yes. So, where I would normally not want to impose further, I ask (directly) if he'll take me to Waynesboro. He agrees, like he's been waiting for me to ask. And no doubt he has more stories to tell and more hard-earned advice. Another thirty-plus miles through Grottoes and Waynesboro. Soon he's dropping me off in Rockfish Gap. And just like that, what was turning into an all day (or night) adventure is over in about three hours thanks to Travis.Once more behind my own wheel and in control of my own destiny, I grab dinner at Chick-fil-A as I plot a way to find UNICEF, the last of our merry band. I have a text with the shelter he's headed for, but that's over a hundred road miles and four hiking miles away and it's nearly six o'clock. No problem! Catching up is my specialty. I order a large number of nuggets to go to surprise some hungry hikers.It's seven-thirty in the evening as I hike out from a secluded dirt parking lot near Paris, Virginia. I've missed the thunderstorm that's soaked all the undergrowth, though I drove through it, as well as through a tornado warning. The storm was powerful enough to knock out electricity to all the gas stations at one exit I happened to need them. Now the shrubs soak me as I speed through the rolling, rocky, and dense trail. Around 8:30 I reach Rod Hollow shelter. Two boy scout troops are bustling around the tentsites. The shelter-dwellers point me toward UNICEF'S site. "Anyone seen a guy named Space Heater?" I call out as I approach. "Saw him last at Neel Gap. He was sitting next to a space heater so I figured that was his name..." It's a story UNICEF loves to tell of a girl's comical attempt to name him before we met. He stumbles out of the tent, surprised but happy. "When you texted you had to get your car, I didn't think you meant in another state!" When I pull out the nuggets his eyes light up. I offer them to the rest of the shelter, but only a guy named General Lee who looks like a college quarterback takes me up on it. His enthusiasm more than makes up for the others' disinterest. The two of them down almost sixty nuggets while UNICEF and I catch up on the last few weeks. He struck out on his own after McAfee Knob. Suffice to say it was time to start hiking his own hike. Our tramily was great while it lasted, but even at the time it seemed like an anomaly to be together every day.Driving up this evening I had hatched a plan for a road trip tomorrow for a special reunion. UNICEF is all in. He's meeting a friend in Harper's Ferry, just thirty miles away, in four days so he's got time to kill. We head off to bed. I coax a spot in the shelter from several section hikers who've taken it over, and reflect on the crazy turns this day has taken. Unlike almost every other day on the AT, I had no idea where I'd end up when I woke up this morning.