Date: 2011-05-17
From: Budget Inn, Buena Vista, VA

To: Dutch Haus
Miles today: 15.8

(In which I walk in rain and hail, and sleep indoors for the second night in a row)In the morning Hatchet and River Rat are looking to get back to the trail also, so we hitch together. We find a good spot in front of a gas station and try to catch a ride for twenty minutes, but don't have any luck. Eventually Hatchet uses the promise of gas money to convince a pickup truck driver to take us all up to the trail. Along the way we see another hiker and we convince the driver to stop so that the new hiker can hop in. By the time we get back to the trail it has started raining again, and those who had been in the bed of the pickup are already soaked.The rain is relatively light and the air is still warm, so I decide to hike without my rain jacket. River Rat is hiking in front of me and I haven't had a hiking partner for days so I stay close to River Rat to have someone to talk to. River Rat is one of the most interesting hikers I've met and with a little encouragement he tells me all about going to college to study plants, working in a nursery, working as a butcher and as an organic farmer and living off the land in a shack for a year and a half, growing and hunting his food. We climb uphill two thousand vertical feet from the road and it is nice to have the distraction of conversation. When we stop for a break the rain has stopped and my t-shirt is already dry from my body heat. River Rat takes off his rain jacket and his t-shirt underneath is soaked with sweat.The rain comes and goes, interspersed with sun, and we hike in our shorts and t-shirts, letting them get wet and dry every hour or so. Before the second shelter the temperature starts dropping and the rain returns. It lasts longer than the previous showers and then turns to hail. We hike quickly, the ice pellets stinging our bare arms, and hope that the shelter appears soon. The temperature keeps dropping and hail pellets freeze to the wet hairs sticking straight out from my goose-bumped arms. Being already completely soaked, I don't want to stop and put my rain jacket over my wet shirt, but I can feel my body heat leaking away. Hiking in the cold rain is a completely different experience than hiking in warm rain, I think for not the first time, and makes me feel like I am being chased, afraid to stop or slow down.The rain finally stops, but by the time we get to the shelter I am as cold as I've been on the trail. I do jumping jacks, but have limited success in my attempts to warm up. I don't want to take my wet clothes off, knowing that they won't dry if I'm not wearing them and that I won't be able to bear putting wet, cold clothes back on. I'm also reluctant to get my jacket wet by putting it on over my t-shirt, but after shivering for several minutes, hands shaking too much to easily open a Butterfinger wrapper, I finally put it on anyway, fearing hypothermia. River Rat, who was also hiking without his rain gear, is cold as well but recovers quickly. At 109 pounds I lack sufficient muscle and fat to retain as much body heat, and for the first time, on the trail or off, I wish that I weighed closer to the averages listed on the weight charts.Nancy, a section hiker who has been waiting out the rain in the shelter, tells us of a hostel accessible from a road two miles up the trail, and the thought of a warm bed is incredibly tempting. At $30 for a bunk the hostel is the most expensive so far on the trail, and out of River Rat's dollar-a-mile price range. He calls to ask if they have any work-for-stay options, but with the rain they don't, since none of the outside chores are possible. Nancy has already arranged a shuttle from the hostel, so Hatchet and I follow her. I'm still undecided if I will stop at the hostel or hike on to the next shelter, and tell River Rat that I will see what the weather is like on the next two miles to decide. It starts raining lightly as Nancy, Hatchet and I hike, and I am relieved for the excuse to justify staying at the hostel.Hatchet, who needs to take a few days off to let the painful sores on his back heal, catches a ride with Nancy up to Waynesboro, and I stop at the hostel. For a hostel run out of a couple's home, it is surprisingly well set up and accommodated. Most hikers stay in homey bedrooms inside the house, but arriving later I am put in the "bunk haus", a building with several beds and most of the amenities of a normal house, including its own shower and bathroom in an adjacent building, that would by itself be as nice as most hostels. Perhaps best of all, there are clean, dry bathrobes to change into, and Lois, one of the proprietors, takes my soaked clothes to wash after I have changed into one of the robes.Inside the house (haus?), hikers sit eating dinner, most of them also in robes. Sitting in the well furnished house in a bathrobe, I feel strangely at home, like I've been living here for some time, and am grateful not to be out on the wet trail. I chat with Hannah, the hostel proprietors' niece who is working at the hostel during summer break from college, and I meet the other hikers when they finish with their dinner.For the first time on the trip I will sleep in a warm bed for the second night in a row. In making the decision to stay I felt guilty for dodging the discomforts of the trail a second night, worried about the expense of a frequent town and hotel habit. But inside the hostel I feel relieved to be there and have no regrets. For those who are on a limited budget or looking to move quickly, skipping as many town and hostel stops as possible makes the most sense in terms of money and speed. But for those who can afford it, frequent hostel and town stops are a refreshing luxury, and add a greater social dimension to the trail.Lying in my warm bed and listening to the rain begin to fall again, I feel bad for River Rat still out there on the trail. But having seen pictures of the girlfriend he is meeting in Waynesboro, I know that my pity will be short lived.