Date: 2013-06-06
From: Glasgow Commons, US 501, VA 130

To: Punchbowl Shelter
Miles today: 10.6
Weather: moderate rain

Oh rainy day! It rained on and off all night. I didn't go to sleep until 1:20 a.m. or so because I stayed up reading a book I found in the shelter, Giver by Lois Lowry. It was a quick read. I knocked it out in about 4 hrs. Anywho, while I read I listened to rain come and go. I awoke around 5:00 am, well rested despite the short night. But I was still happy to stay tucked in for a few more hours. By 6, the rain was really coming down. I seriously considered staying put, especially since the rain was supposed to continue for the next couple of days. But sitting around Glasgow for another day didn't appeal to me in the least. I found Shanks sitting in the shelter on a bench, raingear on. He's an Ironman triathlete, and he's got some serious foot problems going on, possibly stress fractures. It made me feel a little better, not that he was hurt, but that someone as hardcore as he could be worn down by the trail, too. I didn't feel like such a wimp. He was catching a ride back to Daleville to get some x-rays. I considered joining him, but I'm not sure I'm to that point yet. My knee is nagging but not quite to the realm of an urgent care visit. I went back to my tent and started packing up. It didn't take long. I was able to drag most of my stuff back to the dry cover of the shelter to get it packed up. My tent is pretty wet, but my gear is mostly dry.I wasn't sure how long it would take to hitch a ride back out to the trail, especially in the rain. It took a few minutes, but finally an older SUV pulled up. Joe was behind the wheel. He informed me right away that he was smoking pot, his morning medicine as he called it. He's a local carpenter and said that the "medicine" helped him deal with his clients. We talked old home renovation, restoring windows, re-sashing old windows, and roofing. Soon we were back at the trailhead. He wished me good luck and headed on his way.I crossed the road. Someone had recently hit a ferret. It lay dead and wet on the side of the road. Pet or wild? I didn't know. As the rain feel, I hiked alongside a creek, climbing up the hillside to John's Hollow Shelter. My feet were soaked and water was sloshing around in my boots. It wasn't long before the rain penetrated the rest of my raingear. Breeze, Wind, and Breeze's brother, Buckles, and Wind's friend, Cheese, were at the shelter. I was thrilled to see them. I thought they were way ahead. I said hello. There was a big climb coming up. I considered taking off my raingear in preparation for the climb, but opted to keep it on because the temperatures had dropped considerably, hoovering around the high 50s. The climb was as bad as I had expected. Somewhere in the "Doozey" category. I didn't look around much. I just stared at my feet, and focused my attention on my right knee, trying to pinpoint the problem. The pain floated around, never bad enough to cause me to limp or even favor it really, but the joint just doesn't feel right. The rain never stopped. It knocked the blooms off the rhododendrons and mountain laurels. Wet blossoms littered the trail. Leaves hung heavy with precipitation. Water droplets hung from the bill of my cap. I would shake my head to get them loose, but immediately they were back. Every time I lifted my arms to do anything, water would drain down my sleeves and down my sides. Cold, wet streams that made me shiver. I was getting hungry, but there was nowhere to stop with cover. So I just dug for a Snickers bar and kept walking. There were places where there should have been views, but there was nothing to see but rain and fog. I passed Fifteen and Quaker slack packing in the other direction. They were as wet as me. I was happy to see them. I only had 3 miles to go. I finally reached the top of Bluff Mountain. In reality, it probably wasn't that hard of a climb, but mentally it was touch. Between the cold and wet and my knee, it was hard to keep my attitude positive. I conceded that the Virginia Blues had finally caught up with me. I was still waiting for Virginia to get "easy." But it still hasn't. At the top there was a memorial monument to Ottie Cline Powell, a 5 yr old, who in the 1800s wandered away from his school and walked some 7 miles to the top of the mountain before his little life expired. His body was found on the very spot. Bad stuff happened even then. Several people had laid flowers on the memorial. My feet were beyond soaked. I knew that water would pour out of my boots as soon as I took them off. I didn't even bother to avoid the puddles anymore. I just stomped right through them. It was kind of cool. Breeze caught up with me about a half mile before the shelter. I was surprised (though I don't know why) to find the shelter half full. Kobi, Aristotle and Hot Foot were there. Hot Foot has his stuff scattered from one end of the shelter to the other, with nowhere left for new arrivals to get in out of the weather. I told him that we'd probably have a full house so he might consider choosing a spot and getting his crap together. He did so, but at a snail's pace. After a few minutes of watching him choose one item at a time, I got impatient standing in the rain waiting for him, so I just started piling his stuff up. He didn't seem to care or to quicken his pace. The rain continued to come down harder and harder. Luckily there was no wind to blow the wet into the shelter. Buckles and Cheese stayed in the shelter because rain had penetrated their hammocks and sleeping bags. Wet clothes and gear were hanging all about. Saturated boots sat in the dirt under the shelter. Goldie Locks and Occupy and his dog, Olga, showed up around 6:30. Occupy was soaked to the bone. His wet sleeping bag was strapped to the top of his pack. He hadn't gotten packed up quick enough this morning, and rain soaked everything he had. The guy was cold and surly. We made room to squeeze him in, though his pack and sleeping bag sat on the picnic table in front of the shelter for the rest of the night. The poor guy had one set of dry clothes, but no sleeping mat or sleeping bag. Other hikers loaned him jackets to use as a blanket. He curled up in a tiny ball. I felt sorry for the guy. I ate my leftover pizza and made a hot toddy (I'd been hauling a tiny bottle of cognac since way before Daleville). It took a while to warm up, but when I finally did, I was exhausted. I ended up sleeping about 14 hrs. I guess I needed it.