Date: 2014-04-15
From: Highland Shelter

To: Damascus!!!
Miles today: 242.0
Weather: moderate rain

The Challenge. After my night in the barn I hiked a half day with New Timer over the remaining 2 highland balds, hugged him goodbye at a road crossing (he was meeting up with a high school buddy in town) and then headed on for another 10 miles alone to Mountaineering shelter for a comfortable evening chatting with Shroomer and Critter. So... Every once in a while I get a wild hair and have trouble shaking it. Usually it turns out well. I end up spending a summer in Asia or landing myself on a 2k mile walk in the woods. Eh. It works for me. But wha should probably also mention is that I have a competitive streak. This sometimes gets me into a little trouble. Anyway, during my night at Mountaineer Shelter I took a look at my guide and realized I was only 67 miles from Damascus. Hmmmm... How quickly could I get there? Well, I decided sooner would be preferable to later. Three days sounded like a dandy number. Yeah. 3. There's lots of good connotations to 3. I had only done one 20 mile day so far and at the end f that I had felt like death, but this wild hair would require me to have 2 20+ days within a three day period. Pshaw! Child's play. I'd make mince meat of that. I announced my plan to the group at large and Critter, Shroomer and Dusty all liked the sound of it. We agreed to meet in the afternoon at a hostel called Kinkora in Hampton, run by the famous Bob Peoples, and see about slack packing a little more to try to get in as long a day as possible. Good 16 mile push. There by 2, but Dusty never showed up. We waited for a bit and Critter decided to beg off the slack pack. The hostel was more comfortable. Low Gear hopped into his place and the three d us grabbed a ride 9 miles down the trail and walk back over some rugged trail towards the hostel. It was hell. By mile 22 I was in pain. We got back by 7 and were greeted with the info that Dusty ha gotten REALLY sick on the trail around noon and had had to use his SPOT to get EMS to help him get off the trail. He was throwing up a lot- not sure what he got. Norovirus, food poisoning, giardia? The list of possibilities was endless. He was going to be spending the night in the local hospital hooked up to an IV. Yikes!Next morning I packed out... Slowly. I was starting to feel less motivated and REALLY sore. But I moved my lazy buns over about 17/18 miles before finally throwing up my tent in the middle of the woods and trying to grab some shit eye. Now, to that point I had never actually camped alone. This is a highly populated trail and I never needed to before. But wow. Let me tell you... I nearly peed my pants when a group screech owls stated talking abruptly to one another right next to my tent. I sat in the dark for an hour trying to decide whether to bolt or just pull my bag over my head and hope what ever was making that noise would make my death a quick one. I was scared I found my phone and prayed like mad that I had a signal. I did... And I called my mommy and my best friend. They both laughed at me.   Twerps. I could have been mauled in my bed. By owls. It's a thing. I could have died!Perhaps I'm a bit overdramatic.I got up early the next morning and packed up to hit the remaining 22 miles to town. I dressed in shorts and a tshirt expecting good weather again and took off with my headlamp blaring. By 9 am I found my weather predictions had been wrong. The temp dropped by 20 with a 45 minute time frame and the light rain I had been dealing with since dawn turned quickly to hail, ten sleet then snow. The wind picked up and suddenly I could no longer hold my poles. I should mention that I don't run. I dislike it. It's no fun. Especially with a pack on. No bueno. Not for me. I ran. To hell with pain, my feet, my throbbing joints and my hatred of running. I ran to get warm. I ran to survive. I got myself to a disused shelter and saw that a tarp had been slung up across the entrance and was filled with hope. I or up to the door and sent out a friendly call. I wanted tight inside and change my clothes. I was greeted with a very gruff, "shelter's full!" I hopefully pawed at the edge of the tarp and was met with an intimating grown and the face of a large mastiff's face dangerously close to my numb hand. It was just a man and his dog inside, but I was not going to be going in. The next shelter was still a mile and a half off and I felt my resolve begin to buckle as I backed hastily away from the shelter. I started to cry... And then rage replaced my tears. I was hypothermic! What kind of... Uh, I can't even write the words for what that being was... Turns away someone in those conditions?! When the shelter came into view I cried again. And immediately tried to strip down. It was amongst the harder things I've done. I couldn't articulate my fingers to unzip or unbutton anything. It took 30 minutes to get off what little I had on. The birds that were twittering in front of the shelter opening got a real strip show. I had lost all sense of dignity. Anything that was dry went on. Layers upon layers if I could find them. And then I got in my sleeping bag and shivered.After a bit some of my people started trickling in we a began the process of getting food and trying to become human again. Damascus was only 10 miles off and we were determined to get there. I ate a pack d Ramen with a little help from O Canada and miserably set off again, the last feh pack to abandon the protection of the shelter. I cried yet again when I hit the sign for the NC/VA boarder and 3.5 miles left to town. It was an uncomfortably emotional day. The rest of the day was a blur until suddenly I was inside and a large Carnivore Pizza was being placed between me and Late Start. An then I cried again... But this time for joy and relief.