Date: 2005-05-07
From: VA 606

To: Pearisburg, VA
Miles today: 0.0
Weather: clear sky

I had gotten up in the middle of the night to readjust my hammock because the downward slope cause me to slide from the head to the toe end where I, my mattress pad, clothing stuffsack pillow and sleeping bag wound up in a little huddled mass. This type of situation is not conducive to quality sleep and is caused by not hanging the hammock so it will remain level with a fat butt in it. Anyone having to get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom is fully aware of the mental debate involved in finally doing so. It's exactly the same with deciding whether or not your hammock really needs fine tuning. Eventually, of course, you decide that it does and then you exit throught the hole in the bottom, put on your boots and readjust the tension lines. It doesn't take long at all, not nearly enought time to justify arguing with yourself for 2 hours. The good news is that while you're out there you can also take a pee. Two for the price of one!Anyway, groggy from the lack of quality sleep, I broke camp and headed east on County road 606 for State Highway 42, north 30 miles to Pearisburg where I planned to hole up a few days and let my leg heal. Although not mountainous, the road was hilly and twisted. I decided to walk rather than merely standing in one spot with my thumb out. The advantage of walking over standing in one place is two part. First of all as an ambulating pedestrian I am gradually getting closer to my destination. To stand there all day could end up with me camping exactly where I had the night before. Not my idea of either fun or progress. The other benefit is that the more intersecting roads I put behind me, potentially the more vehicles to pull onto the road I travel. Thus more opportunities for a ride. Roads in front of me are of no benefit. So I walked.Cars came and went; no one stopped, preferring it seems to stare straight ahead with no eye contact. I seemed pretty much invisible to anyone in a vehicle. In about 2 hours I was at a road leading to the entrance to a maximum security prison and began to understand why a ride was likely gong to be hard to come by. Yet, all in all, carrying a backpack and hiking poles didn't make me look like the average escaped convict. I began to get a little restless and irritable.Mile 3, mile 4 mile 5, somewhere I began to think about Virginia being in the Bible belt and of all the good Christians passing me by. I remembered those obnoxious WWJD (What Would Jesus Do?) that church people in Virginia wore in the 80's and 90's. People kept whizzing by with nary a look. "Hell", I thought, "I know what Jesus would do, he'd give me a damn ride, that's what." Somewhere around mile 7 a white guy in a '72 Chey pulled over. He was as bald as me with perhaps a few less trail miles, but his Chevy looked as if it had been driven hard every single day since its' original purchase. It was all Cadillac to me though, and quickly we were sputtering our way to Pearisburg. He dropped me at the Post Office and I choked as he lurched off in a hazy cloud of blue smoke and waved goodbye. His shocks and suspension system was in such a state of advanced deterioration that the front end of his car seemed to be going in a different direction than the rear. Off he went.At the Post Office I ran into "Tunes" and "Dead Animal". Tunes is named for obvious reasons, he loves music and has some talent with a guitar. Dead Animal was named because of the litle stuffed animal he carries on his pack. Evidently a small boy saw it in some trail town, pointed at him and said "Mommy, that man's got a dead animal on his back". Such is how trail names are given.I had a package of goodies from Creek Dancer, the young lady from Richmond who is helping me with my pictures. Home made jerky and dehydrated asian pears to be certain, but other surprises as well. At 7 1/2 pounds, my back cringed while my stomach rejoiced. After rescuing the package, Tunes and I set out for the Hikers Hostel at the Catholic Church. It didn't take long to find a bunk, stow my gear, take a shower and head across the hilly field to Walmart for he odds and ends that are inevitably needed when getting to town.Later that evening Tunes and I were the guests of Fr. John Prinelli at the local AYCE Chinese Buffet, and had a great time listening to stories about life in the rural south as experienced by a Catholic Priest raised in urban New Jersey. Lots of fun.