Date: 2015-01-11
From: Harpers Ferry

To: Hampton, then Home
Miles today: 610.0
Weather: moderate rain

I am currently typing this out about 2,700 miles away by car from the end of the Appalachian Trail, about as far North as someone could get in the mainland United States. In fact, Bellingham, the city where I now attend university, is only city in the mainland United States that has nights of perpetual twilight during the height of Summer. How cool is that?!For those who do not know, no, I did not reach Springer. In Hampton, TN, just on the other side of the VA/TN border, I caught a ride with a trail angel to Asheville and flew home; in time to celebrate Thanksgiving with my parents. But with no entry since Harper's Ferry, I feel obligated to write about my time through Virginia (That, and I'm pretty sure every family member I have ever met is trying to guilt me into writing this).**Virginia**For nobo's, a common pitfall for them is something called the 'Virginia Blues'; where the magic of the trail starts to wear off, and the realization of the sheer enormity of the trail begins to sink in. Not to mention, of course, that the state is 550 FREAKIN' MILES LONG. It is quite easy to feel as if no progress is being made. As a sobo, I had naively believed myself to be immune to this phenomenon. After all, I started off with Maine and the Whites, and made it through PA averaging 20 miles on hiking days; Virginia should be trivial! Foolish, foolish, foolish.Stepping back a bit... At the end of the last entry, I had just left Harper's Ferry after sometime on a trailcation in Washington DC, enjoying the hospitality of my second-aunt and uncle, the Browns. Something that took me by surprise as I entered Virginia was how much that time off would have an adverse effect on my hiking ability. I had planned out 18 miles to Bears Den Hostel, and while the hiking was relatively easy, I found myself needing to stop semi often. I of course made it, and spent the night eating pizza and Ben and Jerry's, but it shook my spirit a bit, even after crossing 1000 miles left.This continued on for a few more days, where my pace suffered. Sure, there were hills in my way, but all in all I was disappointing myself in my pace. One by one other sobo's passed me, including Rhodie, a LASHer who at the time had a blow-up doll on the back of his pack. I guess some would see that as strange or weird... And I think they'd be right. But it certainly added character, and made Rhodie and Mona (the dolls name) memorable characters on the hike.After a shelter zero where I mainly just slept all I day, I passed into Shenandoah National Park. SNP was something rather new to me. It's all mainly at around 3-5 thousand feet, yet all it is is a 100 mile long ridge with a road running down it. Therefore the views were commanding and the first I've seen since Greylock back up in MA. This, coupled with the ease of the hiking, made the National Park an absolute treat. I seemed to get a second wind here and upped my pace, hiking alongside Spinoza and Liam(ThisIsIt). I was doing roughly 21 miles or so a day through the park, culminating in an exact marathon at the end (26.2); my longest day thus far. Each day I would pass legendary Skyline Drive 3-5 times, receiving free food from the impressed RV'ers along the way. Also, I still pretty sure that the blackberry shakes at the waysides are proof of some sort of benevolent deity. That, or cream and sugar taste wonderful when mixed with fruit syrup.It is worth noting that in the SNP the first really cold days hit. Below freezing at night and 40's during the day meant I consistently wore most of my layers, and the fear of the coming winter weather loomed ever present in my mind.On the other side of the park is Waynesboro, home of a chinese buffet I had been hearing about since Maine as well as a package with my hiking boots, as I expected I would need them in place of my trail runners. The buffet did not disappoint. The boots, however, did. Upon receiving them I was dismayed to see just how much they weighed compared to the trail runners I had become used to. They were bulky, and although offered more ankle support, took away so much mobility that at the time I nearly sent them back home. I wish I had, to be honest. Hiking out of town the next day was an absolute struggle. Making less miles than I had hoped, I pitched my tent in the rain next to a 'spring' (more like a leaf-choked puddle) and passed the day off to simply breaking my boots in.It wouldn't get easier, however. In front of me for the next couple of days was Three Ridges and The Priest, the first two big mountains since Greylock or even Moosilauke. Rain accompanied me throughout the week, and I ended up having to hole up in a hostel in Buena Vista (Pronounced Boon-no Vista. Crazy Appalachian hill people!) for a zero day. The rain was relentless, even leaking through the ceiling at times. At the hostel was also an orientation group from a local all-girls college, and the other hikers and I couldn't help but feel bad for them that they spent their vacation in a cheap bunkroom.I was close to wanting to quit the trail at this point. I threw away my journal, as it was heavy. The only solace I felt I had was that I had met back up with a neat little bubble, consisting of me, Spinoza, Rhodie and Magellan. Eventually the rain ended, and we set back out on the trail, slightly reinvigorated. Upon arrival at the James River Spinoza and Rhodie went off to a beer festival, and Magellan had spent some time with a friend back in Arlington, so I journeyed through the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains by myself.The next few days to Daleville were sort of a blur. While the views were pretty, there all in all wasn't much to remember. But when I arrived in Daleville, my excitement grew - I was just a few days away from McAfees Knob, the most legendary view on the trail. In person, to be honest, it was rather lackluster, as you can see the ground just 20 feet down or so. The pictures of course look quite different, and I got some pretty good ones up there.After McAfee's Knob and before another Dragon's Tooth, another legendary spot, is 4 Pines Hostel, a large garage converted into a donation based hostel run by easy-going rednecks. I took a zero here to wait for Rhodie and Magellan to catch up, as they were not too far behind me. While staying here I went to a nationally famous restaurant called the Homeplace, an AYCE southern homestyle restaurant. I ate there twice, each time eating as much as I could. I wish I could convey just how delicious that place is, and it is a an absolute must for any thru-hikers, north or south, or even if you're just visiting Virginia near Roanoke.Rhodie, Magellan, a local named Josh and I did a pitch black hike up to Dragon's Tooth that next morning to catch a spectacular sunrise, then continued on south. From here... Well, to be honest, there's a big section that would be pretty boring to write about. I'll just cover the highlights.-The Captains place was neat. Magellan had fallen behind with friends she was hiking with, so Rhodie and I ended up here. It is on the other side of a river, so we rode a zipline over and spent the night listening to music on his speakers and drinking free soda.-I zero'd yet again in Pearisburg, as my spirit dwindled and I found I wanted to hike less and less. Because of this I ended up skipping Woods Hole Hostel, something I regret to this day.-Halloween was spent in the town of Bland, hiding from the cold and the snow(!). There I double-zeroed, watching college football with Magellan and pro football with Rhodie.-Marion was a rather unpleasant town. It felt as if it was dying, with no real spirit. However, to avoid the snow yet again I ended up zeroing there/at partnership shelter, a massive shelter right by the road where you can get pizza ordered.-The Grayson Highlands are the Disneyland of the Appalachian Trail. With some snow, clear skies and of course the ponies, it was perhaps one of the most beautiful places I have ever been.Alright, I'm gonna slow down for Damascus and beyond. Damascus is -the- trail town. Home to Trail Days and 5 hostels, the trail walks right through it, and is the gateway into Virginia for the northbounders. Yes, I had FINALLY reached the end of Virginia. The cold had taken it's toll on my spirit, reducing me to near-zero self confidence in my ability to finish up this damned trail. I bought a warmer sleeping bag in preparation for the near-zero temperatures forecasted for the coming weeks.But even then, upon leaving Damascus alone while the others took a zero day, it'd be too much. The temperatures dropped to 6 degrees at night for the next few nights. Sleep came slowly and restlessly, shivering in my new bag. Water sources were completely frozen over, and as such I wandered in the morning dehydrated and saddened. I did not see another human soul for a 50 hour stretch in a time where I needed someone the most. The loneliness was enveloping, the despair at what I perceived to be my failures was total.I arrived at Kincora Hostel to find, to my surprise, Rhodie, Magellan, and a couple named Up in the Air and Gravity already there. They had skipped ahead to attempt to avoid the cold, a sentiment I had complete sympathy for. Up in the Air and Gravity had decided it was too much, and were getting off trail. Rhodie and Magellan were going to go whole up in a town about 50 miles away for a few days, and another couple, Blueberry and Sage, were trying to find the best way to miss out on as much of the debilitating cold as they could.I knew this was the end of my journey.I felt cold. I felt homesick. More than anything I felt dismally alone. I got a ride from the hostel owner, Bob Peoples, into town, called my parents, and talked with them on ways I could get back to Washington State. The next day I was riding down to Hot Springs with a trail angel, then onto Asheville. two flights later, I arrived at Sea-Tac, with a strange combination of shame and relief floating through my head.I had done 1,768.3 miles in this journey. I could not help but feel that if I had stronger will and stronger legs I could've done the whole thing. All of those other hikers in front of me who finished, the ones who stood on top of Springer tired yet accomplished... I never had such a burning jealousy as I did when I thought of them.At home, I thought of the coming school term, seeing friends, and all of that. Yet thoughts would always return to the trail and the life I was missing. Every message I got from my friends still on the trail was like a dagger in my pride. Everytime I thought to the miles I didn't do and the effort I didn't put in I would silently scream in frustration. I had said I had come onto the trail to have stories, yet in reality I think mostly I just came out to finish the damn thing. To know I could do something if I set my mind to it. And it broke my heart to know that I couldn't.Next summer, I will finish up my last section of the Appalachian Trail. Maybe then the doubt will be silenced. Maybe then, I will feel worthy of some of the awe that people feel when I tell them I hiked as far as I did. Maybe then I can start feeling like what I did had a purpose.