Date: 2019-05-02
To: View Entry
Miles today: 0.0
Weather: light rain

My hike may be over, but my work is not. I plan some trail angeling and trail magicking today. After ordering a modest breakfast sandwich at the Damascus Diner that turns out to be enormous (Damascus knows hikers!), I take my leave of Paul at Hikers Inn as well as fellow hikers Tribute, Dynamite, and Honeybee. Tribute is about thirty years the senior of the younger couple and refers to them as his "trail kids". Their tramily had a fourth member, Snowbird, but he wanted to hike faster and left them a week or so ago. I say I'll look for him up trail.I promised to ferry Gina and Belch anywhere they needed this morning so we meet at my car by the library and head to Walmart in Abingdon. I'm stocking up on trail magic necessities: soda, beer, fruit, donuts, pastries. Gina and Belch are just looking for their best resupply in 150 miles. I drop them back in town at Mount Rogers Outfitters, where I find a white blaze shirt in medium size (hidden among lots of xx-small and xx-large). The grizzled proprietor and his companions congratulate me. I wish Belch and Gina luck until they reach me in Pennsylvania. Meanwhile I can follow them on YouTube at "It's who we are".I follow wriggly route 58 back into the Grayson Highlands, heading to meet Scrub-a-Dub and Go-Gurt at the Scales, a picnic area with parking that used to be a cattle auction yard. I haven't seen them since I walked out of Hot Springs without saying goodbye, thinking they were ahead of me. But the road to the Scales turns out to be 4x4 only! It's six miles away - no hiking in with trail magic this time. Without cell service, I can't coordinate a different location. So I head a half mile to the trailhead on VA 603 (but 5-6 miles by trail from the Scales) and leave a bag of drinks and oranges on ice with their names on it. I don't like to leave it without knowing whether they will get it, and whether someone will dispose of the trash, but I don't want to leave them empty-handed. Later in the day, with cell service, I hear from Scrub-a-Dub that they did get it and loved it. Like Gina and Belch, I ask them to look me up when they get to Pennsylvania.Determined to do some successful trail magic I head towards Bland. I have cryptic text messages from UNICEF and Clammy this morning about eating at Brushy Mountain Outpost, a small diner on route 52 where the trail crosses north of Bland, with the intention to hike eleven more miles to Jenny Knob shelter tonight.Where can I intercept them? VA 608 is a mile past the shelter, and I'm not dragging coolers a mile from the road. The only other crossing after 52 is VA 611, marked as a gravel road in AWOL's guide so I don't know if it is even passable. Plus, it's only eight miles from Brushy Mountain Outpost. If they got there at ten this morning as the texts indicate and stayed for an hour, they will probably pass 611 as early as two. I'm not going to reach the crossing until ten after two. Will I miss them?611 is hardtop when I turn off from route 42, and doesn't turn to gravel until a half mile from the trail. It's very passable and very quiet. A Virginia DOT truck is taking up the trailhead parking area. Two workers have been resting here for awhile. I offer them sodas, which they pass on, but they give me valuable information before driving off - no hikers have passed since they arrived. If that's the case my tramily must still be on the way. Successful interception!Man, I didn't realize trail magic was so complicated!After setting up chairs, coolers, and food, I check the weather again. It was blue skies as I drove across southwestern Virginia, but dark clouds are on the horizon. Radar shows a thunderstorm cell to the north and another two hours to the west. Looks like we lucked out for now.I hang around for twenty minutes, then get bored and decide to walk in and meet them with a handful of oranges. Almost half a mile in I run into Brass Compass, a middle-aged guy who is back on trail after a couple days off. He doesn't know my pals and has only seen one hiker today. I give him an orange and tell him to magic it up at the road. I find the lone hiker he saw a few hundred yards further in - Zig is a big hairy guy trying to reach Pearisburg before noon on Saturday (today is Thursday) to get a package before the post office closes. It's about 35 miles away over easy terrain, not a big obstacle at this point in his thruhike. But he's stressed. He knows Clammy and the rest - he's been hiking with them for two days and they're still behind. He got up at 5am to reach Brushy Mountain Outpost for breakfast. The others weren't quite as ambitious. I give him an orange and send him to the road. Finally I give up trying to find the crew and hike back to the road. But ten minutes later Clammy appears! His long-sleeve shirt is drenched in sweat and I get a smelly hug. He hasn't showered since Damascus, eight days ago! Not a thruhiker record to be sure, but much longer than earlier in the hike. And the humidity is just beginning. Food Truck hikes down soon after. He seems to be enjoying his new tramily, though like Fast Lane he leaves most of the talking to Clammy and UNICEF. Still waters run deep.  They've just passed the 600 mile mark - almost exactly 100 miles since I last saw them. Don't expect trail magic every hundred mile mark guys!It starts to drizzle. No worries! Radar still shows the thunderstorm is to the north, so this is just the edge. Clammy doesn't like the look of that cloud though. Suddenly the rain strengthens. Then it pours. For twenty minutes. Huh! Who woulda thunk the weather could be unpredictable in the mountains?Clammy asks if he can sit in my car. He's already shoving his pack in the trunk. Food Truck joins him. I throw on my poncho. A British guy named Dead Cat stands stoically with me in the rain, grinning like a Cheshire Cat, and helping me cover the donuts. Fast Lane hikes down while it's pouring. Fast Lane! I missed him when trail magicking in Grayson last week, and he was sick and trailing behind for two days when I left them on Roan High Knob the week before. He looks good, and he fully recovered after a day or two. He still sports his signature green sparkly bow tie. He even met the girl who left it in the hiker box back in Franklin!The rain stops as suddenly as it began. UNICEF finally appears, unperturbed by rain and in his usual wry mood. He's had some shin splints recently and always feels rushed, but he's still at it and always has a joke and a smile. Not going to let a bunch of old guys out-walk him! Hope you're reading this my friend! You got this!The guys have been clocking lots of 20+ mile days this week, dropping into Marion and Bland for resupply but sleeping on trail to save money. Hence the no showers thing. Today they hitched into Bland and immediately got an offer for a ride back. The guy offered to wait, but they rushed around getting their resupply and town food. The trip into town explains how I caught them here.The skies open up for a second time, radar be damned. Clammy is in the car almost before the first drop hits. It's 15 or 20 minutes before it tapers off. Donuts are still good!Maybe ten other hikers pass through. UNICEF refers to Zig as Creatine because he drinks the muscle-building powder for calories on trail. Dead Cat is from Bristol, England. A few days ago a bear ripped down his food bag which was hung PCT-style and ate all his food. He thinks the bear jumped off the picnic table to reach it.Cephus (Aramaic for stone) is named for a character in a book he wrote for his sixteen grandchildren. The guy doesn't look over sixty. There's a tall French girl named Sticks, another girl named Chow Hound, and a short blonde girl named Vik (Viking). Then there's a young grizzled guy named Pink Paws Solo (pink paws for the pattern on his gaiters, and Solo in reference to his equipment failing him as regularly as the Millennium Falcon). He's already done the 24/24/24 challenge on his way into Damascus. That's 24 miles in 24 hours consuming 24 beers. Not recommended by your doctor, the ATC, or any sensible person. Finally there's a German kid who looks about 6' 4" and is really moving (and can really eat). Before he leaves I remember to ask his name. Snowbird, he says. Snowbird! The missing member of Tribute's tramily. What are the odds I run into him the same day 130 miles away? He is surprised, and sounds a little proud, to hear his old pals are way back in Damascus. In fact he's already left a second tramily so he could hike faster. He'll be on Katahdin by the Fourth of July at this rate. It's farewell time again. Everyone has three miles to the shelter and it's late in the day. They're wet and sweaty and facing three more days of storms, but they all leave smiling. Most of them will be in Pearisburg in two days, for a well-deserved shower!The 24-pack of beer is gone, along with all the fruit and donuts but for a few oranges. They are few, but they can eat! And drink!It's nearing sunset and I head home up I-81. My eyes droop and I pull off at a rest stop near Harrisonburg to sleep in the car. Home tomorrow for sure...