Date: 2016-03-09
From: Partnership Shelter

To: Atkins, VA
Miles today: 11.6

I packed up and ate leftover pizza for breakfast. When walking to the trailhead, I realized I didn¢t have my hiking poles. I retraced my steps from the previous day and deduced they must either be on the bus, at the outfitter, or at the pub. After a few phone calls, I concluded I would have to ride into town and make an early appearance at Macados. Nubs and I rode into town on the trolley, passing through a road block at 9:30 am¢¦ Collecting my poles, I hugged the cook and set out to hitch back to the trailhead rather than wait for the 11:00am shuttle. Not 3 minutes and 3 cars later, a nice gentleman (I think by the name of Herald) and his Shih-tzu picked up Nubs and I in his truck. Noticing his open beer can and discovering why this town felt a need to set up a road block at 9:30am¢¦I warned him of what lay ahead. He quickly re-routed the truck and thanked me for saving him from a $50 open container ticket and assured me he would have passed a sobriety test. I added up the empty beer cans in the back seat to be $300 worth of open containers. When he dropped us off, I noticed he had close to $1,500 in the bed of his truck! Nubs and I parted ways (he was headed SOBO) and I enjoyed my walk in spring like weather through the woods, stopping to photograph the few blooms I came across. I stopped for lunch at Chatfield Shelter, where I discovered the offensive writings of some seriously immature NOBO hikers, one of whom had boasted of his ¢trolling¢ of other NOBO winter hikers while in Damascus, VA. While most if not all of the entries of these NOBO boys had been in poor taste, this entry discussed me being sodomized courtesy of the other hikers. I know an emotional response was the desired effect of the lewd writing, and try as I might to ignore it, I was unable to do so and walked the rest of the way to Atkins with a cloud above my head despite the glorious sunshine. By happenstance, I chose to get some cheese dip from the Mexican restaurant, and the waitress asked me to sign their hiker log book, though it would have appeared I had already been there as another member of the immature NOBO gang had made a comment in poor taste and signed my name. This tipped me over the edge. As a 30 year old woman, I find absolutely no humor in dicks being drawn in my journal, having my wife inquired as to if she would be taking her walk naked, being told dead bodies were discovered on a snow-covered mountainside, having someone write about ¢tag teaming¢ my ass with their (likely insignificant) boners, or have another individual impersonate me and write how I feel I am a fat ass. Action had to be taken. Annie wanted to get involved and suggested I not make direct contact with the assholes¢¦I suggested she holster her gun. At the advice of Jeff and Uncle Johnny, I called to report the harassment to the Appalachian Trail Conservancy. The office was closed, so I sent a detailed e-mail with photographs of the offensive and obnoxious writings. I thought bullying only happened in middle schools. Apparently, some bullies never receive the lesson in being a decent person they so deeply deserve.