Date: 2017-04-13
From: 526.2 campsite, VA

To: Chatfield Shelter, VA
Miles today: 13.2

Day 37: Mile 526.2 to Chatfield Shelter - 13.2 miles:After a star-studded night beneath the pines of the campsite, the moon glaring from above like a spotlight, I'd wiggle my way out of my sleeping bag at 7am. Freight Train, in what I assume was an attempt to impress me that he wasn't as old and slow as his 40 years of age suggests, was already nearly halfway packed up. With plans to not break camp til 8am again, we decided the earlier we leave, the slower we could go in order to grab an 11am shuttle into Marion, VA from the Mt. Rogers Visitor Center, only six miles ahead. I downed a small breakfast of two honey buns, knowing real food was in my immediate future, and we were on the trail by 7:30am.Once again the miles passed swiftly underfoot as we chatted, our legs loosening with every step. Just after 9:30am we reached Partnership Shelter, a two-story beauty complete with a shower sitting a few hundred yards behind the visitor center. With no one around, we quickly checked it out and headed to the visitor center where we'd wait an hour and a half for the shuttle to arrive. During this time I took a deuce, lounged in the mid-morning sun, and chatted with a kind woman named Syliva who volunteered at the visitor center. Freight Train inquired about the possibility of leaving our packs somewhere so we wouldn't have to take them to town with us. She handed him the keys to her van and told us to throw them in the back. I know it sounds like a small gesture, simply throwing your stuff in someone's vehicle, but, to a thru-hiker, having the opportunity to not lug around 25-35lbs is a luxury.The shuttle arrived at 11:15am and, paying the super reasonable fee of 50 cents a ride, climbed in as the only two passengers. Soon we were winding down the mountain roads into the small though bustling town of Marion, VA. We were dropped in front of Walmart at 11:30am and told simply to be there at 2pm if we wanted to return to the trail. With priorities set with Freight Train, eating being the only thing we wanted, we made our way across the sunbathed parking lot to Sonic. We each had a burger with tots, plus a Coke for me and a shake for him. With it only being 12pm and obvious the meal had simply curbed our hunger, we decided to head down the road to what the shuttle driver described as "the best restaurant in the county," Mi Puerto.Having become used to the outdoors as our only environment over the past month, we asked to sit on the outdoor patio despite the heat of the sun. Air-conditioning and the endless noise of a busy restaurant becomes a bit overwhelming to hikers over time, and is something they instead must be eased back in to. We sat sprawled out on two chairs a piece, letting the heat of the sun further cook our already bronzed skin. Well, save anything beneath our shirts, pants, shoes, watches, beards, and odd trekking pole strap lines across the top of our hands which remain a no-man's-land of sorts, only seen out of need or by accident. After downing two baskets of chips and salsa, we enjoyed our second lunches, along with more Coke for me and a beer for Freight Train. After finishing we both agreed we were now stuffed, and hiking later this afternoon would either be great with the extra energy, or a complete disaster, though most likely falling somewhere in between.With food taken care of and it only being 1pm, we walked back towards Walmart, the mission simply to kill time. We walked into Walmart and slowly completed a lap around the store. "Well, that only took three minutes," I said to Freight Train. We tried a new method by buying a couple of things - an iced coffee for us both, plus a Pepsi to pack out for later - and went to sit outside. We spent a few minutes sitting on racks used to display plants before deciding to walk over to Subway to grab a sandwich to pack out for dinner. We slowly crossed the parking lot once again and entered to a long line at Subway. Reaching for my phone to check any messages I may have received, I noticed my phone was nowhere to be found. I said something along the lines of "shit" to Freight Train, and headed back over to Walmart. He would buy my sandwich for me - one of his favorites - which I'd later discover was quite tasty.Returning to Walmart and finding the racks empty, I figured it served me right that it was jacked. I went inside and asked a lady if a phone had been returned. She checked the customer service counter and fortunately it appeared from behind the counter. Whether it was returned by an employee or customer, I silently thanked them in my head. Freight Train returned soon after with our sandwiches, and we still had close to 20 minutes to wait outside for the shuttle.During this time, however, we were treated to a show you'd expect to see at Walmart. A lady and man, I assume husband and wife, headed into Walmart bickering loudly at one another for a reason no one was able to decipher. A few minutes later they returned outside, the man carrying a 24-pack of Walmart brand Coke (trust me, I know the real stuff when I see it.) They were just behind the first car in the row, blocking what would've been a perfect view, when the man threw down the box of soda, sending them rolling, fizzing, and pouring out in every direction, a young child ducking for cover and the cement quickly becoming stained in its sugary goodness. The couple then returned inside, the Coke still sitting all over the parking lot like the scene in Twister when the sensors are rolling all over the road, before returning with three more 24-packs of soda. A cop car appeared with its lights flashing, the officer quickly exiting his vehicle to speak with the couple. As this happened we began loading onto our newly arrived shuttle, leaving me only to stare out the window in curiosity. Not in regards to what their argument was over, not if one or both of them were going to jail, but instead what a damn shame it was to watch that poor liquid gold slowly evaporating under the intensity of the sun. A damn shame indeed.We returned to the visitor center by 2:30pm and, after quickly using the bathroom, topping off on water, and packing our food for later, we were back on the trail, our goal being only four or five more miles to a camping spot. The terrain proved easy going, though extremely rocky, over the first four miles, the toughest park being sure not to go too fast so we wouldn't throw up our Mexican food and tots in the heat of the afternoon. Within no time we reached a small forest road, our four-mile checkpoint, and, despite a nice grassy area to camp in just off the road, I insisted we move on another mile, mile and a half to the top of Glade Mountain. Sure, we'd risk not finding a suitable camping spot due to the rocks we'd been clanking over all day, but it'd at least insure us that tomorrow's stretch would be all down hill to I-81. Up we went to the top of Glade Mountain, and on we went along the length of its summit, finding no suitable campsites in the process.We were soon joined by another hiker, a near lookalike of Andrew Luck, who's name I've forgotten. I asked him if he'd ever been told that before, to which he replied by asking who Andrew Luck was. The poor guy is from Vermont so aside from giving our country maple syrup and beautiful landscapes, there isn't much else going on up there. I showed him a picture and he sorta agreed with me, his only feedback was their noses were a little different. He hiked with us for another mile and a half, talking about his job working for Darn Tough in Vermont, now the best-selling socks for hikers. When we reached Chatfield Shelter near 5:30pm, he wanted to find a place with more campsite options and continued on, but shaking my hand and wishing me well before doing so.I joined a handful of hikers at a picnic table, enjoyed my spicy Italian sub and Pepsi, and took care of my routine chores. Freight Train did his version of the same before joining in with the conversations as well. Two hikers here are Belgian, another two are American citizens, but have been living in Jordan for the past couple years assisting with Iraqi refugees, and another hiker spent the evening downing seven McDonald's cheeseburgers and an OJ with two small vodka bottles poured in for added flavor.Just before 8pm we all silently agreed we were tired, making our way to our sleeping quarters for the night. One hiker is under a tarp on a small rise just behind and above the shelter, one is in their tent ~20 yards away, four are in the shelter, and Freight Train and I are cowboy camping just in front and off to the side of the shelter. This is Freight Train's first time cowboy camping. He asked me to walk him through it, being his first time and all, and I insisted he'd like it. Verdict is out til the morning.Tomorrow brings an easy, almost entirely downhill stretch to I-81 and The Barn, a favorite eatery to hikers that sits just off a side road paralleling the interstate. The group of us here plan to enjoy a breakfast together - what should ultimately be my last meal on the trail. In what has been a good run, my time has quickly come to an end, much quicker than I would have imagined when standing on Springer Mountain in Georgia 36 days ago.I lowered my phone for a moment as I was journaling, immediately overcome by the vast darkness around me. The stillness. The ceiling of stars twinkling above. The quiet roar of a plane passing to the west, and the silent, majestic flights of three almost unseen satellites skirting across the heavens. Tonight, looking up at the stars, the sound of the October Sky theme song playing quietly from my headphones, I feel as small now as I did as a child. And now, as I type these words, I cry. Not of a broken heart, of failure, or of longing, but a few simple tears in the quiet darkness of a mountainside in southern Virginia. This may not have been a thru-hike, instead a brief return over the first quarter of a trail that will forever hold a special place in my heart. Tears for the trail, for the cold nights and hot days, for the awful food, for the mountains, for the trail angels, for the undeserved kindness, for the many brief friendships, and for Odin. This feeling - it's in the stars, it's in everyone, and it's amazing.I haven't been hiking against new hikers, I haven't been hiking against weekend warriors or section hikers, and I haven't been hiking against thru-hikers. I've been hiking against time, against the future, against age, and even when you think about it, against ending. And tomorrow, I think I might be able to use these achy old feet just one more time to push the sun back up in the sky and give you one more day of Cambo.As always, I thank you all for following along, and for the support. I hope you will one more time tomorrow as well.