Date: 2011-10-10
From: Skyland Resort

To: Day 152 - 159
Miles today: 67.3

The next day is only 8 miles to the Big Meadows Wayside. Mr. Z and I are there before 10:00 AM for breakfast. Him and I hike at roughly the same pace (I'm a little faster and he leaves a little earlier.) So we motivate each other to keep a good pace. It works out well. We make it to a little picnic area with an amazing view just in time to catch the sunset. Without much of an option, we decide to just hammock-up there right in this little gazebo with a 4-sided stone fireplace. So, while we are illegally camping in the picnic area, some park rangers show up in the middle of the night. There is one car there with a family who had decided to just pull over and pitch a tent for the night. The rangers make them get up in the middle of the night, write them a ticket, and tell them to kick rocks. Then they come our way with flashlights to investigate. They stop dead in their tracks as soon as they see that it is 2 people sleeping and quietly pull away. I'm not really sure what happened but maybe they just figured that we were thru-hikers and gave us the benefit of a doubt.   That day another SoBo named Kisimba catches up to us. He's another older guy, another German thru-hiker, and another really fast pace-maker. Kisimba had just hiked 80 miles in three days to catch up to Mr. Z. Way to go pal. Unfortunately Mr. Z is just about to hop off-trail for a bit. He is from this area of VA so he hops off at the Loft Mountain Wayside to go hang out with some family for a day or two. I decided to keep pace with Kisimba now, afraid that I would start to slack off if left to my own devices. Admittedly, it is nice to have someone to chat with at the end of the day and maybe even help me build a fire. Kisimba gets up and out of camp early and leads me for the better part of the day. Then, usually around 2nd lunch, I will pass him as he starts to tire out and I begin to ramp it up due to my daily ipod time and 4:20 safety meetings. Him and I cruise as a pretty steady 25 miles a day for the rest of the time that I'm out there.   One of the most spectacular things that I witness the whole time that I'm hiking is the seasonal change from Summer to Fall in the Virginia Highlands. When I tok off from Harpers and entered the Shenny's most of the trees and foliage were still green. Just little wisps and highlights of color on certain windswept ridgelines high up at altitude. And, by the end of a 2-week period, I am hiking through a truly technicolor forest that is just lightly peppered with hints of green under-canopies and thickets of evergreens. What a truly magical time to be living in the woods. It is interesting to see the behavior of all the little forest critters change just as dramatically. The Shenandoah National Park is teeming with wildlife and probably offers more close-up encounters with animals that any other section of the AT I've been on (save for the chipmunks and mosquitoes in New Jersey.) All of the squirrels become markedly more active as if they are well-aware that winter was on its way. Large groups of deer start to form and literally block the trail for long stretches. The air changes and develops crisp dry undertones. Sunsets and sunrises change in color and seem to elicit a whole new suite of emotions as they blend into the sky.    Eventually it gets so cold that I can see my breath when I wake up in the morning and my joints ache and creek for a few hours until I'm able to get loosened up. It quickly becomes apparent that I am approaching my final days out there. I am out of money, racing the cold, pushing myself harder than I need to, with no hope of making it down to Georgia before snow-season hits. As the cold hard facts began to sink in on me while I am hiking alone through the Virginia Fall, I start to develop a sense of calmness and satisfaction instead of disappointment. I guess I chose to be happy about making it this far instead of sad about not finishing. I vow to just take some time off, stock up some money, and come right back out here just as soon as the weather will allow me to. I really am able to spin a positive light on the situation. All of my NoBo buddies who have just finished the trail are going through this unavoidable period period of post-hike depression during which one has to re-acclimate to life in the 'real world' and give up a simple existence of carefree, daily adventures. The post-hike blues is what it's called. I, on the other hand, stopped short. And I know in the back of my head that I could have gotten hundreds more miles out of my body if I really pushed it to the limit. I have something to look forward to. Something to plan for. Something to finish.      I, conveniently, know a couple of friends from Gainesville who happen to be up in Virginia for a week just a few towns south of me. So I continue to hike with Kisinba and Mr. Z (who did some huge miles and caught up to us fairly quickly) at break-neck pace all the way to Rockfish Gap, the southern terminus of Skyline Drive and the Shenandoah National Park. I quickly get a hitch with a family of traveling hippies in a VW van 4 miles down the road to Waynesboro, VA. There I grab a shower at the YMCA, find a fresh sub on a park bench, and spend most of the rest of my money on two 32oz Fat Tires. I fiund a secluded little picnic table behind a restaurant just off the highway. I sit there and drink and solemnly reflected for over an hour until my friends' car pulls up in the parking lot. Just like that, my hike is done. I am whisked away back into the real world. A week of sleeping on a friends couch later, and I'm riding down the interstate on my way back to Florida and my beautiful girlfriend. What a long strange trip it's been.