Date: 2014-04-19
From: Lost Mountain Shelter

To: Partnership Shelter
Miles today: 0.0
Weather: moderate rain

Grayson HighlandsComing out of town can be a real downer. You've had a bit of rest and you're just starting to feel human again and then you have to return to the slog. But once I finally got myself out of Damascus I was pretty happy. I knew what was coming next. Wild ponies!!! Now. I don't know about you, but I wanted a pony when I was little. And a treehouse. Sadly, my childhood ambitions of reliving scenes from "Annie Get Your Gun" and "Swiss Family Robinson" were both unrealized, but I seem to have survived the disappointment with surprising resilience. Even so, when I heard that The Grayson Highlands had herds of wild ponies wandering about I lost the last of my town legs and decided to get myself there with all possible haste. I did a quick 12 miles over Whitetop Mountain and Mount Rogers (the highest peak in VaA and the last 5k footer until I pass over the Mason-Dixon Line). I stopped for a scenic lunch with The Cousins, H2O and Senator, and then went on a pony hunt. It wasn't really that difficult. They're lazy little beggars. And they're kind of pushy too. They kind of put up with being petted so that they can lick our packs for salt residue and they try to be just cute enough to get some food. It works well. They got 2 whole bags of dried apples off of me. I admit to being a pushover. After getting weaseled out of my apples and taking some pictures I kicked myself back into gear and did another 6 miles to Wise Shelter. I got in around 5 and found the shelter overrun with a bunch of 12 year old rugrat boys! Arg! They were everywhere- but most importantly they were spread out all over the shelter. We were expecting cold and rain overnight, so I had planned to make use of the shelter. But, there was no room! I was starting to look around discontentedly for a flat, shielded spot to pitch my tent when The Whiskey Gang (Cactus, Trip, Kristo the Lion, Baloo and Aroo) invite me to join them for an epic cowboy camping experience. They had strung line between 8 trees and created a Mega Tarp situation that looked dry, inviting and impossible to resist. We all grumbled together about the twerps that had kicked us out of our home for the night and had just begun to nestle down and get comfy when one of the previously dubbed rugrats a came over to invite us to join the group for dinner. They had hiked in 15 pounds of steak, chicken, and sausage for fajitas and a half bushel of corn on the cob which they cooked and shared with all the displaced hikers. They also built a roaring fire and handed about packets of Gatorade mix. Needless to say the young men rose quickly in our estimation. We went to bed under Mega Tarp full and happy and we hardly even heard the rain when it finally came. I was out by 8 the next morning and geared up for a 20 mile day. It was a beautiful day and I felt good. I rolled into my shelter at 4:45. All day as I hiked though, all I could think of was Easter. It was Saturday and I was desperate to go to church the next morning. My original plan had been to have a small sunrise service with Spider-man and Dundee on top of a mountain. But we all got separated around Kinkora Hostel and they were both behind me, somewhere close to Damascus. I wanted fellowship, but the closest church was in Marion which was still 10 miles past my shelter and another 6 mile hitch into town. Totally beyond reach.Or was it?30 mile day? Hmm. I'd done a 26 and it had been rough, but it didn't kill me. So when I pulled into my shelter at 4:45 I ate a quick dinner, grabbed some water from the spring, said a few hellos to friends and then packed myself back on out to try to get to Partnership Shelter located between Marion and Sugar Grove. It was good. I trucked along fine while the sun still shone and when it went down I night hiked with my headlamp. And then I hit mile 28 and 9 o'clock at night (aka "hiker midnight" in trail lingo) and I hit a wall. I was so tired and everything- and I mean everything- hurt. I could hardly string two thoughts together. I'd been at it for 11 hours, minus breaks, and the only thing I had left to spur me on was the thought of a flat spot to throw up my tent. If I had found one, even smack dab in the middle of the trail, I would have done it. But nothing. Diddly squat. Zilch. Nada. I stumbled and whimpered along and finally hit the shelter at 10:45. I pitched camp right next to a "no tenting within 1/4 miles of the shelter" sign and climbed in. Everything throbbed. But I made it!