Date: 2015-04-19
From: Roaring Fork Shelter

To: Elmer's Sunnybank Inn
Miles today: 18.0
Weather: light rain

I always feel bad getting up early in a shelter because it is impossible not to make a huge ruckus packing up to leave. Especially rolling up my Thermarest. Sometimes it sounds like a whale's blowhole erupting in the silence of the morning. This morning was particularly bad because the bear cables, which are used to hoist bags of foos imto the air, out of reach of hungry bears, were right in front of the shelter amd REALLY squeaky. I felt so bad letting my bag down at 6 a.m.My morning ritual has become: wake up, take out ear plugs and return to case in sleeping bag pocket (my sleeping bag has a cute little zippered pocket AND an awesome glow-in-the-dark zipper pull), get up, gather stinky hiking clothes, attempt to orient self in the darkness, exit shelter (the other night I accidentally kicked some guy who had come into the shelter in the middle of the night and set himself up on the floor), get to bear line/cables without tripping or slipping in mud, retrieve bag, try to find privy, enter privy and relieve self, sanitize hands, try not to cry while putting disgusting, damp, dirty hiking clothes back on, fold sleepimg clothes, comb hair, wipe face, brush teeth while cursing self for forgetting water bottle AGAIN, pack up, exit privy, get lost trying to return to shelter, eventually find shelter, take pack down, stuff sleeping bag in compression sack and roll up Thermarest, try to cram everything in where it belongs (I try to do these last 3 outside the shelter if I can, to not disturb sleepers, but lately it has been so rainy I haven't had a choice), stuff lunch amd snacks in accessible pocket, realize I need my jacket, which is buried in pack, unpack, repack, put wet socks back on, cram toes into shoes, attach camp shoes to outside of pack, double check that I have everything, buckle and adjust straps, find trekking poles, and set out.IT TAKES FOREVER. It is totally worth it to hike as the sun is rising, even in thr rainy weather we habe been suffering through lately, but it is a hassle. Some people have headlamps with red lights which are less disturbig to others trying to sleep, but mine doesn't, so I try to use it as little as possible and shield the light fro, shimjng on others.So today I felt bad creating a hideous racket with bear cables, but everyone else in the shelter seemed to be emerging from their bags as I was setting out. Hiker midnight comes early, but so does hiker wakeup. I only got about an hour into my hike before I had to sling my pack off and put on the rain cover, as the mist turned to a drizzle. I decided not to put on my rain gear, preferring to be soaked by rain than by my own sweat. After about six miles, Columbo, who had stopped by the shelter the night before briefly but then continued on, came up behind me. I moved off of the trail, letting him by and saying, "You look faster, you can go ahead."He asked if I was heading into Hot Springs. "I'm not sure yet," was my answer. I don't tell anyone where I am going, even if I know, which I usually don't. As we continued on, he told me that he is a section hiker, and was out for the weekend. He hikes every weekend, slowly piecing the trail together. You meet the most amazing people on the trail. We hiked at a similar pace, and unlike Cambo before, we kept up an almost-steady stream of conversation."You have to take me with you to Maine," he told me, handing me a rubber bracelet imprinted with "EMBRACE THE SUCK -COLUMBO""I love it!" I laughed, finding the saying particularly appropriate after a week of mud and rain. "I definitely do embrace the suck."And it is true. The trail can suck sometimes. One night in the Smokies I was so wet and cold while trying to cook my dinner, and the water was taking forever to boil, and I refused to get another pair of socks wet and muddy so I just stood there in my flip-flops with numb toes, and it kind of sucked. Luckily, however, so far even the worst parts of this adventure haven't sucked THAT much. The rain wasn't that bad. I always managed to stop before the afternoon downpours. The mud filled my boots, but my wool socks kept my feet warm. Every night I had a dry change of clothes to change into and a warm sleeping bag to curl up in. I have no complaints.As we chatted on the trail, making good time but aching to get to Hot Springs ("That shelter must be right up here." "We have to be getting close." "It's only been an hour since that last sign." "Is that a shelter I see?!" "No, that's just a tree."), we both agreed that we always crave pizza when we are on the trail. I wonder what it is about pizza that makes it so appealing to the hiker appetite. Maybe because it includes so many food groups? Maybe because of the carbs? The greasy cheese? I have no idea, but not a day has gone by since Alexa and I started the approach trail that I have not wanted pizza. Seriously. EVERY DAY, I want pizza.We stopped at the shelter three miles away from town for a rest. This was where I planned to stop for the day, but Columbo, extremely amazingly kind gentleman that he is, offered to treat me to pizza in town AND offered to pay for a hostel for me. I know that being a female on the trail makes people treat me different. Sometimes it is nice. Other times, I strongly resent it. Today, having been without a shower for SIX days and faced with the prospect not only of real food, but PIZZA, I was happy to abandon my plan and graciously accept his invitation.He showed me to Elmer's Sunnybank Inn, which was actually where I had mail delivered. They weren't sure if they had a room available, so we crossed the street and entered the Rocky Mountain Diner, where Columbo showed me pictures of Virginia sections of the trail, which he has hiked and I am now extra excited to hike. We also ate barbeque chicken pizza. AMAZING pizza. It was everything my fat hiker tummy imagined and more. He even let me take the leftovers.I don't know if it is luck of running into amazing people on the trail, or southern hospitality, but I have received so much and benefitted so much from other people during my 19 days on the trail that it is hard to believe.Today was one of my most enjoyable hikes on the trail so far. I usually hike alone, so it was incredibly nice to have company, especially with someome with very similar interests, opinions, and outlooks on life.It has been like hiker Christmas. We returned to the hostel, where they said that they did have room for me (I almost cheered). Columbo gifted me with his leftover trail food, including a HUGE apple (can't get enough produce). I gave him a hug and he departed. He doesn't live far, so I hope to be able to catch up with him when i reach Erwin.I dug through the packages on the porch and found my mail drop full of food, my new shoes (!!!), and my pack replacement parts from Granite Gear. I have also been reunited with my loofah, which I sent home in a bout of stupidity while trying to minimize pack weight. My towel does NOT scrub well. That loofah was thr best thig ever as I scrubbed a week worth of mud and sweat off of my body in the shower this afternoon. It was amazing.This hostel is amazing. It is old and eclectic and wonderful. It reminds me of Jumanji. My roommate is Chris, who is incredibly nice. He does not have a trail name yet. We discussed our insatiable hiker hunger and our ridiculously heavy food bags. He picked mine up to weigh it. "Yeah, mine's about the same," he said, making me feel better about my two pounds of M&Ms (that is only a slight exaggeration).Chris is also letting me sleep in the big bed, an extra special treat. My mummy bag is so restricting, I can only sleep in like two different positions. Tonight I can stretch out all I want.I am thankful for Columbo, pizza, a shower, and a real bed to sleep in. I am thankful for good conversation and great people and great places and that I avoided the worst of the rain today. Also for new shoes amd new camp shoes (my flip-flops are disintegrating), and so many other things.