Date: 2003-05-18
From: Blue Ridge Parkway, mile #74.9

To: Glasgow, VA
Miles today: 13.6
Weather: moderate rain

Morning always comes too early at Trail Days. But I had to wake, Sandy had pancakes on the griddle and I had my final appointment with the Phil Oren/Superfeet people. They'd special-ordered some shoes from a Roanoke outfitter. So here I was, at the eleventh hour on my visit to Damascus, bouncing on an incline board as the sun came up.But I was excited. The foot clinic folks produced a Salomon Ex/A Pro that fit like a driving glove. I couldn't believe it. Of course, backpacking will tell the true tale. And the next week or two. Some things just reveal themselves over time.The Salomons were a slick ice blue and black. They sported a speed lace that made a loop where there would normally be a bow. I could see myself catching a pole tip in the loop and tripping myself off a cliff, but hey! - what price foot comfort?Still, I decided to put my old Montrail shoes in the mail and bounce them up the trail a week or two in case the Salomons didn't work out. Better the devil that you know than the devil you don't..."Spoken like a thru-hiker," said Ed Speer approvingly."Hey," I said, "with those I know what toes to wrap."And so I retire my second pair of shoes on the Appalachian Trail, and start on my third.Time to leave. I walk around looking for eArThworm, who very cleverly pinched my zip-neck summer fleece. I said goodbye to Sandy and Hammer. Then Chief drove Sparky, Zapman and me out of Damascus and into the driving rain. I love how nice and clean my new shoes look. I snap a picture of them on the dash of Chief's car. Virgin footwear, so fresh and full of promise. Of course, I am hopeful. The thick, low clouds continue to dump their chilly load. Someone, please, make it stop!My resolve to hike in the cold rain was weakening - my new shoes will get wet! Ha! No sympathy from those warm and dry in the truck. They crack on my Hefty Cinch Sack rain skirt as well; it's a cheap shot, too easy. Personally, I think it is reminiscent of Keaneu Reeve's wicked costume in "The Matrix." I am stylin'."We don't have to get out in the rain and do all that hugging and stuff, right?" asks Chief. His truck barely stopped rolling, and the boot came out - before I knew it I was bouncing down the wet Trail.Actually, it felt great to be striding down the path again. I am in a fine humor, despite the lack of sleep. No views today, but the mountains were alive with bloom, especially the rhododendrons and the mountain laurel. In short order I crossed several overlooks. One had a sign: "Seeing is believing." All I could see was grey cotton. I took a picture of the sign because it made me smile. There was nothing to see.The wet didn't bother me, and neither did the cold if I kept moving. I felt sorry for everyone who had sent their winter gear home. This would be an uncomfortable night. Not for me though. Before exiting the truck I'd had the offer of a dry motel room in Glasgow, and that sounded like the thing to do on this miserably cold afternoon.Yet it was really pretty out in the ran. The first climb of the day was over Highcock Knob, a rocky protrusion. I can't help but wonder what the Brits and their rowdy sense of humor would have made of that; they were all over Fullhardt Knob a few days ago.With the rain, I was a bit concerned about another April 10 incident - you know, flood watches, overflowing creeks, testy fords. And this time I was out here alone. Well, at least it wasn't snowing... Chief and Zapman and Sparky had sworn there would be no real water crossing today. That was promising, but I had a healthy respect now for mountain step-over trickles during a flood watch. As with the shoes, the truth will reveal itself in time.Sure enough, there are some touchy little step-overs, but I manage to find some dry spots and hop across. And then, there it is, a rushing creek about 20 feet across. And the Trail goes right through it.My new shoes! Sigh.I consider taking them of, but it is rainy, cold, rocky and muddy. Besides, with the funky speed laces, there is no way to tie them around my neck. With a second, heartfelt sigh, I step into the icy water and slosh across.Now there is no need to avoid the water running down the Trail like a river. I splash on down the road. Most of the crossings are just wet and rushy, not dangerous like the Erwin hike. But when I get near Matts Creek shelter, my heart sinks. It is a sure-enough whitewater churn, and there is no way I'll be able to hoof it across.I am still stressing about this as the footbridge appears. Ha! None of that anxiety was necessary, it was just mental noise that raised my adrenaline. If I had just waited, relaxed, in the present moment... I stop by the shelter to say hi to the inhabitants. It is so wet and rainy that a small creek runs in front of the shelter. I have to splash though water to see who is now on the Trail with me.There is Damp Dan, in his element now, Two Paws, Commander in Chief and Bev. They were miserable, said they'd been out in this for the last three days. They had on every scrap of their summer gear to stay warm. I wondered why they didn't bail to Glasgow, two miles away. It's one thing to hunker down when you have to, another when warmth and dryers are but two miles down the Trail.Well, this hiker bailed. Though I'd started at 1:30 pm, very late, and felt so sleepy I could hardly stand up, I knocked out 13.6 miles before 7:00 pm. And there was Chief, already waiting by the swollen James River. He'd come across the footbridge, and I splashed over to him. "We have to stop meeting on bridges," I told him. I also gave him a hard time about the "no water crossing" info.As we drove into Glasgow, we passed a stegosaurus, then a Tyrannosaurus Rex head bursting out of an abandoned two-story brick building. A brontosaurus followed. I have to ask: "What's with the dinosaur thing?" A local artist, it turns out, and the tourists loved it. A sense of humor in a small central Virginia mountain town. Across the street, in front of the grocery store, a cowboy on a horse is roping one of the large creatures.Down at the Wright Motel, a door is cracked and I can see hikers inside. Could that be.. Fly and Smoothie? No way! I go in and have a reunion. Turns out they have zeroed here in this tiny hotel room with no phone for the last two days. They have their summer gear, and Fly has only a fleece bag. They were freezing in the mountains."We should have gone to Trail Days," Fly said ruefully.But they're going stir crazy and plan to hike tomorrow, so Chief arranges to drop all three of us off at the Trailhead in the morning. I stuff my sodden "new" shoes with paper, a trick Sonic and 'Guana had taught me, and placed them above the register to dry. Chief watched "The Man Show" on the tiny TV and laughed and laughed. "Women hate this show," he told me.I must say, on the Trail, my world is broadening.