Date: 2017-05-11
From: Johns Hollow Shelter

To: Buena Vista 
Miles today: 20.1
Weather: overcast clouds

Key to my plans today was calling for a shuttle once I reached US 60, a two lane, paved highway leading into Buena Vista.  To get there from Johns Hollow Shelter entailed 10 hours of hiking, including a 2000 foot climb up Big Rocky Row and another 800 foot climb of Punchbowl Mountain.  I left the shelter at 6:30 a.m., because I wanted to have enough time in town after I arrived to get dinner.  True to form, it rained in the morning for about an hour and again in the late afternoon for another hour.  I was thoroughly soaked, pants, drawers, shirt, and raincoat. My rain gear keeps the rain out, but makes me sweat profusely, especially during the climbs. At least the temps were in the 60s, so I was not chilled by rain or sweat, just uncomfortably wet.  But I was going to town tonight, and the prospects of a warm meal, a hot shower, and a warm bed were incentives for enduring the momentary unpleasantness.I was pleased to reach US 60 at 4:00, 30 minutes ahead of plan. Buena Vista was 9.3 miles west.  Now was the time to contact a shuttle service to pick me up.  Across the highway was a picnic table, where I dropped off my pack and turned on my phone (I had turned it off to save power). When I needed it most, AT&T failed me -- I had no service, not one stinking bar. I was alone. My only resort was to hitchhike.  As instructed by a hitchhiking pro, I put my poles in front of me and my pack on my back, so that it was clear I was a hiker and not a homeless man.  I picked a spot where traffic heading into Buena Vista would be moving slowly because it would be climbing a hill. Also, the spot where I stood was located just before a wide shoulder, so that a prospective ride would have space to pull over.Nobody stopped. Some sped up as they passed, me with my thumb held boldly high in the air and a stupid grin on my face.  I became despondent.  Walking into town was unfeasible, it being 9 miles away, I would be walking in the dark. And I was exhausted.I looked at my useless phone again, hoping that somehow it had acquired service.  No such luck. Might as well keep trying to hitch a ride. I looked about me for a place to pitch my tent.  If all else fails, I'd set up camp.  I returned to my post and experimented with my facial expressions as cars went by.  I smiled wide, I grinned, I looked serious, I looked desperate, I looked the drivers in the eyes, I looked away demurely, all the while in my thru-hiker pose. Imagine my surprise when an SUV pulled over onto the wide shoulder.  I ran to it, fearful the driver would have a change of heart. Its back door swung open, I threw in my bag, a jumped inside an elated man.My driver was Wayne Wingfield,  an 80-year old minister.  I don't normally pick up hitchhikers, he said. Neither does anyone else, I said. The Holy Spirit told me to stop, he said. I'm sure thankful you listened, I said.The road into Buena Vista was tortuous.  The many curves, the narrow shoulders, the fast moving traffic, I could not have safely walked this road.  He drove remarkably well for an 80-year old, but I was nervous just the same.  He was in the oncoming lane about as often as he was in the proper lane.  At one point he passed a lumber truck, honking his horn madly as we went by it.  I don't know why.  Wayne was friendly and talkative. After asking me many questions about what I was doing out there, where I was from, what I did for a living, he opened up about his own life.  Presently he is caring for his ailing wife who is in the last stages of dementia.  She no longer knows who he is.  Sad.Upon reaching Budget Inn, he asked if he could pray with me.  Surely, I said.  And we prayed together in the car.  Godspeed, good man.  You are indeed a trail angel.That night in Buena Vista, I ate two Subway foot-long subs and a double chocolate chip cookie.  Not a warm meal, but quite satisfying. As an aside, after crossing the Pedlar Bridge I soon also crossed the 800 mile mark. One step at a time is actually turning into something.