Date: 2004-06-19
From: Sarver Hollow Shelter, Virginia

To: Hard Hiking
Miles today: 21.9

Last night was miserable and I got little sleep. The no see-um bugs were aggressive and someone was snoring loudly. I was the first person to get up. I walked into the woods to take a pee. Tigger the cat followed me. When I stopped and did my thing the cat stopped and did his thing. In the shelter, I penned a note to other hikers about the need to keep the cat fed, and then I began hiking. I ascended the steep spur trail for 1\4 mile and rejoined the Appalachian Trail. During the morning, a sequence of odd happenings occurred while I was hiking along a wooded ridgeline. I was startled by a loud call of an animal in the sky above me. The noise had been high pitched, creepy, and almost diabolical in tone. I sensed that it was directed toward me although I can¢t be sure about this. The sound invoked in my mind the image of the Wicked Witch in the movie, The Wizard of Oz. I did not identify the source of the sound, but assumed that it came from a vulture that had been soaring above the tops of the trees for quite a while. As I mulled over this disturbing sound, I heard a commotion directly above me. Something was falling down through the branches above me. I did not look up; rather, I braced myself for an impact. An object crashed to the ground in a thicket three feet to my left. I looked over and saw a squirrel running off. The poor thing had fallen from a tree. I do not think there was a relationship between the creepy sound and the falling animal.Along the wooded ridge, a breeze had dried the bushes and grass beside the trail. When the trail descended a few feet on the lee side of the ridge, the wind was absent. There, the greenery was wet and my pants, shoes and socks became soaked. I passed over concentrations of wet rocks that slowed down my pace.After making a difficult ascent, I stopped for lunch. Swedish, a young man in his twenties arrived at the spot moments later and joined me. After the two of us resumed hiking, we caught up with JP, Knuckles, and their dog, Mika, during their lunch break. On a ridgeline, I met a southbound day hiker with a cell phone. I asked him to call the trail angel who had left the soft drinks and his phone number on a nearby mountain. The call got through and I spoke to the man. I told him about the difficult time that Dave Underfoot was experiencing with his sore knee and wondered if the man would check on him at a shelter near a road, and possibly give him a ride to a hostel. The man said he would try. Dave had previously expressed to me his desire to get off the trail as soon as possible. The trail hiking concluded with the descent of a treacherous, rocky slope on a mountain called Dragon¢s Tooth. I hiked down the steep grade slowly and methodically, looking for safe footholds and when necessary, handholds. By the end of this descent, my feet were aching. I reached a road and walked to a nearby store where I had been told I could order a pizza. The information was wrong, so I asked the clerk for directions to a place where I could get a meal. Someone offered to drive me to a restaurant. I accepted the lift and ended up at a place called The Home Place Restaurant. It was a mansion converted into a restaurant. The place was crowded with diners on this Saturday night. I placed my backpack by the door on the porch, and then stepped inside the elegant foyer. I felt uncomfortable and out of place. My appearance was filthy and worst of all; I was wearing my shirt which reeked off sweat and ammonia. I cowered away from patrons waiting in a line and approached the host. I apologized for the smell and asked if he could seat me in a place away from the customers. He was understanding and said he would find a table for me. In the meantime, I climbed a carpeted stairway and sat down near some framed paintings of General Robert E. Lee and General Stonewall Jackson. It was already near closing time and the patrons were thinning out, so I ventured into the rooms of the restaurant to see if any hikers were present. At one table, I recognized some hikers and said hello. They too were wearing their hiking garb, but had since taken showers at a nearby hostel.I was given a table that was somewhat isolated from the other patrons. The waitress understood when I explained, and apologized, for my ripe condition. The meal was great.Outside the restaurant, those same hikers were waiting for a ride back to a hostel. When the vehicle arrived, I hopped in. The hostel is located in a three car garage at someone¢s residence. I stepped inside and observed sleeping pads all over the floor. Nineteen hikers were hanging out with each other, sipping beer, and playing darts. I found an open spot on the floor and placed my sleeping pad there.A bathroom contained a shower, so I took advantage of that. To prevent against staph infections, I never walk barefoot on the floor of a shower at a hostel. At this shower, I wore the sandals that had ravaged my feet. They again caused me discomfort because the straps were rubbing against the sores on my feet. After showering, I chatted with some hikers I knew and introduced myself to hikers I was unfamiliar with. One of these new faces was a hiker named Sleepy the Arab. He was a thirty-year-old man from New Hampshire who has already thru hiked the Appalachia Trail. I asked him for advice. He warned me about the ¢Virginia blues,¢ a state of depression that hikers sometimes experience in this state. He also told me that some hikers, while dealing with the summer heat in New Jersey and New York, rationalize excuses to quit their hikes. They might assume that they have already come so far, and accomplished so much, that further hiking is unnecessary. Today, I made three difficult ascents and traversed concentrations of rocks. In spite of these obstacles, in spite of the poor sleep last night, and in spite of my sore feet, I felt energized and traveled 21.9 miles. Tomorrow, I will hike only a short day and give my body a rest.