Date: 2004-06-16
From: Rice Field Shelter, VA

To: Bloody Sandals! Bloody Rain!
Miles today: 16.2

It rained hard last night, contrary to my optimistic forecast for the weather. By morning, the rain had stopped. A thick fog covered the high elevation pasture beside which the Rice Field Shelter is located. On the crest of the pasture, a deer was grazing; it appeared almost like a silhouette in the mist. Blue Jay and London, the first hikers to break camp, entered the pasture and gradually faded into the fog.I was late hitting the trail, which is unusual. There are a couple of benefits that come from breaking camp after other hikers have departed. On the trail, a late starter will rarely have spider webs brushing against his face because the hikers ahead of him will have cleared the way. A late starter will not become soaked, at least for a while, when brushing against wet bushes and wet grasses. The hikers before him will have shaken off much of the water and become wet in the process.With that said, I put on my new hiking sandals before heading out. The plan was to wear the sandals until the conditions became dry enough for the wearing of shoes.On some days while hiking, a song will enter my head and remain with me, on and off, for much of the day. I can not recall the names of these past songs, but they are usually tunes that I would not listen to back home. I sometimes wonder what stimulates me to sing lousy songs.Today, the musical repertoire in my head was unusual because it featured a song, actually two songs that I enjoy. Here is how I think they came into my mind: I was camping with a British hiker whose trail name is London. This morning, I photographed him hiking through the pasture. Also this morning, I watched another hiker obtain a weather forecast from a tiny portable radio. Two key words¢London and radio¢apparently influenced my thought process. Here is what happened next. I recalled a punk rock album named "London Calling" which was created by a punk rock band called The Clash. Some lyrics to one of their songs entered into my head. The words are, "This is Radio Clash on pirate satellite." I tried to recall the lyrics to the rest of the tune, but they eluded my memory. So during part of the morning, I recited that one line repeatedly to the cadence of my steps.Here was the exact cadence, with each line representing a step on the trail."1234ThisIsRadioClash OnPirate Satel-lite(step)ThisIsRadioClash OnPir-Ouch! Abrupt cessation of tune in head in order to remove a pebble which has lodged between my sandal and the sole of my foot. Then, back to the incessant recitations. "1234This is Radio Clash..." After a while, I decided that I was going to loose my mental faculties unless I found a new song to recite. Accordingly, I chose the cover song from that album," London Calling," by The Clash. But again, I could only recall bits and pieces of the song. I settled on the following lyrics:"London Calling,You Zombies of Death;Quit Holding Out,And Draw Another Breath."Before this journey began, I wondered how I would occupy my mind during the hours on the trail. Would I make a life altering decision regarding my future? Would I compose a novel? Would I ponder religious or philosophical questions? Singing about pirate satellites and zombies of death does not come close to those kinds of lofty ruminations. But hey, I don't recite these songs in my head all of the day, just occasionally.By mistake, I passed by a campsite which was located near a spring. I had been told that beyond that spot, there were no water sources for many miles. So when I came across a thru hiker who was taking a rest, I hit him up for a donation of water. He shared about 1/2 of a liter.I asked him how his supplies were holding out. He replied that he was well supplied except for being out of toilet paper. Hearing this, I offered to share with him some of my toilet paper. He replied that he did not need any toilet paper because he was content with using leaves instead.I always keep a supply of TP in my backpack; not a whole roll, that would take up too much space. When I visit a hostel, I remove several sheets of TP from the holder on the wall in the bathroom. The sheets are placed in a small zip lock bag. I have pondered whether or not my taking extra toilet paper represents an act of theft. So when I pay for my accommodation by placing money into a box, I add an extra dollar to cover the cost of the toilet paper. (Since beginning this journey, I sure do miss those nice two ply sheets of TP!)I stopped for lunch on the trail where a group of teenagers and their chaperones were resting. They were a Methodist church group hiking for several days. During the break, someone bet one of the girls that she could not drink a combination of water and the oily remains from their tuna fish packets without vomiting. She stood beside the trail and began drinking as everyone watched and waited. She pulled off the stunt. The only fluid to land on the trail during lunch was water. From that time onward, it rained for much of the day.When the church group departed, one member of the group, or so he seemed, lingered behind to chat. He told me that he was a section hiker and that he was hanging out with the church group in order to get free meals. Additional sores were appearing on my feet due to my wearing the hiking sandals. I disinfected these new sores with alcohol and covered them with a thin layer of cotton and then some tape. Late in the afternoon, I concluded that the sandals were chewing up my feet. I tried wearing socks with the sandals; that reduced the friction but the irritations were still being affected by friction. I ended up removing the sandals and walking in the hiking shoes.Late in the evening, I arrived at Bailey Gap Shelter. The place was almost full, but there was room enough for me. I recognized hikers Susan, London, and Shivers. There were other hikers there who I was not acquainted with. The rain had stopped. With a team effort we rounded up some firewood and London started a campfire. Some of us gathered around the flames and dried wet clothing and footwear. The smoke drifted into the shelter and the interior became intolerable for sleeping. The fire was extinguished before everyone was ready to sleep.This endless rainy weather is frustrating. In the register at a shelter I passed four miles ago, London had penned the following rant:"Stopped at Rice Field Shelter last night bloody soaking wet. I stopped here bloody soaking wet. Just like bloody England. Hubba! Hubba!