I apologize again for being so tardy with posts. I’m having genuine problems walking any distance, feeding myself enough, doctoring my feet, camping, and staying motivated.
One of the most bizarre things to happen yet befell me a week or so ago in what’s called the Grayson Highlands State Park near Mount Rogers elevation 5729. It’s Virginia’s highest peak. Naturally, as is my fate, some of the nastiest weather thus far encountered occurred just when I went over the barrens near Mount Rogers. The area experience over 5 inches of rain and 50-60mph winds in a 48 hour period. The national weather service was issuing flood alerts locally. As I struggled to stand upright and make some headway in the blinding rain and wind my pack cover blew off but luckily caught up in a hawthorn bush. Just after retrieving and securing it back over my pack I regained the cover of the forest. After some half hour of stomping through flooded rocky trail and muck I thought I could hear someone shouting through the spruce and fir. It was hard to imagine what purpose anyone would have trying to be heard over the sound of the wind. Quite soon I could make out a man’s voice that seemed to be shouting avenged, avenged, avenged! I thought perhaps he was some sort of deranged chappie proclaiming victory over demons of the bush. However, after spotting him coming toward me his shouts were “Unhinged!”, “Unhinged!” He seemed to be quite frantic and upon getting closer begged if I’d seen two women back the trail. I explained that I hadn’t seen anyone for hours. He displayed keen disappointment and told me that he had left his wife and her friend off for a section hike early that morning and they were to meet him where the AT crossed the road at the foot of the mountain. His wife’s trail name was “Unhinged”. He said they were “slack packing” (hiking without packs to go faster over a section of trail), and that they were ill prepared for the current weather. No rain gear, and only a few snacks. He was certain they were wet and in danger of going hypothermic. I couldn’t argue because I was going hypothermic myself. However, the big surprise came when I asked him where he was from. He said he drove down from Ottawa to bring his wife and her friend to hike the Appalachain Trail. When I told him I was from Nova Scotia he said he grew up in Glace Bay. The more surprising thing was he had a job and no pension for a bad back. When we reached the road he jumped in his truck, and said he must be in the wrong place, and drove off to find his wife.
In spite of my rain gear I was really cold and wet with numb fingers. It was around 6:00 so getting my tent up and into my sleeping bag was an immediate necessity. Luckily, there was a flat spot in a clump of maples near the road. I dropped my pack, jerked out my tent, and proceeded to set up in the driving rain and wind. It was a nasty prospect but I had no alternative. I got the poles up quickly as possible and secured the fly over poles with tent stakes. Then I crawled underneath the fly with my pack and set the tent up. Everything was wet, but my sham wow ultra absorbent towel soaked up the worst of it. Then I inflated the thermorest mattress, stripped off the wet clothing and crawled into my sleeping bag. One of the most comforting things I carry is a pair of Alpaca wool socks given to me by my sister in-law Marlene. To pull off soaking wet socks and put on those soft warm Alpaca socks is just heaven. After 20 minutes or so my fingers warmed enough that I could set up my alcohol stove just outside the tent under the fly and cook a litre of instant potatoes with tuna fish and a quarter pound of butter. It’s a sort of potato soup. Amazing how good it tastes, how much it warms the body and buoys the spirit. When I awoke next morning the rain was still hammering, but after porridge and coffee I was able to muster the initiative pack everything up and press on.
A few days later I was rewarded with a great surprise of a sign declaring I’d reached the quarter way point.
It felt great to reach this point, but my feet are failing me. Now I’ve reached mile 590.1 and a motel in Bland, Virginia. In trying to adjust silicon gummy bears in my trail shoes to relieve the pain of plantar fasciitis I’ve managed to create a massive debilitating blister on my left heal. Combined with tendinitis on the top of both feet I’m starting to wonder if it’s sensible to press on. I can’t stop to heal or I’ll run out of time. The next week will tell the story.
Thanks to my cousin Aubrey for sending me some fresh fruit via the Mount Rogers Appalachain Trail Club.
He and my wonderful wife Susan are my greatest supporters.
Till next time I get a chance to write, thanks to everyone.
Long Stride