Yes, we are alive and safe. And yes, we have seen a lot of snow. Details tonight.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Monday, October 22, 2012
Quick Notes from Damascus: Now Enterting the Home Stretch
Four hundred and sixty miles remaining.
It really feels like the home stretch now. The landscape, the people, and the food have all turned decidedly southern (as opposed to the quasi-southerness of northern Virginia) and now it really does feel like I'm walking home. Examples: more churches than functioning business, and biscuits and gravy at the gas station for breakfast this morning. Yeah man.
The Greyson Highlands were as beautiful as advertised, although a bit shorter than I was expecting. I saw a few wild ponies, mostly from a distance. Other people got a lot closer to them, and Cold Beer even got to pet a few of them!
The Highlands were very...Rohan-esque.
There were a LOT of people in the park and on the A.T. over the weekend, probably more than I've seen since the White Mountains in New Hampshire. I answered the usual through hiker questions again and again..."where are you coming from? Maine? WOW. Where are you headed? Georgia! Holy Smokes!"
I must admit that the questions are far more pleasurable to answer now that this great adventure is almost done and the miles hang about me like a cloud. Now I see less doubt and more respect (or the "you're crazy" look, which doubles as respect) in peoples eyes. It's a good feeling.
Damascus has been a good stop. Here I bid a sad fair thee well to my trusty Chacos. Those sandals were the most comfortable, effective, efficient, and sturdy shoes I've ever worn; an elegant and simple solution to problems that have bothered hikers since the beginning of hiking. (Invented by Sir Wallace H. MacHiker in 1433, when he accidentally climbed a mountain in the Scottish Highlands while searching for a lost sheep)
I have over a thousand miles on the Chacos now, and I could easily finish the trail without them falling apart. By contrast, my Merril trail shoes dissolved into scraps of rubber and expensive gore-tex in two hundred and fifty. The weather simply will not permit it, however. My feet are just too cold in the mornings. So I bought some shoes at the outfitter here and have my fingers firmly crossed, hoping they will last till Springer.
As far as spring and summer hiking goes, I'll never wear anything but Chacos again.
It will be nice on my feet to have a change of pace though. The drying and cracking problems on my heals and in between my toes never truly went away, even with many different moisturizing strategies, and the pain has been severe and hobbling at times. Here's hoping I don't trade in cracked heels for a new crop of blisters. I'm actually pretty worried about it. I would hate to repeat the blisters and foot pain of my first two hundred trail miles during the LAST few hundred.
I've made a few other changes to my gear lately, mostly in the form of warmer clothes that I got on sale in Daleville. I also bought two new tips for my trecking poles. The old ones were worn down into plastic nubbins after eight hundred miles or so.
What else to say? I'm tired. Really, really tired. We've all come to the conclusion that we just need more than one day of rest at a time to get back up to full health. Basically I'm really good at walking in a straight line up and down mountains, but any kind of movement that requires agility, speed over three miles an hour, or flexibility is extremely difficult.I can climb four thousand feet in three hours with thirty pounds on my back but it takes me ten minutes to get up from a sofa and hobble in to the bathroom of a hostel. My feet only seem to bear my weight when wearing shoes. I only walk quickly with a pack on my back.
Conversations have started to turn to "after the trail", which is odd. This is the first time everybody is talking about what we are going to do when we get back, as opposed to what we used to do before we left.
Odd.
Tomorrow I cross in to Tennessee.
Out of library time. Gotta go.
Next post will be from Tennessee, or possibly North Carolina.
Happy Trails!
Pawn
It really feels like the home stretch now. The landscape, the people, and the food have all turned decidedly southern (as opposed to the quasi-southerness of northern Virginia) and now it really does feel like I'm walking home. Examples: more churches than functioning business, and biscuits and gravy at the gas station for breakfast this morning. Yeah man.
The Greyson Highlands were as beautiful as advertised, although a bit shorter than I was expecting. I saw a few wild ponies, mostly from a distance. Other people got a lot closer to them, and Cold Beer even got to pet a few of them!
The Highlands were very...Rohan-esque.
There were a LOT of people in the park and on the A.T. over the weekend, probably more than I've seen since the White Mountains in New Hampshire. I answered the usual through hiker questions again and again..."where are you coming from? Maine? WOW. Where are you headed? Georgia! Holy Smokes!"
I must admit that the questions are far more pleasurable to answer now that this great adventure is almost done and the miles hang about me like a cloud. Now I see less doubt and more respect (or the "you're crazy" look, which doubles as respect) in peoples eyes. It's a good feeling.
Damascus has been a good stop. Here I bid a sad fair thee well to my trusty Chacos. Those sandals were the most comfortable, effective, efficient, and sturdy shoes I've ever worn; an elegant and simple solution to problems that have bothered hikers since the beginning of hiking. (Invented by Sir Wallace H. MacHiker in 1433, when he accidentally climbed a mountain in the Scottish Highlands while searching for a lost sheep)
I have over a thousand miles on the Chacos now, and I could easily finish the trail without them falling apart. By contrast, my Merril trail shoes dissolved into scraps of rubber and expensive gore-tex in two hundred and fifty. The weather simply will not permit it, however. My feet are just too cold in the mornings. So I bought some shoes at the outfitter here and have my fingers firmly crossed, hoping they will last till Springer.
As far as spring and summer hiking goes, I'll never wear anything but Chacos again.
It will be nice on my feet to have a change of pace though. The drying and cracking problems on my heals and in between my toes never truly went away, even with many different moisturizing strategies, and the pain has been severe and hobbling at times. Here's hoping I don't trade in cracked heels for a new crop of blisters. I'm actually pretty worried about it. I would hate to repeat the blisters and foot pain of my first two hundred trail miles during the LAST few hundred.
I've made a few other changes to my gear lately, mostly in the form of warmer clothes that I got on sale in Daleville. I also bought two new tips for my trecking poles. The old ones were worn down into plastic nubbins after eight hundred miles or so.
What else to say? I'm tired. Really, really tired. We've all come to the conclusion that we just need more than one day of rest at a time to get back up to full health. Basically I'm really good at walking in a straight line up and down mountains, but any kind of movement that requires agility, speed over three miles an hour, or flexibility is extremely difficult.I can climb four thousand feet in three hours with thirty pounds on my back but it takes me ten minutes to get up from a sofa and hobble in to the bathroom of a hostel. My feet only seem to bear my weight when wearing shoes. I only walk quickly with a pack on my back.
Conversations have started to turn to "after the trail", which is odd. This is the first time everybody is talking about what we are going to do when we get back, as opposed to what we used to do before we left.
Odd.
Tomorrow I cross in to Tennessee.
Out of library time. Gotta go.
Next post will be from Tennessee, or possibly North Carolina.
Happy Trails!
Pawn
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Notes From Pearisburg: Travels Through Virginia
They say, and by "they" I suppose I mean the Virginia Board of Tourism, that Virginia is for Lovers. I can get behind that, because one of the words I would use to describe Virginia so far is COLD, and it would be nice to have Rachael around right now, if only for the BTUs. (Rachael, you are more to me than a walking generator of warmth, but since you have often used me for just that purpose, I consider fair to be fair.)
Anyway. Virginia. The first half of this gigantic state is comprised of Shenandoah National Park. The park is famous for it's huge bear population, and sure enough I saw my first wild bears about halfway through the park. They were two cubs, bouncing through the forest and having a grand old time. I watched them for a bit before moving on in case mama was near.
Fun fact: all the signs in the park recomend that if you are attacked by a bear, you should fight back and try to kill it or drive it away. Suddenly all the ultra light guys who carry a razor blade stopped laughing at the hard core tactical knife that my brother gave me for this trip. Also, the knife is excellent for when I am attacked by a bagel or some summer sausage. Thanks again, mi hermano.
The trail in Virginia is beautiful! Long slow climbs up to four thousand feet, beautiful vistas over rolling mountains dappled by splashes of red and orange, and breezy ridge walks that stretch on for miles. Come three or four o'clock the light comes in through the trees just right and
..well, words fail.
The mid atlantic was fun, but it is so great to be back in real mountains again!
A few quick stories. Two guys names John and Paul (not the Beetles...although...no, couldn't have been...right?) gave me some awesome trail magic: a whole hunk of cheese, a giant bag of peanut butter m&ms, and a mini bar sized bottle of whiskey. And they say sobos get no trail magic!
Just south of the Shennies I met a dog who apparently hikes one six mile section of trail over and over again with different hikers. He followed a north bound day hiker up from the road, camped with us, and then hiked back down to the road with me the next day. He had a grand time and knew excactly where the trail was, even when we came to intersections. At the road a truck pulled up, the dog jumped in, and the driver gave a wave.
Every section of trail should have it's own dog.
Have I mentioned the cold? There have been many days in Virginia with thirty five degree temps and rain. Tricky stuff, with a high risk of hypothermia, so we have been using caution.
This morning I hiked in full on cold weather gear, a first for this trip
Normally I only have to sleep in it. On the plus side, the cold clear air made for an amazing star gazing opp last night.
A week or two more in VA, and then we cross in to Tennessee. In a few days we will be under five hundred to go. Hard to believe in some ways, but in other ways I fully believe I have walked nearly fifteen hundred miles. They wear on me, the miles that is, and not a day goes by that I don't feel their weight on my body.
Reminds me of one of my favorite lines from Raiders of the Lost Ark.
Miriam: You're not the man I knew ten years ago.
Indiana Jones: It ain't the years honey. It's the milage.
Highlights to come include the Grayson Highlands, home of wild ponies, and the Great Smokey Mountains. The end of my journey draws ever closer. I've just got to keep warm and keep my feet from falling off. Wish me luck.
Till next time, and as always,
Happy Trails,
PAWN
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Monday, October 1, 2012
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