Date: Tuesday, June 30, 2015
Current Location: Daleville, Virginia
Trip/Journal Details: Damascus, VA to Pearisburg, VA to Daleville, VA
Miles To Date: 727.8

Virginia is known for its blues – the “Virginia Blues,” as they call it.  The reason being that Virginia is the longest state to hike through at 550 miles.  It’s over a quarter of the Trail.  That’s a lot considering the Trail passes through 14 states in total.  Many people get down and out over the number of miles in this state.  It is long and monotonous, with fewer views and an endless tunnel of greenery.  In the past, walking on a ridgeline felt so rewarding – a slight breeze blowing in your favor, vast stretches of land laid out before you, a bright and shining sun, and the sense that you had accomplished something by climbing the mountain before it.  Now – those ridgelines are shrouded in trees, shaded and offer minimal or no view at all for mile upon mile.  Although the terrain is easier, with fewer drastic changes in elevation, there is a much higher mental challenge at play.  Walking hour after hour on a dirt path that looks exacty the way it did four hours ago can make you go completely mental.

Or at least, that’s what happened to me last week when I returned to the Trail after a 10-day vacation back home.  I experienced my own version of the legendary Virginia blues.

I feel bad talking smack about Virginia.  In all honestly, it IS a beautiful state with lush vegitation, softly-padded dirt trails for which I should be grateful, rolling meadows and wildflowers, blueberries growing right alongside the Trail, and several breweries that I’ve enjoyed.  It’s gorgeous.  It’s just so….LONG!

Or maybe I’m using Virginia as my scape goat.  You see, I went home to Memphis for a week to visit Neal and family and to attend a wedding.  I was completely torn about leaving the Trail.  I sincerely wanted to go home, toss the grungy hiker look for a while (helloooo, blow dryer and jeans!), and relax with people I love, but I also knew it could be the kiss of death for my AT life.

Well, the trip was fabulous and as it turns out, it wasn’t the kiss of death.  I am back on the Trail.  I reprovisioned in Memphis – got some fancy new hiking pants, swapped the long underwear for summer sleeping shorts, loaded up my iPod with fresh jams, and got a new pair of kicks to replace my already tore up shoes.  I was ready to roll!  The thing is though, as I sat back at the Enterprise Rental Car office in Pearisburg, Virginia, after returning the car and reorganizing my pack for the walk I was about to make that day, I was suddenly filled with a sense of dread.  I’m talking deep-in-the-gut, terrible dread.  I did not want to go into the woods.  I did not want to lift that heavy pack.  I did not want to eat one more freeze-dried meal or Poptart or peanut butter rollup.  The thought of setting up my tent one…more…time… seemed so daunting, and I sat there feeling like I was making a HUGE mistake.

Despite these feelings of “don’t go out there today,” I mustered up the strength to strap on Little Stinky (my pack – she don’t always smell so good, you see) and began to march one foot in front of the other, out the door and down the street to the trailhead.

I got two miles before the breakdown.  Rather than joy, each step brought a new burden – be it a sad thought, sore knees, or a heavy heart – until it piled into an ugly mess of “get me OFF THIS TRAIL, NOW!  AHHHHH!!!”

That glorious week of comforts did me in after all.

But ever the optimist to a fault, I stubbornly pressed on until the first shelter.  It wasn’t until the next day, after hiking 20 miles from Pearisburg in near solitude, that I finally succumbed to the evil and got off the Trail to save my sanity and regroup.  That, and I pulled my left groin muscle, so I was kinda forced to.  God works in mysterious ways, they say.

So back to Pearisburg I went.  I stayed overnight, then relocated myself to Four Pines Hostel, where I gave myself three days to rest and time to think with the chickens.  Really, there were chickens there.  Four Pines hostel is right off the Trail, and set on acres of farm land.  Hikers are free to roam and set up where they like, be it the three-car garage converted into a bachelor-pad-esque digs, their red barn, or their hay barn by a pond.  I strategically chose the hay barn for its peace and quiet.  While there, I was shuttled around by the “Dragon Wagon,” their van, to and from the Homeplace Restaurant and convenience store, for food, and did some mild hiking on the Trail without my pack and felt much better about my situation.  Plus, it was nice to see some familiar faces, as many other hikers where there.

Before I left on this journey, I knew it could change.  You can say you’re going to thru-hike all you want, but there is no way to know what will be thrown your way on such a momentous trek.  And I knew this.  But, it still didn’t make it any easier to realize that in all likelihood, I will not make it to Katahdin, Maine (the end of the Trail) straight from Springer Mountain, Georgia (the beginning) before they close Baxter State Park (where Katahdin is located) sometime in mid-October, when the weather gets too bad for hikers.  I took too much time off with the trip home, visiting with Neal in Hot Springs and Erwin, and going to Trail Days.  None of these things I regret.  I am so very happy for these experiences I chose and had a blast doing them.  Wouldn’t change it for the world!  But that, coupled my time off for this injury, and my average of 15 miles a day and my upcoming zero days will most likely keep me from summiting on time without some finagling.  I can do 20-mile days, but they don’t make me happy.  I like to take my time, enjoy the sights, eat a nice lunch and play with bugs and stuff.

There is also the fact that many hikers have either hiked on or have chosen to get off the Trail, leaving me more alone than usual.  Staying motivated is rough when you don’t have folks to share in the experience or light a smile on your face.  I guess it all just hit me at once.

So, I am left with a few new thoughts and many questions.  They have this thing out here called “hike your own hike.”  It means, to do what feels best for you, for your heart and for your soul, as you walk these mountains.  My own personal hike and why I am out here may have changed since the beginning.  I am going to continue northward for the time being, but I have some questions to ponder as I walk:

– How important is it for me to finish this hike this year?
– How would I feel if I left the Trail?
– Why am I hiking the AT; is it still meaningful to me?
– Did I get what I needed from it for now, or is there more?
– What is my end goal?

And so on, and so forth.  My brain will be as busy as the little bees that buzz around my head and pester me as I hike.

This is hard for me.  I KNEW my hike could change, and yet, it is so challenging for me to accept the fact that it could change.

But enough of the heavy stuff, you guys.  I’m a happy person and that’s the way I like to be.  I am excited to carry on to Waynesboro, Virginia, 130 miles up the Trail from where I am now, in Daleville, VA.  There, I plan to meet up with my first college roomie, who lives close by.  I hope my injury can keep up.  I will have to take it easy and be prepared to stop again if needed.  I found a pocket of happy little hikers here in Daleville and will likely have some fun company this evening at the shelter.  Yay, P-E-O-P-L-E!

It’s been a while since I last blogged (again), so I will try to recap my last few weeks through a brief photo picture show.  There are so many more photos.  Maybe one day I can share them all with you and tell their silly stories.

Until next time, I give you some lyrics to think about from a song I heard by Jonathan Byrd, a musician I saw at a quaint country venue in Johnson City, while staying in Erwin, TN.  They are simple questions, but so much more.

Do you dream?  
What do you dream?  
Do your dreams come true?  
What do you do to make it happen?

Take good care!  – Sunshine Gazelle