Mile 633.7—Spring [off trail] [15.6 miles]
Tuesday, May 7
Mile 637.0—Pearisburg, VA [3.3 miles + 4 bonus miles!]
Wednesday, May 8
In Pearisburg! I’ve eaten myself absolutely sick. In typical Viginia fashion, there was
nowhere to camp last night, so I kept pushing on to the off-trail spring—down, down, down the ridge. There were about ten of us there, because everything’s a freaking sphincter these days. But that’s OK. I remember it was like this before. I’m working on a new sort of plan, since my Georgia/NC/Tennessee plan isn’t working here.
So. Translations of hikerspeak:
“Where did you start today?”
“Am I doing more miles than you?” [I’m great, you’re not even in my league.]
“Are you cleaning my clock, like everybody else always does?” [I suck, I was born sucking, I’m the worst, slowest hiker who ever ever lived, ever. Are you going to eat that?]
“How far are you going today?”
“I’m better than you.”
“You’re only doing that tiny number of miles?”
“Please, dear god, tell me you’re not taking your snoring, farting, 5-AM-rising ass to the same sphincter I’m heading to.”
or, to be fair,
“You seem nice. Maybe we can chat at dinner.”
But mostly, everybody’s measuring … miles.
Because I got into town ridiculously early, I couldn’t check in. But there’s nothing on this side of Pearisburg. The nearest breakfast spot was 2 miles down the road. So… I went there, lol. If you’re walking 2200 miles, it’s hard to rationalize not schlepping 4 more when you really need the food.
I’ve got the toothpick hiker legs! Saw them in a mirror today! Still no thigh gap, though. 😁
I have a massive packing job to get to, and I don’t wanna! I just want to lie here and check on baby Archie and drink Gatorade. I’m resupplied for 100 miles. That seems very normal to me. Another hiker was appalled, though, at the thought that we have to go all the way to Daleville this leg.
I threw out my flip-flops. It wasn’t even worth shipping them home. saves 5 or 7 ounces. They were just another ‘thing’ to deal with.
I accidentally made a coffee/Carnation shake with untreated water. I asked a couple of nurses if they thought the drops would still work, and their consensus was no. I didn’t drink it. I also chucked the bottle. Water was problematic yesterday.
There comes a time in every thru-hike where every day boils down to “Walked a bunch of miles.” WABOM. In other words, it becomes the job. Get up, pack up, walk a bunch of miles, find a campsite, set up, go to sleep. Lather, rinse, repeat, for four or five months. On the AT, it tends to hqppen in Virginia. The pictures all look the same. Nothing changes. It’s endless repetition, often with rain. A lot of people aren’t expecting it, and they quit. This time, I’m happy it’s here. It’s just so damned simple. WABOM.
Heading back to the jungle at 6 AM or so.