Friends!

I've finally escaped the vacuum known as Pearisburg.  I was there again on Friday afternoon, when I dropped off the rental car (after saying goodbye to my sweetheart) and wanted to hit the trail.  Please notice my use of the word 'wanted:' as it turns out, wanting to hit the trail and being able to do so are two separate things.  In most of the trail towns there are folks who run shuttles, ferrying hikers around town, to and from the trail, and wherever you want to go, usually for a cost of about $1.50 per mile.  I called all three shuttles listed in my guidebook (The AT Guide), and nobody could take me (two told me that if I waited until tomorrow they'd be happy to take me to the place I got off the trail (15 miles away), but as you can imagine, the idea of spending yet another day in Pearisburg was not terribly appealing).  So, with storm clouds starting to roll in and with antsy feet, I decided to hitch.  Now, in the past, hitching has never been a problem: I stick out my thumb, make sure my skirt is visible, and within about 10 minutes I'm in a truck, headed in the direction I want to go.  Given that Pearisburg was turning into a personal black hole with me rapidly heading towards the event horizon, I couldn't get anyone to stop.  After the cop car drove by slowly for the second time (why, I'm just looking at my phone on the side of the road, officer), I decided to give up and ask for help.  I headed into one of the hiker friendly hotels in town, and within 10 minutes was on a shuttle out of town.  Whew!

I didn't end up starting to hike until about 5 pm, and rolled into a shelter around 7:30, which is rather late for hikers to be out.  (It seems like most people end their hikes around 6 so that they can have a leisurely dinner, relaxed conversation, followed by going to bed early.  In fact, one person was already asleep in his tent when I arrived.)  When I took a look at the shelter log, however, I saw that two very dear friends (Firestarter and Rainbow), had passed through about an hour before.  The folks at the shelter didn't know if my friends were pressing on to the next shelter (6 miles away) or were camping at the road (0.8 miles away).  I decided to press on to the next camp site, and if they weren't there, to catch them in the morning.

It was a solid plan, until I arrived at the roadway and saw the world's most sketchy van parked not too far away.  It was large and white and was full of junk, with a shadowy figure sitting at the wheel.  As I crossed the road I thought I heard a door slam, and that was it for me: decision made, hiking until past dark (with fresh headlamp batteries, for once), camping at a safe location far, far, FAR away from the van.  It took about three miles before I finally felt comfortable looking for a place to camp (at 9:30 pm), when in the distance I saw the beautiful glow of two headlamps.  As I approached I heard voices I recognized, and when they called out "Who's there?" I let out a cry that let them know that it was me. 

Firestarter and Rainbow

In the real world, when you run into friends that you haven't seen in a month or two in the grocery store, you act calm and cool, because, really, it's no big deal.  But out here, because everyone is headed in one direction at just about the same pace, it's amazing when you run into friends unexpectedly.  The next day, after spending the morning talking about how wonderful it was to be hiking together again, we ran into three more friends: Trapper, Mr. Black, and Mr. Mojo Rising.  The following day we picked up two more people.  Having friends to help me work though the tough days (heat, humidity, challenging terrain, and a hostel loaded with fleas) has been maybe some of the best trail magic I've received so far (although the ice cream for second breakfast two days ago comes close).  Huzzah!

Firestarter (in short shorts) and me on Dragon's Tooth