A Post In Which I Confess To Poor Decision Making

On Sunday I hiked 28 miles. The Shenandoah, as it turns out, are gently rolling hills, weaving in and out of Skyline Drive and around many campgrounds.  This is significant for one reason, which has multiple consequences: there are a lot of people here. In many ways this is great- the prevalence of showers and flush toilets makes me very happy. Sadly, wildlife here doesn't seem scared of hikers, probably because they're crammed into a long and narrow area and because at some point someone probably fed them (either accidentally or not). Bearfence Mountain Hut was closed last week because someone left their food in a tent, which was then destroyed by a bear (while hikers were 100 yards away, socializing).  But I digress, so let me start again: on Sunday I hiked 28 miles because I wanted a milkshake.

Lately it's felt like hiking is something I do to spend time when I'm not eating or sleeping.  Thoughts about food occupy a large part of my brain while hiking, whether its thinking about what I will eat for my next meal, fantasizing about my all time favorite meals, coming to the slow but poignant realization that I am the type of person who likes beef jerky, or wondering if I'll have a hankering for trail food when I'm done with the AT (I believe I will, because instant mashed potatoes with beets and cheese is delicious).  So, when Grimey mentioned that there was a wayside only 7 miles away that sold milkshakes,  I was in. Granted,  my guidebook indicated that the wayside closed in 3 hours, at 5:30, so I knew I'd have to fly. And fly I did, until I rounded a corner and saw a great, big, bear. (Actually it was more like this: I rounded a corner and saw a great big stump, which lifted its head and glared at me. To my credit, my first reaction was not "MONSTER," as it has been in the past when I've been startled by animals, but "BEAR!") I approached it, talking, in an attempt to drive it away from the trail so I could continue my pursuit of a milk shake (preferably coffee, I'd decided, although I thought that something fruity might be nice, too). The bear moved away slightly,  but then turned back and stared straight at me. And then, not 40 feet away, two baby bears scrambled up a tree. 

In the interest of full disclosure,  my next reaction was OH SHIT and I backed up, out of sight. I sang the bears a couple verses of a Tom Waits song, thought I heard the trio moving away, and then proceed forward again. As it turned out, Mama Bear hadn't moved, and consequently I treed the babies a second time. Not wanting to stir up any more trouble, I backtracked and hiked along the road for 0.8 miles.

To make a long story short, I hadn't double checked Grimey's math: the wayside was actually 9.5 miles away, along with a 0.5 mile detour off the AT to get there.  By the last 1.5 miles, I was running. When I got to the detour I dropped my pack, grabbed my wallet,  and sprinted down the path. I arrived at 5:34, covered in sweat, out of breath, only to learn that the wayside was open until 7. While waiting for my meal and milkshake to arrive (it was blackberry, by the way) I told Grimey and Ogre about my afternoon.  At the conclusion of my story,  Grimey said, "So let me get this straight: last night we learned that a shelter has been closed because of bears. Today you were delayed by a bear. And after that, you left your pack, full of food, a half mile away in the middle of the woods?"

"Huh," I said, "I guess I REALLY wanted this milkshake."

And then I wolfed down my dinner, downed my milkshake, and sprinted back to my pack, which had not been touched.

Ladies and gentlemen: I am a dumbass when it comes to food these days. But still, it was a delicious milkshake.