Day 61, 20.1 miles to Brown Mountain Creek Shelter
Alex and I once played a game of imaginary bad trail names, and Brown Mountain made the list, so I chuckled when I chose to camp there. I did not use the shelter itself, the table, or the privy. This morning, several sick members of a family of nine hikers arrived at the James Bridge parking area, hoping for a ride to town. The shuttle driver was calling her boss to find out what to do when I left. No one wants sick people in their van or at their hostel, but of course they needed help. I passed this family yesterday, and camped at the shelter they had used the night before. Again, I will pause using privies and shelter tables and maybe—after last night’s snore-storm—I will avoid hostels for a while.
Today I thought all morning about my dark mood, and listened to a book on meditation, producing a bit of a sea change, one I hope that spreads through my trail. I have been so tired lately, felt so sick, been so sick of feeling sick and tired. I haven’t been blogging, because it’s all so negative and writing and reworking the journal had felt crappy. I don’t want to feel like a dumpster fire every hill.
The book was about the quantum idea of oneness, and all the possibilities of your life existing. His suggestion was that our thoughts pull us towards one life or another of all the possibilities. So when we’re thinking about all the bad things that can happen to us, we’re being pulled towards the bad things. And when our mind is full of love and joy and gratitude, we’re pulled towards a life with more of those things. I guess it’s a little fringy, woo woo, but it resonated with me.
Anyhow, that got me thinking about hiking, not just my health. Lately I’ve been busy chasing everybody and focusing on hustling and hurrying and how far behind I am (seven miles, ten miles—not hundreds). I forgot all the good things and why I’m really here. Of course it was also partly that it was raining and I abhor wet feet, and now the sun has come out, yet yesterday was sunny and it was the worst day of trail so far. Definitely that suffering was about my mindset.
So today, I really focused on my breathing, my sense of peace, my gratitude for being here, and just being present. It wasn’t a perfect day, it wasn’t the best day ever, but it was a million times better than yesterday and for that I really am grateful.
Day 62, 17 miles to Porters Gap
I started off the day with the big climb, which is how I like to plan it, doing the hardest thing first so the rest of the day seems great. Tex says, “Eat the frog”, which I think is from Mark Twain. Everything will feel better than eating that frog, making for a great day. It was a really long climb, but it wasn’t that steep and it was gorgeous up there. I had great signal and talked to Alex as she commuted into work and Jeff as he had his coffee; then I dealt with the bank for a long time. By the time I was finished, I had wasted a couple of hours up there, or I guess it wasn’t really a waste, but it sure wasn’t hiking.
I had lunch while this was going on and then when I finally started walking again, my stomach started to hurt and got very grumbly and upset. I pushed on fast to the next water because I was worried about being sick away from water and got to a beautiful spring with lots of camping. I sat there taking a break, worrying that I had Norovirus, and wasting more time; PMA caught me there. After a while, I decided that I should just keep going four miles to the next water and I felt better. I think it was just the breakfast I ate was different and it didn’t agree with me (Lenny and Larry’s Completely Undigestible Cookie). Because I don’t have Norovirus, just anxiety about Norovirus.
I didn’t make all my miles today, but I don’t care because I’m camped in beautiful Porter Gap with a spring that comes out under a huge boulder, and PMA is here. Tex couldn’t find an Airbnb in Waynesboro so I think I will just drop in Thursday and stay in the hotel and get my package. That means I’m not even behind on miles. I’d be doing just fine if I could just stop eating tomorrow’s Fritos tonight.
Day 63, 20.2 miles to a ridge camp
It was another bluebird day with the most wonderful weather. The midday did get a little too hot, but you can’t complain about such a pretty day, especially after days and days of wet feet. Porter Gap was a wonderful place to sleep last night, nestled in the leaves because they’re so soft. And every once in a while, I would hear some little animal walk through those leaves which was kind of funny. I got a good start, but there were a lot of miles to get in before our big climb. I like to have the big climb first thing, but that wasn’t a possibility today after yesterday’s low mileage.
First, there was a short climb up to a mountain called The Priest that had a shelter up there. There had been ominous sounds about the hike on FarOut, but it turns out they were talking about the climb down not the climb up. The trail down was very steep and went on forever, but ended at a beautiful river with a suspension footbridge. I stayed at the river for a long time soaking my feet, eating lunch, and just enjoying the beautiful spot. Then I had a three mile climb up to a another creek, where I soaked my feet, ate another lunch, and enjoyed another beautiful spot. It was getting hot and I really didn’t feel like climbing anymore.
The rest of the climb was steep and hard. There were places where I had to just set aside my trekking poles and use my hands to get up the hillside, and rocky landslides walking across loose rock. It went on and on in the heat and was a struggle. I felt like a marmot running a marathon. If you can’t picture that, it’s because fat marmots lie around in the rocks basking in the sun, they don’t run marathons.
It began to cool down as I climbed up into the wind. I felt really good, healthier, like I had my Mojo back. Hopefully it’s not just a blip because tomorrow I have another 20 miles till town and I have a hotel booked for the next two nights. I’m pretty excited about showers and sheets. While I was hiking today, I listened to a podcast about how to make choices in your life and it had two ideas I liked. One was to think about two possibilities and lean into the one with warmth. And the other one was that the truth always feels like freedom. If it feels like you’re stuck like a cage, then it’s not the truth. The truth feels freeing. That feels very accurate for me, but Jeff thought it was a terrible standard. Perhaps it suits my stage in life.
Then I thought about all the simple things that make thru-hikers happy, things like flat campsites, trails that aren’t mostly rock and roots, and a Snickers bar that didn’t get melted in the heat. It’s having extra charge on your cell phone to listen to an audiobook or call home, or the service to do that. It’s being hungry for lunch right when you get to the river where you can soak your feet, or a rock with the view, or a friend. It’s having breakfast and coffee in your quilt while checking FarOut to see what the day has in store. It’s getting to the little grocery stores in town and finding one of your favorite but unusual foods. Happiness is having blueberry Bolt Chews when you have a steep climb, or a 2nd cup of coffee to get you up that hill. It’s new wildflowers, a cloud of butterflies at the stream, getting through a long muddy patch without getting any on your shoes, or putting on your cleanish sleep clothes and not feeling so sticky.
I also made a mental list of things that I could send home to make my pack a lot lighter by the time I get to the really hard part in New England. I could send home all my luxuries and all my extras and just have a pack like John Z would carry. John Z is a YouTube character and founder of Pa’alante Packs, known for his ultralight carries. I could send home: my fleece, Buff, ball cap, Loksack, camp shoes, poncho, floss, and spare bra. My lighter sleep system is due in the mail Thursday. And my tent is wearing out, getting those pin holes. I could send it home while it still functions and get a one person tent.
I camped alone on the ridge above the shelter and enjoyed a beautiful sunset and sunrise. Bluey, camped on the hillside farther south, got a stunning sunset photo.
Day 64, 19.9 miles to Waynesboro
The problem with getting-to-town day is that it’s hard to think about anything but town. I’m planning my errands, dreaming about food, wondering what stores they’ll have, booking a room, and racing down the trail to get to it all. Today had fairly minor elevation to contend with, but Tex had warned about the ominous “forest of hanging worms.” I brushed that off like it would be no big deal. Instead, it left me entirely skeeved out and a little bit violated.
By hanging worms, he meant the inch worms that hang from silk threads. Those aren’t a big deal, they’re even a tiny bit cute. This forest was under attack though, and mostly stripped of leaves. There was so little foliage, it felt sunnier and brighter, but the trees looked nearly dead. I’m unsure what the inch worm’s plan was, but it appeared to be a Mission Impossible-style escape. The hungry worm in the defoliated tree saw the hapless hiker coming through the forest. It threw out a silk line and hung six feet above the hiker. When she walked by, it dropped into her ponytail and high fived the other inchers as they rode towards food and freedom.
You probably think I’m being dramatic, but the trail was thick with silk and worms, several different species. They definitely were trying to hop a ride, not avoiding us. And even if someone walked ahead, swinging their poles like a windshield wiper, the hiker behind had a new crop drop down instantly. I wore my hat and hood and did my best to knock them down, but I still had to stop and de-worm repeatedly. They dangled from my ball cap, swinging back and forth before my eyes. In the hotel, one washed out of my hair. It was that bad.
PMA beat me to Rockfish Gap and waited, and we tried to figure out the tangle of highways and find a ride down. Suddenly a trail angel appeared and offered us a ride right to our hotel! Heaven! The troop is here, except Klondike, who is on a budget and camping in town. The Quality Inn is deceptively nice inside, with the kindest mattresses and clean bathrooms. Town has tons of good food options, including salad of the non-iceberg type, vegetables, and craft beer. Life is good.
Day 65, zero miles
My package of summer gear did not arrive, despite the tracking saying it was in town. The container it should have been in arrived, but not my box. No one plans to look for it, they just hope tomorrow will be luckier. The postal service is a crap shoot these days. I honestly think the cheapest way to mail stuff is guaranteed overnight. It’s around a hundred a package, but since it never makes it in time, you get that refunded.
I will hang around town until they open tomorrow, and if they haven’t found it, forward the box to Front Royal, a hundred miles ahead.
Day 66, 20 miles to Black Rock Shelter
Unfortunately, I couldn’t get up and go early thanks to the post office and a problem with my banking. I made an appointment with a Wells Fargo banker for 9 o’clock and headed downtown and spent about an hour doing that and finally my package arrived. Now I have my summer quilt and summer pad and I sent home the winter ones, my fleece, and a few odds and ends that I’ve acquired. My pack should feel a little lighter.
PMA had already left so Klondike and I found a trail angel who took us up to the trailhead. There were people doing trail magic right at the trailhead and we got stalled out for almost an hour eating sandwiches and things. When we finally started it was afternoon and we decided to just walk the road. The road was very beautiful. I actually think it’s much prettier than the trail in this section, as the trail was really overgrown. The road was in pristine shape and had beautiful stone walls that you could walk along or sit on and take a break on or lean back and have a nap. You could even sneak behind them to pee, so the road hike was very pleasant. There were few cars, especially when it was raining or early or late in the day.
There was more trail magic after several miles, Atlas’s parents. They set us up with water, which is scarce here, and treats. The best thing was meeting his mother, who also has recurrent ovarian cancer. She is a ten year survivor, which my doctor keeps saying is possible, but feels unreal. She took the Parp Inhibitor I will start in the fall and had great success for two years before she had to stop. The cancer has only advanced a little in the two years since she stopped Parp. Already a four year remission! This used to be unheard of in ovarian cancer. For perspective, two people at home cried with hope when I shared her story.
We didn’t make good time because we were being lazy and silly, chatting and not trying very hard. We took a break at every outlook, but it didn’t matter. We had a good day and when we finally got to Black Rock Shelter, thank goodness PMA was already there because we’d been worried about him. We got in late and everybody else was already in bed, but I think they were awake and it wasn’t a big deal. There was a good spring right there and room in the shelter.
Day 67, 20 miles to Hightop Shelter
The man next to me in the shelter got up at 4:30 to leave, possibly to punish us for arriving so late and waking him. I’m not sure. Maybe he just really wanted to get out at 4:30. I slept until most people started getting up at 6:30. There was trail magic seven miles up the trail that started at 10:00, so there wasn’t a hurry to get there before the magic even started (like true angels, they put a flier on the picnic table at the shelter with times). I was the first person there and they hadn’t quite opened but it was starting to rain hard. They gave me a chair out of the rain while they got all set up to serve chili dogs, but the real star was a salad bar with chopped vegetables and cantaloupe and other fresh stuff.
The Trail Magic reported that Tex and Taxman had been there first thing in the morning (and ate their leftover breakfast), saying that they were trying to do a 30 mile day. I guess that would’ve been a 27 for them yesterday which is even better than they were aiming for. 
After that, PMA and I went down to the little store, hoping to get a cup of hot coffee, but there was just a little bit left that they gave us for free. I’d forgotten that the little store wasn’t the same thing as the wayside up ahead which actually serves things like milkshakes and stuff, so then, of course I had to go down there too and have a blackberry milkshake. It was one of those days. It was cold and rainy while we were at the trail magic, but when the sun came out, it got very hot and steamy. I definitely prefer sunny and hot over cold and raining but a little middle ground might’ve been ideal.
Day 68, 20.2 miles plus bonus miles in the campground
It was supposed to lightly rain from 2:00 until 5:00 am, instead the heavens opened at midnight and unleashed a torrent. I slept deeply, but I woke in the morning to rain in the tent and puddles. I guess that’s my confirmation that I need a new tent. I mopped as best I could, packed everything wet, and hit the trail. The first day in Shenandoah, I walked the quiet road. The second day I switched back and forth from trail to road, and this day I stayed on the trail all morning. 
Honestly, as nicely groomed as it was, it wasn’t very scenic. There were few overlooks and nothing of interest. At one point, I took a photo of a slanted rock because it seemed the tiniest bit interesting. It basically was a trail of Virginia’s invasive plant species, but the trail had one redeeming quality: it led to a wayside store with hot coffee and laundry! I dried my stuff and myself and hung with PMA, Indy 5, and Waterfall.
When we get to a store or restaurant like that, there is a flurry of chores to do as fast as possible. Wash hands and face, plug in phone to charge, throw out trash, buy anything you need, restock toilet paper, hang things in the sun to dry, check texts and email, and hopefully eat real food. It’s distracting though to have people around, including usually someone you haven’t seen in a while. You have to do all these chores discreetly, because no one wants your hiker-trash stuff scattered by the front door. And then it’s hard to remember everything when you leave.
After our break, we all walked the road, even PMA and Waterfall, who are generally purists. The road is just better. We did the last 2.7 miles on trail, but Klondike said the highlight of the day was a meadow on the road before camp, where we were back on trail! You can’t have everything, but we did get showers, pizza, and beer. The plan was to stealth camp, but weather delayed our exit, so we ponied up ten each for a shared camp.
Day 69, 18.8 miles to Pass Mountain Shelter
I had a good sleep, but my new sleeping pad blew two baffles, which sounded like BB shots. Not a good sign. The tent was covered in slugs in the morning. This is not an exaggeration—I picked off at least fifty. Then the Starbucks in the lodge drew me in to waste the cool morning charging and caffeinating, so I didn’t hike until after eight. I did better than the guys, who had breakfast at the lodge and started after ten.
The day was hot, even at eight in the morning. It’s going to take awhile before I understand Eastern heat. Like a fool, I didn’t want to waste more time drying my tent in the morning sun, but then the sun clouded over, and I wished I hadn’t wasted the opportunity. It was heavy with dew and sluggy.
Instead, I wasted more time going to another wayside. This one was fancier and tourists were showing up for lunch. It was a shockingly unhealthy crowd. Whoever designed the building did not anticipate modern Americans; the bathrooms were downstairs, but few were capable of a staircase. There was a long line snaking towards the only handicapped restroom upstairs.
Then I got bogged down at a stunning picnic area; it was one of the best spots in the park, had running water, trash, bathrooms, a stone pavilion, and dozens of picnic tables. One family was set up alone; this wayside had a PR problem. It finally cooled a little and I finished out the day, hot, sweaty, sticky, and starving. The shelter here was full and so is the camping. When I went back to my tent to grab my filter, I startled a bear just below the tent. Good thing we had a bear locker.
Day 70, 19.8 miles to some random stream
I had a terrible sleep on my sleeping pad that now had five blown baffles, some on each end. Plus, my quilt was still too hot. I don’t want to buy a forty or fifty degree quilt when I don’t plan to camp in the East ever again. The humidity, the ticks, the rain—I’m definitely a Western camper from now on. And the heat and bugs have hardly begun. Ask me then!
The ticks have hatched, the tiny pin-head-sized ones that I can barely see. I have found four in the Shenandoah and all but one were latched on. I guess I need to come up with a strategy soon, involving treating my clothes or using repellent. Maybe both. These are (hopefully) like practice ticks, as they are less likely to carry Lyme disease in this area. Mostly, they just add another level of yuck to a trail that can feel pretty disgusting. I am used to airing everything in the sun daily, but the humid forest and damp ground make that difficult. If I rinse my shirt, instead of smelling cleaner, it smells like sweat mixed with mildew.
I have this long-time habit as I hike to tap the old growth trees. I fist bump them or high five or just give a loving pat, and maybe say whatever comes to mind, usually congratulating them on reaching this age or thanking them. The trail has many huge trees, far more giants per mile than Oregon still has, and I rarely see stumps from logging. Do they rot quicker here? Or do they log less? I’m unsure, but it’s my favorite thing about the trail, all these giants, of so many species and different shapes. This section had some giants, but fewer and smaller trees. I don’t know if it’s from the weather or humans. There have been signs telling about the people who homesteaded these hollows until it became a park. The Skyline Road was put in during the thirties.
There was another wayside with WiFi, charging, a bathroom, chairs, and food, but the grill wasn’t open until lunch. I emailed Therm-a-rest about my poofy pad and checked in with home. There were photos of delicious family dinners the previous night, lamb chops with veggie kabobs in Santa Cruz, and Chicken Cordon Bleu in Washington. It made my cold mashed potatoes with a chicken packet seem even sadder. Did they have slightly smashed Snickers bars for dessert though? Did they feel like dessert was not only justified but necessary after walking 18 miles?
I spent another day alternating between the trail and the road. The trail was cooler and had no traffic of course, but the road had only about a car every mile in the morning, a few more in the afternoon. The road had more views, no ticks, and was prettier in my opinion. Other hikers also seemed to alternate between them, although I am sure some stuck purely to the trail. I am walking to Maine and I want the best trip there; if that means road walking, then that’s what I will do. Don’t judge me unless you have skin in this game, which essentially means: unless you are hiking the trail, over sixty, and hurrying to finish so you can start your next cancer treatment, keep your judgement to yourself. If you are in my boat, my condolences, and judge all you want if it boosts your day.
While we ate dinner, John Kelly ran by on his quest to set the Fastest Known Time on the trail. He looked pretty exhausted, especially since the pacers looked fresh. I believe he is doing about 56 miles per day. Of course it was fun to see him jog by and wish him success, but I am a huge Tara Dower fan, so it’s going to be sad if he beats her record.
Day 71, 7 miles into Front Royal, 5 miles back out to the Jim and Molly Denton Shelter (Palace)
It was an easy hike down to the highway and our trail angel from Wayneboro swung right up and brought us into town. I got my new tent from the post office and walked into the lovely Front Royal downtown to the outfitter/bakery/brewery complex that had a hidden thru-hiker spa. It had laundry, shower, lockers, outlets, loaner clothes (we only have one outfit, so we need something to wear while it washes), and a hiker box.
The hiker boxes are to leave extra food and gear and shop for what you need. Typically, I look for new Ziplocs, electrolytes, or something specific like a tent stake or hair tie. Today I really didn’t need anything but sandals, because mine started cracking recently. A prize like sandals would be rare, but hiker boxes are known for having exactly what you need, and today’s box had very light Zero sandals, practically new, in my size. Score! I left the old pair behind, because someone will repair them and be excited just like I was, and walked around town in my free kicks.
I had lunch at the brewery with PMA and later a milkshake together. He stayed overnight in town, while Klondike and I headed up to the first shelter, one of the fanciest on trail, with a big deck, Adirondack chairs, a horseshoe pit, and bunks. The lawn is neatly mowed and it’s like a lovely park. The climb up was very hot and tomorrow is expected to hit 90. Summer is finally going to come after us.
Day 72, 18.4 miles to Rod Hollow Shelter
We are back in the giant trees again, and while I don’t really know when or why they stopped, I love that they’re back. We also had a spring with big, tame frogs. I rested on a perfect sitting spot above the spring, a large, flat rock with the cutest black bugs with white spots. They were tiny but striking, and unlike any bug I’ve seen, so I looked them up on the app Seek. My cute bug was a nymph of a Spotted Lantern Fly, an invasive species in Eastern forests. I realized they were all over the area, hopping around, too fast to catch.
My other bug problem has been ticks. I have now had nine embedded ticks, all tiny pinhead-sized nymphs capable of infecting me with Lyme disease. I check regularly at every break, so they were unlikely to have bitten me for over two hours, but clearly I needed a repellent.
Someone asked recently why I hike, and I wasn’t able to answer properly. I guess I don’t always have my life thought out that clearly. When I pondered the appeal of thru-hiking, I realized a big part was the density of the experience. Every moment you are in a new spot, every night a different camp, every week an unfamiliar town. The people and experiences change every day. At home, each day becomes a blur of the same, and that can be true of walking too, but most days are packed with variety and novelty. This afternoon was apparently not so memorable.
“Hot, camping with section hikers.” That’s all I wrote about this afternoon, which didn’t trigger any memories, as most days are hot and include section hikers. What I did remember is setting up my new tent, an amateur pitch for sure. And one section hiker was quitting, heading back south after trying the Roller Coaster in this heat. It must have been demoralizing, but honestly it was just an unfortunate choice of sections. The Roller Coaster on a hot day was hard for everyone.
Day 73, 21 miles to the David Lesser Shelter
I slept well in my tent off away from the shelter and let myself wake naturally at 6:00. I hustled out to start the Roller Coaster, a notoriously difficult fourteen mile section at the very end of Virginia. The first four climbs were as expected, straight up and down, but nothing we weren’t used to. Partially, we complain about the Roller Coaster because it serves no purpose. There is no need to climb any of these hills—there are no views up there—and straight forward ways to go around these hills that don’t involve any peaks at all. This trail was not designed to get anywhere, wasn’t an ancient trade route or pioneer road, but specifically to challenge (or torment). It felt like the designer was saying, “You all say Virginia has no hills? I’ll give you hills!”
Then it got extremely hot and humid. Climbing hill five and especially hill six was a struggle, but seven was a baby hill. Klondike had joined me somewhere around there, and we both just about expired going over hill eight. At the far side was a sweet couple doing trail magic who revived us with Gatorade and Nutter Butters. When we needed more cooling, they dropped us at the restaurant down the hill, where we sat in air conditioning and ate sandwiches.
Finally we got going again, finished the Roller Coaster, and picked up water for the night before the last climb out. The only water ahead is far off trail. We planned to camp at the top, but we decided to push on and do a full twenty-one miles to the shelter, even though it was late. Then the rain that might have helped earlier in the heat came down in full force, absolutely flooding the trail. It was creek-wading for a few miles until the rain tapered and the water drained away. Two turtles and a fat toad were left behind by the flood, making walking by headlamp even harder. We finally got to the shelter around ten, too late to barge in, and camped in the rain down the hill.
Day 74, 8.9 miles to Harper’s Ferry!
When I passed the shelter, Taxman was there with his visiting mom, packing up. It was great to see him and meet Christy. As if that wasn’t a good start, the first road crossing had trail magic, and they served eggs and sausages, not the usual pancakes that leave me exhausted and starving a few miles later. The magic came from a Baptist church in Eastern Virginia that has done trail magic for many years. The last miles into Harper’s Ferry were rocky and a little challenging; one friend fell on the wet waterfall.
I headed straight to the hostel to clean up, and found a bored Tex watching golf and drinking tequila seltzers. The hostel was wonderful, exactly how hostels should be—spacious, clean, and with lots of kitchens, bathrooms, and laundries. The shower was heaven. Ma Taxman let me tag along to Walmart and the outfitter for my resupply and new sleeping pad. Back at the hostel, they made the Crocker family drink, rum and tonics, and I thoroughly enjoyed having another woman there to hang out with (the guys were still watching golf). Dinner at the Rabbit Hole was absolutely delicious, with real salad greens dressed in blackberries, avocado ranch, and candied walnuts.
It was great to have the gang almost all together. Not Bluey, of course, but maybe that is not important to him, although he is missed, and TicTac and Paca are far behind from illness and being off trail. People stayed up, drinking rum and playing cards, but I was tired and nodded off early. I had a real bed and needed some time in it, getting a fabulous night’s sleep.
Day 75, 18 miles to Dahlgren Backpacking Campground, Maryland
I slept in and took my time this morning so I could say goodbye to everyone, especially Christy. I will miss having her here. I walked downtown into the historic district 
and across the Potomac River on a bridge. The trail was between the river and the old C&O canal for a few miles before climbing up the hill and on into Maryland. The first sections of trail were wide as a car lane, with no overhanging vegetation, through a beautiful open forest, very different from the jungle of Virginia. 
I spent the middle of the day in the thrall of outrage. Outrage is incredibly addictive and unhealthy; I try to keep it out of my life, but like so many unhealthy things, it has a way of showing up. Mine originated at the Gathland State Park, a monument to the War Correspondents of the Civil War erected by a former Union correspondent. 
I don’t know what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t one sign board at the park, which referred to dead Confederate soldiers “with gratitude and affection.” What? I read it a second time, thinking I was confused. Why was the state of Maryland grateful? Between 650,000 and 750,000 soldiers and at least 50,000 civilians died in the Civil War, including many drafted Union soldiers. I’m sure many Confederate soldiers had little choice to fight or not, but I felt pity for their plight, not gratitude or affection. And for the Confederate Army as a whole, I felt nothing but disgust and rage. All those deaths so you could continue a lifestyle predicated on enslavement? All that hatred and racism and Maryland Parks expressed affection? Blame the sign on the Athens Georgia Historical Society in 1992. Perhaps it is time for it to come down.
Then I transferred my outrage to the Appalachian Trail Conservancy. Their headquarters is less than twenty miles away, so surely they know what these signs say. How do they imagine black thru-hikers feel when they visit this part of the trail? How could anyone think it was appropriate to direct the trail by this placard? I felt as if I had come upon a World Trade Center memorial and discovered it glorified the terrorists. Harper’s Ferry had included many welcoming flags and rainbows, including a flag that said, “We the people means ALL the people.” The ATC needs to join the inclusive side of America’s divide. For perspective, there were three teenage black hikers at camp that night.
My day ended at the Dahlgren backpacking campground, which dissipated my outrage. Such luxury! I took a hot shower, threw out my trash, and charged my phone. At least six thru-hikers were there, along with a youth group, but there was tons of room. The next camp was an old four person shelter in six miles. No thanks.
Day 76, 18.8 miles to Raven Rock Shelter 
For breakfast lately I have been having Dave’s seedy bagels with Laughing Cow cheese and pre-cooked bacon. I’m usually the first one up, and let me say, I think the incentive of bacon has something to do with that. I would not get up at 5:30 for oatmeal either. There are resupply options everywhere in this section so I can carry heavier or bulkier foods like bagels. I also brought two huge bell peppers, which might be pushing the limits a little, but are delicious at lunch with cheese and crackers.
It rained all last night until about 8:00 am. I got packed up and fed, waiting on the porch till it tapered a little before pushing off in my poncho. In just a few miles I reached an old monument to Washington, built in 1827 and redone a couple of times. How quickly the area went from honoring the birth of our Union to dissolving it!
The trail crossed many roads today, including on a pedestrian bridge over a six-lane highway. There were lots of casual backpackers and day hikers on a beautifully groomed trail; it was also rocky as hell and we aren’t even in Pennsylvania yet. The trail led up to several cliffs with views, but the low clouds hung around all day, not that I have much interest in looking down on urban Maryland. Someone saw a bear and I saw a tree fall, which may have been from one. Otherwise, it was a green-tunnel kind of day. Less birds sang than Virginia, but no ticks bit me either.
The day ended at a very cool newer shelter, but I chose to camp because the occupants looked like snorers. It was the right choice for the wrong reason; campers kept showing up late and using the covered picnic table until almost midnight. My tent was still soaked from last night, but not too bad inside. 
Day 77, 23 miles to Caledonia State Park
The woods had an electric-sounding buzz today, sort of like the buzz in my ears when my blood pressure is high, that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Cicadas perhaps? There was mud, green tunnel, and buzz all the way to a park, where I stopped for lunch and water. After lunch was a hot climb. I could feel that blood pressure rise, and forced myself to take breaks. It took forever to summit a little hill.
Most hikers dropped into town today, while I pushed on to Fayetteville tomorrow, as I had Jeff send meds there. This means PMA is unlikely to hike twenty miles today, and Klondike is with his grandparents. Tex and Taxman are half a day ahead, so the only hikers I know in the area are Ambassador and Second Breakfast. I was headed up to the Rocky Mountain Shelter a few miles short of Fayetteville, listening to the White Album. Just as “Helter Skelter” ended, a sketchy-looking dude in non-hiker clothing came around the corner and mumbled something odd with a leering grin. Well that was an unsettling combination!
I thought Second Breakfast would be at the shelter, but he was leaving as I got there. The man creeped him out as well and he had arranged for friends to pick him up at the base of the hill. Very kindly, he asked for me to be included. The extra three miles downhill sped by with good company and his friends turned out to be Wingnut and Frickles, who I knew from the Woods Hole region. They generously shared their camp with showers! They had a campfire and planned S’mores, but rain chased us all into bed.
