My featured image is taken from a video the Goofs took on McAffee Knob.
I stopped keeping track of weeks since I am living outside of the calendar and rarely know what day it is. The mileage calculator on The Trek can’t be done on their phone software, and I don’t care enough to find a computer. This section went from mile 612 to 787.
Day 48, my daughter Savannah’s birthday, 18 miles to Dismal Falls
It was a wonderful day of perfect weather and gentle trail, but wow, I’m really starting to understand the “green tunnel” aspect of this trail. We had so few views today, that the power line easement was suggested as a possible photo opportunity. There was one small meadow and a few big rocks, otherwise it was mostly trails and trees and an endless green tunnel.
I usually hike alone, and while sometimes I listen to podcasts or music, in the morning I listen to birdsong and my thoughts. This afternoon, I listened to a podcast (We Can Do Hard Things) on older women, their invisibility, and the peace they find as they are no longer a commodity for men. Can I get a Hell Yeah! It talked about how estrogen—the people pleasing hormone—wanes and we don’t give a fuck anymore. They suggested men trade in for younger versions not just for perky boobs, but someone who has a level of empathy the estrogen-depleted lack. It’s not so much that we don’t care, it’s more that we no longer place ourselves last in our priorities, and maybe occasionally put ourselves first, which is a huge surprise to everyone. It sure shook things up at our house. So I raise a bottle of cold spring water to toast the joy of invisibility, the freedom of being an older woman.
Day 49, 13 Miles to Woods Hole Hostel
Today started off wrong from the beginning. Something just didn’t feel right, although it was a beautiful morning. My legs were tired again and my head felt funny, sort of buzzy and full of pressure. I struggled to keep up my pace and took lots of breaks. I called home and Jeff recommended I ring the oncology clinic and ask again about my blood pressure. Despite my slow pace, I had made good miles due to my early start. When the Physician’s Assistant suggested I leave trail as soon as possible, I was about two miles before Woods Hole, one of the most beloved hostels on the AT. I called to book a bunk and arranged a shuttle to the ER. I had planned to do another nine miles.
Woods Hole was absolutely lovely, a couple of classic log cabins from the 1860’s and 1890’s, beautifully restored, with animals and gardens. The stone walls and landscape were stunning. I squeezed in a quick shower before my ride, so I wouldn’t disgust the ER staff any more than necessary. It was a great hospital, very quick to get me in and monitored. My blood pressure was 204/115, which sounded impossibly high. Despite knowing exactly why I had high blood pressure (a drug I took all winter combined with thru-hiking), they did EKGs, chest X-rays, and bloodwork, while I was hooked to cables, cords, clamps, an IV, and beepy monitors.
The problem, other than my high blood pressure, was the physician’s assistant’s unwillingness to treat it. He wouldn’t prescribe any meds, and wanted me to see a local doctor who had an opening in a few weeks. He also admitted the local doctor might not prescribe meds either, since I wouldn’t be around to monitor how they were working. In other words, he had no solution.
I called my oncology clinic and requested help. They were horrified that such high blood pressure was going to be untreated. The local hospital scheduler called to say she couldn’t find any appointments up the trail, but I could hear the PA in the hall assuring my oncologist’s nurse that they could take care of it here! So I ripped off the wires and cuff and marched out there to let them know it was not getting fixed.
Just as I felt like my head might explode, both from blood pressure and frustration, my oncologist’s nurse convinced the PA to prescribe a month of medication. The PA was very angry at me for making that happen, as he had clearly locked onto an illogical construct of how this would play out, that it would not be fixed while lying to the Oregon team that it would be fixed. It was shocking to watch him cling to this crazy non-plan that served no one. I missed the prayer doctors more than ever.
After hours of non-treatment and hunger (plus cold, thirst, boredom, lack of privacy, and a head ache from untreated HIGH BLOOD PRESSURE), I walked down the hill to Walmart to pickup up food and my prescription. A shuttle driver brought me back to Woods Hole, where a plate of salad, cheese, and homemade bread waited. I had a good sleep in the bunkhouse—no snoring!—and a chance to begin fresh. Thank goodness for Patty, the nurse at the cancer center, for saving me. Nurses are the best.
Day 50, zero miles, endless restlessness
Too late, I realized that slackpacking the next 16 miles would have been the sensible plan today. Slackpacking is when a shuttle drops you off or picks you up and you hike without your pack, usually in the direction most downhill. I didn’t think of that in time; instead I chose to take the day off and rest, making me even farther behind. I did my laundry, showered, and tried to enjoy this beautiful spot, but my heart has moved on down the trail and I am not happy to be here or savoring it like everyone keeps suggesting. All I can think about is how much easier the next 86 miles would have been if I had just hustled out and hiked 16 today.
Day 51, 17.2 miles
You would think I’d feel wonderful after four meals of salad and whole foods at Woods Hole hostel. I had freshly harvested greens and homemade bread with such delicious meals. I felt fairly good when I got started, and had a reasonable day hiking down to Pearisburg, but once I started climbing up away from the industrial zone, I felt truly horrible. The landfill and chemical plant stank and the highway noise felt intrusive. I know my blood pressure was high, but it felt like so much more. I was nauseous, my neck hurt, my shoulders ached, and I was truly exhausted. I was hoping to make it to Rice Field shelter, and camp if there were people, or continue on if there weren’t. But I stopped about a mile and a half short at the first water. I had absolutely no choice.
After I got my tent set up, I climbed into bed and got to work feeling really sorry for myself. I’m not huge on controlling other people, but I’m pushy with myself, and this blood pressure is so out of my control. I managed a little damage control, trying to figure out the best way to feel better tomorrow, calming down, drinking lots of water, and eating a few Fritos, because that’s all I could stomach. I could still hear the trains clearly and the rumble of the highway faintly; I will be happy to have that unpleasant section in the past.
Day 52, 18 miles to Bailey Gap Shelter
It rained a fair amount, but the wind dried my tent. I got started at 6:30, but somehow I missed seeing the sun rising. I climbed up to Rice Field, which had a lovely view and walked along the ridge all morning. The perfect rock seat and three bars of service presented themselves at 10:30 for my call home. Jeff had gotten a little rattled that my phone said I was in Pearisburg again last night, but he realized it was a glitch because the location was odd and not the hospital. This is what is expected of me now: late night rescues. I’m a medical train wreck. I’m not sure how that happened.
The hike wasn’t especially exciting, but I felt better as the day went on, not my usual slow decline. It dipped down to a lovely river and then had a short but shockingly steep climb that finally brought the blood pressure up, but it was manageable. I got to the shelter around 5:30, which is too early when I’m alone, but I decided to quit while I was feeling good. I couldn’t decide if I should risk Norovirus and sleep in the shelter, or tent camp and get rained on, but the clouds cleared after I set up inside, so hopefully I don’t regret this decision. Another rental house, another virus freakout, right? Tex rented a house in Roanoke for Sunday and Monday nights. I can’t catch them by then, but maybe I can get a shuttle over for Monday or get off at a different place. I’m one day behind; they stayed here last night. It’s a little far for Bluey to get here tonight from Pearisburg, but hopefully he will catch me tomorrow.
Day 53, 18 miles to Keffer Oak
I had a really hard time getting out of camp this morning and didn’t actually leave the shelter till after eight. It was another green tunnel day, without a flowers or interesting things to look at. The weather was perfect though, cool and kind of crisp feeling. So nice to not have heat right now when I’m not feeling great.
Actually, I felt pretty good most of the day, it’s really just the climbing that’s still hard for me. I could feel my blood pressure go up when I climb. But I did my best to just ignore it for most of the day and not overdo it. There was one big climb, and I told myself I needed to rest twice on it, once at the water and once at the road. When I got to the road, there was a chair waiting for me with Trail Magic in the most unexpected place. A man from West Virginia and his dog were passing out snacks and cold drinks and supplies.
The rest of the day was in a sort of rural area with a lot of houses and barking dogs and cows. I can still hear some of the barking dogs, but fortunately the kennels aren’t close enough to be bothersome because they were really loud. I’m a little closer to the road than comfortable but I didn’t have many choices. I camped at Keffer Oak, which is the largest oak tree on the southern AT and it’s huge. It’s so big that Jeff could see it on the satellite view when he looked at where I was, this one giant tree standing out among the forest.
Day 54, 10.3 miles to VA 621 Trail Magic
There were two dogs just out of my camp this morning, hunting a rabbit or some other unfortunate creature in a thicket. They totally ignored me. I wonder if a hiker had a dog if there would have been an issue. Loose and stray dogs always feel dangerous when I am alone.
Most of today was a ridge walk, sloped slabs of rock or loose rubble. It was scenic but slow going, with long stretches gripping angled rock. At one point we passed the Bruisers Knob cairns, a mysterious set or man-made rock formations. Some sites claim they were made by farmers clearing land (on a ridge top?) and others that they were native burial sites. To me, they looked a little like defensive fortifications, although some weren’t at the edge with a view. Perhaps they were just a quirky personal project, sort of an ancient Eagle Scout badge.
I had known trail magic was ahead for days, so that was all I could think about today. Thankfully, they had given a stop time so I wasn’t anxious about missing it, just impatient. When I came down the hill, Sunny D played a celebratory trumpet song, accompanied by a trombone, and a big tramily paused their role-playing game to cheer. Some of the magic was from regulars at that site; more was from a group of 2022 thru-hikers who meet partially to celebrate the lives of two tramily members who have died, one on the trail after a fall from McAffee’s knob, and the other unexpectedly a year later.
Some of this trail family did the PCT last year and I spent a zero with them, in a canyon sheltering from a bad storm. They remembered my leaky old tent and I remembered that they were on their second thru-hike together. I enjoy that about the trail community, how it overlaps with the other trails. I settled in at the tent with a cold drink and a burger, watching the game for a while, and chatting with the others about their hike. Bluey arrived a couple hours later, surprised by the slow-going on the ridge slabs, and a couple of parents from Trail Magic dropped us at our Airbnb in Roanoke.
The troop had just checked into the house, very conveniently located in a brewery district where we picked up tacos and supplies for the night (i.e. beer). I fell asleep very early, napping on PMA’s bed while they watched sports. Eventually we shifted around and I took the living room couch when the game ended. This troop needs another woman I could share a bed with. I miss Babytalk.
Laundry! Shower! Faucet! Couch! Outlets! Ice! Oh the little things in life I take for granted until I have to live without them. Electricity! A door that locks! Chairs! Soap! Floors! There are so many things to appreciate in a weekend rental; imagine how home will feel.
Day 55, zero miles
We had a great day of not walking, that included a long walk around the downtown, lol. We all went to the outfitters and then spread out to music stores (not me) and a food cooperative (me!) before ending up back at the house. We used the power of delivery services to get resupply food and pizza and watched the wonderful movie “The Way,” about hiking the Camino in Spain.
Everyone has been asking about who I’m hiking with and I have been reluctant to discuss them, for privacy reasons, and mostly for jinx reasons. I fell behind them when I was at the ER, and while I always hike alone, it was sad to not be passed by them at some point every day. I usually leave early, and since they hike faster, the pass me sometime in the afternoon. Mostly, it was boring to get to camp alone, especially the night without cell service, and just stew in my thoughts more.
Some trail families just instantly click and hike together; others are a blend of various factors. This group is a hodgepodge put together by Tex, a gregarious Southerner who wants good company. I was initially included because of my beautiful and charming daughter, but I stuck with them after she left. Tex rounded up Taxman, 28, an chill but acerbic wit from Colorado via Maine who funded this substitute teaching PE; Klondike, 18, who has all the wonder of a teen just away from home, without any teen bullshit, and surprises everyone with his daily antics; PMA, 38, has a heart of gold, fearless agility, and an accent that gives away his a Long Island origin; Bluey, 40, a dreamy musician and engineer, who disappears occasionally for alone time and is missed. Tex, 46, the heart of the operation, is a former private equity man, stepping away from golf and finance to go a little feral, push some boundaries, and spin up a magical trip. I initially ran away from them and the Norovirus House of Contagion, but was thrilled when they caught up at the end of the Roan Highlands. They push me to do more miles (and draw me into days off), but mostly I like their energy and fun. We could use another woman so I could share a bed and be less of a fifth wheel, but Babytalk didn’t want to go back for Trail Days and left us in her dust.
Day 56, 15 miles to the Four Pines
Bluey and I were still 15 miles behind everyone else. We caught a shuttle back at seven am and started with a river crossing. There was a log to cross, but not a simple one, and since I currently wobble and wander walking across a flat floor, I walked right in. Wet feet to start the day! Bluey has Gore-Tex shoes that stayed dry all day, rain pants that didn’t, a good jacket, and a new umbrella he fixed in place with some Velcro. We had a climb to start and rain settled in heavily from the beginning. There were benches to enjoy the view (pure white clouds), but it was a basic, soggy green tunnel. At lunch time there was a shelter ⅓ mile off trail. I considered going, but I thought I would be too cold, and didn’t want the extra distance. It’s hard to pull a water bottle out of a poncho and I’m not thirsty when it’s cold, so I hardly ate or drank all day. Briefly the rain stopped and I got out food and added a fleece layer, snacking until it rained again. At the very top was a side trail to Dragon’s Tooth, a rock monolith that PMA and Klondike had scaled, surrounded by an epic view. The monolith looked romantic in the mist, but today was a different experience than their sunny view. Bluey caught up at the tooth (he had lunch at the shelter) and we hiked down the steep slabs, which take some thought and faith to navigate. Four Pines Hostel was an easy walk away and an obvious choice for cold hikers with tired knees.
Four Pines is a big garage hostel with bunks and couches and a casual vibe. They fed us an amazing dinner of pulled pork, beans, coleslaw, salad, macaroni salad, and melon. The wood stove heated us up and music was played. A giant kitty worked the room. Lots of people we haven’t seen lately are here: Tofu, who we shared a hotel room with in Hiawassee, Neutral (Scout, her dog, is on a hiatus), Coyote, James the Herptologist, and Rabbit, who is solidly hostel hopping. I know we should have gone another seven miles, but my knees hurt for the first time this trip and we were so soggy. The rain stops at noon tomorrow; we will try to catch them then.
The others are seven miles ahead at a shelter at the base of McAffee Knob, which we’d like to see together, and hopefully get some good photos. I’m frankly nervous after meeting the trail family who lost their friend over the edge. I’m not a big fan of slippery rock overhangs in the best of circumstances.
Jeff’s birthday, Day 57, 16 miles to Lambert Shelter
Another important birthday I missed! I was able to call home twice before he left for the Oregon coast to stay with a friend.
It was a pretty morning, with light, warm rain. The trail climbed all morning towards McAffee Knob, and it was hard to think about anything else. I was hoping for sunshine, rushing to meet the troop, and worrying about the ledge. I’m leery of heights, and overhangs give me the willies. The knob was ten miles away, so I stopped briefly at a shelter for a break. The rain had been getting worse. And then I hustled on up.
The guys had moved on, I arrived so late, but another hiker got my anxious, not-by-the-edge photo. Then Zen and Fraggle showed up and took photos of her perched on the edge, waving her arms and leaning. It was a beautiful shot, but my palms were sweating. A lot of people were up there, so I didn’t wait for Bluey and pushed on. There were ledges and lots of other photo opps, but nothing to see but clouds.
Bluey caught me before Tinker Cliffs and we walked down to Lambert shelter together. We would have liked to go farther, but camping is restricted here. Lambert was the last allowed until after Daleville. In the morning, we will walk the nine miles into Daleville, where one shopping center has a highly-recommended BBQ spot, a Kroger, and an outfitter. Hiker paradise.
My stupid thought before bed: Is that bird iconic or ironic. It literally only says tweet.
Day 58, 20.2 miles to Wilson Creek Shelter
I got out of the shelter almost without waking anyone but Rabbit (the one who most wanted to sleep in) and then I unzipped a pocket and all four women shot up awake. Oops. In my defense, they had said it would be good if I woke them, so they got an early start. There were still nine miles to town, and I was rushing, but it’s hard for me to do that without breaks. Finally though, I got to town and went to the outfitter for food and the pharmacy, to have my blood pressure checked. 130/75! Very big relief to be in a more normal range.
Then I had lunch at the Three Pigs with Bluey, and Zen and Fraggle’s tramily arrived and it was very thru-hikery outside; lots of charging phones and drying shoes. The waitresses were good sports. Daleville was a bustling suburb, not the sleepy town I expected.
After lunch, I had another 11 miles to Wilson Creek Shelter, with rain and wet feet (which ache more than dry feet). I stopped after 5 miles for water at a shelter, and sweet Amanda was there with one of the oddballs that’s been making everyone uncomfortable. But a very large, very friendly man arrived as well, so I think it was ok.
I pushed on and on and finally arrived at dark. They invited me into the shelter, but I set up my tent, because there were drinkers at the picnic table, but they ended up in tents close to mine. Fail!
At 11:00 at night I was starving, despite having a delicious Cobb salad at Three Piggies BBQ with smoked chicken and double avocado, followed by banana pudding. And then a big dinner. One drunk section hiker slept on the noisiest pad, which must be made entirely of bubble wrap and Fritos. Someone shown a light in my tent several times and said, “Is this my tent?” Another kept waking me up to shout, “Hey Jim, is today Thursday?” Or “Jim, it’s too hot!” So I ate peanut butter in my tent, in hopes both of calories and a full belly, and possibly a bear could eat Jim’s buddy or put me out of my misery. In the morning, I shouted, “Hey Jim’s Buddy, it’s Friday, six am!” as I left.
Day 59, 20.8 miles to Bryant Ridge Shelter
I woke tired and I felt tired all day. Thank you, headlamp man and loud talker. First there were sunbeams through the mist and then it became a bluebird morning. The trail climbed up and down next to the road, but like most everyone, I just walked the pavement. The road had many more views and an easy pace, plus does it count as a road if there are no cars? The road is closed partway, so I only saw three cars all morning, and one was doing trail magic and another offered me a ride (I didn’t stoop that far!). There was an enormous dung beetle rolling his poop ball on the road, so big that the third car stopped to point him out.
The trail magic was Johnny Shofar, who blew his biblical horn for us and gave a prayer. He also gave me hot coffee, blueberry pancakes, and a chair to sit in! He started doing trail magic by accident; he was cooking breakfast near the trail and hikers mistook it for magic. He fed them and enjoyed it so much that he does it regularly now. He was set up with shade and a view and it felt like heaven.
I timed the day all wrong, because it started to rain when the road ended and I climbed Cove Mountain in a downpour and got to a shelter as it stopped. Then I checked the weather at the base of Fork Mountain: thunderstorms and heavy rain starting in five minutes, with a tornado warning. So I went over another mountain in the howling wind and dumping rain. Boo. When I got to the shelter, the sun peeked out again to say, “You all done? Can I stop this rain nonsense?”
Day 60, too many miles, to Stanimals Hostel
Some days are pure shit. Why not today? The other hikers had an alarm go off early, let it ring a long time, but never got up. Awoken, I got packed in the dark and left my favorite pair of socks at the shelter. That was the good part of today. Everything else, all the darkness, was just in my head. I don’t want to relive this day, analyze it, blog it, discuss it, or anything else; I’m just going to leave it in the past. But I will say, this is when things started getting better.
