Dispatch from Waynesboro, VA -- September 9, 2004

Here I am. Rock me like a hurricane.

A strange turn of events, the most central of all being a hurricane, has landed me a few days prematurely in Waynesboro, hiking northbound for the first time on this southbound thru-hike.

Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday of this week started out ominous and crescendo-ed rapidly, literally overnight, to utter stank squall conditions. My first few days out of Harpers Ferry were actually quite favorable. The knee gave me no trouble at all, and it actually appears that movement was just the elixer I needed both for my knee and the brain chemicals that dictate my mood. After first escaping the town on a modest, experimental 12 mile day, I immediately engaged "Hellhound Mode" and cranked out a 28 and a 30 before slowing down a bit again. My buddy Gnome Sherpa caught up with me and came bearing gifts, or one gift for me: A WINDSOCK. Finally my trail name is truth. From my pack now flies a 36" jack-o-lantern windsock with a menacing face to strike fear in the hearts of those who hike behind. Fear but also autumnal good cheer.

After Sherpa caught up, my miles fell to 13, 15, and 11 three days in a row before the whipped remnants of Hurricane Frances began to work Virginia into a froth. The slower days were very welcome in the Shenandoah Mountains. Beautiful terrain, easy trail, tame deer and an abundance of Trail Angels have all made it worth taking my time.

The day before yesterday an Angel named T2 treated Sherpa and me to a hot meal and blackberry shakes at one of the mountainview restaurants. The day before that (Labor Day) we ducked into a pavillion where some Mexicans had a fire going and offered us a deep aluminum tray full of chicken pieces, chorrizo, and homemade corn tortillas.

The weather altered so dramatically from Monday to Tuesday that I called home and placed an emergency, Priority Mail request for some slightly warmer duds. And, though I had planned to tough it out in the mean time, I broke down and bought a hooded sweatshirt emblazoned with the logo of the Nat'l Park. It's very warm, but it occured to me later that $40 also could have gotten me a very respectable hotel room.

Overnight from Tuesday to Wednesday the weather gave us another humbling paroxysm of cold, wind, rain, general drear-factor. Sweetfish, Sherpa, Rally and I decided hiking in this weather was not only unpleasant but counterproductive and potentially dangerous. The constant wet had already taken its toll on my feet by ripping them up pretty badly. We decided to rent a cheap cabin at the next gap in the park but arrived just in time to see some roughing-it suburbanite snap it from under our dripping noses. Our mood sank from low to abysmal. Sweetfish, though, who has the greatest luck of anyone I've yet met, called up a high school friend who happened to live in the area, happened to have nothing going on just then, happened to work at a ski resort that had plenty of free rooms that we could stink up free of charge, even happened to have a DVD player with 4 seasons of The Simpsons and all the Family Guy episodes. Hog heaven.

Long story short (because the library is closing), we were out on the trail again this morning to northbound the trail we'd skipped, but Sweetfish's friend dropped us at a trailhead 20 miles south of where we thought we were, forcing us needlessly to northbound an extra day and end up functionally in the same place. Oh well, good deeds don't go overlooked. Just that now the four of us are in an interesting predicament of having to northbound two more days, hitch back to Waynesboro, take care of hiker town business and hitch around the section we did today in order to continue doing what I do best -- hike south. Have I confused anyone?

I'll have more chances to send less convoluted e-mails in the days to come. Back to the 'Doahs tomorrow.


Me, Bjorn "Windsock"