I get up really early and pack up quickly. A middle-aged man is next to the shelter heating water on his camp stove and we exchange quiet a "good morning" as I walk past the shelter on my way to the trail. He must have arrived after I went to bed last night. I stop at the bear box and collect my food bag, stuffing it into the top of my pack before trudging up the blue-blazed trail back to the A.T..
My first stop today is Blackrock Mountain. There are no black rocks in sight, but the huge rocks at the top are an impressive sight, nonetheless. There is not a lick of dirt up here except the trail. The rocks are covered in old rock lichens, turned black from age. The views are spectacular in the early morning light. I can see why the Six Pack wanted to camp up here last night.
I am super excited to hike to the Loft Mountain Camp Store, 8 miles away, which just opened yesterday for the season. I cross Skyline Drive umpteen times and I am enjoying a snack while sitting on the stone retaining wall on the edge of the road when I hear voices coming up from behind me. I see the gentleman from the shelter and a tall, skinny woman walking toward me like their feet are on fire.
As they approach me, a red pickup truck drives up and asks if we would like some bottled water. The driver opens the lift gate to the truck and pulls out a bag of snickers candy bars and a case of Power Ade. We exclaim in delight and grab a drink and a snickers, guzzling and gobbling so we can give the trash back to the gentleman. His wife explains that she is slack packing through the park and her husband is picking her up at road crossings so they can camp together each night. He is getting ready to drop her off for the day when they saw us. The three of us give our profuse thanks and walk up the trail together.
His name is Nephew and hers is Bubble Wrap. They met on the trail and became hiking partners. He explains he received his name for being the nephew of the famous Grandma Gatewood. Grandma Gatewood is a trail legend, being the first woman to solo thru-hike the trail in 1955 at the age of 67. She hiked in Keds shoes, carried an army tote bag, and slept under a shower curtain. And when she finished, she turned around and repeated the feat twice more. Everyone who loves the trail has read her story, and it just so happens that Nephew literally wrote the book about her life and journey. He is leaving for Trail Days next week so he can give some talks and promote his book.
The tall young lady hiking with him is named Bubble Wrap. She is from New Zealand and is hiking at least 20 miles per day so she can finish the trail before her visa expires. She has planning on Triple Crowning by hiking the big three North American Trails: the Appalachian Trail, Continental Divide Trail, and the Pacific Crest Trail.
We talk while we are hiking, but their long strides and quick pace are too much for me, so I beg off and tell them I hope to see them at the camp store. They are planning on doing laundry. I should probably also do laundry and shower, but I just want to stop and get some fresh food and recharge my electronics.
I get to the camp store and gladly take off my pack, my first order of business is to recharge my battery packs and cell phone since I have no idea when I will next get to town. I relax in the breezeway between the store store on one side and the bathrooms and laundry on the other. Bubble Wrap and I sit and talk while Nephew is doing their laundry. He is wearing his Frogg Toggs rain gear while he washes all his other clothes. This is common practice among hikers, wearing rain pants or a rain skirt and rain coat. We don't carry extra clothes over a long distance! I think I should wash my clothes; I most certainly smell. But I don't feel like changing into my rain clothes, so I just enjoy Bubble Wrap's company.
I love talking to her. We talk food and nutrition on the trail (while I chow down on an entire bag of Bugles chips from the camp store). She tells me about her experiences on the PCT and we discuss the challenges of being a woman on the trail; we both commiserate about bra chafing and backpacks. We also talk about Tara Dower's FKT on the AT last year and how I got to see her and Rascal in southern Virginia.
They finish their laundry and leave. I really enjoyed talking to them, and I try to come up with a game plan for the day. I eat a large turkey sandwich with four packets of mayonnaise and I am relishing a big cup of hot tea, my first in days, when Martian walks up and drops his pack on the floor of the breezeway. I point out the electrical outlets and he plugs in his battery pack before taking a shower. He got lost on the way to the store, wondering through the campground until some campers offered him some snacks and a ride to the store.
A few minutes later, Space, Z-Dog, and their dad also walk up. The breezeway is a flurry of activity as people pull out electronics to recharge and the contents of food bags are dumped out and resupplied. I survey my food bag. I have enough food for another three days, at least. I packed WAY too much food, as evidenced by my 10 pound food bag. Now that I am eating from the store, I now extended my heavy food carry by at least one more meal.
The men discuss their intention of stopping at the wayside a half-mile down the road to eat hot food from the grill. I mull it over then decide a cheeseburger and fries would be way too much food for me right now, but my mouth waters nonetheless. Martian and I leave about the same time, and we walk down the hill to the Wayside, which just opened today.
I order a cheeseburger and onion rings, and sit at the picnic table in the shade. Martian emerges from the wayside with a woman who identifies herself as Babysteps. She started in Troutdale last month and is doing short days while she gets her trail legs. She sits at the table with me and we chat while I scarf down my second lunch of the day. We are all planning on staying at Pinefield Hut, only four miles away.
Martian asks if he can walk with me to the hut, and I agree. I haven't had much company out here and I am really enjoying talking to people today, a little tired of podcasts and audiobooks in lieu of the fellowship of others.
I realize almost immediately that eating that much food in a couple hours was a bad idea, my stomach is roiling in the heat of the afternoon. Thank goodness we don't have a lot of climbing to do. Martian tells me he got his name at Woods Hole Hostel, when everyone else was asking for fresh food, and all he asked for was a potato. Neville herself bestowed his trail name on him.
I ask him if he knows any edible plants, and he states he knows a few, but would like to learn more. We cross a stream and I ask if he is familiar with stinging nettle, which is plentiful around the stream. He isn't, and I show him how to identify the plant, which is considered a nuisance by most, but is also treasured as a nutritious and delicious wild green. We pick a bunch to add to our dinner later tonight.
The climb up the hill to the shelter is difficult with such a full stomach combined with the heat, but I keep moving, eager to get set up after such an enjoyable day. I tell Martian I know I am slowing him down, and understand if he wants to go ahead and meet at the shelter, but he says he is enjoying the pace since he is still recovering from his illness.
We arrive at the shelter around 4 pm, and there are several thru-hikers set up in the tenting area, up a hill by the privy, on the other side of the shelter. A nice small stream flows beside and in front of the shelter. I scope out the tent sites, but decide to set up behind the shelter. I laugh because it's dangerously close to the bear box, but I don't want to take any of the few level sites where a tenter could set up. After all, I can set up on the most uneven ground and it won't bother me in my hammock. I offer to be the bear bait while everyone runs for cover in the event of a bear in camp.
I meet Non-Stop and Buttercup, a thru-hiking couple from Northern Virginia. When I state I am going to sit by the stream and soak my feet in the cold water, Buttercup accompanies me and we sit and talk while. Her trail name makes me chuckle when she tells me Buttercup is short for "Suck it up, Buttercup." They are from Hawaii originally, and sold all their belongings and put them in storage to prepare for this hike. They will probably return to Hawaii when they complete the AT.
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| Pinefield Hut |
Babysteps comes into camp, as does Space, Z-Dog, and their dad, whose new trail name is Heatstroke. I laugh uncontrollably, but it isn't really funny if you saw him when he limped into Blackrock Hut yesterday afternoon. At least he is doing decidedly better today, and seems to be enjoying his trail experience now that he is eating more and drinking a lot of water.
Babysteps sets up her camp right beside the bear box, and we crack jokes about how she is now the sacrificial lamb. Martian teaches her how to play the card game, and we are having a great time when at dusk a man walks up. He informs us that a group of Boy Scouts are heading into the shelter for the night. I forgot it's Friday. We all exchange nervous glances. I love the Boy Scouts as an organization, but I have had a few PTSD-induced encounters when camping near a herd of rambunctious boys. The scout leader reassures everyone that this is an older, more sedate group.
We continue chatting around the table when a group of 15 or so scouts arrive. They are indeed more chill than some of the other groups I have seen around shelters in Maryland. In a matter of minutes there are now ten more tents surrounding the shelter, with at least five between me and the bear box. We get a lot of laughs in about the amount of campers protecting the food from the bears.
We all say goodnight just as darkness fall in earnest. This has been such a fun and wonderful day!
Today's stats: 13 Miles, 2428' Ascent, 2615' Descent
Trail Stats: 898 Miles, 201K ascent, 203K feet descent
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