Blazing

Ally has returned safely to California, and I have pushed on. This morning I woke up, walked through a 5 mile section of supposedly haunted forest, and now am in the wonderful town of Waynesboro, VA. The people here seem awfully friendly towards hikers and it should be a quick stop over so I can get back on the trail and start hiking through Shenendoah National Park. This next section is supposed to be "easy" as it mostly parallels Sky Line Drive. If a car can drive the topography that usually means for an easy grade of hiking.

I think I have passed through the bubble of what are known as "hiker trash". The caste system knows no bounds! Even out here on the trail you are still put in boxes. Hiker Trash are the free loaders who stop at every town taking advantage of the charity that comes our way and crawl along in a constant state of hangover filling up all the good trail shelters. Most of them left in early to mid March, and I have passed through the bulk of them it seems and am now surrounded by people who are on the trail to actually backpack.

Despite having broke through that particular bubble incidents of "pink blazing" and associated stories are on the rise. Pink blazing is a term used for a guy who has altered his pace to spend time with a girl. I have met a few of these pink blazing couples so far. A couple of nights before I got off the trail to go see Ally I arrived late at a large two story shelter and quickly set up to go to bed on the second floor. There was a pink blazing couple there and a couple of other hikers all on the lower level. At about 10:30 PM a very rhythmic rubbing of nylon started emminating from the lower level of the shelter and was far too sustained to be someone itching bug bites, or stretching in their bag, or doing pushups, or the countless other things that I kept trying to convince myself it could be. It continued on until one of the other hikers that was staying downstairs started rolling around and then got up to pee at which point the rhythmic rubbing of nylon stopped. Holy awkward turtle Batman. Yesterday I showed up at a shelter and was reading entries in the shelter register and earlier that day a hiker I know named Rag Time walked up to the shelter to find a couple "doin' it" as he put it. You would think that people would have the decency to seek a little privacy considering it can be found a plenty out here, but no why do that when they've built all these nice shelters that people like to congregate at. Congregate indeed.

Well, I am going to get going. I am looking forward to my next stop for a rest which will be at my sisters sometime in this upcoming week. I'll be writing again from there. Hope all is well out there in the wide world!

-Wrong Way

Lived to tell the tale

Well, I'm still alive and kicking.  When warned about a potentially violent psychotic blasian wielding firearms the correct response is apparently to sleep right next to him in a shelter about 18 inches away.  For safety purposes I slept with my head by his feet.  The problem with the world today is that people have no patience to try to understand something foreign to them.  Instead it is easier to chase it out of town with firearms and then sensationalize the story.  I felt pretty bad for Toast who turned out to be a person of Mediterranean Africa descent and from Germany I presume, who had very minimal English skills.  To give the fine people of Atkins a bit of a break the kid was definitely awkward and weird, but that doesn't set him apart in the least from the rest of the hikers.  Being from Germany I don't think he quite understood that being a black person of about 22 and knocking on country folk's doors after dark in southern Virginia is akin to playing Russian roulette.  Turns out Toast didn't have a gun (no hikers have guns, not because they don't own them, but because they are too heavy) but everyone Toast ran into had a gun.  I've heard he threw a bit of a tantrum in a post office after they forwarded his resupply package to the next town, apparently not familiar with the term going postal and the dangers of being angry at the post office.  The clerk then phoned all the businesses in town that cater to hikers and got him black balled.  From there on out I think Toast had a bad day.  When I ran into him at a road crossing the police and Forrest Service rangers were leaving after having a talk with him.  He said the police and people of Atkins were "pissing him on".  I felt bad for the kid, but he dealt with this by throwing rocks at a road sign as hard as he could.  Awkward black kids with no English skills and anger management issues should not travel by themselves in the south.  That could be a good travel advisory for other countries to put up for their citizens visiting the USA.  

I have met quite a few other folks in my travels and caught up to the heard.  It is interesting seeing all the different styles of travel.  I have caught with some folks that move at about the same pace which is nice.  I have passed a few people that have started a whole 2 months before me.  I hung out with some guys under a tree the other day who had made it .2 miles that day.  They were sitting under the tree with a 24 pack of Milwaukee's Best Premium griping about how a 24 pack cost them as much as 2 packs of cigarettes.  They were appalled at my start date and insisted I was missing the point.  I thought the point of backpacking to Maine was to get to Maine via walking as opposed to sitting under every tree and drinking beer, but alas every person must hike their own hike.

I have just spent a much needed two days off the trail with my beautiful wife.  So far being apart from her has been the hardest part of being on this trail, so a little time together has been great.  I can't wait to see her again and she is still sitting next to me.

  Till next time muchachos!  -Wrong Way