Day 90 - Saturday, September 10

Linda

Woke up to a semi-clear sky and sunshine, which immediately improved my outlook for the day. Since there was little chance of scores of cars zooming by at 7:00 in the morning, we didn't hurry and finally got out on the road a bit after 8:00. Several cars passed by, but no luck. We resigned ourselves to having to walk at least back to the Peaks of Otter, where we had just spent the weekend. We urged ourselves on with the thought of stopping for a drink, a snack and a much needed pit stop at the gas station. Could almost taste the root beer and feel the relief for my overloaded bladder, when 100 yards from the gas station, a van picked us up. We forgot about the root beer, and I figured I could hold it for a while longer, and it sure beat all that extra walking. Had already done almost 5 miles of it.

The van dropped off at Bearwallow Gap about 10:15 and we started our countable mileage for the day. Didn't stop at Bobblet's Gap Shelter, but decided to continue to Wilson Creek for lunch. We were feeling okay since we had already taken a quick snack and relief break as soon as we hit the woods. For a while it looked like we might have another storm, but thankfully it never materialized, and the day turned out to be quite pleasant for hiking. The trail through this section for the most part is well maintained and graded, with no overgrown vegetation like the last stretch we just finished. Seems like we always hit those bad spots on rainy days. Ronald's stomach had been bothering him since last evening, so we were taking it easy, but still doing well. Got to Wilson Creek at 2:00 and ate the rest of our lunch food. The same amount of food sure doesn't last as long anymore. Ronald still wasn't feeling quite up to snuff, so we rested there until 3:00, then started for the Fulhardt Knob Shelter 5.6 miles further on. We figured we had plenty of time go get there, so didn't hurry.

The trail for the rest of the afternoon was mostly level, with the exception of a switchback ascent up to the ridge before the knob from Curry Creek. Me met a couple from Roanoke out for the weekend. They, and Rick yesterday, are the only hikers we've met lately. They told us they met an older man who started in Pennsylvania and is headed for Georgia. He's just a few miles ahead of us, so maybe we'll see him in the next few days. That would be nice. The trails are virtually deserted now. We really miss the company. There was no lack of hiking partners further north, so we always had others to compare notes with as we passed each other during the day, and there was usually at least one other familiar face at the shelters in the evening. We've left behind most of the people we started hiking with in Maine one reason or another.

Not very many people who start the AT actually end up finishing. We've been very lucky not having to confront problems serious enough to force us to give up. I often think about the friends we made, and wonder how they are doing. We've really been cruising for hundreds of miles, and since we are so far ahead now, there's no way to find out who's behind us, unless someone catches up. We leave messages whenever we find a trail register, but aren't sure who's back there to read them. We don't know if Ray Wuolo recovered from his foot problems and kept on until having to go back to school, or if Steve Peck and John Gimbel ever got back on the trail after Steve's pack broke. We're reasonably certain that Richard O'Berry came back to the trail after Reserves, but two weeks is a lot of time to make up, so it's unlikely we'll see him again. Then there were Les & Pete Van Aucken with Bear the Wonder Dog, and Rick Reis (who reminded me so much of Randy), and his continuing saga of the faulty backpack. We'd even like to hear how far Mike Cahill made it after we left him Vermont, before he had to go back to school. He got to be extremely annoying after a month of his teenage ravings - almost like fingernails on a blackboard - but I wouldn't mind seeing him now. Time and solitude soften the memories.

We continued on alone and crossed Salt Pond Forest Service Road. The trail paralleled the road for a couple of miles. We could hear motorcycles nearby and figured they were on that road. The last mile to the shelter is on the road, and we could see fresh tracks and could still hear them in the distance. We hoped they weren't at the shelter. Not to be too stereotypical, even though I just finished expounding on how lonely the trails are, and how we miss the company, a bunch of noisy bikers just isn't what I had in mind. Anyway, not far from the shelter, three cycles passed us roaring down the hill and we haven't heard them since. I guess we won't be bothered by any extra guests tonight. The shelter is right at the summit at the end of a road, which makes it very accessible. It probably does get a lot of non-hiker use, especially on weekends, and this was a Saturday night. We arrived at the shelter at 5:30 and Ronald retreated to his sleeping bag while I fixed dinner. The shelter is in pretty good condition and the water here is good and cold, even if it is from a cistern rather than a spring. We ate dinner and cleaned up, then I crawled into my bag to escape the chilly evening air.

We'll be in Cloverdale early tomorrow to try and get supplies and get clean. There was supposed to be a big truck stop there that would let hikers take showers. I can hardly wait. I sure hope Ronald is feeling better in the morning. He gets very depressed and homesick and generally in a funk when he's not feeling well. It's been fortunate, though that we're both not sick or depressed or homesick, or generally in a funk at the same time. If that ever happened - who knows - we might just jump on a bus for Richmond and head home. I sure hope it doesn't happen. We've come an awfully long way to quit now.

Ron

The rain of the last four days ended last night. This morning dawned with thick haze and patchy fog through which flowed occasionally shafts of sunlight. We found it hard to believe the rain was over. Last night didn't turn out too restful for me. I had eaten too many of the apples we picked yesterday. I was plagued with an upset stomach most of the night and this morning.

With good-byes said, we walked backup to the parkway to hitch a ride. Despite our more appealing appearance, we were no more successful than yesterday. Not wanting to sit there all day, we headed down the Parkway. With the unusually low traffic volume, we had resigned ourselves to a long road walk. We did have the consolation of stopping at Peaks of Otter Lodge and getting some nourishment.

Just when we arrived at the road to the Lodge, a guy in a van stopped and picked us up. When choosing between the ride and food, we opted for the ride. We regained the trail at Bearwallow Gap around 10:20. In reality the side trip probably didn't save us any more time than if we had stayed on the trail. Back on the trail, our pace was good, despite my upset stomach. There were other things plaguing me that were far worse than my upset stomach.

For some reason once we were back on the trail, I was unable to get into the sprit of the hike. The proximity of the Parkway and trail brought back memories of past drives through the area. From there my thoughts turned to home. Before realizing it, I had become very homesick and depressed. The trail had been transformed from a friend in to the enemy. I wanted so very much to be rid of it and be home. For three months I have been hiking day after day and suddenly I wanted it to be over. My desire to end it was complicated when I began to ponder the awesome responsibility I would have if we quit. I was suddenly torn between the simple life of the trail and the desire for family and friends. Both had hidden cost that I felt unwilling to pay. For awhile I felt like curling up right there on the trail and giving everything up.

With Linda in the lead, I kept up the constant one-step-at-a-time motion we had practiced for months. Soon we crossed over the Blue Ridge Parkway for the last time and were headed into new unexplored territory. It wouldn't have taken much for me to have quit then and there, but I kept moving. Slowly we moved further and further away from the Parkway, and my depression faded away. About the only thing one can do in those conditions is to bear down and keep on moving. Eventually it will get better. It's times like this that remind me just how mentally challenging this adventure is.

By the time we reached Wilson Creek Lean-to for lunch I was feeling almost normal. My queasy stomach prevented me from eating too much. It was just as well, since we were down to the last of our food. At 3:00 we headed off for Fullhardt Knob Lean-to. The five and a half miles went smoothly and was only interrupted by a pleasant chat with a couple of hikers. We arrived here about 5:30 and I changed clothes and crawled into my sleeping bag. I hope my stomach is okay by morning.

(15.8 Miles - 1359.7 Total)