TRAIL DAY 76
Fri, May 6, 2016 Would this be another zero? Would my boots arrive?
Sometime mid-morning I felt the need to press on the issue of my package arriving. I had the day before as well. The post office had no package for Hiker Sojo. Of course, that’s who I was – and that’s the name I asked my wife, dear Bonnie, to use when sending a package to a location out ahead of me. Hostels and motels near the trail were used to holding packages for hikers. If you were staying there it was a service provided. If not, it was recommended and sometimes required that you pay $5.00. I was staying at Woods Hole, so no charge.
Since my package had still not arrived, Michael went out on the front porch where many packages were stacked awaiting pick-up. He looked through them and found one with a name he didn’t know and asked me, “Are you Soren West?”
AFFIRMATIVE!
That’s the way it is on the trail. You’re real identity is rarely in use but that’s how Merrell knew me.
My package had arrived when promised by Merrell – on May 4th! It had actually gotten there before I had.
Chalk it off. Just like mistakes and unintentionally hurting someone or saying or doing something you wish you could take back. You have to let it go and get going. . . . There’s nothing like the goal of thru-hiking the AT (or any long-distance trail) to teach you the importance of letting the wish-it-hadn’t-happened things go and moving on toward your goal. If you were the doer or the done-to person, the same applies. Get over it. Not in a gruff, harsh, how-stupid-can-I-be way but in an I-have-an-important-call-on-my-life way. Stick with the important call and if you don’t have one, get one. Maybe that is the one big lesson of my entire experience: have a mind-and-life-focusing goal. It prioritizes everything for you and puts all your energies to work in context. Not the scattered medieval knight – the laser beam.
Boots in hand then on feet, I left my rejects with Michael. My tidy, conservative side couldn’t see destroying them. Perhaps Merrell wouldn’t track my compliance but I did ask Michael to hold on to my rejects until he heard from me. Many, many miles north from Woods Hole, I emailed Michael saying he should do with the boots as he wished. I had not heard from Merrell and I was not inclined to compromise their usefulness.
Time to hit the trail in my 3rd pair of new boots.
They would get the full treatment immediately on a muddy, rain-laden trail. Theo and I were headed for Pearisburg, Virginia, which I soon found out was reputed to be an unsavory place of ex-cons and other unreliable people. I also learned later that it was where the Wapiti killer had come from.
The mud and rain turned to sunshine and a bright trail emerging from sheltered woods before leading down a gradual descent to a road and Trail Magic! Four guys were serving up food, love and Christianity under a canopy. I was a little uncomfortable with the proselytizing; nonetheless, I enjoyed the company and the food before leaving my shaded seat for a downhill road walk. We would descend around a bend and then head back into the woods. This is where I had my second difficult time with Theo. My dear K9 has never seemed to understand cars or what they can do to soft flesh and fur, not to mention bones.
As we descended the hill, Theo wanted to walk beside me in the road. I kept saying:
FOLLOW ME! FOLLOW ME!
Now I feel a little stupid telling you this. I never taught Theo a command such as “Follow me.” Those words didn’t mean anything to him. I kept repeating “FOLLOW ME!” as I called him over to the side of the road behind me. I raised my trekking poles behind me with the handles at my hips to form a V hoping to channel his steps where I wanted them.
On the trail he was often behind me and he would stay there if I urged him not to pass in a precarious situation. Then there was the HOLD! command he had learned – to wait for me to do something first and then I would release him to follow.
The trail was a narrow path that naturally funneled his steps behind me. But the road was wide open – and thankfully, not too busy.
Again, my anger. Again, my fault. Stupid. I apologized after the fence incident and I did again now – in the tenderest voice I could muster.
Finally, we made our way back into the woods and our troubling ordeal was over. But not my sore feet. Over the next 1,000 miles, I would learn well, once damaged, feet in constant use, take a long time to heal.
It was again overcast. In a short time we surfaced at another road down a steep bank. There were signs on trees for a shuttle service into Pearisburg. I called for a ride and before long another hiker showed up to share the fare with me. We’d use the same service on the way back.
The shuttle was the worse for wear. It’s wipers didn’t work and the driver had to squint to make out the road through the rain drops that had begun to fall. He recommended a motel in town and my fellow hiker and I acquiesced. I checked in and was assigned a room on the second level up concrete stairs right outside the office. Wonder who was already checked in put my gear in with his for a wash whose cost we’d split. I forgot to get something out of a pocket first and it was ruined. Entirely my fault. There was a table outside my door at the head of the stairs. People would eat there and chat.
Food Lion was across the street. What more does a resupplying thru-hiker need? About a tenth of a mile up the street was a Mexican Restaurant where I would dine with Farel and another hiker. Farel introduced me to a Mexican beer. I’d have it again farther north.
Day #76 Woods Hole Hostel > Pearisburg 10.7 miles