TRAIL DAY 95

Wed, May 25, 2016 It would be a zero day in Waynesboro which I very soon learned was a very trail-friendly town.

Towns along the AT are used to hikers, especially thru-hikers, and they welcome them.  They create a constant flow of “tourists” over the hiking season and they are appreciated for their business and for their general good nature with few exceptions.

I called a free shuttle for a ride in town and MR GIZMO obliged.  He took me to a restaurant where I had a good breakfast sitting with my back to the window, plugged in and typing.  I watched people come and go, worked on emails, paid bills and blogged a little.

I went from the diner-like restaurant to the grocery store to resupply.  As I left, I noticed an interesting vehicle and storefront that reminded me I was still in the south – and that was not all bad.

When I left the store, several bags in hand, I needed to visit a pharmacy which I had identified through several phone calls.  Before I go further, some explanation is in order so let’s go back to when I was 5 or 6 years old.

I had a left inguinal hernia then.  It was repaired and never gave me a problem until a year or so before I started the AT.  Just a slight bulge.

Now, when I started hiking in February, I found myself coughing hard every morning and sometimes throughout the day.  I realized in time that I had quite a case of post-nasal drip and that my lungs were filling up at night and I was coughing out the gunk during the day.

Well. . .you know what the coughing did.

I began to bulge more and more to the point that by North Carolina, I began putting a thick stick in my belt extending down to the bulge to help hold it in.  I also called a general surgeon friend who operated on my recent right inguinal hernia with mesh without incident.  He asked me three questions:  Can you push it in?  Yes.  Does it hurt?  No.  Does it go back in when you lie down?  Yes.  He was satisfied with the answers and told me how studies have shown that patients who don’t opt for surgery do as well as those who do.  He said he thought I’d be fine – and then we joked a little.  He said he wasn’t worried because my body probably wouldn’t be found in time to bring a claim against him.  I like him.  I took his advice.

However, by Waynesboro I thought maybe a truss of some sort would help.  I learned that there were such things and I had called around until I found the store that did.

So!

I sat on the curb just outside the store and called Yellow Truck.  He was tied up.  I was getting ready to call another volunteer when a very nice man who overheard my call came over to me and said,

“I’ll take you where you need to go.”

Sincere thanks and we were on our way.

We got to know each other a little as we drove and I got to know Waynesboro a little.  The pharmacy that had the device was off on the edge of town in a semi-residential area.  My benefactor parked in the shade to spare the ice-cream he’d purchased at the store.  I wanted to remember this kind man’s name so made a note of it in AWOL.  His first name was Sam.  My AWOL notes tell me also that his vehicle – which was very neat, orderly and clean – was a Honda with 230k miles on it.  As I got out to go across the street to the corner pharmacy, Sam said he was going to stay put and call his wife.

OK.  The device.

I went into the pharmacy and the man, who was expecting me, went to get the contraption and showed me what it involved.  It was a strap that went around the waist with a pouch on either side of center that was held in place over the groin by straps that went between the legs.

NO THANKS!

It wasn’t the moderate price but the configuration.  And straps between the legs of a thru-hiker?  Wouldn’t that be comfortable.  The risk of chafing (which I was so lucky to avoid the entire trek) was bad enough without those straps.  And the bulging pouches?  Two of them?  I needed only one but the device was sold to cover whichever side.  Too inefficient; too much excess stuff.

“I’ll manage,” I said.  “Thanks for your trouble.”

Back to the Honda.  Sam drove me back to my motel.

The stores in the south sold beer and wine, a nice accommodation for those southerners who weren’t as try as some counties were.

As I type and remember, I recall that Mr. GIZMO who picked me up in the morning had told me that my timing was off just a wee bit for him because he had just passed my motel on his way home when he got my call – and back he came.

Truly a trail-friendly town.

I thanked Sam for his kindness to me and we bid each other adieu.  I thought I’d like to stay in touch but let it go, knowing such moments have their own place and don’t always carry over into daily life all that well.

“Thanks again.”

I headed for my room and put cold things in the little fridge.  Since I had previously left a motel room without checking the fridge and left some goodies behind, I had learned to let an empty plastic bag hang over the top of the refrigerator door to remind me of contents inside.

The day was bright and sunny and my gear needed a good airing out.  Across the drive and parking area were a wide lawn and a gazebo, a clubhouse and a swimming pool off to the right.  A couple of dumpsters which I used, were far down to the right.  I asked the pretty day girl at the office if it would be OK for me to lay out some camping gear to air out and she said that would be fine.  Her young daughter helped behind the counter.

The pool was all but empty since it was not yet Memorial Day and there were a gazillion and a half bugs floating on the stagnant water at the bottom.  The clubhouse was open and I chatted briefly with the gal cleaning inside.  I got my gear and made my way inside the pool area.  I tied my tent and rain gear to the fence so the mild cloth-drying wind would not blow it into the varmint-infested pool.

A few times I took Theo out to run around the large lawn across from the office and do what he had to do, I with clean-up bag in hand.

I remember rinsing something out at the hose behind my building.  The area was unkempt but well enough appointed to have a washer and dryer for my laundry.  I was chalking off everything I needed to get done.

In the room, I could not find my bandana.  I called Yellow Truck to see if I’d left it in his vehicle.  He thought not but would check.  Not hearing, I called him back a while later and he said he did not see any bandana in his truck.  I had no idea where else it could be.  Number 2 gone.  I’d get another in Purcelville, Virginia on June 8th.

I plotted out my next trek and next stop, knowing I had gotten sufficient food for whatever choices I’d make.  And how ever-fascinating to have scenes on the trail, almost the rocks underfoot, come back to mind as I address one situation after the next, day by day.  I am recalling as I write what I will encounter tomorrow as I enter The Shenandoah Nation Park.

I had a nice evening meal – a good quantity of food, some of which I shared with my furry companion.

Waynesboro had been very good to me.

Day #95   Waynesboro, Virginia 0 miles