Rod Hollow Shelter 1198.6 to VA 55, Manassas Gap 1214 (15.4 miles, 1214 total miles)
The first thing I noticed this morning was the sky seemed rather dim for 6AM. I snoozed my alarm and remembered a conversation I’d had with Catchup a while back, talking about how the sky stays lighter after sunset up north compared to Virginia.
I supposed the reverse must be true of how early the sky illuminates before sunrise. Sunset was now 7:45PM, and sunrise wasn’t until 6:41AM. It was quite a change from earlier in my hike, as I had lost hours of daylight from the summer. As I’d become a much stronger hiker, I could certainly continue to work around the shortening days.
I knew Bard was a late sleeper, and Iroh didn’t seem like he was getting up anytime soon, so I began packing up as quietly as I could around 6:30. I had 15 miles planned for the day, and had a feeling I should start early.
I brought all my things to a covered picnic table that was 20 yards from the shelter, and finished getting ready for the day while listening to the forest drip leftover rain water.
I was eating my last cinnamon raisin bagel with peanut butter when the sun rose over the ridge ahead, bathing everything in brilliant sunlight that reflected and glimmered off wet trees and the myriad spiderwebs constructed in the foliage.
Iroh’s alarm went off while I was tying my shoes, and we waved good morning to each other. Bard was now laying diagonally off his sleeping pad and dead to the world.
I saw a family of deer just before I hiked out, making my way back down the .2 blue blaze to the AT. I was on trail by 8:15, walking into the worst morning of cobwebs across the trail I’d ever encountered.
My shoes were soon soaked from walking through wet grass, and my face, arms, and legs were covered in sticky webs. Normally I’d only walk past an errant strand here or there up north, in part thanks to Sunshine hiking first a lot of the time.
Even on days I left first, I hadn’t seen full spiderwebs on the trail with spiders sitting on them in a very long time. I almost walked headlong into a web that spanned over a foot across with a fat spider at nose level before stopping myself at the last moment.
After that, I began holding my trekking poles perpendicular to my body and waving them in the air in front of me as I walked. There were several full webs with smaller spiders on them that I was able to gently move out of the way as I went. Though I still managed to walked into webs here and there most of the day.
Just after 9AM and 2 miles in, I stopped on one of the hills on the bumpy ridge I was traversing for half an hour to get a couple things done on my phone. The service in Virginia so far had been plentiful, a nice change from the northernmost states.
As I hiked on, I found the webs had gotten a bit better, but still weren’t great. I listened to a podcast as I made my way down the ridge to US Routes 15 and 17 at Ashby Gap.
This was another set of highway lanes, with the second set of two lanes on a bend that was very hard to see around. I scurried across safely, and began the climb up to Sky Meadows State Park.
I wasn’t feeling great physically as I made my way up the mountain. It was only a 950 foot climb over 2.6 miles, but I’d gotten my period and was having painful day one cramping and bloating, not helped by the weight of my pack and fanny pack both cinched tight around my waist.
A mile past the road, I came to a beautiful memorial bench dedicated to the memory of Helen Eltzeroth, who’d lived from 1940-2022. The bench had been placed by her children, along with a sturdy plastic box that contained a logbook and a memoir written by Helen.
I hadn’t intended to stop, but I was in enough pain the bench seemed perfect in that moment. I spent half an hour there, signing the logbook, reading parts of Helen’s book, and thinking about Frankie and how important it is to honor those we love who are no longer present with us, keeping them alive in our hearts.
It was a gorgeous day, with very little humidity due to the rain we’d gotten, the temperature was still in the 70s, the sky was blue as could be, and the tops of tall trees swayed in the breeze, dappling sunlight upon the forest.
It felt like the perfect fall day, and I felt immensely grateful to be hiking in Virginia this time of the year. Helen’s words resonated deeply with me as I read her book, admiring so much a person who is vulnerable enough to speak about her life and write for the sake of writing.
I got the sense Helen was a very special person, and was really glad I’d taken the time to stop. I took some medicine as well, hoping it would help with the pain.
Something had worked, because as I began hiking the mountain again, I started zooming up it. I could soon see why Sky Meadows was aptly named, as the trail alternated between green tunnel and beautiful open fields full of wildflowers and foliage glowing brightly in the sun.
I was stunned by the variety of flowers and plant life, admiring hanging vines and butterflies that floated through the air. A large eastern ratsnake startled me before slinking back into the bushes, its sunny spot invaded upon.
I passed a couple of women day hiking a little ahead of a large family, and remembered I’d read their names in the bench logbook. The women looked like they wanted to chat, so I spent a few minutes answering their questions about my hike, enjoying the conversation.
I’d noticed although a few parts of the fields I hiked through were a bit overgrown, on the whole there were wide and well trimmed areas of trail that were a sharp contrast to the narrow paths through tall plant life I remembered from Vermont.
I could see some of the places appeared freshly landscaped, and remembered reading comments of overgrowth earlier in the year. It seemed I had arrived on this part of the trail at the right time.
My hunch was proven correct when I was hiking down the mountain and came upon a man holding a large electric hedge trimmer. I chatted with him for a several minutes, and saw he was volunteering with the PATC.
The Potomac Appalachian Trail Club maintains 240 miles of the AT from the southern end of the Shenandoah National Park in Virginia to Pine Grove Furnace in Pennsylvania (and many more miles of other local trails).
From what I’ve personally noticed, the PATC section is one of the better maintained on the trail. The Maryland section in particular is lovely, with beautiful shelters and privies, and wide, open trail to hike on.
The man I spoke with had done a thru hike attempt in 2001, before 9/11 ended that, as he was enlisted in the military at the time. His trail name had been Mars and he was also a pilot, so he seemed to appreciate my trail name.
As I continued on, I drank the last quarter liter of my water at a spring which was not worth collecting from, and hiked one more mile to Crooked Run, which used to be a big creek just past Whiskey Hollow Shelter.
I followed the sound of running water to a place where I used the wide opening on my water bag to collect a couple liters flowing against a rock, thankful again that I had brought the bag. It would have been much trickier with only my bottles, and some of the sources would have been downright unusable.
I found a nice, large rock to set up on for lunch, and checked my pace. I’d managed to hike 3.8 miles in an hour and ten minutes, with 15 minute of conversations with people throughout, meaning I’d been hiking roughly 4MPH.
I’d heard the Shenandoah Mountains were considered easy by SOBOs, and I understood why. Though still a day or two before the park, if the trail of today was any indicator, I was in for a good time.
There were almost no rocks and roots on the trail, and the grading was very gentle, allowing me to power up and down the mountain. I was finally even seeing regular switchbacks, making the hiking much easier, as opposed to the steep and direct elevation changes I had been used to for the past couple months.
I took a nice long lunch break, probably another hour, eating snacks and catching up with friends from both the trail and home. I left a voicemail for the hostel I’d been hoping to stay at for the night, unsure if they were open.
A message in Far Out said they’d be closed till today, but I wasn’t sure if it was till today, or through today. I’d emailed last week, but hadn’t heard back, so I was starting to think they might not be open for the day.
After lunch, I climbed one more mountain up to the Trico Tower Trail junction at the top, where I arrived around 2:30PM. I saw I’d received a text from the hostel letting me know they were indeed closed until tomorrow.
Fortunately, I’d been developing more flexibility and tolerance to plans changing out of my control, and I started perusing the guide for options.
There was a very nice shelter 7.4 miles ahead, but it was almost 3PM, and by the time I got there I wouldn’t have time to enjoy it anyway. I figured I’d hike to the one 2 miles from where I was, and make up the extra 2.4 I was going to hike to the road tomorrow.
I decided to wait for Iroh and Bard, since I knew Iroh was planning on staying at the hostel as well. I wanted to let him know they were closed, plus I had time for another long break if I was only hiking 2 more miles for the day.
I laid on a large, smooth downed tree, and rested for a while, still not feeling great physically, though the breaks and medicine had definitely been helping.
Iroh showed up after 3, and I gave him the news, letting him know my plan. He mentioned a convenience store he wanted to go to, because he didn’t have enough food for dinner.
Bard arrived a little while after, and said he needed to hit the store as well, having planned to get his dinner there, too.
I hadn’t heard about this store, but Iroh and Bard told me it was listed in the comments for the same road the hostel was attached to, and they even offered camping behind the store.
Since they’d been following my plans the last couple days, they joked that they wanted to turn the tables on me and convince me to go with their plan.
I had no resistance to their plan, because it meant I wouldn’t be cutting any miles out of my day, I’d get hot food for dinner, and it sounded like a cool place. It was also nice that they’d found something in the guide I’d missed.
We left at 4PM, with 4.4 miles to go, mostly downhill with a little bit of ascent here and there. I let Bard go first, because he is apparently a very fast hiker, I went next a minute or two later, with Iroh just behind me.
I hiked fast, loving the easy terrain again, powering up the little uphills, and jogging down some of the switchbacks. I listened to music, and Spotify was shuffling my main playlist perfectly.
I saw Iroh was only one or two hundred yards behind me, and wondered if it was possible I’d catch up to Bard. I hadn’t been able to measure my pace against any SOBOs yet, and my competitive spirit kicked in.
I finally spotted Bard 20 yards ahead as I crossed a bridge to Tucker’s Lane. We walked past a large dirt lot for trailhead parking, and followed the lane under a highway overpass to VA 55.
Bard immediately turned right at the road and began walking the mile to the store, while I looked behind me for Iroh, since we wanted to hitch.
I checked the clock and saw we’d hiked the 4.4 miles in an hour and 11 minutes. I’d effectively hiked 8 miles of my day in two hours, even feeling unwell. If 4MPH became even somewhat of a regular thing for me, it could definitely increase my quality of life on the trail.
The faster I hiked, the more or longer breaks I could take, the earlier I could get to camp, and the later I could sleep in. I found I really enjoyed mixing it up between those elements.
In fact, I was finding those were essentially the core elements that made up the various hiking styles I’d seen and experienced in the hikers around me.
Hiking speed, breaks, time leaving camp in the morning, and what time a hiker wanted to get to camp in the evening determined overall hiking style.
Me, I’ve noticed I like to mix it up and experience different days depending on how I’m feeling. Variety is indeed the spice of life. However, a faster hiking speed gives increased flexibility to adjust the other variables more than anything else.
Iroh and I walked down the road together, turning and putting out our thumbs when we heard cars coming by. It only took a tenth of a mile before a man pulled over, moving a dog crate to make room for us in the back of the cab.
We thanked him profusely, and made conversation with him as we drove. Funny enough, he’d also attempted a thru hike in 2001, the same year as Mars.
He’d gone from Springer to Harpers Ferry, before getting off trail to go to a graduation party back home in Virginia and getting sucked back in to the comforts of everyday life.
Still, he said it had been one of the most formative experiences of his life, which I knew to be the case as well. Even a section hike can be life changing.
At the store, I got a surprisingly delicious microwaved cheeseburger, salt and vinegar chips, a White Claw, a Dr. Pepper, and a large ice cream cone for only $11, which I thought was a great deal.
I met the store cat, Obie, who I made fast friends while, and sat out back with Iroh, eating and talking about our favorite parts of the trail.
Bard joined us after a while, having spent some time at a garden store across the street getting fresh fruit and pasta ingredients.
The owner, Joy, came to say hi around 7, and gave us a huge armload of newspapers and cardboard for Iroh to start a fire. I grabbed one of the Washington Posts for today, and read through the articles that I thought were interesting.
I laid down in my tent when it got dark, while Iroh and Bard hung out by the fire. I was loving having my tent set up again for the first time in over a week, protected from the tiny black flies that had been covering my legs in bite marks for the last few days.
It was the last day of August, and I’d written in the bench logbook that it had been one of the best months of my life, and I meant it wholeheartedly.
I’d gotten to finish Maine, hike Katahdin, spend time with amazing people, visit family and friends off trail, honor Frankie’s memory, and start a whole new exciting adventure to complete my hike.
I felt stronger, smarter, and more capable than I’d ever felt on the trail before, and possibly as a person. I could feel I’d grown in every way, and as Acadicus had said at Hikers Welcome, at this point in my hike I was getting my spiritual trail legs, having earned my physical and emotional ones.
Iroh told me today that when we were speaking yesterday he’d realized that this trail is my home. He couldn’t be more right about that. Long distance hiking is like a corner piece in the puzzle of my life, connecting the big picture and making everything that much clearer.
As I hiked last time, I knew I wanted to hike more trails, but I’d had to spend several years earning that right. After 2016, I put my head down, made the birds my first priority, and learned how to take care of myself as an independent person.
When I didn’t have the birds anymore, when I saw what my life had turned into, and how unhappy I was, I went back to the trail. So much time had passed I didn’t even know if it was for me anymore. I was terrified wondering if I could even handle it.
Yet I have shown myself I can handle it, and I can thrive under the difficult, but rewarding and joyful, life I’ve found out here again. The trail welcomed me back with the open arms, the community even stronger than I’d realized.
This time after the trail I know things will be different, because I am different. I won’t settle for less than what I want again. I won’t go back to living the life that others want me to live, because I know how miserable it is to sell myself out, and how much better it feels to follow my own desires.
I’m going to keep hiking, I’m going to prioritize what makes me happy, and I will continue to build a life I am proud of, regardless of what anyone else thinks, because at the end of the day and of my life, I am the only person I ever truly need to answer to.