Day 53: Pearisburg- Rice Field Shelter (7.7 miles)

Day 54: Rice Field Shelter-Wind Rock campsites (20 miles)

Day 53: June 4th

I’m back on the trail in Pearisburg where my shakedown hike finished. I decided to take a break and rest my knees at home while Etienne covered most of the 83 miles that I completed a couple weeks before I headed to Georgia to start at Amicalola. My leapfrogging might fail some purity tests of those who hold the most rigid standards for a thru-hike, but I decided ahead of time that I would adhere to the ATC’s definition: hiking past every white blaze on all open trail within the year of my thru-hike. This involves jumping the stretch I did in early April of this year but repeating the 220 miles I section-hiked in 2016.

Etienne is still back at Trent’s grocery, some 20-something miles behind, but he’s fast. I figure he will catch me within a few days. My mom and I ate milkshakes at Dairy Queen, and then she dropped me off on trail. Now I cross the New River on the noisy 460 bridge, trudge uphill past a factory, and turn back into the woods.

When I’m in the forest again, something inside me relaxes. I was comfortable during my little vacation from the trail at home, but this—this is comfortable now, too.

I hike up to Rice Field Shelter, and it’s beautiful. It’s a nice, new shelter on top of a bald mountain looking over rolling farmlands that are so, so green after all this rain. I pitch my tent and crawl inside. I thought I’d want to write more tonight but it’s a little past 7pm, and all I want to do is go to bed, wake up in the morning, and hike.

Day 54: June 5th

I’m supposed to be doing low miles until Etienne catches up with me again, but I’m eager to see other Smokies-tramily members Sam, Alex, and Mike, who I know from a facebook message are less than two miles ahead of me. I wake up early. It’s cold though, and I procrastinate leaving my tent, and it’s 8am before I hike away, pausing a moment to take in the morning view from the bald.

The morning is all ridge walking, so the miles pass quickly. I pay attention to the water in my bottles—it’s a ten-mile stretch to the next spring—but I’m not worried about it, because the weather is cool and the trail is shady. I reach the shelter 12 miles away by lunchtime.

Mike is there, now trail-named Fugitive, and he tells me I’ve once again just missed Sam and Alex. They’re going to camp at Wind Rock, a few miles past the next shelter. I decide I will do the same and just do a “nero” tomorrow.

I run into a hiker named Lupine doing trail magic with her boyfriend at a bridge. They have fruit and beer and pizzas that they’re cooking over the fire. I see Sam and Alex’s name on their little trail register, and I ask Lupine when they left. “Oh, that English couple?” she answers. “They hung out for a while. Probably left about ten minutes before you got here.”

This is starting to feel like a scavenger hunt now.

By the time I reach the next shelter, it’s 5pm. Wind Rock is another 3.8 miles, but I’ve already hiked over sixteen miles in nine hours, and considering the two long breaks during the day for lunch and for the trail magic, I’m averaging around 2.5mph while hiking. On my elevation profile, it looks like more easy ridge-walking, so I set out for Wind Rock, confident I’ll be there by 7pm.

The first mile is fast, but then the trail gets rocky and rough. Even though it’s flat, picking my way across the boulders is slow. I follow a deer for a little while. She keeps trying to get away from me, but sticks to the trail, trotting on twenty yards then freezing. “I’m not following you,” I tell her out loud. “I just need to go this way too.” I know it’s silly to talk to a deer, but the deer doesn’t seem to mind.

The doe continues Nobo up the trail. We go on like this for several minutes. Finally, she bounds a few strides up the mountainside, giving me room to pass. She dips her head to watch me from under a waist-high fallen tree. “Hello,” I say. I pass by, then turn to look back. She’s still there, staring at me. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, little deer.”

I hike on, and I reach Wind Rock around quarter to eight. Rice Field Shelter is twenty miles behind. Everyone is there. Mike, Same, Alex, their friends Twitch and Itch, and even Ranger Z, an older man with a walrus mustache who out-hikes half the twenty-somethings by waking up early and hiking long, steady days. I met him in the Smokies and haven’t seen since him Erwin, when we stayed at Uncle Johnny’s and shared a table at the local Mexican joint. I thought he was somewhere behind us but realize now I was being presumptuous. I might not have caught him at all if it weren’t for leapfrogging over my shakedown miles.

It’s an enjoyable evening. The view from Wind Rock at sunset is colorful, but the temperature is dropping fast. I finish my chores, hang my bear bag on the very first throw (a miracle), and retreat to my tent. I miss Etienne, but I’m happy. It feels good to be so exhausted, to see such beautiful views, and to be reunited with friends. It feels good to be back on trail.

And it isn’t even raining.