Mile 540

The bird songs fade into her awareness with the first light. She opens her eyes and is happy it isn’t raining. It is 5:58 am and 50° according to her watch. She’s definitely out of the highlands. At least when it was 42°, she had an excuse to sleep a little longer. However, she is awake now and can’t think of a reason to try and fall back to sleep. She yawns, stretches nice and long in her cocoon, accepts her fate, and begins her daily routine.

She trades her warm cozy sleep clothes for the same t-shirt and pants she wore yesterday. They are only slightly damp from yesterday’s sweat. She isn’t quite sure why she bothers to hang them overnight; they never really dry. The blissful thought of running them through the laundry is quickly replaced by the immediate needs of the morning. First, she needs to pee and eat breakfast. Not at the same time, of course! Today is oatmeal… Surprise! It’s always oatmeal. Once fed, the next item of business is to break camp. She has this down to a science. Secretly this brings her the greatest joy. She can pack up her entire hiker home in 25 minutes; once done, she doesn’t leave a single trace. If it’s a lovely morning, she might break free from the order of things and take the hammock down last. This way, she can sit and ponder the universe while the sun rises. Not today, though. Today is all business. There is hiking to be done. No goodbyes this morning, either. Everyone else remains tucked in their tents and sleeping bags. For those just waking up, she is nothing more than a ghost. The first few weeks were exciting! There were peaks to climb and views to see — legendary stops all along the way. Now after 500 miles, it is just one PUD (Pointless Up & Down) after another. They don’t open up to some stellar view. No, these miles are monotonous. Her only indication she is still in the mountains is the roller-coaster-like hills. Virginia is good at getting you almost to the peak but not quite. She hikes until lunch, landing just over 9 miles from where she started. She’s making good time today. However, it has been a lonely day. She hasn’t seen another hiker all morning. Lately, she imagines she is the last hiker alive, trekking through the hill like some apocalyptic survivor. She doesn’t know that there are crowds 3 miles ahead and 2 miles behind that she will never see because they are all moving along at the same rate. A whole world just out of sight.

She riffles through her food bag and enjoys the sounds of the cascade from which she filters her water for lunch. She considers the map a bit, hoping it will reveal some great secret to the perfect hike. But, as usual, it withholds that deep secret. Instead, she stares at it blankly and mutters, “Yep, still a map,” primarily to herself, before tucking it away. She packs up, makes sure to leave no trace, and is on her way once again. Like those who have come before and those who follow behind, she is nothing more than a fading wet footprint on a rock near the stream.

She hikes for one, two, three more hours and comes to a road. To her right is a hostel point three miles off trail. Standing at the juncture, she flips a mental coin, resulting in her walking the short detour where she treats herself to a root beer and an ice cream cone. She finds joy in mingling with the owners and hikers. They share tails of the trail and advice for what is to come. With a happy heart, she finishes her cone and is quickly back on course, hiking up the trail. To those that chose to remain at the hostel, she is nothing more than a memory.

She hikes one, two, or three more hours and passes a few other hikers that leaped past her during the break. They exchange greetings as she passes. She observes that the bubble she is hiking around is decidedly less pleasant than the one she was before… or maybe it isn’t the bubble so much as everyone is feeling a little distant after this many miles. Upon arriving at her destination for the day, she conjures up the perfect spot to deploy her hammock and tarp. She plops down and cooks a meager but delicious dinner. Nothing is better than a hot meal after a long day of hiking. She mingles with other hikers and is in bed by 7 pm. Before the last light, she’ll consider the map a bit more, hoping it confesses its secret plan, but nope… It’s still a map. Tucked into her little cocoon, dry and warm, her eyes heavy with exhaustion begin to close as she slips into a profound sleep. To the rest of the forest, she is nothing more than a dreamer.

The bird songs fade into her awareness with the first light.