#125 Lamberts Meadow Shelter to Daleville, VA Day 59: ATMM 720.9 to ATMM 730.3
.....even undesirable looking things can give inspiration.....
4/29/22.
There’s a threat of rain in the air, though a feeble threat.
Yesterday’s hike was full of wonder and surprise, full of sunshine.
Today’s hike is a bit underwhelming. There’s no impressive scenery. The air is cool and damp, the sky is overcast with varied shades of grey. Though there are a few tough climbs, most of the ten mile hike is smooth and gradual. But most notable is the loneliness of the mountain.
Despite that negative description I’m happy to be here.
The trail has been empty all day. I run into only one NoBo (Northbound) thru hiker, RockHopper, an older gentleman from New Hampshire who is meeting a friend in Daleville, where he’ll spend a couple of days resting.
The only other person sharing this chunk of trail with me is a SoBo (Southbound) flip-flop hiker who walks out of the woods and takes a break in the same spot I just got up from - on a rock below power lines surrounded by dirt and gnarly shrubbery. It was probably the least desirable rest-stop location I’ve experienced since beginning this journey over seven hundred miles back, but it served its purpose nonetheless.
But even undesirable looking things can give inspiration as this rest spot overlooks the town I plan to stop in for the night.
Daleville marks the end of the first leg of the three week hike. It is where I’ll evaluate myself to see if my body is responding well with my new diagnosis and meds.
The Appalachian Trail runs right into a busy four lane highway in Daleville, VA. Before crossing the street I drop my pack so I can strap my hiking poles to its side.
Only making it halfway across the busy street I decide to just walk the median to the Super 8 Motel.
“How much for a room??”
I walk back across the busy street to the run-down HoJo where a lower price matches the old structure. Perfect fit, their prices match the budget of this old hiker.
After checking in I head up to my room where a Sprawl explosion occurs. I unload my backpack and hang gear everywhere possible.
I peel the sweaty clothes off and jump into the shower for about twenty years.
In the real world we take things like showers for granted. They are simply part of our daily routine.
On the trail they are a coveted ritual, something longed for, akin to a spiritual experience. A deep cleansing of not only the body, but a refreshing of the soul.
Clean clothes await a clean body. I store one pair of shorts and one t-shirt in a Zip-Lock bag at the bottom of my backpack for town day. The town clothes will become my hiking clothes until the next town-day. The set I’ve been wearing get washed and placed at the bottom of the pack until the next town day. Many hostels and some hotels along the trail offer loaner clothes while you wash your dirty clothes. There isn’t any guarantee of loner clothes so I make sure I’m prepared.
I stuff the dirty clothes into the three gallon Ziploc bag plastic bag my sleeping bag goes into when hiking, walk to the front desk to trade a five dollar bill for a stack of quarters, then start a load of laundry.
Back in to my room I throw away all the trash from my pack and make two grocery lists, one for tonight’s supper and one for trail food for the next several days.
I move the clothes to the dryer and walk a mile or so, down the hill along the busy highway, in my camp shoes to Kroger grocery store.