Working the Angles

Okay, it’s about 6 p.m. on May 29th. This morning, I woke up at the random tent site with all the bugs. Fortunately, it didn't rain enough overnight to breach my patch job again, though I already have a new tent on the way, because I just can't trust this one anymore. Still, it was nice to not get wet last night. Someone else at the same campsite who has the same tent as me got absolutely drenched and took on a lot of water. I felt really bad for her, but I have to assume that there was some level of user error, because I somehow didn't take on any water, and my tent typically does under severe rain conditions. But that's not important. I just felt bad for her.

Anyway, the big news of the day was that I was headed to Stanimal’s 328 Hiker Hostel in Glasgow, Virginia. Very excited about that. A thru-hiker named Stan whose trail name was Stanimal went on to open a couple of hiker hostels. One’s in Waynesboro, and the other’s in Glasgow. I was generally anxious to get going as soon as possible, because the earlier I did, the earlier I could get to the hostel. So I was up and out of camp in record time — by 6:45.

Yesterday was all about going up, and today was all about going down. The normal pattern is that when you leave a town, your day sort of centers on gaining elevation. And then whenever you have a day that you're going into town, it’ll be focused on going down. You’re going to lose a lot of that elevation, understandably. Today, I was able to hike down fairly quickly. I think I did the first 2.5 miles in about an hour, which is kind of record time for me. I mean, it might not seem like it, but anything north of 2.5 miles per hour is actually pretty fast when you’re hiking.

But then I hit a road crossing — just a gravel road — and started up the only major climb of the day, which was up a mountain called High Cock Knob. That name is pretty cringe-worthy, and I was sort of giggling about it all the way up. Unfortunately, High Cock Knob doesn't have any views. So, it's just a pointless “up.” Yesterday, I knew the hike was going to be a sustained uphill, and if I know in advance that the trail is going to be going up for a long period of time, I'm mentally prepared for it, and I don’t actually mind it too much. It's these climbs that just kind of appear out of nowhere that tend to zap your soul, because you're just not ready for them.

Anyway, after about nine miles and some very, very painful and very steep downhills, I wound up at Matt's Creek Shelter. And I was actually  running a little bit ahead of schedule. I had arranged to be picked up from the trailhead at around 1 o'clock, and I only had two more miles to go. They were relatively flat miles, too. So I had a few extra minutes. And at this point, my feet were absolutely killing me from going down for so long. So I popped into Matt's Creek Shelter to have a snack, drink some water, and just kind of rest my feet a little bit.

While I was there, Tree Licker showed up, followed by a nice older gentleman who calls himself The Librarian. He had an absolutely adorable beagle with him named Kevin, and Kevin came from Envigo, which some of you might remember. It was a pretty horrific situation. The company was breeding beagles to use them for medical testing, and the conditions were just horrible and cruel. Thankfully, someone discovered what all was going on there, and the facility was shut down, but then there was something close to 4,000 beagles that needed homes. That’s how The Librarian managed to adopt Kevin.

Kevin was rescued when he was just a puppy, so his story isn't quite as sad as that of a lot of the other beagles from Envigo. He got his tattoo, but he was thankfully spared from any form of testing before the whole operation was shut down. He's just a happy-go-lucky little beagle without any sort of PTSD from getting tested on or living his life in cage. I had a lot of fun saying hi to Kevin.

The Librarian is a retired academic librarian and pastor who likes to hike into the shelters that he can access fairly easily — he's 69 years old — and he leaves books for the hikers who pass through. And when he told us that, Tree Licker said that he’d recently picked up a copy of Walden by Thoreau at a shelter, and The Librarian was like, “I left that there!” So it was really cool to see that connection. We sat at the table for a while, just chatting, but then I eventually had to get moving if I was going to make my pickup time.

So I hustled down and crossed the James River. There’s this very, very nice pedestrian footbridge over the river, and on the other side is a little parking lot. I got there with a few minutes to spare, so I was just hanging out, waiting for my ride. And this older gentleman comes up to me. He was coming from the north, so he was a southbound (SOBO) hiker.

He tells me his name is Bill, and while we’re standing there, he just keeps talking under his breath. I can’t really figure out what he’s trying to get at, though, because he’s just sort of mumbling. But then he says he needs a ride into town and asks me where I’m staying for the night. I tell him Stanimal’s, and he asks, “How many beds are in the room you rented?”

I say, “Oh. Um, there's only one,” and he says, “Okay. I'm just working the angles here.” Thankfully, the shuttle driver showed up just then.

The driver’s name was Dobb, and he typically runs the Stanimal’s in Waynesboro, but I guess the one in Glasgow needed some extra hands, so Dobb came down to help out. And anyone can get a ride with the Stanimal’s shuttle, but if you're not staying at the hostel, it costs 15 bucks. Bill totally balked at that. So then Dobb says, “Well, look, we don't have any rooms left in the hostel, but you can tent in the yard. That costs 25 bucks, but you get breakfast and a ride to and from the trailhead.” So Bill's like, “That's great. But I don't have a tent.”

Now I’m wondering how the heck he’s hiking the trail without a tent, but before I can ask, Bill decides he’ll pay the 15 dollars for the ride into town and reaches over and opens the back door of the shuttle for me so he can sit in the front. [Wife note: Well, alrighty then.]

So I climb into the back seat, and on the way to Stanimal’s, I ask Bill how the trail is north of here, since he’d just come from there. And he says, “It's full of a bunch of asshole mountains.” So I guess I have some challenging terrain ahead. But the entire time we’re driving in, Bill keeps trying to get Dobb to give him things. He’s recounting all these stories about how he got to stay at this place for free and at that place for free.

And Dobb is just like, “Look, I don't have any place to put you. I don’t know what to say.” So then Bill starts going on and on about how kindness is one of the most important attributes for people to have in life. Dobb’s patience was extraordinary.

Finally, Dobb drops Bill off in the middle of town, because there's apparently a shelter there that hikers can stay at for free. And as Bill is getting out of the shuttle, he asks, “Do you have any rooms available tomorrow?” And Dobb says, “Sure.” So Bill makes a reservation on the spot and then hands Dobb a 20-dollar-bill and says, “Keep the change.”

So, go figure. Stanimal’s was about a quarter mile down the road, and after I checked in, I got the tour. Upon S.'s encouragement, I had booked the “Switchback Sweetheart Shack,” because it was the only available private space. The name definitely makes it sound like a lot more than it actually is. It's literally a garden shed in the backyard. There are still tools in here, and I have a bird roommate for the night. I was told that the bird lives in here. But it's all worth it, because I have my own space.

The main house is absolutely stuffed full of people. I think something like 19 people are staying in the house, which is no bigger than maybe 1,500 square feet. You can even rent the recliner in the living room. It's a full house, and there’s only one bathroom. So I'm all too happy to be out in the garden shed by myself. There's wifi and an AC unit in the window, so all good.

I took a nice outdoor shower, organized my gear a little bit, and then walked to the Italian restaurant in town. I can't remember the name of it now. [Wife note: I think it’s Scotto’s Pizza.] And I absolutely destroyed a giant plate of chicken parm with pasta and garlic bread and salad and a couple beers.

That was wonderful. I did a little shopping, came back, organized my food, and talked to S. for a bit. All-you-can-eat pancakes start at 6 tomorrow morning, and then I'll head back to the trail on the 7 a.m. shuttle. Big day tomorrow. I’m going to try to do about 15 miles, so I’m hoping that Bill is wrong. Fingers crossed that the mountains aren’t assholes and will be a little bit friendlier than I expect.