Let's go back to Kinkora hostel. I got sick there from Little Caesar's pizza and when I was stepping down to the falls the day I thought I'd be ok, I remember stepping with my left foot onto a very sharp rock that made it feel as though someone shoved a needle between my big toe and my second toe-- with that in mind, I realize through pushing too many miles and from not getting enough calcium, my body was still healing and I developed the beginnings of this stress fracture. That's how it all began! Unbelievable!
Getting out of Damascus, it was a beautiful, sunny morning. It didn't take long for the heat and humidity to get to me though-- honestly after a few hills I was getting warm. I stopped for water breaks often and would take my time looking at the gorgeous mountain laurel that was beginning to blossom. It wasn't my first time seeing mountain laurel on the trail but it was certainly my first time seeing it in such abundance. Mountain Laurel looks like a china dish... beautiful and ornate but so complicated and perfect that it's almost unbeatable at it's purpose of spreading pollen. It's literally impossible for an insect to get inside the flower and get nectar without touching the piston.
I was going along smooth and steady-- just taking my time, not in any hurry to catch up with Fozzie or Phil as we were doing a mere 16-mile day. I told myself that this day would be pretty sweet and I was right. A few rainclouds filtered through the sky and they were VERY dark-- they went by without any rain though and the sun came back again. I loved experiencing such a day without a drop of rain; and looking back, with it being my last day of true, happy hiking... it was pretty damn wonderful.
The way up to Saunder's Shelter was a tough climb but I kept up slow and steady with the method Fozzie showed me of 2 steps per inhale... 2 steps per exhale... I didn't have to take a break once in the last few miles and I wound up passing Progress (a mormon girl whom Bridgette had been hiking with) and her hubby and also a ginger guy who spoke very little to me... even looked a bit menacing the times I had seen him prior... and his lady who was rightly curvaceous.
Honeybadger passed me up and talked with me briefly-- before I knew it, was at the side trail to go to Saunder's Shelter and I was 10 miles out from Damascus. I sat near the side trail and had some ramen and never actually went up to the shelter because I didn't want to waste the energy. After a nice break and a few phonecalls that left my battery down by bar, I sauntered off to climb a few hills and go back down to get to the Virginia Creeper trail section. Getting there was sometimes rocky but my feet weren't bothered by it at first, I pondered that my aching foot was just a little bit of inadequate stretching and that it was done and over with. Just before the Creeper Trail though, my foot became a little tender at the arch-- it had happened before so I brushed it off.
The Virginia Creeper is about... well, what the hell do I call it? I'm struggling here. It's a long bike path that goes the entire way to Damascus and it is downhill, you can ultimately go the entire way without pedaling your bike, just coast the whole way down. I was going up it, though it wasn't the steepest incline by far, it was mellow. I sauntered along with "The Creep" in my head by The Lonely Island-- definitely wanted to stop and get my arms t-rexing as some bikers passed by but I thought better of it and simply waved and said "hello."
It was only about a mile and a half perhaps of walking on cement, after that I reached the Luther Hassinger Memorial Bridge-- a tremendously long wooden bridge that was a pleasure to stroll down. After the bridge, I made a left to get back onto more of the dirt trail and passed a long stream. I filled up on water, followed the stream more when something MASSIVE darted out of the woods and ran across the stream, it didn't take me long after watching the movements to realize it was a big doe-- she looked like a trojan horse lopping across the ground because of her size. I was pleased, that was the first doe I had actually seen (fozzie saw one, I merely heard it but that was way back in the Smokies). Sunset came on quickly after that because of the angle of the mountains.
I found myself reaching Lost Mountain Shelter quickly. The place was fucking packed but as I didn't hear any reports for rain and there were a multitude of people already camping, I decided I'd tent and have a swell night.
By now, my foot wasn't feeling great. I was contemplating getting better shoes at that moment, something with a little more rock guard like the treksports-- I proceeded to get Jess to pick a pair up for me and asked her to send them through the mail, she did so and was waiting for me to simply call and give her the general delivery address but my signal stopped working about here. That was the last I'd talk to her or anyone else on the phone for several days, this would also be my last night hanging out with Sam, Fozzie and Phil and was sadly my last night spent with Fozzie and Phil. Wait, Sam you say? The little bugger was there!
Fozzie saw me as I was first getting into camp and told me there was someone I'd be happy to see-- I figured it would be Firefox or someone like that but lo and behold, Sam Ridge! The son-of-a-gun yellow blazed ahead (made the mileage back up close to trail days though, so there's that!) We all sat out by Sam and Phil's hammocks while they smoked and I sat on a tiny rock that I had to move on intermittently as my ass began to HURT.
I was overjoyed to see Sam again-- we discussed a few things-- the poems and lyrics I write in logs (and how some people might make fun of them to which I said it didn't matter to me) and we chilled for a while. A kid came by and brought Fozzie some bourbon in a gatorade bottle. I had a few swigs and talked with them all and soon got extremely sleepy... my alcohol tolerance is very low. The kid who brought the bourbon was talking about people who smoke or not on the trail and I got a little pissed at one of the things he said, I don't know quite why (and I didn't say anything about it, just was mentally pissed) but he said that a lot of the people who don't smoke look down on the people that do but they'll associate with people who do smoke on the trail because they don't care as much out of society and are in want of company. I suppose what he said had a small amount of truth to it and that's what made me angry or perhaps I was just in a bad mood... my foot had indeed began to feel crappy. After setting up my tent, I climbed in and didn't climb out until morning. I just felt exhausted and I didn't stir or wake up much if at all that night.
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