April 13
Pulled 27 miles today. They weren’t small miles either. Cosmo and I woke early, around 6:15 and hit the trail, climbing “The Priest,” one of the biggest mountains in the area, before the sun had even crested the horizon. Virginia farmland sprawled outward in every direction, hemmed in by forest and more mountains. We didn’t stop, but pushed on.

Our original goal was Punchbowl shelter, a hut 20 miles along, however, we made it there by mid-afternoon, long before we had expected. After a moment or two of deliberation we decided to keep going. There were a few hours of light left and only a measly seven more miles to Waynesboro. The lure of beer, burgers, and Golden State basketball drew us on.

20 miles is a long way. 27, we soon discovered, felt ludicrously longer. The last seven miles began at a gallop, which soon slowed to a trot, then degenerated even further to a stumbling hobble. If Cosmo and I were horses we would’ve been shot, and at that point I was almost praying for the bullet.
Alas, there were no merciful, gun-toting glue makers gracing the trail that day. And so our old-man-post-hip-surgery stagger was to drag on for what seemed an eternity.

At 7:30, we finally blundered out of the trees and found ourselves at the trailhead where, to our great relief, someone had posted a list of locals shuttlers. Finding a hitch to a bar took just one call.

It had been a long, long day and we were beyond tired, but the payoff was worth it. The tab below only got me to half the calorie intake demanded by my day.

It’s safe to say I’m welcome back at The Heritage in Waynesboro anytime.