Virginia is huge and progress felt slow.
When I opened my eyes, I lay in my tent for a while waiting for the downpour to let up. Once I realized it might be a while, I packed up my stuff, broke down my tent, and went to the empty shelter to see if I could wait out the storm a little. The guys and I sat in the shelter talking for about an hour and then we moved out into the storm. The trail wasn’t that steep or slippery, so I didn’t mind hiking in the rain that day. We had a small climb up to Chestnut Flats at 4285 feet, but overall, the first ten miles of the day were pretty easy. There weren’t a lot of views for us to enjoy, but the trail went through some gorgeous forest, and we saw no other hikers all morning. Around noon we emerged from the woods at Dickey Gap. Once the whole crew was accounted for, we meandered over to a white picket fence by edge of the road and plopped our bags down. According to our trail guides there was a town 2.6 miles away where we could get food and resupply. The road through the gap was pretty quiet, so we talked and lazily hitched. Eventually an old pickup truck stopped. No words were exchanged, the driver just waved his hand and we hopped in the bed. A few minutes later we jumped out of the truck in Troutdale, or the edges of Troutdale. I really had no idea where we were. We found ourselves in the parking lot of a tired, gray building with a neon “open” sign in the window. Apparently it was diner/convience store/den of misery. My eyes took a minute to adjust to the dimly lit restaurant. there were ten tables inside the shadowy dining room. Each one was different than the one next to it. A couple of morose looking locals drank coffee and chewed on sandwiches at a table near the door. The menu was small but I really didn’t care what was on it. I felt like immediately handing the menu back to the waitress and using my good friend Scott’s line, “I’ll have that with cheese melted on it.” I ended up ordering fried chicken and potato wedges. With my entrée slurped down, I disgusted my fellow hikers when I then ordered two pieces of cherry pie with ice cream for dessert. After our strange lunch we went into the “convenience store.” The store was more like a walk in closet, but we bought whatever we could: Ramen, crackers, candy bars and Gatorades. It was a cool feeling to be able to walk into the smallest store and buy enough food to hike hundreds of miles. With our bellies full of grease and our mini resupply completed, we emerged from the shack and began to look for a ride back to the trail. Almost immediately someone claiming to be “The Shuttle Driver” offered us a ride in his old van. I was pretty sure it was an old ambulance converted into…a rape shuttle, murder mobile, diseased suicide taxi? The driver was very drunk, and very loud, but it was only a four mile trip back to the trail. The man swore and swerved as he picked up speed. There was an old dog in the van that seemed as scared as we were. I don’t remember exactly what it was, but he had some kind of strange invitation for us to hang out next time we were in Troutdale, Virginia. I knew I would not be back, but thought about what it would be like to live in that town and I became depressed. When the van stopped, we spilled out onto the side of the road and quickly waved a thank you as we scurried into the woods to escape the weird situation. The weather had become clear and warm. We hiked an easy 4 miles to the Tripini Shelter. The shelter was old and made of large stones. Below the structure, 25 yards down a steep hill, was a flat camp spot with a large fire ring. The camp spot was awesome and we were all in good spirits. No one else joined us that night, although Double Check and One Step stayed in the shelter above. We had a large fire, ate dinner and went to bed. It was a cold, clear night, but I warmed it up a little when I farted so loud and perfectly pitched that it echoed and shook the entire valley. Seth started cracking up and I fell asleep.
Smooth's Appalachian Trail Thru-Hike 