5:00 am.
After reflexively silencing my alarm to keep the camp quiet, I had to lie back for a few minutes to recall why I was breaking camp before dawn.
Right. Eight miles to the Virginia border, three more miles to Damascus, and five hours driving to Round Hill. Up. Retrieve bear bag … huh, one of the noobs took advantage of the extra line I left coiled on the ground to hang their own bag. Would have been less irritating if they had asked first.
Boil water, make breakfast. Stuff sleeping bag, change to hiking clothes, collect and pack gear while breakfast is cooling.
Big City packed as quickly as I do, but it took her longer to boil water for breakfast. She admired the design of my JetBoil®; we exchanged best wishes and headed off in opposite directions. Happy trails, m’am.
I passed the flip floppers’ tent site as I left camp northbound and waved to them. They seemed to be taking time to appreciate the final tent strikedown of their long adventure.
Smooth trail, easy downgrades and few upgrades, lots of energy … I was almost halfway to the border and taking a siesta when the flipfloppers overtook me, chattering about a weekend festival in Damascus they had heard about. The “Fall Down” Festival, sponsored by the local craft breweries? I made polite noises, encouraged them to accept the festival as the town’s recognition of their personal success as well, offered what I knew of good food locations in Damascus, congratulated them and wished them well.
Some troubles keeping the backpack centered on my back took very little away from a great hiking day. I made the border by 11:30, next stop Damascus! The mountains looked remarkably similar in Virginia and Tennessee.
Eight miles done, three miles to go on a steep descent, muscles tiring. Two hours? I chose 2 pm as a target.
Some short and easy climbs reminded me of my limits — the Snail had already done seven miles for the day — I updated my target to 3 pm, and pressed on.
“Hello, good to see you again!” The flipfloppers, coming up from behind? They had stopped for an, umm, extended lunch. They rushed on before it occurred to me that I should have offered shuttle help, a little trail magic to ease the letdown of their finish.
Then, down. And Down. And Down some more. There are a number of switchback odysseys like this on the Trail, and Down is of course much easier than Up. Still, mind numbing, and it was a welcome relief when the Trail leveled out and a building roof appeared below the trees filling the valley.
Finally, Damascus. 3:15 pm.
