As is fast becoming trend, I was the last one of our group to pack up this morning. I was still in my hammock when I saw deuce head out. And by the time I walked down to start breakfast, Viking and rocket headed out. 

I downed a quick power bar breakfast while chatting with Still Packing and Lookout (who had arrived earlier this morning). Lookout recounted the trouble he had gotten into in Damascus, but, in classic Lookout form, he had no ill will against anyone involved and continued to preach a life of love and helping others. His dog, Zoe, licked at his ankles and then mine as he told us the story. 

He then got up for his morning ritual. This is going to sound like a weird ritual, and it is, but once you’ve met lookout, you just get used to it. He pulled out the homemade bullwhip from his bag that he had hand braided and pranced around the shelter’s lawn, cracking it and letting the sound echo off the mountains in front of us. The first time I saw him do this, I was a bit freaked out and did not love it. The more I’ve gotten to know lookout, the more I’ve come to accept that Lookout does what lookout wants. And there’s rarely any reason behind it.  

As I walked off and felt the energy flowing through my legs. I didn’t look at my phone, but I knew I was making good time. My legs seemed to spring off the trail and I navigated the rockier sections without trouble. I passed rocket first. Then Viking. Then deuce. I stopped to walk with each for a minute or two before bounding on ahead – feeling like I did weeks ago. 

I walked past an off shoot trail with a sign that just said “museum.” I shrugged and walked in. It was a homestead museum, it turns out – centered around a house that was originally built in the 1800s that had been maintained and updated ever since. The museum was closed so there were no live reenactments. But I could still peak in all the windows. 

A quarter mile after that was a sign for trail magic. I walked in to the old school house and saw 3 large bins with signs that told me to dig in. Two bins were full of chips and the other of soda. I helped myself to two of each and sat down on the porch – catching up on the messages I had missed over the last couple of days. When rocket and James joined, I chatted with them until the rain started. Then I excused myself and hit the trail. 

I could hear the road for much of the next two miles. Usually that would put a damper on my mood. It would pull me out of the zen state of walking. But this time I knew that when I hit the road, there would be a gas station. And within that gas station would be a Mexican restaurant. The sound of that road, in other words, was the sound of a burrito. 

When I got to the restaurant, I ate at a table where energizer, duracel, roundabout, rocket, too hot and James all rotated through at different times. As I was face deep in my burrito, a man came over to talk to us. He had done the trail 11 years ago and wanted to tell us all his stories. We politely nodded and grunted with full mouths at the appropriate times. I even went outside with him at one point to point out our packs and show him how much lighter they had gotten since he walked. He was shocked!

When it came time to pay the bill, he then very kindly picked it up and wished us safe travels! Thanks, Drummer Boy!

I stepped out of the restaurant and saw a familiar looking building across the street. It was a former all you can eat restaurant that I had visited (and probably accidentally bankrupt) when I had done my cross country bike trip! It was closed today (and maybe for good). But it brought back a flood of memories. Of eating too much and laying in the grass out front wondering if I’d ever feel hungry again. I did.

Since I hadn’t paid for my lunch, I decided I might as well treat myself to a coke, a massive pack of gushers, a Reese’s outrageous bar, an ice tea and some gummy worms for dessert. I deserved it all.

But with a stomach full of junk, the next two miles to camp were much slower than the previous eleven. I felt better than I had when I left the restaurant last time, but that’s a low bar. For the rest of my walk, I kept my focus on not expelling all of that sugar onto the trail. 

By the time I got to camp and got set up, James had another rip roaring fire going. We all sat around it, shooting the breeze until a storm rolled in. We watched the lightning form across the sky until rain drops started falling where we stood. We all sprinted in disparate directions – running towards our tents. 

I’m now back in my hammock, once again listening to the rain pitter patter on my rain fly. 

Key stats:

Miles: 13

Elevation gained: 2,200 ft 

Mile marker: 548

Dinner: cold ramen and cold spam