Slick wet rocks and slippery stones.
Twisted ankles and broken bones.
A Kroger run for resupply and breakfast took place early. Perhaps I spent too much, but hunger was gnawing at my gut and I wanted to stabilize my weight. No finishing this trail at 140 pounds like I did on the PCT. The dozen doughnuts (apple fritters, lemon and raspberry jelly-filled Bismarks) were absolutely delicious and should provide plenty of energy for a day of trekking.
Repacked everything once I returned to the tenting area and broke camp. Once the library opened, I hopped on one of the computer terminals to check e-mail and got a nice surprise. Eliska Zalabakova, one of my English language students from the Czech Republic, will be coming to the States in June to work at a summer camp in Maryland. Very happy for her opportunity to visit my home country and broaden her horizons. The unfortunate thing is that by the time she arrives, I'll be well north of her location. Looked up from the computer screen while writing my sister and it was pouring outside. In my on-going mental conversation with the weather I thought, "Rain all you want. Get it out of your system so I won't have to deal with it when the time comes to start walking again."
True to his word, Dubose was at the YMCA at the agreed upon time and took me and five others who'd been staying at a hotel back to the trailhead. I'd hoped to get new shoes in Waynesboro, but it didn't work out, so the New Balance I'm wearing will have to last a bit longer.
Back on trail at eleven o'clock. Slick, wet conditions prevailed, but besides the need to be careful of my footing, the path was relatively good. Nothing to really see apart from the strip of trail running along rocky ground, the surrounding woods with tree leaves still shedding water from the earlier rain, and gray skies above.
Reached Black Rock Hut at seven. It was packed with a group of guys attempting an improvised jam session with guitars, a mandolin, a ukulele and a harmonica. What was this? A troupe of travelling minstrels? Surely, they couldn't all be thru-hikers, could they? I'd only met a few brave souls willing to carry their stringed instrument hundreds of miles over mountains, down into valleys and across streams. Was I witnessing the largest assembly of such people?
Feeling tired and beat from the trek, I found a small rocky tentsite just uphill from the back of the shelter and slowly managed to get my tent set up to avoid the worst of the lumpy ground. An hour later, as I lay inside on my sleeping pad, the heavens opened up the floodgates and another torrential rain came pouring down. I'm simply trying to hold things together at this point and stay as dry as possible. There is so much moisture in the air, I can see it just hanging there. One hundred percent humidity.
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