- 6/8 Miles 919.0-939.0 (20.0 mi.)
- Total ascent: 4505’; descent: 4364’
- 6/9 Miles 939.0-98.7 (19.8 mi)
- Total ascent: 4505’; descent 5249’
I hate to say it, but I’m going to be glad to be done with Shenandoah. No question: The park is beautiful and its wayside facilities are unique. But the long distances–four consecutive 20-mile days–and realities a national park are getting to me.
Being an AT hiker in Shenandoah is a bit like being a zoo animal: on display in a way that hides the dirty realities of thru-hiking. Many roadside signs in Shenandoah mention the trail, which is routed, unusually, to go by major parking areas. Visitors are encouraged to “hike a few miles on this famous footpath,” as if drivers will only be capable or interested in a hike of an hour or two.
Yet, for all of the pointing out AT hikers, the park seems lukewarm to us. Most untrimmed areas of trail are the AT, and tenting is discouraged. Backcountry facilities and signs are in disrepair, while a wayside is being remodeled to include a restaurant. Park rangers evidently do issue citations for camping in non-designated areas.
What’s clear is that the goal is for Shenandoah to be a “family road trip” national park. Anything that might harm that image, like hiker crap strewn out on picnic areas, is not allowed. I can almost hear the builders saying “It will be a modern park, a family motoring park.”
It is difficult to remember the actual events of the last couple of days. I can tell that such long hikes fatigue my mind as well as my body.
What I can tell you is that we’ve had a lot of alone time on woodsy, Missouri-like trails. We believe we’re between “bubbles” of hikers, and that a good number are “aqua-blazing”–floating the Shenandoah stretch instead, I think on the James River.
We leapfrogged two couples throughout much of yesterday, and saw two solo hikers, Bathtub and Raisin, at our late lunch. Tonight’s campground is full, we suspect mostly with section hikers; we were lucky to get one of the four designated tent spots, located on the hill behind the privy. A raccoon came to visit about 30 minutes ago, so I got out of the tent in my underwear and yelled at it. I’m glad it was dark-ish at the time.
For lunch both days, we ate at a wayside. We packed out sandwiches and cookies for dinner in order to save time on cooking. Today’s wayside, Elkwallow, had a grill, where we got cheeseburgers, fries, and blackberry milkshakes. We hit the wayside just in time to lay on the picnic table in the shade, shop, and then pack our purchases up out of a rainstorm that began while we were shopping. All of the other hikers we saw got wet.
In Front Royal, we still likely won’t have time to type up these blogs. We have all the usual trail chores, plus a visit to the outfitter to pick up my new pack. Osprey is being awesome and replacing my pack due to the back mesh failure. We hope to get in around 2 p.m. tomorrow (we’re staying at the hotel with the best location and hiker discount, the Super 8), but that assumes good terrain and luck hitching.
I saw my first road sign for DC today, and I am sure I’ll see more tomorrow. It’s hard to believe we’re so close. I am ready for half-time with my family, though I’m sure it will involve plenty of walking. They’re bringing some fresh clothes and a new pair of sunglasses–my current pair is the wrong prescription and part of the coating is coming off the lenses–that will help me refresh. I’m looking forward to telling them more about this adventure than I could practically record on the blog.
After that, Rachel and I are going to back off the throttle a bit. We have proven we can do the long days when necessary, but most sections only require we meet our 13-mile-per-day average. Waking up at 6 a.m. to hit the trail at 7 and hike until 7 p.m. feels too much like a job.
There’s nothing wrong with having a hard day. But they don’t all need to be for us to reach our goal, much less on our honeymoon.
