Virginia, that is. And for awhile, I thought it very well might be the last thing I ever did. Maybe it was because I slackpacked for a week. Maybe it was because I got a sweet little taste of the movies and Rock Band I'm missing. Maybe it was because most of the people I knew were either in front of or behind me. Starting on my way through Shenandoah N.P. I was none too happy about hiking. So unhappy, in fact, that it was the first time I ever seriously considered quitting the trail.
Shenandoah is like some kind of strange spirit-sucking, tourist-filled alternate dimension, hidden under the guise of a seeming hiker fantasy land - easy terrain, plenty of views, nearly-tame wildlife, many many places to eat. As soon as I got in, I wanted to be out again, but not enough to be motivated to hike out. I just wanted to sit around, take my sweet time, and complain about walking. I guess it's just my natural tendency to sulk.
I was glad to find out later that I wasn't the only hiker feeling this way. It's the Virginia Blues. I got into Damascus on May 8. That's a MONTH AND 16 DAYS AGO. Don't get me wrong, I had a great time visiting with people and begin lazy and taking lots of days off, but when it's finally time for all that to be over, you want to feel like you're actually moving on, getting back to getting somewhere. And Shenandoah is that last big, 100-mile hurdle you have to drag yourself over before you finally get there - out of VA.
The good news is, I made it. I'm in Front Royal right now, rewarding myself with a night at a posh Super 8. Yes, I'm still in Virginia, but I am no longer miserable. The end is in sight, WV is right on the horizon, and before I know it I'll be venturing into that foreign territory above the Mason Dixon.
P.S. - I did see 3 bears in the park! No pictures, though. Keep your fingers crossed for N.J.
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