Last year I successfully thru-hiked the country's oldest long distance hiking trail, the Long Trail.
Twice.
I moved from New York to Virginia very soon after finishing the 76-day experience, and the Creeper Trail is the only one I've been on since, primarily because it's located less than a mile from my new home. Nearly six months later, I still haven't covered the entire distance. That's okay; no one ever accused me of moving too fast.
My sluggish pace isn't the result of laziness. It's because the Creeper Trail spans 34.3 miles along an old railway line, and I'd prefer to bike it when the weather becomes warmer. To be sure, the day is almost here.
Right now I walk the first mile or two of the Creeper Trail nearly every day for no other reason than to escape the dismal normalcy of day-to-day indoor routine. That's not to say I don't love my new home. I do. It's smaller, cheaper, and more secluded than expected. The postal service has no idea where to find me, nor did October's trick-or-treaters. I think that makes it a great place to weather the inevitable zombie apocalypse or bird flu pandemic. While you're all fighting to stay alive, I'll be inside hoping my Amazon Pantry box arrives as scheduled.
The Creeper Trail represents a different kind of monotonous routine, but preferable to the former. You learn to expect the trail's many offerings: the cows, the horses, the ducks, and the empty benches dedicated to someone no one remembers. I made the mistake of taking a walk in the midst of a 5K run the other day. They distracted me from the pile of dog shit I nearly stepped in, which is a common sight. I suppose fertilizing the grounds might be considered environmentally friendly.
The trail is multi-purpose, and one can expect to encounter plenty of other walkers, runners, and bikers along the path. Horses are allowed, but I've yet to see any. There's an obvious generational gap between the young and old who use the trail for exercise. The younger women ignore my existence, while the older women politely smile and wave. The younger men glare, not-so-subtly implying their lack of desire for meaningful human contact. The older men grunt and cough, probably still pissed their wives locked them outside until they could fulfill their daily exercise regimen. I think most of them are angry I'm so much prettier than they are.
And the one aspect of the trail I've come to expect more than any other? It has to be the elderly woman who walks with the support of her trusty cane. She's on the trail no matter when I make the short trek; morning or afternoon, rain or shine. If I were to go for a nighttime jog, I imagine she'd be there waiting to surprise me. Is she lonely? A former Olympian? The embodiment of the now-aged Greed goddess of fertility, Aphrodite? There's no way to be sure. The cane is an obvious act of deception. I'm always passing her by, but upon turning around she vanishes without a trace. Classic spook action.
Still, it's inspiring that even during a short daily walk I can find the rare human specimen who impresses me. What a shame it is that more of us don't get outside as often as we should.
There was a wad of used toilet paper in the middle of the trail a few weeks back, which struck me as odd because it's NOT that kind of trail. There's an Appalachian Trail connection about sixteen miles away in a town called Damascus (how awesome is that, and why do only 800 people live there?!). Maybe someone in the middle of a longer thru-hike decided to take a short detour toward Abingdon, the Creeper Trail's terminus. The town is a bird sanctuary, whatever that means. I may have seen a pterodactyl today.
I took a slightly longer walk this morning, taking it slow to enjoy the rain and clouds. After 76 days of functioning properly during last year's thru-hike, my MP3 player decided to break. It froze seven or eight times in a few minutes, and a system reset did nothing to fix the problem. That means I have to resort to using my phone for music, and THAT means investing in wireless headphones compatible with an iPhone 7. Can anyone recommend a good pair? I'm not sure they exist. None stay secure in my misshapen ears, anyway.
Normally the golf course about a mile or two into the Creeper Trail marks my turnaround point. Today it made me think of who actually lives out here. I heard from my Uber driver (he's practically the only one who drives in this small town) that a lot of former coal and oil tycoons settled here back in the day, and judging by the real estate along the trail he wasn't lying. It's enough to make anyone jealous. Is space for a garden so much to ask? That's all I want.
I haven't met any super duper religious nutcases yet, but they're out there somewhere judging by the fliers.
A few months back I picked up painted stones at Largo Preserve in Florida and flew them back here to drop them along the trail. Their former owners were happy I did. It's a silly gimmick, but I've considered doing the same for networking purposes.
"Hi, welcome to my home."
"What's this shoebox full of poorly painted rocks?"
"It's a gift. Take one."
"Uh, what should I do with the rock?"
"Put it somewhere else, dumbass. Duh."
That's how people become popular on Instagram, right? The rocks I placed along the trail vanished into the ether only a day later, so apparently people like rocks.
I'm convinced.
*Sigh*
Anyway, now I'm waiting for the trees to turn green and the nights to turn warm. Yesterday marked the beginning of spring. That means it's nearly time to shake off my winter-long hibernation and do what I came here to do; namely, outdoorsy things.