I haven't had a cell signal for a couple of days. I'm getting a weak signal now, perched in my hammock at about 3200 feet, between the full moon and a small town's nightlights, The signal isn't strong enough to get any photos uploaded, but I wanted to post something so you'd know I was doing fine. The moonlight is bright enough to hike tonight without a headlamp, but I'm getting up early and going into Pearisburg for a much needed resupply.
I'm seeing fewer and fewer people on the trail these past few days, except on Saturdays, even though it is warm enough for shorts and t-shirts. I met a section hiker today going northbound and several hunters with rifles looking for Thanksgiving turkeys. Another section hiker passed me going north into town for a soda and cigarettes,even though it was 7 miles out of his way. He reminded me of daylight savings time.
"Don't forget to set your watch back an hour," he said.
"Oh yeah, thanks for the reminder," I said. "Doesn't matter that much out here though. I don't even have a watch."
I get up when I see some sunlight in the sky. I hike until it gets dark, sometimes hours after. The distance between the sun and horizon is my clock now. That or the length of my shadow. I rarely even know what day of the week it is. I received a text from a friend after I had been on the trail a while. "Man, I wish it was Saturday," he said. "It's not Saturday?" I replied with sarcasm. "Funny, it feels like Saturday."
I'm seeing fewer and fewer people on the trail these past few days, except on Saturdays, even though it is warm enough for shorts and t-shirts. I met a section hiker today going northbound and several hunters with rifles looking for Thanksgiving turkeys. Another section hiker passed me going north into town for a soda and cigarettes,even though it was 7 miles out of his way. He reminded me of daylight savings time.
"Don't forget to set your watch back an hour," he said.
"Oh yeah, thanks for the reminder," I said. "Doesn't matter that much out here though. I don't even have a watch."
I get up when I see some sunlight in the sky. I hike until it gets dark, sometimes hours after. The distance between the sun and horizon is my clock now. That or the length of my shadow. I rarely even know what day of the week it is. I received a text from a friend after I had been on the trail a while. "Man, I wish it was Saturday," he said. "It's not Saturday?" I replied with sarcasm. "Funny, it feels like Saturday."