Becoming Odyssa - Jennifer Pharr Davis [57]
10
DISCOMFORT
OUTSIDE PEARISBURG, VA, TO
TROUTVILLE, VA—92 MILES
The stretch between Pearisburg and Roanoke is surprisingly rocky. It’s like a small sampling of Pennsylvania stuck in Virginia. The first mountains outside Pearisburg greet you with extended rock fields, and the rocky spine of the Dragon’s Tooth requires some novice bouldering moves. The finale of the section includes scenic McAfee Knob and Tinker Cliffs, which both feature rocky ledges, rocky views, and rocky footing.
After being smothered by Moot for six days, I went the next thirty-six hours without seeing anybody. I saw more than fifty deer, but not a single, solitary person.
I think very few people have a day in their life when they don’t see or interact with anyone else. It’s kind of weird and disorienting not to see anyone for that long. I did a lot of singing, I talked to God for company, and I wondered if there had been some catastrophe that had caused everyone to go into hiding.
Because of the not-too-distant memory of 9/11, there had been several times on the trail when I had wondered what would happen if the country suddenly went to war, or an epidemic started, or the stock market crashed. How would I find out? What would it mean for my hike . . . for me?
As for everyday news, I didn’t miss it at all. Politicians running smear campaigns, erratic Wall Street trends, the demigods of professional sports, celebrity gossip—even though I hadn’t paid much attention to mainstream media when I was still at home, I began to realize how much it had pervaded my life.
I started to realize how what was important in my life had changed. Out here I wasn’t worried about the government or the economy, fashion or pop culture. Instead I was concerned about whether or not I had enough food to make it to the next resupply point, where my next water source would be, and whether my clothes would keep me warm and dry.
For the first time in my life, I was experiencing real hunger and thirst, freezing nights, and prolonged physical weakness. For the first time in my life, I was experiencing real pain. And even though it hurt, it made me feel more alive than I did in the controlled comfort of society.
That afternoon, I felt painfully alive with every step.
After traveling on dirt trails through the woods and across the trodden grass of vast meadows, I arrived at my first rock field. I had heard about rock fields, but I didn’t really know what they were, or what to expect.
It turns out that a rock field is a section of earth completely covered with big, jagged stones, with no soil to walk on. It is a minefield of potential injury. Each step could lead to a fall or a sprained ankle. And if your feet don’t start to hurt from the sharp, pointed topography, your neck will ache from constantly looking down.
That afternoon, both my feet and my neck hurt, but especially my feet.
While I was conscientiously focusing on foot placement, I noticed a burning irritation on the bottom of my feet. My soles felt hot and sore from stepping on the uneven rocks, and while it was annoying at first, the pain soon escalated to an unbearable stinging sensation. With each step it felt as if the skin on the bottom of my feet was ripping apart.
If I could have stopped and set up camp in the rocks, I would have. The ache was so overwhelming that it caused me to tear up, which made it even harder to focus on the uneven tread. Although the rocky obstacle course was only two miles long, it took me nearly two hours to make it through.
I have never been so happy to see dirt. When the rock field ended and I could place my feet on soft earth, I stopped to set up camp.