Becoming Odyssa - Jennifer Pharr Davis [69]
I ducked out of the rain at Harpers Creek Shelter. Someone had left a Backpacker magazine near the shelter register, and unpacking my sleeping bag to cozy up and stay warm, I read through every single page. A few months before, I had read Backpacker magazine with dreams and ambitions, but now it was my reality. I read every page with authority. I disagreed with gear reviews, related to the survival stories, and read about the featured trails and hikers with great interest.
I had almost reached the end of the magazine when I saw an article that mentioned David Horton. Ha! I knew he was famous. (Or else he planted this here to make people think he was.)
The simple pleasures of a warm sleeping bag and rain on a tin roof made it hard to leave the shelter, but I wanted to hike a little farther before nightfall, so I continued up the long incline of Three Ridges.
I was busy taking baby steps up the long ascent when I heard the sound of feet quickly approaching behind me. I turned to see David Horton running up the trail once again. He had run thirty miles in the time it had taken me to walk eight!
I knew he was in a hurry, but I didn’t want to botch my second chance, so I quickly expressed my admiration and requested a photo. A willing subject, he smiled and put his arm around my shoulder. I extended my outside arm, clicked a button, and captured our encounter.
I thought he would run off again after the photo, but instead he looked at me with a funny expression and said, “You’re brave.”
“Brave? why?”
“You’re hiking the trail alone. Aren’t you scared?”
“No. Would you be scared to hike alone?”
He grinned. “I’d be scared to carry a pack, and I’d be especially scared to do it alone. Runners don’t make good hikers, but they do smell better.”
He leaned over to sniff me, then held his nose and laughed. This guy had just run thirty miles and he was making jokes! He was so full of life and energy, and though we hadn’t talked for long, there was something about him I connected with. Even though he did seem a little crazy.
“I like you,” he said. “You’re special. You’re gonna make it to Katahdin.”
“I hope so.”
“NO!” he exclaimed. It was the first time I had seen him look serious. “You will make it to Katahdin.”
“Yeah, I will make it,” I said. He nodded his head with satisfaction. Then I asked, “So, are you just out here running for fun or are you training for something?”
“Both. I’m having fun, but I’m also training for the Pacific Crest Trail. I’m gonna try to set the record on it this summer.”
“How far is it?”
“Two thousand six hundred and sixty-three miles.”
“That’s four hundred miles longer than the AT!” I exclaimed.
“You’re right. And I’m gonna finish around the same time that you’ll finish. And you will finish! So you have to look me up afterward and say hi.”
“Okay, I’ll do it. I will look you up this fall.”
David laughed. “Okay, girl, I’ll talk to you soon.” Then he once again activated the machine on his wrist and continued running up the mountain and out of sight.
If I had been on the streets of Los Angeles and seen a movie star, it wouldn’t have meant as much to me as my run-in with David Horton.
Meeting David Horton was amazing, but the one thing I really wanted to see while I was on the trail was a bear. I wasn’t scared. I didn’t think it would eat me. I just wanted to see one in the wild. The three places on the trail where bear sightings are most common are in the Smokies, the Shenandoahs, and New Jersey. I hadn’t seen anything but rain or snow in the Smokies, so now that I was so close to Shenandoah National Park, I was extra vigilant.
Nearing the park, I noticed lots of little orange lizards. Maybe they were technically newts or salamanders, but whatever they were, they littered