Flashback to Day 32, 33: Sunshine Willis and the Damascathon.

The Day is Thursday, May 14th:

Kincora Hostel (besides being just a totally badass hiker hangout) is a donation based Hostel run by Bob Peoples. Bob Peoples is a trail legend. His name is graffitied into literally every single shelter south (and possibly north) of Damascus, where he's spoken of as a tongue-in-cheek kind of legend, a la Chuck Norris. The graffiti reads something along the lines of "Bob Peoples once rode a bear the entire length of the AT in less than a week" or "Bob Peoples climbed Katahdin barefoot after eating seventeen bowls of spaghetti". 

Also currently at this hostel is Baltimore Jack, whom we've seen several times since beginning the trail. You can basically find him anywhere that hikers are hanging out, as he spends most of his time trying to feed us and advise us. He's hiked the trail nine or so times (or some other equally ridiculous number), but his glory days are behind him and he's settled into the role of the Wise Elder... or to some he's probably more like a Watch Out This Could Be Your Future type dude.

Kincora Hostel conjures a strange sense of nostalgia in me. You see, it parallels the crusty dwellings that I used to frequent as a member of a touring hardcore band. It's notoriously dirty, there's about a dozen basically homeless people just hanging out eating ambiguous food that probably came from a dumpster (or a hiker box), and there's not one but two litters of kittens living inside a boxspring mattress in the bunk room. That last part needs repeating: there are not one BUT TWO litters of KITTENS living inside a BOXSPRING MATTRESS. How this came to be, I just simply do not know, but just let it be known that feral cats are in abundance.

Needless to say, we don't sleep much this night. Allergies, kittens mewling, and rambunctious hikers keep me awake most of the night. As I groggily gather my things and take them downstairs to reassemble my backpack in a less chaotic fashion, I dodge Baltimore Jack and Sunshine Willis, another thruhiker, making what I think is supposed to be chocolate chip pancakes. Unfortunately, Sunshine Willis (although kind and generous) is unable to make these pancakes, even though they came from a box and nothing could be simpler than making pancakes from a box. It seems to me that maybe Sunshine isn't the brightest bulb in the bunch, but that's okay, because he's seriously a super nice dude.

We try to dip out early-ish so as to avoid having to decline the polite offers of breakfast that our host, Baltimore Jack, has so graciously assembled for us. It is a reoccurring theme of the trail that I must decline food from Baltimore Jack, just the day before he handed me a tuna sandwich, compelling me "eat, eat!" to which I ashamedly explained, "I'm so sorry, I just can't eat that". I honestly hate when this happens. I cannot stand turning down food from people, but the Way of the Vegan determines that it must be so.

Before leaving, Jack decides to give us some last minute advice (about hitchhiking) and we listen attentively, eager to be on the road. Somehow he ends up saying that we'll be fine because we're with Cheyanne (who he refers to as "that" rather than as a person) because she's a girl and girls have a much easier time hitchhiking. Okay, enough of this, we have to leave.

We've decide on doing a relatively big day, around 24 miles, but we're off to a slow start and the distractions keep piling up. About an hour into the hike, we get passed by Sunshine Willis, who is wearing cargo shorts, a sleeveless cotton shirt, and a bandana wrapped around his forehead... and no backpack. I'm super confused. He explains that he's slackpacking all the way to Damascus. Damascus is 50 miles from Kincora Hostel. Bob Peoples drove his bag up to Damascus and is going to drop it off there for him to get this evening. So basically he's going to do 50 miles in one day because it's do or die, he has no shelter or sleep system... or water filter... or anything really. What he does have is two chocolate chip clif bars contained within his cargo shorts and a 32 ounce nalgene bottle that he's holding in his hand. I'm confused, but whatever, let him do his thing.

Early on in the day we hike into a beach, a beach with trail magic. As we dip our potato chips into mustard and ketchup (standard fare for us at most trail magic), Cheyanne explains that her ankle is in bad shape. It's swollen to all hell and is just barely able to fit into her still laced up shoes. But whatever, she'll walk it off, right?

Wrong. At the next road crossing it's decided that Cheyanne has to part ways with us. We'll meet back up in Damascus. Cheyanne finds a hitch with a paranoid forest service agent, I take pictures of his license on my phone and text them to Cheyanne, a not so subtle warning that I'll come find him if he turns out to be a sketchy asshole. 

Me and Stevie continue on, and I guess Stevie is feeling froggy because he suddenly proposes that we do a huge day, 32 miles total. It's around 4:00 PM and we've only done 12 at this point. That means 20 more miles before sleep. A lofty goal, but I'm a masochistic weirdo and agree that yeah, 32 miles sounds good.

We're moving fast, but the day is waning and the water sources totally suck. As we break for dinner, Sunshine Willis passes us... again. I'm confused by this again, but he explains again. He got caught at the trail magic for way too long, but he plans on making it to Damascus by 11 or 12. "Tomorrow morning?" I ask. "No, tonight," he replies. It's 7:00 PM and we're still at least 30 miles from Damascus. What the hell is this dude thinking?

At some point me and Stevie split ways, deciding to meet back up at the shelter. It's dark by the time we get to the 24 mile marker (our original goal) and the other hikers at this shelter, Gelati (comedy relief bro-dude) and TNT (6'7" German hiking machine), yell at me as I walk off into the darkness, "You're fucking crazy dude!"

I think to myself, "At least I'm not as crazy as Sunshine."

It's not long before I run into Sunshine again. I see a headlight in the distance, a little bit off trail in the woods. It freaks me out some so I call out to whoever is creeping around in the trees. Of course it's Sunshine. He's looking for water. But there's no water to be had for at least three miles, I tell him. Of course he doesn't know that, he doesn't have a guide book because he doesn't have ANYTHING AT ALL WITH HIM. I look up where the next water source is and he decides to hike with me there. We get there and he asks to borrow my filter. He doesn't know how to use it. I get water for him and filter it into his absurb Nalgene bottle. We continue hiking, and my efforts to communicate with him aren't so hot, but he tells me a little bit about himself and I can't tell if he's telling the truth about any of it. It's obvious to be that Sunshine is a supremely weird dude.

We get to a road crossing where the AT goes onto private property and crosses several cow fields. The only problem here is that the cows are all in the middle of the trail and they aren't too happy about our headlamps or our nearness. Sunshine demands I take some pictures of him with the cows, they turn out awful.

We get to the shelter at about 11:00 PM and there's only one other person there. I start to lay my things out to promptly go to sleep and Sunshine informs me that he thinks he'll have a nap. But he doesn't have a sleeping pad... or bag... or even warmer clothes. I don't have much to offer him, but I give him a tyvek groundsheet, an emergency blanket, and my rain jacket. He uses the first two as blankets and the rain jacket as a pillow.

He rolls around all night, making insanely loud trash bag noises with the tyvek, and I barely sleep at all. But it's whatever, I don't blame him, it's cold as hell and he's definitely not asleep or even warm. I finally pass out, glad to be done with my 32 miles and ready to do the remaining 18 into Damascus early tomorrow.

The Day is Friday, May 15th:

I wake up at 7:00 AM. A relatively late start, but whatever. Sunshine is also getting up and about, explaining to me that he still plans on making it to Damascus by 8:00 AM in order to maintain his original goal of 50 miles in 24 hours... but he's still 18 miles away. There is literally no way he'll make it, not even if he has Usain Bolt's speed and Kilian Jornet's trail running skills. At this point I don't give a shit about any of the wild crap that comes out of this kid's mouth and I let him go, wishing him luck and somewhat hoping that he doesn't break his ankle trying to run 18 miles per hour.

Stevie never shows up to the shelter and I'm a little worried, so I decide to hang around for a bit, hoping that he'll appear. He doesn't, so I push forward.

I'm tired, so tired. High mileage and very little sleep has done me a disservice and I'm insanely exhausted. I go slow, real slow, and eventually Stevie shows up. He tells me that he ended up cowboy camping in the cow pasture. I tell him what has just occurred with Sunshine Willis, and we laugh because what the hell, the last day has just been so profoundly weird.

We make our way into Damascus, and although the elevation gain and loss is mild and the terrain is forgiving, we hate every second of it. But Trail Days! Damascus! Imaginary state lines! Pseudo progress! We're almost there! My real motivation is the rumor of a cafe in Damascus. Maybe they have espresso, maybe they have soy milk! Maybe I can get a soy latte! AHHH!

A couple of minutes after taking shitty pictures of the Virginia border, me and Stevie run into some of the hikers who were with Bob Peoples and Sunshine Willis's backpack. Well, Sunshine never showed up to Damascus and they're a little worried. I relay my story and we're all equally baffled. We shrug and move on.

As we approach Damascus, I hear music. Loud, bad music, and I realize that I hate festivals. Oh no, is Trail Days going to be a massive, nasty hiker festival? Yes, it is. I sort of already know this, but I want to witness it anyhow.

We walk through town, observing the spectacle that is trail days, making our way towards this so-called cafe (where I think we'll find Cheyanne). Behold, it is a real cafe! And behold, Cheyanne is there! The trail gods have smiled upon us on this day.

I sip on a soy latte as we try to find a place to eat and sleep. Preferably a place that isn't Tent City (the massive field of tents where thruhikers perform acts of extreme debauchery late into the night). We find a church hostel and they explain to me that quiet time begins at 10:00 PM. Awesome. I set up my tent outside, determined to sleep well this night.

I go to get my food box from the outfitters, only to find that it's not there. It's nowhere to be found, and I discarded the tracking number a month ago. God damnit.

Dismayed, I eat a veggie burrito from an in town restaurant and check out the Food City, then climb into my tent and pass the freak out.