States fly by

Two days ago Digby and I left Virginia after walking 550 miles across that state in 5 weeks. Yesterday we walked into West Virginia. Today we entered Maryland. Tomorrow we enter Pensylvania. Fast heh? There is a race on the trail called the four state challenge which is held each year to see who can complete the four states in the best time. We are content to trundle along.

We reach the half-way mark - Harpers Ferry

This is an emotional moment. We have clocked more than 1000 miles and walk into Harpers Ferry - the town considered to be the 'emotional' half way mark, though the actual half way mark changes each year as new zig zags are added and the distance increases a little bit.

We cross the Shenendoah River on the bridge with four lanes of cars zinging past us and climb through the narrow pathway to emerge in an old part of the town where the Appalachian Train Conservancy has their headquarters. Excitement mounts as we race two young males to be the first hikers to emerge from the forest that day.

There are some spectators cheering us on as we come down the narrow lane. Lo and behold - it is Stickbuilt, Sandy and Paradise who have actually come early to wait for us to arrive. In a strange country, with few contacts we suddenly feel like we have 'family' watching out for us. We met Stickbuilt on the trail over 2 months ago - he knows us by our trail names of Tripper and Wizard from OZ. We find it hard to adapt to call him by his real name - Dave. Paradise is a male in his forties who has walked with us in the first few weeks and then rejoins us to walk part of the Shenendoahs. His real name is Nick. Paradise and Stickbuilt have both suffered injuries to force them to pull out of the hike, in the short term - both are hoping to return and may possibly walk with us when they return.

Our welcoming committee know what thru-hikers need - they have brough an esky full of ice with cans of soft drink and beer. Before Digby does anything else he drinks a beer. I sort through the soft drinks and select a can with the most calories. We have walked for the last 10 days without a break, averaging 15 miles a day in temperatures above 90 degrees F or 35 celsius.

AT the headquarters of the ATC we are processed and have our picture taken in front of the office sign. These photos go into the official photo album - we are number 485 to come through as thru hikers heading north. We browse the photo album, looking for faces that we recognise of people who have passed us - who has made it - who has disappeared and dropped out? Thousands have dropped out before the half way mark. Others have appeared ahead of us, who we know should still be behind us - they have 'yellow blazed' which means hitched a ride on the road and jumped ahead. We are called 'purists' - we are walking every step of the way with no shortcuts. There are few purists on the trail.

Our photo shows how skinny we are. Later we weigh ourselves on Stickbuilt and Sandy's scales and discover that we are both the lightest in living memory. Digby is starting to look like a WW2 prisoner of war with ribs and ribcage very prominent. For me - I now have a real waist and my bottom has disappeared, but the fat layer is still hanging on. The previous day for lunch I had drunk two cans of soft drink and ate a pint of vanilla flavoured icecream - and walked 10 miles and climbed 4,000 ft from the sugar hit!

US Men Do Not Wear Budgie Smugglers

Digby wears 'jocks' - male bikini knickers. He needs new ones after 3 months on the trail. In a small town at about the 850 mile mark he cannot find any replacements in the 'Dollar General' store (like Target) so he buys some ladies bikini knickers instead. He needs underpants which are low cut and do not interfere with the pack waist belt. It is not a pleasant sight - imagine a male trying to squash all his gear into a space designed for girls. He walks in ladies underwear for 150 miles and discovers it to be all right at a pinch but not really comfortable.

We arrive in Washington DC and go on a shopping spree - and three department stores later, we finally find a small rack of Calvin Klein hipster briefs. American males do not wear hipster briefs - they wear daggy high waisted and long legged boxers. Rack after rack of male underpants with short legs, long legs, and thick elastic waist bands, but none with no legs. The burning question - why don't American males wear budgie smugglers? - even Tony Abbott wears budgie smugglers so it can't be an old man conservative thing. I don't have the answer, but watch this space for further updates as I conduct my research interviews with US males walking the trail.

ATMs in the US

Americans love their cars. So there are drive-in ATMs so they don't have to park and walk to get money. But what if you are on foot? You get in the queue with the cars! There is Digby- 3 cars in front of him, two cars behind him. While he waits he makes Brmmm Brmmm noises and turns his imaginary steering wheel from side to side. Getting money out becomes a memoarable event.

desperation - wine and no corkscrew

digby learns the hard way that the US still uses corks in their wine when he opens a bottle with a pocket knife.

We clock over 700 miles

We have arrived at Dalesville - which is really a freeway suburb of a large city called Roanake in Virginia. we are surrounded by franchises for every food imaginable - the only decision is what restaurant to visit tonight - last night was Mexican and I drank my third US 'jumbo marguerita - 12 ounces to the glass.

We are taking a rest day here at a motel run by Indians (from India) - the best place we have stayed on the trail so far. Digby's bad knee was extremely swollen yesterday and we are both feeling exhausted having walked the last 6 days from Pearisburg climbing very mountainous terrain every day. And they said Virgina walking was easy! So far this is not so. we had to climb to the Dragons Tooth - a monolith and the descent was very steep and cliffy and rocky. At one point I lost my balance on a descent over a cliff and pitched forward over the cliff to be caught in a tree and wedged with my pack between the cliff and the tree, completely suspended and jammed. Digby seeing me disappearing over the edge made a lunge to catch my pack before I fell but he missed and then overbalanced as his pack pushed him over the edge of the cliff too. alas he had no tree to catch him and i watched him roll down past me. he was fine and extracted me from the jam, but it was a wake up call for us.