1165

Charlie and I were upnattem bright and early at 6:30 AM in Harper's Ferry, West Virginia. Decided to take the camper away for a couple of days. Like a lot of places on the East Coast, Harper's Ferry can get pretty hot and muggy during the summer so getting up early to get a walk in along the Shenendoah is the best way to do it. Of course, Harper's Ferry is nothing compared to being at Williamsburg around the same time. I figure you have to be just plain nuts to even attempt that one, and since I am not completely nuts I try to find some places where I am not asking myself, "What the hell are you doing here?"

So we took a nice walk along the river side, and Charlie managed to get in the water and look for fish. Every time he goes in the water he looks for fish. Once upon a time he saw some tiny fish - let's call them minnows - and chased them up and down the bank for at least a half hour. Hey, everyone gets to decide what's fun, right?

On the way back I saw a young man with a large back pack lying next to him. "Walking the trail?", I said. The "trail" is the Shenendoah trail that runs from Georgia to Maine. It's not uncommon to meet people in Harper's Ferry who are hiking either a part of or the entire length of the trail. I, by the way, no longer say that I am going on a hike. I take walks. Those who hike the trail are hikers.

But I digress. "So how long have been hiking so far?" "Three months", he replied. Bare in mind that this kid looked to be in pretty good shape. I can only offer agonizing mental comparisons of what I would look like had I been hiking that long non stop. "Oh really", I said, and "How many miles do you cover each day?" "About 17 miles", was his reply.

I once went on an 11 mile forced march (the military term for hiking), and by the time we arrived at our destination (which is another way of saying that we stopped somewhere), I would have used all the knowledge the military had given me to kill someone for a Coke.

And here's the kicker. I hadn't calculated how many miles this 29 year old had already hiked, when I asked, "And how far do you have to go?" Ready? "Approximately one thousand one hundred and sixty five miles", he replied without hesitation. Approximately. Could be a few yards more or less based on how on curvy the path was I was thinking. Approximately. Now the reason I wrote out one thousand one hundred and sixty five miles is because it gives the excursion a little more meat than saying he had to go another 1,165 miles. And he figured he would arrive in Maine in about three months.

He'd never been to Maine. Matter of fact, he'd never been to Harper's Ferry either. He was taking a side trip to Washington, DC on metro. He'd never been there either. Now I've been to Georgia and West Virginia and Maine and Washington, DC, but I can god damn guarantee you that I wouldn't have walked to any of them!

All told this lad will have spent six months of his life doing something that millions have probably heard about and who knows how many have actually thought about accomplishing.

But, one thousand one hundred and sixty five miles yet to go?

1,165 miles?

Sheesh.