CDT Day 6 (5/24/23)
Miles 120.1-127.1 (7 miles)
Verbatim
I’m nearing today at the Burro Mountain Home. I’m on the wifi. I’m eating cheap pizzas and I’m icing my sore achilles with a $1 can of root beer I got from the store. There are no hikers here, unfortunately. I think the last hiker to come through here left two days ago. At least that’s what Don, the camp host, told me. Don is wonderful, and greeted me early this morning as soon as I’d arrived at the BMH. He’s got quite the reputation on Guthooks, having several positive comments left for him. I think he’s African, possessing his accent, which is one I have a hard time distinguishing. He and I were joking about the luxury of thruhiking and our ability to take a shower once every four-six days. Don remembers being in the most dense of African jungles for months on end. There were no showers for Don.
I chatted with Don and a good man, Eli. It seems the Burro Mountain Home is a good place. I cleaned and packed my trash, which seems a little silly. I didn’t notice much of a change in the way the trash smelled. But hey, I’m trying. I wouldn’t be surprised if all the trash weighs 2-3 ounces. It all fits pretty flat in my 1 gallon ziplock. So, it’s good.
I’ve been sitting here for several hours now and my achilles feels as sore as ever. I am worried about its structural integrity. I can feel it vibrating under strain. My knee may be on the mend, but I’m afraid my ankle is not. I’ve eaten four Red Baron four cheese pizzas, a large overly sweet peanut DQ ice cream, and drank a root beer. This is not recovery food. I feel a bit of a stomach ache and a bit of a headache. I really want to be making miles, especially while my pack is light and before my brother’s graduation dinner. I’m feeling the weight of my hopes for the summer and fall.
A thought just came to me, which is that I may be holding too tightly to what’s gone on in my life. And that seems directly connected to L. It’s probably time to let her go and get excited about my own life. I’m disappointed with the decisions she’s made — since our breakup. She acted foolishly and hurtfully. Now she may go to graduate school and that will be good for her.
Post Note
Good lord it’s awkward reading myself. No s*** Sherlock. What a thought to just “come to me.” I feel embarrassed reading myself, and will protect my fragile ego by now stating that a body and mind six days into a trip in which they walked really far and under duress and without nutritious food cannot journal, or maybe even think, astutely. But alas, there I am.
Burro Mountain Home was great though. 10/10 would recommend. Free shower. Cheap food. Great people. Perfect trail town. Those four cheese pizzas were pretty gross. It was the sort of culinary experience where the first bites were heaven, but quickly descended into the food coma state which results after cheap, processed, chemically- and hormone-generated foods. I wasn’t used to the thruhiking diet yet; which is a diet where you just eat whatever and whenever you can because you’re burning 5000 calories a day crushing 30s. Crush miles bro. Miles AND smiles? You gotta eat a lot of four cheese pizzas to keep the miles coming and still fill them with smiles. Hanger is the worst.
You know, those pizzas came in cardboard boxes. But, the little microwave plate they rest in had what I perceived to be a plastic film. So, in they went to the backpack. Which prompts two considerations. First, I really don’t like the idea that I just microwaved my pizza on top of plastic? Second, plastic is inescapable. Even the “paper” choice was plastic.