Greetings from the land of few cellular towers and fewer teeth. If you haven’t checked in for a while (or, man, even if you have checked in recently), you might be startled to learn that I’m here already. That’s right, reader – I managed to cover the entire Virginia portion of my journey in just five little days. This has been my most productive week yet in terms of walking (110 miles in six days), and my least productive week yet in terms of blogging. As a result, I managed to cross an entire commonwealth without actually writing about it. In vignette form, I aim to remedy the situation this morning.

Day 1: Mount Airy, NC to Fancy Gap, VA

I entered Virginia expecting at least a day’s warm-up for the towering hills and misty mountains I’d been promised by all the maps and locals. I did not receive one. This first day in Virginia was easily the most difficult I’ve had on this trip – and that includes the 30-mile day I had back in Georgia. The first five miles or so came exclusively in North Carolina, where the hills are rolling but not altogether monstrous. But, man, they take their state lines seriously around here. The minute I crossed into Virginia, the world went all slanty on me, and the trend was overwhelmingly skyward.

For twelve consecutive miles, I plodded along a 45-degree upward grade. Needless to say, when I arrived in Fancy Gap, I was more than just a little tired. Fortunately, for my troubles, I was rewarded with some stunning views and pictures, along with a host of hilarious road signs, some of which you’ve seen already. Better yet, the lone restaurant on the top of that particular mountain happened to be a nice home-cookin’ affair, where I ordered a healthy slab of delicious meatloaf, a dollop of mashed potatoes, and some of the best baked apples I’ve ever tasted. Given that my last truly home-cooked meal came in Aiken, SC way back on Memorial Day Weekend, this conglomeration of relatively healthy food made my body sing with joy. You ever have that feeling, reader? Where your body literally seems to thank you for treating it so well with food? I used to get that feeling fairly regularly, but it’s been an awfully long time.

Day 2: Fancy Gap, VA to Fosters Falls, VA

Given the tremendous toll of the hill-climb on the previous day, I was glad to find as much down as up on Day Two. Traversing the rolling hills between Fancy Gap and Fosters Falls proved far easier on the back and knees, and I found myself strangely energized even from the start. The original plan was to make this a simpler day, ending in Hillsville, VA, but when I arrived in Hillsville, I didn’t feel like I was done, so I continued on to Fosters Falls, where I stayed at a campground on the edge of the New River Trail State Park.

New River Trail. This wasn’t on my original route. My original route had me walking from the Fosters Falls area along roads into Dublin, VA. I can’t say how that trip might have gone, but I imagine it would have been more of the uphill struggling and the dangerous curves along jagged rock faces. I’m glad I missed it. But why and how did I miss it?  Well, reader, I was fortunate enough to run into a young man in Hillsville who informed me of the New River Trail – a former railroad line converted to hiking path that runs along the New River, which is purportedly one of the world’s oldest rivers (how you measure that sort of thing, I can’t even imagine) and one of only a few that runs from south to north.

According to my new friend, the trail was flat, shady, serene, scenic, and could easily be crossed in a day. According to the internet, the trail was all of the above, save for 24-miles long. How my new friend figured that qualified as an easy day’s walk is beyond me. Still, I found myself stoked to know that I could walk a shady, flat trail into Dublin instead of a sunny, windy, uphill road.

Day 3: Fosters Falls, VA to Pulaski, VA

As it turns out, the New River Trail was a day’s walk. Not an easy one, by any stretch, but a day’s walk, nonetheless. 26.2 miles, reader. That’s how far I walked on this day. A marathon. My pack felt heavy throughout – the thingy that allows me to adjust the height of my hip-belt seems to have broken, which means that the bulk of the pack weight now settles on my shoulders – but I had plenty of opportunity to stop and adjust, as the New River Trail features benches and/or picnic tables every two miles or so. I found the trail to be a long, flat corridor of thick tree-line, the trees providing a heavy canopy overhead. The shade was a godsend. See, this infernal heat seems to have followed me all the way from Georgia. Seriously, reader, everywhere I’ve gone, I’ve heard of record breaking heat. In all four states I’ve covered since Florida, the locals have said the same thing: “This would be hot for August.”

So I got to enjoy a day in shade on what would have been a sunny scorcher of a 96-degree affair.  And the walking was comparatively easy. In just a week, I had gotten so used to walking up and down savage hills that low, flat ground seemed like (and literally was) a walk in the park. So instead of walking half the trail and camping illegally somewhere near Allisonia, I pressed on, making it as far as a really hellish motel in Pulaski, VA. The Budget Inn.

Now, reader, I’ve stayed in hostels before. In Spain, in Italy, in Amsterdam. The worst was in Florence, where the room crawled with bedbugs and B.O. But I have never (ever) stayed in a place more disgusting than the Budget Inn in Pulaski, VA. For $39, I got to cross a perilous exterior hallway that sagged from many years of water damage delivered by the leaky air conditioning units jutting from each room. After I keyed my way through the shabby lock, I found a room buzzing with flies and gnats. The bed was boxy and clearly unclean. When I pulled back the bedspread, I found not a fitted sheet, but a pair of top-sheets sandwiched together, both of them yellowed from years of sweat and cigarette smoke and body soil. The bathroom presented with molds of all colors and qualities. The floor slanted at a treacherous angle toward the door. How this place hasn’t been condemned is well beyond me.

Anyway, there I slept – atop the bedspread and inside my sleeping bag, reader, don’t worry. And for one night, I got to see what it was like to be a trucker or a divorcee down on his luck or the kind of man who solicits prostitutes in seedy motels (except for the prostitute part, of course). It felt dirty and depressing and weird. Even after my morning shower, I needed a shower. I’m not sure how anyone could live this way. And yet, the place was chock-full of people apparently living there long-term. When I checked in, mine was the only available room. At all hours of the night, I would hear people milling around on the heavily damaged balcony, socializing like old, desperate friends. People lived there, reader. People lived there.

Day 4: Pulaski, VA to Somewhere between Dublin and Pearisburg, VA

I expected my feet to ache something awful when I woke in that rat hole hotel – I’d walked a marathon on the previous day, after all – but I was pleasantly surprised to find my feet feeling completely refreshed. I suppose they’ve gotten used to the daily beatings after nearly 1,000 miles, but still. That’s pretty remarkable. I’d considered just walking into Dublin (only five miles away) to find a reasonable place to conduct a sort of half-Zero-Day, but I felt strong and healthy enough to continue on, and so I did.

When I first looked at the route that would take me through this fine and scenic state, I assumed that the two days between Dublin and Pearisburg would be the most difficult. It appeared to head straight into the highest point of the Appalachian Mountains, after all. But what I found on Day 4 was quite different. The route I took followed through a complex but rather level pass. Sure, I had plenty of time heading uphill, but it wasn’t nearly as constant as it had been leading into Fancy Gap. The sights were plentiful and the opportunities for rest many. And after a hard day’s walk, I nearly made Pearisburg (more than twenty miles, all told).

I slept in the tent on this night, quite near the roadside but well hidden among the trees. This felt like one of my safer nights of illegal camping, as I was cradled on two sides by sheer rock wall. My tent lay close enough to the road to be assaulted by traffic noise, but the traffic in these parts is not surprisingly sparse, particularly at night. So I slept reasonably well and got a fresh, early start the next morning.

Day 5: Somewhere between Dublin and Pearisburg, VA to the West Virginia State Line

This day passed much like the one previous, the only thing of note being the remarkable sense of accomplishment and self-satisfaction that came with the realization that I had reached the WV state line already, and that I had crossed an entire commonwealth in less than a week. It was the narrowest portion of Virginia that I crossed, yes, but I crossed it in five days all the same. It was a hilly journey, but one full of intriguing settings and nice people (I’d like to give a shout-out to new-reader, Brooke, who works at a charming little country store along the New River Trail, and who discussed with me the worthlessness of our generation as I mowed through a Propel Fitness Water and the most glorious Snickers Ice Cream Bar I’ve ever tasted. Hey, Brooke! Thanks for reading!).

I enjoyed Virginia far more than I anticipated, it being one of the middle-child states on my journey. Given the promise of hills, the promise of heat, and the almost-there-but-not-quite-there feeling I knew I would have to endure, I expected to hate every minute of the Commonwealth. But I didn’t. It refreshed me. It inspired me with great scenery and people. And it bore me safely into West Virginia, a state with whom I’ve struggled before.  It was a pleasant surprise. I will miss you, Virginia.

Now on to my old nemesis. I’m already a little more than a day’s walk into this backwoods state, and to this point, I have no disasters to report. In just a few days, I will be rejoined by my dad – and this time my stepmom, Renee – so will have the opportunity to walk for three or four days without a pack. Good timing. West Virginia is rural, after all, and it will be great to have the company. Also, I find that the GPS on my phone stalls out more often than it processes through, so it’ll be a bonus to have a car to scout ahead. A hotel each night ain’t a bad thought, either.

Anyway, I’ve run far longer than anticipated, so I’ll end here. Thanks for bearing with me for 2,000 words, reader. That’s one more state under our belts. Only one and a half more to go!