One of the greatest opportunities that thru-hiking provides is to practice getting comfortable with discomfort at a primal level. Hiking this section in daily rain, drenched in my own sweat, reminded me of the importance of maintaining a growth mindset and enhancing skills so that you can enjoy the trail life and beyond. The earlier you learn, the more pleasant you’d feel, since the wet weather is a big part of the AT. I aspire to improve both the art of walking and the art of living, where I arrive at a peaceful state of being regardless of the challenges.

Since I left Woods Hole Hostel, it has rained every day. When it rains continuously, the biggest challenge is staying dry, keeping your belongings dry, and avoiding unseen injuries from slipping on wet logs, rocks, and mud. To do so, I have to be observant, flexible, and strategic. I became more skilled as I went, and as a result, more relaxed and comfortable in the wet forest.

I paid attention to the forecast and timed my hike during the hours with the least chance of rain. I left Woods Hole Hostel early. Before I left, Emily, one of the thru-hikers and an amazing artist, taught me edible plants of the woods. She was the first person on the AT I felt like seeing eye to eye, connected, even though our time was very brief. We exchanged our numbers, and I hope to reconnect with her somewhere in our lifetime again.

I stepped into the morning light in a fog. It was calming and soothing in a world where everything was blessed with water.

I made it to Pearisburg before the rain, and I spent a night at Angel’s Hiker Hostel to resupply and take care of other needs. Later in the evening, Emily sent me a text message and said she and the other hikers missed me. I did, too. I was more comfortable at the Woods Hole than at the Angel’s. My discomfort around smokers, constant electric sounds in the bunk house, and sexist language spoken by men will not change.

I left early the next morning since the forecast said it would be cloudy for the majority of daylight hours until 9 pm. It turned out to be a beautiful day with occasional sunshine through the clouds!

I hiked until sunset, clocking 30.3 miles, as a thick fog rolled in. I found water under the tinted daylight. I turned my headlamp on to get to a saddle where I knew I would find a flat spot to camp. The visibility was very limited- 15 feet with the fog. With my headlamp beam of light, I felt like swimming through the fog. I trusted my instinct to know when I hit the saddle. I stopped where it was flat and sure enough, I found a perfect camp spot for the night. I set up my tent quickly, and within 10 minutes, it started raining. How perfect was that! It rained all night long. I felt cozy, listening to the sound of the rain, and was grateful for my single-wall, a millimeter-thick tent that stood between me and the elements.

I’m an early riser, but I slept in the next morning to the sound of rain, feeling relaxed. I waited until the birds sang, giving me a cue to get going, and enjoyed the later start. It was cloudy, and some sunshine came through in the early afternoon despite the all-day rain forecast. I knew it would hold since I pay attention to the movement in the sky and read other clues to make my own prediction for my exact location and where I’m headed, which is usually more accurate. The storm seemed to have very little movement. The air was stagnant. It just hovered above me for days and kept everything wet.

Rain-soaked wood and rocks are slippery. When I crossed a footbridge that was slanted, I slipped right off, and thank goodness for the handrail and my reflexes! Without them, I would have fallen off the narrow bridge straight into the creek, and who knows what would have happened then. When I climbed up to the ridgeline in the afternoon, the terrain became rocky and slanted. I slowed down to make sure there were no errors on my end to ensure secure footwork, knowing that one mistake can easily take me off the trail for the season. The view from the ridgeline was stunning, with slow-moving fog over the mountains.

I was going to camp near Niday Shelter, but I saw a person smoking a cigarette, so I kept walking. I ended up going off-trail about 400 feet down to a saddle, and found a flat spot for the night. A soft rain started before I pitched my tent. I noticed that I didn’t have an urge to set it up. I was getting to the point where I understood the difference between rain that I need to hide from, soft drizzle that I could stay out no problem, or water dripping down from the leaves sounding like rain. I took my time without feeling stressed out to set up my camp, and I thought, I am getting better at this, feeling more comfortable with discomfort at a primal level!

People say it’s hard to dry things once they’re wet. From my experience, it’s not true. By being observant and strategic, I was able to dry my tent when I saw sunshine peeking out of the clouds and air it out by packing it in a unique way. At camp, I used my own body heat to dry things out overnight. It comes with time and practice, with creative thinking and planning ahead.

This morning, I got up early and headed to the McAfee Knob, known as one of the most iconic places along the AT in Virginia. It was foggy and reminded me of the morning at Kuwohi in Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Both places would be amazing places to watch the sunrise. I thought the universe was playing a trick on me, that I had to come visit again, maybe in autumn, when fall colors are in full swing.

Soon, I saw sunlight beams coming through the trees, lighting up the forest. It’s incredible to witness such a moment- nothing is permanent, and everything is in a cycle. I experienced the magic of sustainability and the water cycle right in front of my eyes, witnessing water evaporate in the golden early morning sunlight. I passed Tinker Cliffs afterwards and saw a beautiful old U-shaped valley covered with thick green down below. Then it was mostly all downhill from there to Daleville.

For the last two months, I had been looking for a host in this area near Roanoke. Between Johnson City, TN, and Waynesboro, VA, is the 520-mile stretch where I don’t have any friends’ support. Since I never feel rested in a hotel room or hostel, I have reached out to a lot of people for a connection in this area. No luck until two days ago; a miracle happened out of a coincidence.

In Damascus, I bumped into my former coworker from NatureBridge. She connected me with her husband’s parents, who are thru-hikers and excited to host me when I come through their area. I asked them if they knew someone near Daleville. A day later, I received a text message that said, “I heard from our friends Leonard and Laurie.” They live about a 30-minute drive from Daleville. “Leonard can pick u up on Wednesday or Thursday from the trail for an overnight at their house. They are super nice, and both are long-time long-distance hikers….. Happy trails!!”

How awesome is that! I was happy, especially after working with the rainy weather for 8 days. Since they are long-distance hikers, they know. I thought all I had to do was show up at the trailhead, and Lenard would be there for me. I would be in excellent hands at their home.

When I came out to Highway 220 and walked to the AT Daleville parking lot, Leonard was waiting for me with a smile. I immediately felt relaxed. He drove me to the post office to pick up my resupply, took me to Kroger for grocery shopping, and drove me to his sweet home. Laurie was out, finishing up hiking the New England Trail. She will be home tomorrow.

I knew my growth zone was to feel less stressed and annoyed when things get damp or if I cannot dry my tent during the day. By the end of this section, I grew out of it and know better, feel better about moving forward with consecutive rainy days.

And for now, I can take a break from it and appreciate the comfort of home in the arms of caring, wonderful new friends and rest. So tomorrow, I feel refreshed and rejuvenated, ready to hit the trail to keep working towards the art of walking and the art of living.