I was running on fumes. It was early afternoon and since yesterday morning I had hiked 51 miles on a granola bar, two uncrustables, a coke and chocolate drink. Still, I didn’t find any of my food in my food bag appealing.

I set out for a frozen pizza at Burke’s Garden Hostel about half a mile off trail. 

Chicken soup for the soul

I only meant to stay for a couple of hours but stayed the night. Even though I just came from town, it was like chicken soup for my soul to have a shower, eat pizza and waffles, drink coffee and watch a movie with a cup of tea with other hikers. The simple things in life that I always take for granted.

But even though I’ve had some pizza and waffles, I still didn’t have an appetite. And it worried me. 

I didn’t recognize myself on this trail. This far into a hike I would normally have an aggressive hiker hunger. Now I struggled to even finish a slice of pizza.

Despite my lack of appetite, I felt refreshed hiking out of Burke’s Garden Hostel. So far on trail I’d been both hiking alone and camping alone, now the trail almost seemed crowded since my return from Marion. Had I finally caught up with the hiker bubble? 

Nowhere to run

For the first time since starting this trail, I got to hike with another hiker, Tang. But since my sleeping pad completely deflated the night before, our ways parted when I had to continue to the small town of Pearisburg to get it fixed while she got off at a hostel on trail to resupply.

Since my stay in Pearisburg was unplanned, I had to resort to the towns worst motel since all other options were fully booked. And because of the leak in my sleeping pad tenting was not an option.

Exhausted from sleeping on the ground the night before, I really needed a good night’s sleep. And despite the funky smell, the nasty stains on the walls, the plastic-wrapped mattress, the old interior that probably hadn’t been changed since the 70’s and the cockroach on the floor I hoped that the room would do the job. 

It didn’t. After sleeping less than an hour it started to itch. Bedbugs. 

Last time I encountered bedbugs was in Split, Croatia. That time I took all of my stuff, ventured out in the middle of the night and found the nearest 4-star hotel with a 24-hour reception. But in a shithole like Pearisburg there’s nowhere to venture off to.

I could either stay in the bed with the bedbugs or sleep on my broken sleeping pad on the floor.

I chose the floor. 

When you’ve had enough

With the handsantizer to the left of me and the cockroach to the right, I questioned every life decision I’ve ever made since it had led me to this exact moment. 

I had been traveling on and off since my early twenties. This was not my first low point on a trip or adventure. Lord knows I’ve stayed in way worse places than the one I was currently in. 

But it was my first real feeling of having enough. Enough of bad accommodations, enough of the hardships of the adventure and enough of dealing with it alone. 

The next morning I couldn’t wait to get back on trail. 

Before hiking back out I called my mom.

”How are you?”

Three simple words from her was all that it took. The words tore down any shield or armour that protect me from the world. I broke down. My voice failed me and I couldn’t do anything but sob into the phone. 

Only one thing to do

The last 24 hours, the sleep deprivation, lack of energy and my contradictory feelings about wanting to be on trail and as far away from it as possible claimed its right. 

Eventually I managed to somewhat take control over my voice. 

”I’m just tired”.

Another modified truth. I was definitely exhausted after two nights with almost no sleep and hiking 30-35 miles a day without enough calories in my body. 

But there was much more going on other than that. 

After finishing the call, warm tears rolled down my bedbug-bitten cheeks while I removed my poles from my pack and adjusted the lenght of them. 

There was only one thing to do. 

With a blurry vision I hiked further into Virginia.