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Waynesboro, So Fun It Had Me in Stitches (NSFW: Gore)
It has been a rough few days. I walked into Waynesboro at Mile 863 fatigued and ready for a break from the constant coating of rain and sweat, the bugs and the snakes. I’d overcome serious climbs, long miles, and a sore hip from my under-inflated mattress. I was just ready for a warm bed and some good food.
Ming Garden Chinese Buffet with Thru-Hiker Backpacks Lining the Wall
The Joke’s On Me
While walking around Waynesboro, I suffered a serious wound. As I attempted to step up onto a curb, I stubbed my toe hard enough to remove the top layer of skin from the tip and broken both the right big toe and its sister toe. Luckily, a passing family offered to grab ice from the restaurant whose parking lot I was now gushing blood all over. As the boy of the family was inside, a 42-year-old radiography student helped dress my wound, spray it with disinfectant, and give me bandages with an expansive medical kit she just happened to have in her trunk. We talked about her son who was an active duty Marine.
Broken Toe
The boy bringing the ice then greeted my nurse for the evening. He was a friend to her son. They chatted, all the while caring for my fatal wound. This display of a small, tight-knit community helping take care of a befuddled old hiker in the middle of a restaurant parking lot melted my heart. It’s one of the reasons these town vortices draw so hard on me. I want to stay and be with communities that have such a welcoming draw. Thank you Waynesboro.
I love the people of these trail towns. This is my America, the people I fought to protect and hoped to rejoin after service. While I continue to see myself as this outsider, I’ll never regret serving for the families who constantly and selflessly give everything to others.
When I entered Waynesboro, there was a list of trail angels. Read: list. Names of so many people offering to shuttle people around and through town. I wanted to give a special shoutout to John L. He took me to the Emergency Room, let me vent my frustrations, and offered me whatever I needed to get back in order. We chatted about my life as a veteran, my search for answers out here, and his love for the hikers.
Virginia may have beaten on me with everything it has. But now, with a broken toe and a wavering soul, I take a few more days to wind up for the Shenandoahs and the next leg to Harper’s Ferry. Baby steps.
A Waynesboro resident shows off his Michelangelo’s David with running shoes and a goose underneath.
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