Richmond Run: Day 2

Woodlawn, Pohick, Pohick Bay, Lorton

Wake up around 7 at Best Western to take advantage of the free breakfast. Strange guests and stranger food. Cereals I’ve never seen before and milk only slightly less transparent than water. Fruits that have the bright sickly colors of chemical preservatives but are rotting nonetheless. I force myself to eat a lot of eggs with hot sauce and a banana before I’m on my way.

The Caribbean guy is still at the desk this morning and wishes me well. Can his shift still be going? He doesn’t know what I’m up to exactly but he knows it’s weird and he is amused. In the parking lot, a fat guy in a Grateful Dead tie-dye has opened the bed of his truck so he can sit there and smoke. According to his bumper stickers, he is a veteran. We exchange a nod.

It’s 8 and I’m walking at a good pace and it’s not too hot yet. I think because there are several George Washington-related tourist sites in this area, there are sidewalks along this part of the Richmond Highway. This puts me at ease. But then something doesn’t.

There is a particularly evocative roadside memorial to someone who was hit by a car. If you walk a major stretch of highway you will see a few of these a day. At this one, there appear to be notes left by the dead guy’s daughter. I had considered earlier documenting all these memorials and saying prayers for the dead. They’re public after all. Seeing this one, it’s immediately clear to me that I would feel disgusting photographing and sharing these. I cross myself and move on.

An hour or so later, it’s time to turn off the highway onto Old Colchester Road after passing Davison Army Airfield. I’m relieved to leave the highway even with the sidewalks. Immediately though, I realize I’m wrong. Old Colchester has virtually no shoulder, and even though cars only come every ten minutes, sometimes there’s nowhere for a walker to go. I increase my pace, hoping to limit my exposure. The road also winds and rises and falls a bit.

There’s a little more than a mile of this, but I cover it quickly. Once you reach the junction with Gunston Road there’s a big shoulder again. Right before the junction, teenagers are horsing around outside a Methodist Church. The group is extremely diverse. Two teens, a boy and a girl, approach me and offer me water. I worry that they think I’m homeless. Can I already look that disheveled on day 2? Anyway, I take the water and thank them sheepishly.

The walk so far has been pleasant but once I’m on Gunston it’s gorgeous. Deep woods and a big golf course. Horse paths and stables everywhere. I pass two groups leading horses but no one riding them. At some of the farms I pass, there are goats harassing the horses.

Past all these stables I find a turn-off for something called “Camp Wilson” and enter thinking it’s my campsite. I’m wrong and it costs me two extra miles of pointless walking in the woods. It’s nice though. Just past Camp Wilson, there’s a firehouse. I can see the guys inside playing video games on a massive tv, while one man outside works on his motorcycle.

I reach the entrance for my actual campsite and stand in line with drivers who are talking to the teenager at the gate. He makes no comment about me walking up and tells me to proceed to the campground store where they will process my reservation. He gives me a map of the grounds.

I’m tired now and it’s hot, but I can’t rest until my tent is set up. I chart a course that I think takes me to the campground store, and on the way pass what appears to be a water park inside the campground. This is exciting.

They check me in at the camp store and ask me to give them a registration number for my car or bike. I say I walked in. They laugh a little, tell me to make up a number, write it on this small orange tag and hang it on my campsite anyway. My campsite is back near the entry gate, back past the water park. As I walk, I see the luxury cabins and electrified campsites that I didn’t spring for. Oh well.

I set up my tent and the plan is to take a nap. I lie on my sleeping bag and the whole thing is laughably uncomfortable. This ground is harder than it is in my backyard! If I can’t sleep I may as well check out the water park. Inside, it’s just a big pool but there is one water slide and some planted water cannons people can fire at one another. It’s overrun with elementary and middle-school kids.

I get a hot dog and a Gatorade and I’m feeling good again. It’s maybe four now and the sun is not unbearable. With my pack stashed in my tent, I decide to walk to Lorton (about 5 miles) to go to a bar. More horses along the way.

I stop at a place called Glory Days Grill. The beer and food are cheap and passable. It’s almost seven and I still feel energetic, I walk across Lorton to another bar and watch the Colombia-Costa Rica game. I talk to the bartender a bit and she’s very nice. Try to explain my trip but fail. I realize I’m drunk.

I Uber back to my campsite and realize it’s too late to buy firewood from the camp store. I want a fire though. I spend about twenty minutes gathering wood around my site and use torn-out pages from my notebook as kindling. It’s a pretty sad fire but it gives me about twenty minutes of entertainment and I fiddle on the uke. At eleven, it’s still pretty loud in the campground with several large families still cleaning up from dinner or using the joint bathroom. People are playing music out of cars. I try not to be a grump and settle in for some terrible sleep.

Miles: We walked almost 9 for the official route, but then 2 messing around at Camp Wilson and 5 more up to Lorton so let’s call it 16.

Plod faith and fun meter: 8/10 wonderful day.

DGs visited: 0, resuming DG protocol on day 3.