Down The Trail

North Carolina________The Appalachian Trail________Southwest Virginia

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Hiking the Appalachian Trail – 2001

Wednesday, May 09, 2001
Hogback Ridge Shelter-Bald Mountain Shelter
Today’s Miles: 10.1
Trip Miles: 333.8

The rain continued on through the night, making for a damp, foggy morning. Knowing that I wasn’t travelling very far today, I spent most of the early hours relaxing and reading a book. The fog lifted and the sun shined through by the time I got moving, with promise of an excellent day. The trail leading down to the road crossing opened up into a grassy field lined with what I imagine were young sunflowers, smelling of sweet honeysuckle. I soon came upon a few hikers gathered around, lounging on the trail. “What is this?” I asked.

Trail magic! Somebody named “Miss Janet” had left a huge cooler on the trail, packed with sodas, candy bars, and goodies! I paused, enjoyed, and continued on toward the road – very thankfully. There I began the road walk down a winding mountain highway with my thumb out, hugging the guardrail as eighteen wheelers whizzed by. I strode through tall grass, with snakes and ticks on my mind. Why does it seem that the thickest traffic is always going in the OTHER direction? Friendly drivers occasionally waved at me from the other direction, as if to acknowledge what I was doing, in the manner that school bus drivers always wave at each other.

A young guy on a road trip stopped for me after only about fifteen minutes of treacherously walking down the shoulder. He stopped right in the middle of the lane! After my gratuitous thank-you, he left me at a general store and restaurant. The store had all the supplies I needed, and I got a fabulous double burger with bacon and fries at the restaurant. YUM! That was one tasty burger. No Coke – I had to settle for a refreshing Pepsi to wash down that tasty burger. They had a sign posted saying that a thru-hiker named Jiff forgot an item there two days ago, just a hat. I’m taking it up the trail, and hope to find Jiff within the next week. The song “Born to be Wild” came on the jukebox after I filled my water and washed up in the bathroom, making for perfect exit music. I know all the words – we used to sing that song aloud on our bicycle adventures.

The guy that I got a hitch back up with was in a van doing some sort of hardware delivery service all over the southeast. I said it must be a pretty cool job, doing a lot of driving and seeing the country. He said he’s been doing it for many years now (twenty or so) and it gets lonely. He said he missed nearly all of the experience of seeing his kids grow up, being away so often. I suppose a lot of peoples’ jobs are like that. In his situation, you’ve just got to do what you’ve got to do – but then there are people who work the same long hours, only to get a bigger house, bigger car, or more expensive clothes. It makes you think.

The world has come to life since I left the Smokies. I wandered down another grassy field with little yellow flowers sprinkled everywhere. There were even a few dandelions, the ones you blow the soft feathers off as a kid, reminding me of home. Later the trail looked just perfect. The sky was a great bright blue up above, with puffy white clouds. The sunlight filtered elegantly through the high bows of trees and green leaves, which rustled in the breeze. It shined upon last autumn’s leaves blanketing the trail, radiating a golden glow, as if I were meandering down a yellow brick road. Flowers of a menagerie of colors line the trail – flaming red-orange, yellow, blue, purple, pink, and white. Butterflies fluttered at eye level, chipmunks and red spuirrels danced along logs, and the junco birds (my little friends) hopped about.

Then I climbed Big Bald, another huge, grassy, wide open bald mountain. I can’t get enough of these – I planned to spend the night on top. The trouble is, a lousy forest service road runs up there, so any old Tennessee yahoo hillbilly could drive up in the middle of the night and do Deliverance type things to me. I had my dinner there, and a strong cold wind was blowing, so strong that I had to wear my fleece and gloves and anchor my lighter gear items with heavier ones. I also had visions of some horrendous, hell-blower of a storm coming crashing through overnight, so all those factors made me decide to stay here, a mile farther down the trail. Leatherfeet and Groovy and I discussed trail talk, and Dharma Bum and Front Royal moved on for some night hiking. It’s so peaceful and quiet here tonight – no birds, surprisingly no wind … nothing. That is, until the mice come out! Life is good.

construction at Sam’s Gap

“famous” stetch of trail north of Sam’s Gap

on Big Bald

Groovy descending Big Bald


Thursday, May 10, 2001
Bald Mountain Shelter-No Business Knob Shelter
Today’s Miles: 10.5
Trip Miles: 344.3

I woke up in the middle of the night for some reason and saw a fire going in the circle in front of the shelter. “Now what in the world could have set that?” I thought. I imagined that a night hiker must have rolled in in the middle of the night and started it before either turning in or moving on. It soon burned out and I assumed I’d find a newcomer at the shelter in the morning, but never did. Groovy said she saw the fire as well, so I wasn’t hallucinating or anything. Very odd.

I took it easy again, not on the move until nearly noon. This is the life. My travels were relatively quick and easy today. I hiked through some of the afternoon with Shaggy, who’s notorious for night-hiking. He said that he didn’t start the fire at 3 am last night. So, who, if anybody, did? I suppose I’ll never know. We had some good conversation while we walked.

One thing I’ve come to realize is the extent to which Americans are clean freaks, needlessly. I’m practically rolling in dirt here in the woods, and I only occasionally wash my hands with small moist towelettes. They barely even do anything. My water bottles are rarely cleaned and becoming somewhat grimy. Most of my gear has been deluged in pure mud and muck. People wash their cooking pots and utensils with minimal water and repeatedly with the same soiled rag, if one at all. And zero water is required to brush one’s teeth! Zero! Tons of these small revelations pop up every day. They’re not exactly the answer to the meaning of life or anything, but, hey, maybe it’s a start.

This evening I simply ate, gathered firewood, started and tended the fire, got water from a spring, and relaxed – a typical routine. The spring was surrounded by tall, mature stands of spruce and hemlock trees, blanketing the ground with soft needles. I think the call of the northern oriole that I’ve heard over the past week or so could possibly be the coolest sounding bird I’ve ever heard. Life is good.


Friday, May 11, 2001
No Business Knob Shelter-Curly Maple Gap Shelter
Today’s Miles: 10.5
Trip Miles: 354.8

Dawn is my alarm clock – no obnoxious buzzing, no set cassette tape of the Rocky theme, no “It’s time to get up and go to work.” Only the first light of the sun, and the rustle of nature coming to life … birds singing. I was up at six o’clock and moving shortly thereafter. Striding along in the early morning, I looked down upon the town of Erwin, Tennessee and the flowing Nolichucky River.

A hostel on the trail near Erwin lets hikers use bicycles to run errands in town for free.

A bicycle!

It was stuck in one gear, and the brakes just barely worked, but … a bicycle! I rode one of those puppies into town as if I’d never been on a bike before. The primary order of business of course was to raid the all you can eat pizza buffet for lunch. A television inside had on a show called Moral Court, and the plaintiff was upset because her girlfriend referred to her as “auntie” instead of telling the truth, that being the fact that they were lesbian lovers. I wish they had left the lousy tv off. I won’t even admit here how much I ate, but let me tell you, oh, it was a lot.

The town of Erwin itself has some interesting history associated with it – this is absolutely true. A circus came through town sometime in the early 20th century. An elephant ended up mauling and killing its trainer, or a small child or something, so the townspeople of Erwin decided that this elephant must die. They tried shooting it with a shotgun, but the elephant simply laughed in their faces and got even more pissed off. They tried all these horrendous things with no effect, including, I believe, tying it to the train tracks and ramming it with locomotives! Finally, they brought in a tall construction crane and lynched the poor thing. This is true! I even rode the bicycle past a store called “The Hanging Elephant”. These people are proud of this! It gives notoriety.

I bought some hot dogs and buns at the market when I resupplied, so now we’re enjoying cooking them over a fire on this beautiful night. We’re just so happy to be where we are. Life is good.

looking toward Erwin

gathering wood

Saturday, May 12, 2001
Curly Maple Gap Shelter-Clyde Smith Shelter
Today’s Miles: 20.9
Trip Miles: 375.7

Peace.

That’s what’s out here, and I think that’s all in the end, really. There’s just peace everywhere, enveloping me. There can be more, I suppose, but you have to bring it with you. So when all this is said and done, when anybody kiddingly asks, “So, did you find yourself, huh?” I can say, “I found peace.”

When I was planning this trip, I was so engrossed in it that I didn’t give much thought to what I’d do afterward. After I’d finish, I thought, hey, something will come. And that’s true, something will come. The thing is, I’ll be in the exact same position when I finish as when I started, except I’ll be broke. Sure, there may be some psychological and physiological changes, and this wonderful experience, but I won’t have anything to show for it in “real world” terms. I think that’s the answer, though. The experience is always the most important part – in all things in life. Everything else is secondary.

I began hiking in the rain this morning, and found myself walking in a thick cloud for most of the day. I could see the particles of water in the air right before my eyes, gliding sideways with the wind. For once I noticed how silently I was walking, as all things were still. I was passing through like a soft breeze, disturbing nothing and steadily passing the world by.

I saw two deer off the trail in a thick forest of red spruce on top of Unaka Mountain. They stopped what they were doing when they heard me, stared at me for a few moments, and somehow knew that I meant no harm, and continued about their business. They made me think of the last deer I saw in the Smokies. It was walking north on the trail about one hundred yards ahead of me for five minutes, and ran off into the woods when it realized I was behind. I could barely see it watching me and waiting for me to pass. I also saw a junco bird nest next to the trail near the end of the day. The mother sitting on it flew off when I came by and started tweeting franticly until I went away. I got into camp just in time before more rain and a storm hit. Dolphin Boy, Indian Summer, Chewbacca, Turtle, Loco, Shaggy and Mojo were all soaked. Life is good.

beauty spot

Sunday, May 13, 2001
Clyde Smith Shelter-Overmountain Shelter
Today’s Miles: 12.4
Trip Miles: 388.1

I was up and stirring early to a damp, thick fog. I had intended to get an early start but could not find any motivation whatsoever, as I nibbled on my cold breakfast of Pop-Tarts, feeling utterly weary. After a few minutes of personal debate, I went back to a comfortable slumber.

It turned out to be a beautiful day when I awoke the second time, but I still had a slow time getting moving. I was so dirty and smelly, and when I’d rub my eyes, I’d just feel pure sweat and salt and grime on my face. I haven’t had any clean material to wipe my glasses with for days now. My socks are the worst. The bottoms are stiff like cardboard from dried sweat, and the stench … it’s unbearable. Still, as I slide them on my feet, I’m far happier than I’d ever be putting on work shoes.

“Hey Duct Tape, you kicked me in the head a few times last night,” Turtle says to me. Such are the cramped sleeping conditions in the shelters. The long ascent up Roan Mountain in the beginning of the day wasn’t nearly as taxing as I thought it would be. It could possibly have been the hardest climb of the trip so far, save for where I got sidetracked up the logging road of death a few days ago! The summit of Roan is over six thousand feet, and it surely felt it, with a brisk, cold wind that cut right through my sweat soaked t-shirt. I enjoyed the high, unique atmosphere, and made my way down.

Magic befell me when I came to the road crossing at Carver’s Gap. The Tennessee Eastman Club’s trail maintainers had organized a work party to relocate a section of the trail, and many hikers ahead of me, most of them friends, had participated. The work was done when I arrived, and a generously large barbeque was underway – hot dogs, hamburgers, everything. Seeing that I was a hiker, I was flagged down and invited to gorge myself, and a wonderfully blissful afternoon ensued. I lounged around in the grass with the sun in my face – talking, laughing, and eating. Everybody was obviouysly so happy to be alive on this day, and to be right there. Strider declared that the word of the day was “satiated”, contentedly holding his hand over his stomach – so fitting. I met Jiff and returned her lost hat.

The hike from there to this place for the night was a gorgeous late afternoon traverse over a bald. I slowed down to savor each step and could almost leave my body and see myself – a lone figure enveloped in this beautiful scenery. There were continuous views all around the Carolina mountains and valleys. I took off my bandana to feel the wind in my hair, and I watched it rustle and brush upon the tall grasses. I had a truely special trail moment there, being a carefree traveller in this great land. This must be heaven.

This shelter is actually an old renovated barn, tucked in the most picturesque valley one could imagine. I arrived just as the sun was setting over the fields, and Famino greeted me. More hikers rolled in later, all of which I’m comfortably familiar with, like family. We laughed and joked late into a clear starry night, as embers in the campfire crackled. Famino swears that a better movie doesn’t exist than Rocky IV, that ends in the number four. We agree, and boisterous Rocky impersonations then abound. The other night, it was The Karate Kid and Mr. Miagi lines. We talk of movies, music, and many things, and gradually doze off, one by one. Life is good.

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!

near Overmountain Shelter

I got everybody together for this group picture, but it came out like crap, like most all of these AT disposable camera shots

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Monday, May 14, 2001
Overmountain Shelter-Moreland Gap Shelter
Today’s Miles: 22.5
Trip Miles: 410.6

“Oh no! They have Spy-Tech!”

I wanted to be a detective at one point growing up. There was this toy company called Spy-Tech that made all sorts of cool gadgets – long range microphones, fingerprint kits, special binoculars, periscopes, undercover ID’s, and more. I loved the stuff. Each item came with a little booklet, containing all sorts of invaluable spying tips and tricks. The Hardy Boys book series taught me a lot as well. One small Spy-Tech booklet, I remember, told about the old Japanese ninjas and how stealthy they were. I used to sneak around sometimes, and pretend to be a ninja.

I was awake in my sleeping bag in the middle of the night in the pitch black darkness. An inevitable, necessary duty troubled my conscious thought. Here I am, out in the wilderness, and nature still manages to call. I summon my will and creep out of my sleeping bag, stealthy and silent as a ninja. The hikers slumbering beside me must not be disturbed, as I blindly feel for my glasses in the inky darkness. I ever so silently find my flip-flops, and slide them onto my feet, escaping into the night. My eyes soon adjust to a cat-like night vision beneath the stars, peering out to the grim, colorless silhouettes and shadows of stark trees and limbs. The forest is noiseless as I find a suitable spot, do my business, and find my way back to the slab of wood I use as a bed, liberated. I quietly return to my sleeping bag, which is cozily still warm, and peacefully drift back to sleep, relieved. Mission accomplished.

I was up again before dawn, but not to answer nature’s call this time. I packed up my things, again smooth as a ninja. I was actually heading up the trail before the sunrise, soaking in a pristine, glorious morning. The hike brought me along the ridge of the Hump Mountains – more utterly spectacular balds. The low sun was so bright and dazzling that it nearly blinded me, forcing me to shield my eyes. The wind still blew unceasingly across this open terrain, until I descended to the true valley. In the afternoon, I found myself ambling through farmers’ fields, sidestepping piles of manure. Cattle grazed near the trail. One cluster was smack dab right in the middle of it, relaxing in a shady area. These weren’t your average, everyday, docile cattle either. These were longhorns. I rashly assumed they were accustomed to hikers, striding right up and doing my best to herd them off the trail. Bad idea. I managed to piss one of them off something awful. Imagine a huge, ten million pound longhorn bull a mere car’s length away, taking an aggressive step toward you, snorting and grunting with a mean, wild, blank stare. I thought for a second that my hiking career was over.

I turned my tail and fled, finding a way around the cattle, this time giving them plenty of room. Not long after that incident, I came upon a snake stretched across the trail, sunning itself. It was quite comfortable as well, and didn’t want to allow me to pass. It took a bit of encouraging and prodding with my stick, but it eventually slithered off to the side. I saw another one a few hours later. That’s two snakes in one day!

I’m now so tired and exhausted. It was a long afternoon over miles of rolling terrain. I was alone here until dusk when Battman came up, moaning and groaning. I’m apparently not the only one who had a rough time with this section. Rocky and Scar soon followed. I’m spent, out of food, and filthy. Life is good.

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Tuesday, May 15, 2001
Moreland Gap Shelter-Kincora Hostel
Today’s Miles: 5.8
Trip Miles: 416.4

This place certainly lives up to its reputation as the best hostel on the Appalachian Trail, in my opinion. Bob Peoples is perhaps one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. I feel right at home here, as do the other hikers who are staying.

I stumbled in, exhausted after a relatively short hike. It had been about another ten day stretch without showering or doing laundry. Taking care of both those things at once was ethereal. Hot dogs and hamburger meat were discovered in the community refridgerator, so we fired them up on an outdoor grill and had a grand feast. Some of my friends who were behind arrived later. I’m debating logistics for getting to the Trail Days festivities in Damascus. A great couple who runs a hostel in Andover, Maine cooked a wonderful spaghetti dinner. We hikers gratefully wolfed it down, sitting family style at a table on the front porch. I met a hiker named Seiko who lives nearby. He’s done the Appalachian Trail an insane number of times – more than ten. The thing is, you never hear about guys like him because he doesn’t self-promote himself.

Bob drove us to a supermarket to resupply on groceries. The place was absolutely huge – what a shock to the senses! So many options! We hikers ran rampantly up and down the aisles, with wildly famished eyes, mothers pulling their children away. I purchased my hiking resupply items, as well as some goodies for continuous feasting with the kitchen facilities at Kincora. I decided to accept a ride into Damascus the day after tomorrow for Trail Days rather than hiking in from here, pushing three long days. I’ve been feeling especially sluggish the past few days, and feel I need the rest. Life is good.

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Wednesday, May 16, 2001
Kincora Hostel
Today’s Miles: 0
Trip Miles: 416.4

“We are far too young and clever … remember!”, from Come on Eileen by Dexy’s Midnight Runners.

I just sat around here all day relaxing. I took a nap for most of the afternoon, and later made another run to the supermarket. I heard the above song this evening. Manchester had it on a tape.

Nearly every hiker at the hostel today went and did a slackpack. Probably nine out of ten hikers have done it at least once since Hot Springs. WARNING: personal trail politics to follow. Slackpacking is where a thru-hiker arranges to do a day hike to and from a designated location with a bed and shower, with a kindergartener’s-sized backpack, typically carrying only food and water. This takes all the challenge out of everything – you’re clean, get a hot dinner and breakfast in town, and carry virtually no weight. On most occcasions, a slackpack is even done southbound if the grade of the trail is easier in that direction than going northbound. I’ve seen hikers literally running up the trail in the opposite direction with the intention of only churning out the miles. On some days, I feel as though I’m the only person trudging up these mountains with a full pack! I intend to carry it the whole way and up Katahdin, and don’t intend to interfere with the northbound progression of my hike. I also make an effort to pass all the white blazes. My grandmother could slackpack the trail, given the time. To each his own, I suppose. Life is good.

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Thursday, May 17, 2001
Kincora Hostel-Trail Days(Damascus, VA)
Today’s Miles: 0
Trip Miles: 416.4

It wasn’t too long before we were all packed into Bob’s truck on our way to Damascus. We fit about thirteen hikers in his truck – with gear! I rode in the back with Peanut Butter, Willow, Zig-Zag, and Manchester. The drive was over an hour, uncomfortable but fun, and we soon rolled into the festivities of Trail Days.

Trail Days is sort of like a cross between a class reunion and Woodstock. Hikers invade the town essentially to celebrate ourselves and set up virtual tent cities throughout the town. All the hikers of last season and the seasons before reunite, hikers of this year meet up with those who have been weeks ahead and behind, arrange to meet friends and family, and generally party for the weekend. You must have seen a church before with one of those tacky signboards out front, saying something like “Free ticket to heaven – apply within”. Arriving into town, we passed a church that said “Keep on keepin’ on” out front. Right on!

I established a tent site in an area known as The Island, and hit the post office, outfitter, and restaurants – the usual chores, Sent a package ahead to myself to Pearisburg, blah blah blah. I met up with all kinds of people I’ve known (or haven’t known) from along the way and chatted of ourselves and news of others. Gumbai and Lucky Strike are going to hike out tomorrow, well before the actual festivities begin. That’ll put them well ahead of me, and I know I won’t catch them for a fairly long time, if ever. We stayed up late into the night talking and relaxing. Life is good.

This first time I saw Damascus

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Friday, May 18, 2001
Trail Days
Today’s Miles: 0
Trip Miles: 416.4

Having a great time!

There was a rock band at the pavilion. A three piece rock band. A power trio! They played Floyd, Zeppelin, AC/DC, Ted Nugent, The Doors – all my favorite stuff. Rock and roll!

Life is good.

Front Royal, Dharma Bum, yours truly, Sunflower, Old School, Chewbacca

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Saturday, May 19, 2001
Trail Days
Today’s Miles: 0.0
Trip Miles: 416.4

The drum circles pounded all through the night, even until the sun came up. Primal hoots and hollers called out from all directions, answering one another. All the dogs within earshot aroused in a barking chorus. The drums rolled on, and people danced around in the firelight, singing songs. Idle guitars strummed. Moments after, the air was finally subdued, and the canopy of stars gave way to dawn.

Trying to take a nap in the mid-afternoon proved useless, as my tent was a sauna, so I strolled around town, gorging my stomach. I think I had three dinners last night. Today is one of the best days of the year for the kids in Damascus, as they run rampant with squirt guns, deluging anybody that dares to give them even a glance of acknowledgement. Four little demons soaked me from top to bottom, so I decided to pick up some ammunition at the dollar store for the hiker parade.

The hiker parade is exactly as it sounds – all the hikers march down the main street, being boisterous. Locals line the street to watch, and many like to soak the hikers with squirt guns and water balloons. We, in turn, defend ourselves. My last minute weaponry consisted of thirteen water balloons, not one of which went to waste. Somebody even soaked a cop. The talent show that followed was entertaining, and I returned to the island to hang out. A lot of people found a different place to tent because of all the noise last night. We stayed there for a bit, celebrating Dharma Bum’s twentieth birthday, then it was off to see the rock band again.

They played more great stuff, and I was sure that the last song would be Freebird, because everybody was yelling for it the past two nights. Gotta yell for Freebird, naturally. What came next was so totally unexpected. The opening notes of none other than Neil Young’s Keep on Rockin’ in the Free World lifted me to a higher dimension. That’s been virtually my personal theme song for a long time. It couldn’t have been more perfect. I knew it was the last live music I’d hear for a long time, but then again I’ll usually listen to all live tunes as if it’s the last time I’ll hear it.

The stroll back to the island tent city was ethereal. It was simply one of those times where you suddenly find yourself alone for a few moments and contemplating after a big event with lots of people where you had a great time. I now prepare to enter the bonfire and drum circle one final night before I leave town tomorrow. Life is good.

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Sunday, May 20, 2001
Trail Days-Kincora Hostel
Today’s Miles: 0
Trip Miles: 416.4

And so I left Trail Days at ten in the morning on Sunday. Bob Peoples and other members of the Tennessee Eastman trail club organized an opportunity for thru-hikers to volunteer and do some trail maintenance today and tomorrow. I worked for hours today with other hikers and volunteers, hauling and spreading gravel on a badly eroded section of the trail at Carver’s Gap, just north of Roan Mountain. It’s a great way to kind of give something back, and a nice brief interlude from the daily routine of walking all day. My arms got quite a workout, after being allowed to grow weak since the beginning of April – the old hiker-tyranosaurus-rex-syndrome.

Forest Phil prepared hot dogs and hamburgers for everybody afterward, back at the hostel. Everybody is evidently having such a good time. It’s funny how we all grow more comfortable the further north we go, and happier as well. Most of the grumpy folks and others that obviously weren’t having fun gradually got weeded out. We jokingly pick on each other as you’d see the best of friends do. Bob undoubtedly runs such a special place to stay here. The bunk room and whole place is so packed that I’m sleeping out on the porch with a few others. I’ll probably sleep better here in the fresh air anyway.

I caught up with so many people at Trail Days that I thought I’d never see again, like Randy and JM, for instance. Better yet, I met so many others that I’ve known of for a long time – other hikers on Trailjournals, Leif, Nimblewill Nomad, Diamond Doug, Honey Bear, and more. It’s great to meet them, because it’s more proof that this hike is becoming a full circle reality, rather than a dream from in front of my computer screen. It’s still difficult at times for me to fully actually comprehend that I AM ON THE APPALACHIAN TRAIL. Some things just don’t seem real. More work on the trail at Roan Mountain tomorrow, then I continue north

Life is good.

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Monday, May 21, 2001
Kincora Hostel
Today’s Miles: 0
Trip Miles: 416.4

Did more work with hauling gravel up Roan Mountain today. This must be the way the Ancient Egyptians built things! My shoulders and neck are so sore. A storm and heavy downpour blew in at the instant we were finished. It was very satisfying to see the project reach completion. We had a pancake breakfast, Baltimore Jack prepared a huge lasagne dinner with salad and garlic bread, and the Blister Sisters made an awesome gingerbread cake from scratch. I never imagined that I’d be eating this well – not for long though, I suppose. On the drive back to the hostel from the mountain we played the “guess the classic rock song on the radio by artist” game, like we used to do in the kitchen at work. It was good to hear some Stones, Bad Company, CCR, and others. Life is good.

Kincora Hostel

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Tuesday, May 22, 2001
Kincora Hostel-Watuga Lake Shelter
Today’s Miles: 10.6
Trip Miles: 427

Led Zeppelin’s “Ramble On” played in my head as I left the hostel this afternoon. It’s such a hard place to leave. It started to rain just as I stepped off the porch too, making for a sharp wake-up call back to reality. The rain turned into a full-fledged thunderstorm, dumping buckets of water on me. I stopped to throw on my pack cover and rain jacket, and plodded onward. The trail itself was a river, soaking my socks and shoes with water and mud. I could barely see through my fogged, rain covered glasses as I watched my footing on treacherously slippery rocks and roots.

The steep descent into Laurel Fork Gorge was tricky with the given conditions, but I made it. There was a beautiful, magnificent waterfall. It’s a shame it wasn’t a nicer day. I climbed up and over Pond Mountain, cursing my woeful condition after having been off the trail for a few days. My calves and knees were screaming. I yawned to pop my ears with the elevation change – a thing I do out here on a virtually daily basis.

The summit was in a thick cloud and still wet, but the rain ceased as I made my way down the other side. The trail leveled off at a large lake, and wound around it to this shelter, the mists and clouds floating all about. On a day such as this, it looked more like Loch Ness and less like Watuga Lake. Dharma Bum and Front Royal are here tonight. They were glad to see me, thinking that all their friends were ahead. Most of them are. Front Royal threw a rubber snake at me. It looked just like the two small ones I saw down by the gorge. A little toy like that can be a world of fun and entertainment out here. I asked them if they got wet. “Very wet” was the response. In the scheme of things, though, we’ve been long overdue for this kind of weather.

I write now from within my tent pitched just behind the shelter, by the light of my headlamp. Darkness surrounds. There aren’t many good tent sites around, so I’ll be sleping rather uncomfortably on a bit of a hillside. The weather remains overcast and damp, so I’ll have little chance of drying out my wet stuff overnight. Hoping for a dry morning tomorrow. Life is good.

Laurel Fork Gorge

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Wednesday, May 23, 2001
Watuga Lake Shelter-Iron Mountain Shelter
Today’s Miles: 13.7
Trip Miles: 427

I climbed out of my tent and looked above to see clear blue skies. It was late, about nine or so, but I had that super feeling of knowing I got a good night’s sleep. After a breakfast of crushed pop tarts and a multivitamin, I slid on my wet socks and shoes and squished up the trail.

The way the sun shined off the surface of Watuga Lake was fabulous as I walked over the dam. The view from behind Vanderventer shelter was just as incredible. Today was one of the clearest days so far. I looked back over the lake, and could see as far as the high peak of Roan Mountain sharp on the horizon. I took about a two hour break for lunch there, and continued on.

The hike during the rest of the afternoon was all lovely, flat, ridgewalking – on this beautiful day. Tall grasses lined the foot path on both sides, brushing and tickling my shins with every step, going “woosh, woosh.” Open areas called for an ample amount of breaks and basking in the sun. I saw some tiny little cars sliding down a distant country road from afar. I’m pretty sure I heard a bear, because I heard a large animal crash through the underbrush down from the ridge, and had seen some fresh scat not long before. I couldn’t see it (I’m beginning to think I’m destined never to see a bear), so I didn’t stop moving. Now I wish I had followed the noise a little to see if I could get a look. This afternoon was one of those times where you’re thinking all along “I love hiking! I love life!”

Now it’s eight PM, and I’m in the shelter with Dharma Bum, Front Royal, and Grover. We’re relaxing nice and dry and ever so content as rain pelts against the roof. The thunder’s rolling so loud and deep that it shakes the wood, giving a sort of massage effect. I’ll be in bed before nine so I can get an early start tomorrow. I may go for the marathon challenge into Damascus tomorrow – twenty-six miles. We’ll see if I feel up to it or not. I’ve talked the others into probably going for it as well. I saw a mouse running around here way before dark – a bold little guy. Maybe I’ll get a good photo opportunity overnight. Life is good.

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Thursday, May 24, 2001
Iron Mountain Shelter-Damascus, VA
Today’s Miles: 26.3
Trip Miles: 453.3

Sweet Virginia!!!

Getting out of my sleeping bag in the morning required a lot of concentrated motivation, but I did it. There was a chill in the air. I had a short chat with Monkey about all things Bruce – he’s another Springsteen fan. We’re taking over the trail! Then it was off to the races for the marathon challenge – twenty six miles to the state line and Damascus, VIRGINIA.

I had some views early on in the morning, down to the valley shrouded in a blanket of mist, with another plush green ridge on the horizon, cut away by the blue sky. It looked very cool. Eight miles were done before noon, over some forgivingly flat terrain. The sky turned dark to threaten rain, and would continue to do so for the rest of the day. It went along as such for hours, pressing on at a respectable three miles an hour, stopping occasionally for waters and snacks. It felt good to have a sense of mission and purpose! Dharma Bum caught me at the road crossing to Shady Valley (And I bet there’s some SHADY people there… I hiked on with him to Abington Gap Shelter, where we met up with Front Royal, Grasshopper, and Monkey – all but Grasshopper pushing for the marathon as well.

I was losing steam and began to hear thunder in the distance on the final stretch. That’s when I saw it. The state line. I stepped into my fourth state – Virginia. Sitting there for about twenty minutes, regardless of the oncoming rain and luxuries of town awaiting; I marveled introvertedly in awe at having come so far. It was more of a solemn dawdling and contemplation than open celebration. I then strode forth, northward as usual, but ever so slightly different than the hiker that walked a moment before.

Triumphantly descending into town an hour later, I treated myself to dinner at a restaurant called Quincey’s, voraciously consuming a family sized stromboli, two liters of Dr. Pepper, and a chicken sandwhich. Classic rock played on the jukebox, and my hiker friends around me satisfied themselves just as fully and jubilantly. It was feasting and drinking and being festive – a good time for all. I’m now staying the night at a large colonial house owned by the local Baptist church. They run an extremely affordable and wonderful hostel for hikers and long distance cyclists. I’m stuffed and clean and happy tonight.

This building has a wooden screen door.

Life is good.

the state line

North Carolina________The Appalachian Trail________Southwest Virginia