I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the main reason I hike is that it restores my faith in the basic goodness of people. Here in Marion I’ve encountered kind Forest Service workers who opened the restroom early for me in the pouring rain. The two transit bus drivers I’ve encountered were positive and helpful. I’ve talked with senior citizens who were curious about my hike and encouraged me.
But I’d especially like to acknowledge Stacy and her lovely family and friend who helped me rescue some clothes I left behind in my hast to leave Honey Boo Boo at the hostel in Troutdale. Then she brought me home and fed me a delicious home cooked meal. I met Stacy and Becky on the trail this past weekend. I’d planned to call them to let them know I was safe, but I ran into Stacy at the Walmart by chance.
Dinner was a hiker’s dream: barbecued chicken breasts, freshly steamed broccoli, macaroni & cheese (homemade!) and salad. For dessert strawberry shortcake on homemade baking power biscuits and real whipped cream. What more could a girl want? Then Becky drove me back to my hotel room where I spent a restful night in a dry, warm bed.
The Honey Bears of the world ARE the minority. It’s just that they take our attention away for a bit from everything else, everything that’s going right with the world. Don’t miss the good. It’s all around. No one hikes, or live their life, alone. We all depend on the kindness of strangers.
I was told over and over when I started hiking the AT that Virginia was flat with no rocks. “Sure, it’s hard here in Georgia/North Carolina/Tennessee, but just wait until we hit Virginia. Then we can really make up the miles.”
I feel lied to.
I’ve hiked almost 100 miles in this state so far and it’s been mountains and some of the worst rocks yet. If this is easy, I fear Pennsylvania (aka Rocksylvania) and the White Mountains. Yikes.
I’m currently in Marion, VA to resupply and avoid a night of thunderstorms. It’s continued to be quite an adventure hiking the footpath known as the Appalachian Trail. So far I’ve got 530 miles behind me. That’s 24% of the trail in ‘only’ 60 days.
Saturday April 26 VA600/Elk Garden 491.1 to Thomas Knob Shelter 495.4 (with an overnight in Damascus)
After a comfortable overnight at Crazy Larry’s hostel in Damascus (one of my favorite hostel stays so far), new shoes from the Mt Rogers Outfitters, I went back to the trail. Gypsy Dave and his Great Pyrenees, Django, picked me up at the hostel at 1p. But first he had a little detour, a special surprise for me. We stopped at the Laurel Valley Community church, built in 1945 from chestnut logs. The two-hole outhouse is still around back. Farther still (now on private property) is a cave with a spring. Where once was the minister’s house now stands a modern home, but on the other side is the old school house. The church was open and we went for a look. The smell of old wood inside is simply heavenly. The pews are all split logs, polished by decades of parishioner’s bottoms. Dave says there are occasional services here still, and he and his bride of 41 years usually go for Christmas services. There is no electricity or heat and even the propane heaters are not enough. Everyone bundles up and the service is done by candlelight. It was such a treat for him to share this with me.
It was hard to say goodbye to Damascus. I can understand the pull it has on people, especially hikers.
But it was time to hoist my pack and go north, crossing the road to hike up an open field. It’s a 1,000 foot climb and just over 4 miles to Thomas Knob shelter, where I had planned to stay the night before. Climbs are always tough, but this one was also rocky, a good test for my new shoes. There were several views of Mt Rogers, the highest point in Virginia at 5,700+. There are also wild ponies. I’ve not seen them yet, but expect I will tomorrow.
The shelter is very nice, two stories. I met two lovely women who were preparing for a 100 mile hike from Pearisburg to Marion later this year to celebrate one’s 60ith birthday. They warned me of the rocks to come. Ran into Raffiki (who seems to have ditched Honey Bear. Good job!) SnorLax (who had just missed Red Beard) and Flat. The water at this shelter is about .2 miles over a bolder strewn path to a piped spring. Ouch, my feet don’t need anymore rocks!
Highlights I’m looking forward to for tomorrow: completing 500 miles and entering Grayson Highlands.
Thomas Knob Shelter 495.4 to Old Orchard Shelter 506.4
The mileage for the day may not look like much, but this was seriously difficult terrain. Even the 20-something boys with the long legs said they were tired.
I said goodbye to the 2 lovely women I met at the shelter last night. Becky and Stacy both live in Marion, a town I’ll be in later this week. They each gave me their phone numbers for an emergency contact. While I hope I won’t need it, it’s nice to have. (I later ran into Stacy at the Marion Walmart and she made me a scrumptious home cooked meal! Am I a lucky hiker or what?!)
I stopped at the first campsite north, just .3 miles, to thank the three men for the trail magic they had offered the night before. I was too tired to go, but others took advantage of a full Mexican spread, including beer. One had a hammock I’m now coveting, from Jacks R Better. Just what I need, more gear!
Everyone has talked about the beauty of Grayson Highlands State Park and it truly is spectacular. It is also a rocky mess. When a long distance hiker tells you “You’re gonna LOVE that section of the trail,” what you should hear is “You are about to have your butt kicked by a footpath. Again.” I boulder hopped and rock climbed through the entire park. The trail does not miss a single hill or rock outcropping. There’s even a rock tunnel called Fatman Squeeze. But I survived it all, even if my progress was painful and slow.
The park has several trails that cross the AT and I was thankful that none of the horse riding paths shared a trail with AT hikers. I was raised riding horses and am glad for a beautiful horse trail, but it’s hard to hike behind a horse.
The park is also known for the wild ponies, though they clearly aren’t very wild. Signs everywhere asked people to “look but not touch,” but hardly anyone (except me!) could keep their hands off them. Many had their manes braided and were given treats.
I ran into John the Ridge Runner and we had a pleasant chat. He confirmed the cases of stomach bug have started along the AT. In most cases, it’s not bad water, but poor hygiene that causes the problem. So many of the young men are not careful with food or clothing so I doubt they wash their hands. Heck, a few of them seem oddly proud of how long they go between showers and laundry. John also asked if I knew Honey Bear (the young man in a skirt who seems to have a fire fixation). I said I did and related the incident with the fire and that he was wearing a coat taken from Kincora hostel. John said he’d heard about the fires and that hikers had reported attempted theft. So I’m not the only one who dislikes him.
And somewhere in the middle of the park is the 500 mile mark of the trail. Somehow that seems like an accomplishment, though it is less than 23% of the total distance. Still, more than 50% of hikers who started at Springer Mt with the intent to finish, ever even get to the Virginia state line.
On the way to the next shelter, I met Ma & Pa, who hiked the trail in 2003. They have section hiked the last few years and seem to be enjoying revisiting the trail. They have also done some trail maintenance, including Bob Peoples’ HardCore trail maintenance work, which focuses on big jobs that make major trail improvements.
By Wise Shelter, 500.5, I was exhausted. I cameled-up on water (drank all the liquid my belly would hold) and lay down for a nap in the shelter for half an hour. And what did I dream about? Rocks! Even though I took off my shoes and socks and elevated my feet on my pack, they were still sore and my energy was flagging. But I’d only gone 5 miles and could not stop for the day. So I hoisted my pack and moved north. Shortly, I was out of The Highlands.
This section of the trail is mostly grasslands, punctuated with scrub and trees. When the first pioneers entered this area it was thick, virgin forest with the occasional bald on top. Soon, most of the timber was logged. After, farmers moved in and the area was used for grazing livestock, mostly cattle. The AT goes right through the middle of the corral once used to round up and weigh cattle before sale. The area is still known as The Scales. In the late 1960’s the Forest Service bought this land for the Mount Rogers National Recreation Area. The Ponies were introduced to graze the high country and keep the land open without mowing and with minimal burning. Though the ponies are hardy enough to survive the winter, they are fed during extremely heavy snowfalls. They are also rounded up each year and checked for health.
I seriously considered pitching my tent in the corral, but the next shelter was just 3 miles ahead, and only the first mile was uphill. It was very slow walking on tired, sore feet. Just at the last mile I ran into John the Ridge Runner for the third time. He’d told me earlier in the day that he was headed home tonight. It was almost 7p and if he was here that had to mean something was wrong. Sitting beside him was a man who looked pale and a little embarrassed. I asked if they needed food or water, but John said help was on the way. I passed the Troutdale Emergency crew on their way up. I didn’t envy their job of carrying a grown man down this rocky trail so late in the day. At the shelter I set up my tent and was making dinner when more emergency personnel arrived. I told them what I knew, pointed them in the right direction and confirmed that this was the first flat land and a good area to assess him condition. They shared that the man seemed to have low blood pressure and an erratic heartbeat. He was on medication for heart trouble and they had additional meds with them.
By the time they got him to the shelter it was dusk and they were still 2 miles from the road. The initial plan had been to airlift him out with a helicopter, but the light was gone and this was only a tiny cleared area to land in–too small a space for a helicopter to negotiate in the dark. The Paramedic decided to shock the heart to get a better rhythm, then carry the man out 2 miles to the road where there was a flay, open horse camp. The helicopter would have a better shot operating there. It must have hurt the man terribly when his heart was shocked because he yelled in pain. I winced for him. But the trick worked and his heart beat was stable. I heard later that they got him out safely, but it was midnight before he was airlifted to the hospital.
BTW, when I got water for the evening, I took a bandana bath at the spring. Some of my “tan” turned out to be just dirt. Oophs.
It was well past hiker midnight before they were out of the area and I could sleep. I seldom take any painkillers but took one ibuprofen and an Excedrin PM to stop the throbbing in my feet and get to sleep.
Monday, April 28 Old Orchard Shelter 506.4 to Dickey Gap 516.6
There are few photos from today because of rain. It started in the middle of the night, broke long enough for me to break camp, then started up again after I’d been hiking a couple miles. Though there were a few thunderstorms, there was less than 30 seconds of tiny hail and the temperature was too warm to wear rain gear. It was head down, hard walking all the way with little to see. A good day for neoprene socks! By the time I got to Dickey Gap where the AT crosses VA 650, I looked like a drowned rat. I easily got a ride from a man in a pick up who said he’d been working in Christmas trees all day (a popular cash crop in this area) until the rain got to be too much and he quit.
He dropped me off at the bottom of the hill, next to the Troutdale Baptist Church hostel. It’s a clean, but spartan bunkhouse with showers behind the church and a porta potty. I washed out a few things in the sink and hung them on the clothesline to dry. I purchased a couple things from their tiny “store” for dinner and added a donation. Clean, laundry done, fed and dry for the night!
Or so I thought.
And who should show up but Honey Bear! I just can’t shake that guy. He was at the shelter I stayed at last night and one of the EMTs had reprimanded him for the over sized fire and the fact that his backpack was so close to the flames. He has two others with him (he doesn’t seem to stay with anyone long). Of his entourage I know Flat, from Carbondale, IL, who seems like a good guy. Even by hiker standards, Honey Bear looks rough and needs to clean up. The other two were trying to convince him that he needed a shower and to do laundry. He didn’t seem interested. They seem to be off to a small grocery store four miles away to resupply.
<Sigh>. New plan. The boys came back from shopping. A driver picked them up, took them to the grocery and brought them back so it only took 25 minutes. They had tobacco and alcohol (two items not allowed at the hostel). They implied they had other substances. And guess what’s the next thing they decided to do? Shower? Laundry? No! Build a fire! Why am I not surprised? There’s no fire ring, no firewood and no reason to think a fire is acceptable. Honey Bear said he needed a fire to cook with. The hostel has a microwave and a coffee maker, but no actual kitchen. But at least one of the three (Flat) has a backpacking stove (I would hope all of them do). I asked them not to build a fire since obviously there weren’t supposed to be fires here. They ignored me and Honey Bear suggested building a fire on the porch, since it was likely to rain. The WOODEN porch. Brilliant. At least Flat was adamantly against burning the porch.
I told them if they started a fire, I’d have to leave. So I packed up and put on the clothes I’d washed out, still damp. And I called the hostel contact number on my way out and left a message about why I was leaving and that if they got this message they should probably go check the hostel and make sure it wasn’t in flames.
Rain was on its way in and I didn’t have much time to lose if I wanted to get a tent up before it hit. At the road, the very first truck that passed said he was going right past the Mt Rogers Visitor Center, which is on the trail. I’d planned to hike there tomorrow anyway. From here I should be able to get a bus into Marion in the morning to resupply. In the meantime, I’m camped just off the trail nearby. There is a terrific thunderstorm going on as I type, but my tent is holding and I’m dry. Let’s hope it stays that way.
I’ve made it to Marion, a town a few miles off the trail, but with a stellar public transportation system with hikers in mind! One phone call and 50 cents gets you a ride into town for food, laundry or a hotel. With two days of rain behind us and two more forecast, I’m in a dry hotel for the night. At this point I’m 530 miles down the trail in 60 days. Not exactly a land speed record, but I’m moving! Only 1,655 miles more to go!
BTW, Marion will have their first annual Hiker’s Celebration May 24-26 at Riverbend Park.
Locals have assured me this is a real phenomenon. Hikes have a hard time leaving this trail town. You’ll find the at the Mt Rogers Outfitters where I just bought new shoes. You’ll find the driving shuttles, like Gypsy Dave, who will be taking me back to Elk Garden. Paul hiked the trail a few years back and he and his wife now own Hikers Inn. Lone Wolf has hiked 16 times, but now works for the EMS.
And then there’s Crazy Larry, who runs a hostel that I stayed at last night. The folks that brought me into town were a little leery of dropping me off here, but it was a rainy Friday night and most places were full.
“The place might be a little…rough,” I was warned. It was a disaster area. But a clean one. I ended up in a “private” room–a blowup bed in with the washer and dryer. But for $25 I got a bed, dinner, breakfast, a shower AND laundry. Best deal on the trail! And then there’s Larry who is a true character. “I’ve moved around a bit myself,” he e
xplains. “But probably stayed out west the most. I had a few too many years of drinking and drugging and partying. I’m told I had a wonderful time!” And he laughs from his full belly, showing a mouth filled with more gum than teeth. Where I’m from, we’d call him a good ole boy (I’m not a redneck; I’m an Appalachian American) but mostly he feels accepted here, which is the most any of us can hope for in this life. And he’s spoken well of by the locals, which says a lot in a small town where everyone knows everything you’ve ever done and never forgets. He claims he’s looking for a wife and there are lots of women who are good to him here and bring him too much good food to eat. “They won’t marry me, but they don’t seem to want some other woman taking me either. Crazy Larry’s hostel could use a woman’s touch, perhaps. But he’s such a lovable guy.
Also, found my favorite trail name today: Dances with Snails. I’m committed to Plan B, but if I had it to do over….
I’m back in Damascus, VA recovering from a minor fall. I hope to hike out in the morning. Staying the night at Crazy Larry’s hostel.
Since I’m in a warm bed tonight, thought of a few things I’d forgotten to post. I’ve changed out so much gear, even clothing. On a lark, I’m now wearing bright red basketball shorts to hike in. They don’t look good on me, but are comfy and have deep pockets without being too short. Love them. Thanks Indiana for finding them for me!
Ran into Red Hat (hiked AT in 2006 as a new widow) my last evening in Damascus. I’d met her at Hot Springs. I hope to be as vibrant, lively and pretty as this woman is.
Thursday April 24. Damascus, VA 467.8 to Lost Mountain Shelter 483.2 via Virginia Creeper Trail
Adventures in bunk mates. When in town, I typically stay in the bunkhouse of a hiker hostel. It’s the cheapest accommodations outside of setting up your own tent. Remember ‘cheap’ denotes quality. They usually have from 6 to 20 bunk beds and often everyone shares a single bath and shower. Yesterday in the Hikers Inn, a young man came in early in the day and snagged the last bed. When I get into town, my goal, after finding a bed is to grab a shower and do laundry before anything else. Not this young man. It took him hours to get together his laundry. By 5p several of us mentioned to him that the shower was available. When hikers think you smell you NEED a shower. This morning just as everyone was waking up, he decided, unannounced, to take a lengthy hot shower. By the time he was done there was no hot water. And, “Dudes,” he said, ” toilet’s clogged.” What a way to start the morning!
This morning, on a lark, I decided to follow the Virginia Creeper trail. I grabbed a map to verify that the AT crosses it twice. It only saves a couple miles of walking, but I’d bypass 2 mountains, each over 1,000ft climb. It’s really a bike path, a former railroad bed, that stratles land between Hiway 58 and Whitetop Laurel Creek. Where I’m from, this would be called a river, though it’s a bit low for canoes or kayaks.
At roughly the 4 mile mark, the AT crosses the Creeper Trail for the first time. There is a rest stop here where I met John. He is a ridge runner for this section, stretching from TN line thru Damascus to Grayson Highlands. He calls himself a glorified trash collector, but his job is to do minor trail and shelter maintenance and help out hikers. He’s originally from Atlanta. John thru hiked the AT in 2006 and now works for the US Forrest Service in this section for 3 months a year. Then he moves onto Baxter State Park in Maine for 3 more months. If he’s lucky, he can find winter work out west or south.
As John left, the Fish hatchery truck arrived. This section of the river is stocked with 2 year old brown and rainbow trout. The fish hatchery man explained how they get the fish eggs, raise them, then skillfully take them to the river, a few at a time in each section. They were escorted by a Fish and Game officer.
I took advantage of the unisex restroom and found a tiny bat, smaller than a mouse, hanging upside down at the underside peak of the porch roof.
Over the day I saw or talked to several trout fishermen. Only one had any luck that day, but he had thrown them all back.
Red Beard and SnorLax passed me and I realized it was time to move along! I soon met a retired couple who I walked with for awhile. He hiked the AT in 1996 and when they retired moved to Damascus.
Near the 5 mile mark we came to the community of Taylors Valley with a Trailside Cafe. I stopped for sweet tea and salted Carmel ice cream. I just had one scoop, but it was huge!
Video on the Virginia Creeper Trail trim.1A106144-E765-4770-91D1-45F641850FCD
I stopped once to cool my feet in the River and rinse off my arms and legs. It was nice to have a flat, level surface to walk on, but it was a bit dusty and a very hard roadbed.
Eventually I rejoined the AT and almost immediately began climbing a wooded mountain. I was the second to arrive at the shelter. Honey Bear was there already. I’ve met him and he’s not one of my favorite characters. He wears a hiking kilt and enjoys painting his face. No idea why. But he had a coat stolen from the Kincora hostel and has a reputation for not paying for services along the trail. Also, he’s been traveling with Finn (see previous incident with Cambodia). Finn hiked out the previous evening, ditching all his hiking partners.
Honey Bear had a fire going and this was his main focus for the evening. Shortly others arrived: Dallas, Red Leg, Blue Jay, Red Beard & Snorlax (who avoided the shelter to stay away from Honey Bear), Johnny Sleeper (and his daughter and son in law) and Raffiki (his brother Walking Stick went home today).
Honey Bear just kept building a bigger and bigger fire. Several of us mentioned that it was too large and to please stop. When the wind picked up it was downright dangerous with sparks traveling to the dry leaves. Several of the men pointedly asked him to stop. So he waited until everyone went to their sleeping bags and he piled the rest of the logs onto the fire before going to bed himself. Everyone in the shelter got up and poured water on the fire (water we had filtered to use in the morning) to put it out. Someone else got his food bag (which he’d left in the shelter while everyone else hung theirs) and simply carried it to the woods and threw it in.
Friday April 25, Lost Mountain Shelter 483.2 to VA 600, Elk Garden 491.1
Everyone except Honey Bear was up early. No idea if he found his food bag or not. No one told him what we’d done with it, but we’d asked him repeatedly to hang it away from the shelter. It is for everyone’s safety. I will say we made a LOT of noise to make it as difficult as possible foe him to sleep. Hope I never run into him again.
The rain started even before I had water heated for coffee. No one had cell service, but the last report had said the rain would be light and only last until noon. Clearly, forecasts change.
oday was a climb of Virginia’ highest mountain, Mt Rogers, 5,400+ feet. Dallas and Blue Jay were not far in front of me when I reached the top of the open bald. They had just reach the tree line when the lightening began. The flash was blinding, though well over my head. The hail came down for 3 minutes. Though the ice was half the size of a marble, I was completely exposed and it stung my hands and face. I cannot run with a pack, but I knew I needed to move as swiftly as possible down the mountain. Just before I got to the (minimal) tree cover I slipped. Without hiking poles it would have been a worse fall. I had no choice but to scramble to my feet and continue down. The pain in my ankle and knee worked themselves out by the bottom of the mountain, but my left hip really hurt.
There was a man at the road with a car who offered to take me into town. Right then I was cold, wet and sore. So I agreed. Tomorrow we will see how I feel.
Think about the name of places as you hike, particularly if you plan to camp there Whistling Gap will be windy. If it’s a hot August night when you’re fighting mosquitoes, that might be a good thing bin March it probably isn’t.
Trail romances are difficult enough, but if the hiker goes by the name of Lone Wolf, don’t take that as a challenge. He’s not looking for a relationship.
If you carry an electronic device in your pocket while hiking, put its face toward your body to protect it in fall.