To Pearisburg, and Home

When I finally left Damascus, I decided to take the Virginia Creeper trail, just for something a little different. It roughly parallels the AT for something like 12 miles, and takes a relatively level route, lightly graveled. It’s a former railroad bed, named for the “Virginia Creeper” train that used to carry lumber along a 30-something mile stretch, and now it’s used as trail for hikers and cyclists. So I was continually getting passed by groups of families, as well as some single riders. Every so often, I’d cross a trestle over a river, and periodically came to a small parking area with a map and a restroom. To my surprise, there were many campsites along the left side, and I stopped at one after hiking about 6 miles. I hadn’t left Damascus until about 5:30 PM, so I wanted to stop before it started getting really dark. While I have set up my tent by headlamp, it’s not something I prefer to do. The campsite I found had a fire-ring and a picnic table, along with a garbage can. The popularity of the trail with scout troupes and families made these things accessible and maintainable by the park service, I assumed.

When leaving the next morning, I passed a sign shortly thereafter telling me that I had actually been on private property! Oh, well. I hadn’t seen any houses or anything nearby, so I hadn’t even thought about that. I hiked about 12 miles or so that following day, until I found a beautiful campsite by a stream that I decided to stop at. The sky was overcast when I woke up the next morning, but I hoped it would just be cloudy, so I didn’t bother putting on my pack cover and rain gear. I had barely enough time to dig it out when the first drops started falling and before the sky opened up. The rain was torrential: the trail was a running stream. My boots got completely soaked, Gore-Tex lining or not, and it got cold enough that I wished I’d had my down jacket on. I hiked almost ten miles in this, mostly uphill, until I saw the sign for the summit of Mount Rogers, the highest peak in Virginia. I certainly wasn’t going to take a side-trip to the summit in the pouring rain, so I continued on, keeping an eye out for the shelter that was supposed to be just ahead. I saw a blue-blazed path to a privy, and then the Thomas Knob shelter came into view. I’d foolishly hoped that there would be no one there, but it was completely packed, with a Boy Scout group and several other hikers seeking shelter from the storm outside. I barely found enough room for me to just put my pack down! Eventually, the rain stopped, or at least lessened to the point that the Boy Scouts (or their troop leader) wanted to leave, so a whole bunch of kids descended the ladder to the upstairs loft and the shelter emptied enough that I could sit down for a bit.

This is when I met Chaos, and his dog Eve, along with a couple of weekend-hiking girls. We made coffee and hot chocolate, and decided to stay the night. I made a spot upstairs, while Chaos and the girls stayed up late, playing cards and listening to his radio. Over the course of the night, the wind blew so hard that I began to worry about the roof; the gusts had to be at least 60 MPH. It sounded like a hurricane!

When I awoke the following day, it was still cold, windy, and rainy. I decided to stay a while to see if it would clear up, but it never did, so I ended up staying another night. The girls left, but Chaos and I stayed with a couple of other weekend hikers that showed up. We just relaxed, dried gear in the brief periods of sunshine, and eventually played a little bit with a wild pony that showed up at the shelter. She looked pretty old, given the raggedness of her coat, but was friendly enough. She just sort of hung around, eating what grass there was, and occasionally a sock or two that was drying too close to the edge of the picnic table!

It was still windy that night, but not as bad as the night before, and it fortunately only rained a little bit. Sleeping close to a metal roof in the pouring rain isn’t fun. The next day wasn’t exactly sunny, but I didn’t want to waste yet another day there, so I took off, along with Chaos and Eve. We hiked about 11 miles to the Old Orchard shelter, but passed through Grayson Highlands State park along the way. We shared the walk with a bunch of wild ponies, which I thought was really cool. Once, we passed a campsite with probably ten of them just standing and lying around: a few foals, their mothers standing next to them protectively, and one stud lying on the ground. The dog got a little too close to one of them and got kicked in the side, but fortunately the kick connected with one side of her pack, so she wasn’t hurt at all. She definitely didn’t try to get too close again! When the stud got to his feet, we decided that it must be probably a good time to leave! That day, we hiked 5 miles, stopped at the Hurricane Mountain shelter for an hour or so to wait out a rain storm, then continued on until we got to a side trail to the USFS Hurricane Creek campground. We took the side trail, and then took the road up a couple of miles until we arrived at Dickey Gap and VA 16. I was trying to get to Marion, VA, so that I could get insulin at the Wal-Mart.

We walked a long way along a road, but we shortly managed to get a ride to Sugar Grove, VA, which seemed to consist largely of a gas station/restaurant. From there, it would have been another 9 miles to Marion, but a couple of women that had been at the gas station offered us a ride into Marion, so we didn’t have to walk that far along the road. When they dropped us off, we were in the historic part of town, and the only lodgings around were a $160 hotel! We ended up walking through town about 2 miles or so to the place we had been looking for (conveniently located about a half mile past the Wal-Mart), which cost us $20 each for the night. I got the insulin, and a sandwich at Subway, a few re-supply items, and went back to the motel. There was a huge storm predicted for the following day, and I let Chaos talk me into one more night there. When the sun shone brightly the entire next day, I felt a bit foolish, but, I got laundry done, and found a Taco Bell, drank some pretty good coffee, and just relaxed some more. Chaos, for his part, remained inside the room for most of the day, with the shades drawn; because he “didn’t even want to look” at what a nice day it turned out to be.

The next morning it was, in fact, raining, but it stopped by 11 or so when we left the motel. We found a shuttle service that brought people around Marion for 50 cents, so we took that to go the 6 miles to the Mount Rogers park headquarters and the Partnership shelter. That shelter has not only 2 floors, but showers as well. I’d been looking forward to getting to it, but since I’d already taken a shower and it was only 1PM or so, I decided to continue on. I’d gotten more than a little sick of Chaos at this point. I’d come to release that he was an unapologetic mooch, so when he said he was going to stay for a half hour or so to “see if the weather got any nicer,” I pretty much took off.

Sitting Bull, Grandma, and Medicine Man were already at Partnership when we got there, and I’d hoped that Chaos would talk himself into staying another night. I ended up going about 12 miles, past the next shelter (Chaos had, for some reason, sent home his tent), and found myself a nice campsite. I awakened the next morning by the sounds of people talking as they passed me, but didn’t actually see anyone. I did see Eve, though, as she came right up to the front wall of my tent and looked in at me! None of the people passing knew what my tent looked like, apparently, so they just continued on.

I arrived at VA 683, and Atkins, VA, a very small town containing only 2 gas stations, a restaurant, and a motel. It was almost 8 when I arrived, and I saw S’mores almost immediately, sitting outside a gas station. We spent about a half hour talking, and she told me that she and Imagine were sharing a room at the nearby motel. I didn’t particularly feel like hiking in the dark, so I decided to stay, myself. Plus, I wouldn’t run into Chaos this way either!

The next morning, I had a late breakfast with S’mores and Imagine, and hung around for a while since I had cell reception there. I hiked about 4 miles, and ran into Imagine and S’mores again, at the Davis Path campsite and privy. This was a wooden platform upon which a shelter had once stood, until burning down a couple of years ago. Now, it’s a campsite. I stopped for a bit, then continued on to another campsite I found by a stream 8 miles farther along.

Pretty early along the next day, I came to a pavilion that a church apparently owned, along with a Boy Scout troop leader who offered to take my trash out for me. I gladly gave him the little bit that I had, and kept going until I came to the Chestnut Knob shelter, a nice 4-sided shelter with a door on top of a mountain. It was packed, though, so I only stayed a few minutes. I saw S’mores and Imagine again, along with Medicine Man, Sitting Bull, Grandma- and, sleeping on one of the bunks, Chaos!

I eventually stopped at the Davis Creek campsite, after a long 18-mile day. This was, according to my guidebook, along a blue-blazed path .5 miles off the trail. It was all down hill along switchbacks, but I was pretty low on water, so I didn’t have much choice. When I got there, it was essentially a small grass platform cut into the side of the hill, but with a beautiful view down into some fields with cattle grazing. I left pretty early the next morning, dreading the climb back up to the trail, but it ended up not being nearly as bad as I thought it would be. Maybe the music I was listening to helped. After about 8 miles, I came to a road and a stream, with a campsite a little bit past it. This campsite was apparently heavily used by locals, as there was an easy chair set up in front of an old TV set with the glass missing from the tube, and an old laptop sitting inside it. It was a strange sight! I kept going another 2 miles or so, and found a small campsite right off the trail with just enough room for my tent.

The next morning I hiked about 4 miles until I came to US 52, which led to Bland and Bastian, Va. I headed towards Bastian, and thought I’d take the road to Trent’s Grocery, which had camping, showers, and laundry, for really cheap. I used Google maps for this, and it turned out to be extremely inaccurate. I’d expected to walk at least 12 miles along the road, but it turned out to be more than 18! After a few miles, it started to rain, hard, soaking my boots and every part of me that wasn’t covered. This lasted for over a half hour, but I was less than a mile away, according to my iPhone. Finally, a pickup truck pulled up alongside, and asked me if I needed a ride. I got in, but told the driver that I was going to Trent’s grocery, which was less than a mile away. He laughed, and said that it was more like 8 miles! He gave me a ride, though, so I arrived at about 5 PM- just as it stopped raining, and the sun came out!

I was the only hiker there, and I paid for a camping spot. This was down a short gravel driveway. There was a large clearing, containing 8 mobile homes, all of which were covered and empty. There were a couple of picnic tables, too, and plenty of grassy area for me to set up my tent. I pitched it, unpacked, and then made my way over to the concrete building containing two showers and bathroom stalls, and the laundry room. The showers didn’t work at all, nor did the washer. I walked back to the store (Trent’s grocery was essentially a gas station with a deli) and told the girl behind the counter about this, and she said that the owner had been working on the water. She thought he’d fixed it, but apparently not. So I washed my clothes in the nearby stream, and put them in the dryer, which fortunately worked. I had electricity to charge my iPhone and Kindle. I could get sodas, Gatorade, and plenty of snacks. So it was OK. I stayed up pretty late reading by the light from the laundry room, and finally went to sleep around midnight.

The following day, I took the road 2 miles or so until I got to the Dismal Creek Falls. The guy who’d given me a ride to Trent’s grocery had suggested this; the trail from the store went up a hill and back down again, with no views, and I might as well just skip it and see the falls. Plus, I could pick the trail right back up from there, so I did. Unfortunately though, I couldn’t find the AT from Dismal Creek Falls. I wanted to get to the Wood’s Hole Hostel, which was 15 trail miles away from where I’d stayed the night before. I checked Google maps again, and saw that the road that I was on seemed to go almost directly there, so I decided to take that. After a couple of miles, I lost cell service completely. I came to an intersection, with no signs, and wasn’t sure exactly which way I was supposed to turn, so I flagged down a passing pickup truck and asked the driver which road I was supposed to take. He told me to head to the right, so I did. After another mile or so I came to a closed gate across the road, with a sign that read, “Foot traffic only”. The driver of the truck mentioned a gate, although he’d said it was open. I continued on a mile or so, but then started to worry that for all I knew, this road would go another 30 miles. I had no maps, and no clue about what was around. I knew I was in the middle of a national forest, and unlikely to see a whole lot of traffic, so headed back the way I’d came. I made it back to the spot at which I’d seen the truck, and took the direction I hadn’t before. Shortly thereafter, the same truck came by from the other direction. There were two elderly men in the front, and two women in the bed of the truck, sitting on a mattress. Apparently they’d been to see the falls! They said they were heading past the hostel, though, and offered me a ride there. As we were driving, I realized that, again, Google maps had been incorrect, and it was a LOT farther than I’d thought it was going to be! But I finally arrived, and headed up the driveway.

I got to the Wood’s Hole hostel on a Thursday afternoon. It’s a beautiful place, run by Michael and Neville, both licensed massage therapists. They offer meditation and yoga, in addition to home-cooked meals that are among the best I have ever had. These are served in the main house, which also has a couple of private rooms that can be rented by the night. There’s a separate bunkhouse, which has a large front porch, a common room with tables and chairs, and an outdoor shower. Upstairs, up a rather steep staircase, is the sleeping area, which consists of 12 mattresses and box springs on the floor. Compared to a tent and a Therm-a-Rest pad, it’s heaven. There’s also a sink downstairs for doing dishes and laundry, with a ringer and washboard next to it. There are electric lights, power outlets, and a refrigerator, serving fresh juices, candy bars, etc., with payment made upon checkout and kept track of on the honor system. In the back, there is a rustic outhouse and a laundry line.

I took the place in. It provided everything I needed. Including a place to think over the future of my hike. Without knowing it initially, I chose this place as the last stopping point in my thru-hike attempt for this year.

The Road Home

Earlier in the week, I talked with Pax about meeting up for the weekend. Her office would be closed for long weekend due to Independence Day. She mentioned during a phone call shortly after I departed Damascus that I was now within range of a day’s drive. The drive would take around 9 or 10 hours, but it was certainly doable. I pondered this for a while as I walked. I could use a visit, and so could she; I hadn’t seen her since mid-May. When I checked back with her, she agreed energetically. We decided on Pearisburg as a reasonable goal for me, and a good place for her to find me. We also hoped that the stray package would have made its way to the Pearisburg post office, which was where I’d asked the Postal Service to send it.

I got there a couple of days early, and stayed in the bunkhouse, and that first afternoon, pretty much just hung around reading books on my Kindle, and relaxing. It’s easy to do at the hostel, as it just has a really laid back, relaxing atmosphere. I’d managed somehow to lose my fuel container in the pickup truck that I came in on, so I bought a couple of ounces of alcohol fuel to make dinner that first night. I cooked it on a table outside, next to the fire ring.

There were a couple of people there, including Super, whom I’d met in Damascus. He had a full-size Bugs Bunny balloon strapped to the outside of his pack, which got him lots of comments, and started many conversations along the trail. The thing was about 6 feet tall! He was leaving the next morning for Washington, D.C., but I joined him and Neville for the nightly meditation.

I could get cell phone signal, as long as I walked a little ways along a certain hillside. Late that evening, I sent my girlfriend a text message. If I kept hiking, I might run out of money before I made it to Harper’s Ferry. This would mean that I returned to Connecticut needing to get to work immediately, and in a bit of a panic. I’d had many frustrations on this hike. The weather this year had proven to be nothing short of miserable and I’d had quite a few struggles along the way.

In my text message, I asked her if I would be a failure for coming home. She reminded me of things I hadn’t considered. I walked about 650 miles through many of the hardest climbs on the Appalachian Trail. I’d done it at my own pace. I met with terrific people and had a great experience. I’d come close to death more than once and stuck it out anyway. She reminded me of every person I’d met who said that they one day would love to have the guts to attempt what I had accomplished. In no way could I be considered a failure for coming home early. I didn’t make my goal, but I’d overcome quite a lot. I thought long and hard about it, and eventually decided that since it was no longer a thru-hike anyway, I could become a 2,000 miler under better circumstances at another time.

The following morning, I got up for the coffee bell at 7:15 AM (it’s an actual bell that someone rings outside), and went in to help set up the table for breakfast. Each meal, the people staying at the hostel assist in both preparation and cleanup. I thought this a little odd, considering that we were also paying for the food, but it ends up being really cool, and makes things more of a communal effort. It also helps Neville, who is absolutely awesome. The people here included some good friends from the trail: Grandma, Medicine Man, S’mores, Sitting Bull and Imagine. We dined and meditated, immensely enjoying ourselves in the most tranquil space imaginable.

Friday rolled around, and Pax made it up the dirt road driveway sometime around midnight. Traffic in New Jersey slowed her drive to about 12 hours, but the sky was clear, and once her headlights went out all we could see was the sky. Had she not been so tired we might have sat up and talked, but instead, we crept up the stairs into the bunkhouse. We threw the blankets she’d brought over a mattress as quietly as possible and went straight to sleep. After all, coffee would be ready at 7:15, and we would need to help out in order to have breakfast.

That morning was bittersweet, and it was some time before we left. We shuttled two different groups into town. S’mores had a mail drop to pick up, and another hiker needed a haircut. After that, we took Grandma, Medicine Man and Sitting Bull to Wal-Mart. We thought we were going to the nearest one, but after we returned, we found out there was another one much closer. It reminded me how different life is on wheels.

After we returned from that last trip, there was little left to do but settle our tab, fill up the car, and hit the road. Slowly, we made our way down the gravel path for the last time. The thought of returning to a place so beautiful to start the next part of my two thousand mile journey brought some comfort, and the next few hundred miles sped past with that on my mind