Appalachian Trail, Days 41-43
Day 41
Start: Chestnut Knob Shelter (570.1)
Stop: US Route 52 (592.1)
Miles: 22.8
Elevation Gain: 4110 feet
Total Miles Hiked: 626.06
There was a veritable nest of earwigs in the trekking pole wells of my tent as I was disassembling it for the day. I contended with the swarm, grossed out as I tried to relocate the scary bugs as smoothly as possible. Thank goodness for the layer of mesh between me and them last night. At least I could look out over the view to see the slowly swirling clouds lifting for the day. As I set off, I called my dad to say Happy Father’s Day. In the tedium of the morning, I thought about how Burke’s Garden, once the ocean floor of an ancient sea, now a fertile crater, would make the perfect place to ride out a zombie apocalypse.
A hard rain started about a mile or two out from where I would stop for lunch. I jammed my shin against a sharp, cleanly chopped branch of a fallen tree, pain exploding from the point of impact. It didn’t bleed immediately, but it shaved away enough skin to leave me with a thick scab that would linger for weeks. I was drenched as I rounded the corner to find everyone crammed beneath the shelter. Of course, the rain cleared and the sun came out just as I ducked under the protection of the roof. After lunch, there was a seemingly endless stretch of trail that skirted the slope of the mountain.
The clouds grew more and more menacing. Through the trees, I could see the neighboring mountains and little postage stamps of farmland in a patchwork on the valley floor. But there was also a wall of rain slowly plodding towards my perch on the hillside. Like all things, it caught up with me. When it did, I was thoroughly soaked within minutes. The trail turned onto a gravel road leading down the mountain and I could see Fireball up ahead. My shoes were squishing with each step, and rivulets of milky brown runoff were flowing in a network of veins past my feet.
At the bottom of the hill, I found my friends gathered at picnic tables under the protection of a carport. Initially, we were thinking we would push to the next shelter in about 3 miles. But with the current deluge, plans were quickly deteriorating. Hedgehog had the bounty of a resupply arranged in front of him, complete with ingredients to make a taco dinner using the 2-pound can of black beans that Pack Mule had been schlepping around for over 200 miles. Mouse managed to get in contact with the owner of Didgeridoo Hostel, who was out of town, but generously offered to let us stay there for the night. In another stroke of luck, a guy seeing his girlfriend off for her hike, offered to give us a ride. He managed to haul 10 hikers 2 miles down the hill in his pickup truck.
As for Didgeridoo Hostel, I will say that it was neither more nor less clean than any punk house that I’ve ever slept in, and I’ll leave it at that. But there WERE didgeridoos. The contrast between being blasted with rain at the beginning of the hour, to soaking in the continuous drone of two didgeridoo’s while sipping a Bud Lite Lime-A-Rita, in a place that I didn’t even know existed until just now, was quite jarring. I set up my sleeping bag on the padded floor of Mr. Didgeridoo’s workout room, granting me an uninterrupted view of the unhinged hiker graffiti on the ceiling as I settled down for the evening.
Day 42
Start: US Route 52 (592.1)
Stop: Dismal Falls/Kimberling Creek, VA 606 (610.5)
Miles: 20.92
Elevation Gain: 3777 feet
Total Miles Hiked: 646.98
The harsh morning sunlight illuminated the extent of Didgeridoo’s ant infestation. We managed to make coffee, and Hedgehog took a house bicycle down the road to an Arby’s, hauling back a huge order for the group. The local shuttle driver, Chuck, ferried us back up to the trailhead in groups of 3 and 4. Pizza Knees and I cringed as we made contact with the moist upholstery in the back of his sedan. The trail was a maze of various roads for the first mile or two of the day. In an encore of yesterday, we endured another heavy midday rain. We kept ourselves occupied with games of “Fuck, Marry, Kill” and “Would You Rather” for most of the day.
We reached a large wooden suspension bridge guarded by angry hornets. They had already stung Pizza Knees and Shelter Kat by the time I arrived, but I made it across just fine. Avalanche, Hedgehog, and I started the road walk down to Trent’s Grocery, a combination convenience, hardware, and gun store, with the promise of pizza in our mind. I got two frozen treats for myself and two dozen beers to share at Dismal Falls, to help guard against the promise within the name. The rest of the group arrived, and we occupied the entire dining area of the establishment. Avalanche generously shared his pizza with me. It looked like rain again, but a few of us decided to take our chances and road walk to Dismal Falls, where we would be camping for the night.
We managed to avoid anything heavier than a drizzle and rock-hopped across the river below Dismal Falls. We found a large clearing to camp that could fit about 5 tents. My tent was still wet from 2 days ago, and I hastily strung up some paracord as a clothesline to see if it would dry at all before bedtime. I walked down to the falls where everyone was swimming. Hedgehog and Pizza Knees even inflated their sleeping pads to use as improvised floaties. Once it got dark, we carefully crossed the slick stones of the river to the opposite side where the other half of our group was camped. Hedgehog got a campfire started by using his Jet-Boil like a blow torch. It was pretty dark when a convoy of us crossed the river to return to camp. My gear was still wet, and I bumbled around with my headlamp, pitching my soggy tent in the dark before settling in to bed.
Day 43
Start: Dismal Falls/Kimberling Creek, VA 606 (610.5)
Stop: Woods Hole Hostel (625.7)
Miles: 14.6
Elevation Gain: 2592 feet
Total Miles Hiked: 661.58
By the time I peeped out of my tent in the morning, Avalanche and Barefoot were already gone; the falls in the background were the perfect white noise to camouflage the morning stirrings of the campsite. Today, we would reach Woods Hole Hostel, a place I’d really been looking forward to. The trail ran parallel to Dismal Creek for a while, with lots of crossings on wooden bridges. I decided to forego the blue blaze, opting for a slightly longer day. I talked with Hazmat at the Wapiti Shelter during lunch before the big climb of the day.
A few miles later, I was walking down the gravel drive leading to Woods Hole. Turning the corner and taking it in for the first time, it was a beautiful, idyllic place. There was the original timber frame homestead, which has been enlarged with additions over the years, along with all the complementary outbuildings. I could see Avalanche and Fireball unfurling their wet tents on a fence that bordered a large pasture with views of the mountains beyond. My eyes wandered to the garden full of lush greens, the planters overflowing with artfully unkempt flowers, and the inviting sunken fire pit. After checking in, I quickly set about cleaning my clothing and my body. There were the most delicious homemade oatmeal chocolate chip bars in the honesty bar of the bunk house, and the weather was terrific.
There was yoga on the lawn at 4 pm, then a communal dinner at 6. There was something about the presentation that reminded me of my time at Haystack School of Crafts during the open studio residency a few years ago. The food was so tremendously wholesome and delicious, and there is something so luxurious about having food prepared for you. After the peanut butter pie was completely demolished, we moved over to the fire pit to watch Fireball assemble an avant-garde pyre, which took a bit of coaxing to really take off. There was a fleeting sun shower that lasted only a few minutes. It left us with a spectacular rainbow arching over the bunk house, as if we somehow needed one last reminder before bedtime of how magical this place is.
