4-24-1976, Appalachian Trail Thru-hike, Pearisburg to Snowden

 This is the fourth of my series of 2025 transcriptions of my journal from my 1976 Appalachian Trail Tru-hike. The journal was compiled from my original trip notes between the finish of the AT in August and heading to college in September. An introduction to this trip is stored at: AT Intro. Photos are scans of my original prints. (Post 1976 comments in parentheses.)

April 24, Pine Swamp Shelter, 16.0 miles

I woke up early to get a good start on the day. Saying goodbye to Father Charles was tough, both because I didn’t know how to thank him, and because I didn’t want to leave. Stan Cotton walked downtown with me. He was planning to hitchhike up to Vermont and then hike the AT north. After picking up my boots at the shoe shop (I must have been carrying an extra pair of shoes?), we went to the Dairy Queen for a final treat. After I ordered a pint, the girl behind the counter told me that they didn’t have any ice cream because their machines weren’t yet turned on. I was surprised and Stan asked, “This is a Dairy Queen, isn’t it?” (That’s a penalty of an early start.) We went next door to the Tasty Freeze and found their ice cream to be just as good, and a little cheaper. No ice cream at the Dairy Queen, what was the world coming to?

We were soon back on the trail and ready to climb Peter Mountain. The guidebook said the trail followed an old jeep road. I told Eric what the book said and added a suggestion that a jeep road couldn’t be too steep. The SOB went straight up. I felt anyone who would try to drive down a road like that ought to be locked up, after they got out of the hospital.

After we reached the ridgetop, the hiking was a lot easier. The trees were green and spring had passed us by on its journey north. Pine swamp was a letdown. It was nothing but mud and rhododendron. But in general, the walking was good.

We decided to spend the night at Pine Mountain Shelter after we had walked sixteen miles. After a very blah dinner of rice with rice we discovered a shortcut to a store only a quarter of a mile away. We made the trip and bought two beers each and some pie. That topped off a great day. My journal rated it my best day in Va of the trip so far. The coming of spring had sure made a difference (to the scenery and to my mood).

April 25, Big Pond Shelter, 16.8 miles

I walked 17 miles to Big Pond Shelter. In a surprise, the shelter did not have a water source. No water at Big Pond? Apparently, the latrine had been contaminating the pond. (Probably thru Eric’s foresight, we would hike on and off together thru Waynesboro) we had filled up with water earlier.

We got a bad night’s sleep due to a combination of weekend hikers, mice, and cramps in my legs. For breakfast I tried a new brand of granola bars. The Nature Valley bars were very dry, and not too appetizing. The Carnation bars weren’t bad, but my favorites remained the Chrunchola bars.

The day was fairly difficult. Particularly tough parts were around Baily Gap and Stoney Creek. However, it wasn’t a dull walk. On a long section of road walking we were surprised by a wild turkey. When they take off, their wings smash away at all the underbrush making nearly as much noise as grouse taking flight. The grouse, who were very common in the south, take off with an explosion that often made my heart skip a beat.

We also passed War Branch Shelter. This was the nicest shelter we’d seen recently. It sat below a stand of white pine. Having the love of white pine stands that a hiker acquires, I was tempted to stay the night there, but knew I needed to push on,

Our last excitement was a bit of rain. It only lasted about a half hour, but it came down hard. The weather has been so dry that there were rumors that sections of the trail might be closed (due to fire danger). Even the springs were getting dry.

North of Pine Swamp begins The Relocation. I doubt any other AT relocation will ever reach the same level of infamy as this one. The Roanoke AT Club advised hikers to take to the highways, and they are the ones that built the new trail. The whole hassle had started when a single farmer had closed the trail to his land. This action showed how perilous the trail was. I debated bypassing the relocation, but decided to hike it.

(As I type up these notes, I realize that this central VA section of the AT described in this post is almost a black hole, as I remember very little of it, including the major relocation to come. With the exception of Shenandoah NP, the middle third of the AT is generally considered less scenic than the northern and southern ends. It is probably too much to ask for some of this central terrain to compete with the higher impact scenery around it.)

April 26, Tumbledown Cabin Bivi, 10.9 miles

“Goddamn that relocation! That bugger ruined what would have been a very mellow day. The first mile was on whole (old?) trail, which was very nice. Then all hell broke loose. The trail, besides being rocky, wanders all over the place. The rocks are jagged and demand constant attention, There are endless ups and downs over the minor ridges. I was amazed at how tired I was getting just making 25’ climbs. Eric and I broke up the monotony with some Tarzan swings on a vine that hung over the trail. A good run would get us five or six feet up in the air.” So much for my general impressions of the relocation, but the trail was worse that I have described.

The walk down to Sinking Creek Valley was straight down. We were falling half the time. We finally came to a pasture which seemed to be near the highway. Then the trail sent us up a cliff that would have rated about a 5.8, except that it was all slippery mud, not rock.

Finally, we hit VA Route 42 near Newport. While Eric went into town to buy food, I snoozed by the road. At least Newport put us back on the original trail route. We ate at the town park that had both water and toilets. But soon it was back up a jeep road to the ridge crest. On the crest the trail left the road and commenced more silliness over the top of the ridge. The ridge seemed to be the world’s longest hummock. For added excitement the trail would often dip down off the ridge only to soon climb back up.

We passed two endpoints of a loop trail down to a primitive campsite. Hopefully the plan is to put a shelter there. North of a dirt road crossing, there had been a futile attempt to grade the trail.

We camped along a brook beside the trail, though it wasn’t much of a brook and we never actually saw the water. Eric had pushed ahead and was waiting for me at the campsite. My journal described this as the first cold day in a while, and I’d been forced to hike in long pants (my jeans) and a wool shirt for most of the day.

Eric road walking.

April 27, Trout Creek Shelter, 10.9 miles

We finally finished off the worst of the relocation. Eric and I pulled into the Trout Creek Shelter with plenty of time for dinner and eating. Today’s trail was much easier than yesterday’s. The trail to highway 621 was more of what it had been like since Sinking Creek Valley. Niday (?) Shelter turned out to be 2 ½ miles off the AT. Cabin Branch Campsite was also far off the AT.

Hiram Near Craig Creek.

After Route 621 the trail was nice. It swings around the crest of the ridge at a constant elevation. There were also some rhododendrons in bloom. It was the first time this year I had seen them in bloom. Now I understand why Road Mountain is such an attraction. The trail was very well graded, and I speculated that this was where the Roanoke AT Club had started its rebuilding effort.

Niday, Virginia

We had another cold day. I started out hiking with my polypro vest on for the first time since Roan Mountain. We had put up my tarp for shelter before going to bed at our bivi site. Luckily, we got hardly any condensation. I think the wind kept the tarp well ventilated. 

Rhododendron in bloom.

At Trout Creek we met another thru-hiker. Reid Nelson started on Feb 8, and had taken two weeks off the trail. He had caught up with us by hitchhiking around the relocation. Reid had some of the most bizarre equipment I had seen anyone carry. His prize piece was an aluminum lawn chair. It was more like a stool and “weighed hardly anything.” His lounging footwear was a pair of soccer cleats. He told Eric and I that he was tired of slipping around in the mud in his sneakers. 

View from the Dragons Tooth.

April 28, Lambert Meadows Shelter, 20.5 miles

We had a great walk and were glad to be out of the relocation. Even though we walked 20 miles to Lambert Meadows, today was longer, but easier, than the last two days. Partly we got an early start, rising in the dark. Poor Reid probably thought we were nuts.

The first highpoint of the day was Dragons Tooth, and its impressive views. We were dazzled enough that we went a half mile the wrong way before discovering our error. I blamed Eric for the mistake, assuming he should remember the entire trail from his previous trip.

Eric at McAfee Knob,

Well down in the valley things were mellow again. As usual our talk found its way toward finishing the trail. Today’s fantasy was chiefly concerned with getting up Katahdin despite the efforts of the famous Baxter State Park rangers. At this point we both felt confident of making it to the north end. But Katahdin still felt almost infinitely far away.  Finishing the trail still seemed a dream to me.

Hiram at McAfee Knob.

On the way to McAfee Knob, we destroyed an amazing amount of food at a restaurant on Route 311 (I consistently failed to note the names of the restaurants and hotels I stopped at along the trail. I wonder why?). We also passed Boy Scout Shelter, the only one on the AT built for scouts. The shelter was big enough to hold about 30 scouts.

McAfee Knob was the highlight of the day. There were several overhanging ledges on the side on which the AT passes. The view was amazing; we could clearly see Roanoke. We each took a pair of the classic McAfee Knob Photo, with the hiker poised on the lip of the overhang.

The cliffs on Tinker Mountain were also impressive. Again, one wrong step here would have been your last. If you dared to look up, the views were nice. Lambert Meadow Shelter is described by the guidebook as being in disrepair. But it had been fixed up since and now could be called “rustic”. I thought it was OK, but luckily, we did not have rain during the night.

April 29, Wilson Creek Shelter, 18.9 miles

This was probably one of my fastest walking days of the trip. I got up early to try a 19 miler to Wilson Creek Shelter. I said goodbye to Eric as he was planning to go gorge himself at an all-you-can-eat buffet at Travel Town in Cloverdale, and then hike onto Fullhart Knob Shelter for the night. The time flew by as I did the miles in the early morning hours. I was deeply daydreaming and had only the crossing of a powerline to mark my progress. Due to my fast pace the only thing I saw was a beautiful view of Craven Cove Lake.

The trail situation near Cloverdale was wild. I crossed under I-81 and then followed another four-lane highway for ¾ of a mile, it was total misery. Every time a truck passed I was practically blown off the road. The noise and smell almost made me sick. Along the way I stopped at a truck stop. The people there looked at me like a pile of dog feces. The prices were outrageous, but at least the men’s room was clean.

I continued to fly on the way up to Fullhart Knob. After turning off the highway, the trail followed a country road. I didn’t mind the country roads at all. I came to enjoy the roads not only because they were easy walking, but they provided a break from all the hiking in the woods.

Up at Fullhart Knob I spent a long time reading the register and eating gorp. The closest other thru-hikers were three days ahead. Their names were familiar Ed Green, Phil Becker, Andy Coonce, Mike Kiney, Brian Jones, etc. Since I hadn’t met other thru hikers since Martin and his gang, I was anxious to catch up with those ahead. But a three-day lead was a lot of ground to make up.

I pulled into Wilson Creek and had dinner finished by 4PM. I spent the evening rubbing my feet and went to bed late, maybe 5:30 or so. My philosophical question for the day was “does everyone else talk to themselves when they are alone?”

April 30, Cove Creek Shelter, 16.2 miles

I walked a boring sixteen miles to Cove Creek Shelter. The lone interesting thing about the area was crossing the Blue Ridge Parkway four times. I was surprised to see that the Parkway was just a two-lane road, I had expected a superhighway (the Parkway is designed to allow low speed, low stress travel). It seemed to me a great place for a bike trip (and several sections further south are included in my Smokies and Blue Ridge biking guide Amazon.) I mostly day dreamed my way down the trail.

The trail around the shelter (Cove Creek?) had been relocated. According to the guidebook, I was supposed to reach the shelter before I came across a dirt road. So, when I hit the dirt road without seeing the shelter I was baffled. Fortunately, some forest service guys directed me to it. Then another guy going to the shelter offered me a ride. Since the shelter was now on a side trail I accepted the ride. When we arrived, we could see that someone had set up their tent inside the shelter. When the couple with the tent returned from the Peaks of Otter, I was relieved to find them friendly. Since we were the only ones that night there was room for all of us.

The other hiker’s name was Bill. Like many people, I met along the trail he wanted to hike the whole AT. He would try it next year when he would be out of the Navy. For some reason I felt that Bill could do it. I felt at the time that I could judge a hiker’s ability very quickly.

May 1, Thunder Hill Shelter, 12.2 miles

Bummer! I woke up to the depressing sound of rain on the shelter roof. It had been so long since I had experienced a heavy rain that I couldn’t be sure my raingear was still in my pack. Finding my gear dissolved my last excuse for not hiking. Well, it was time to pay some dues. While humming a strain of the Allman Brothers’ “Blue Sky” I decided that waking up to the chirping of birds made for a for a better morning.

To distract myself from the rain I thought about what to get in Snowden, my next supply stop. Unfortunately, I was on schedule to get there on Sunday, which meant that everything would be closed. I decided to take it easy and plan to get to Snowden on Monday morning. Making the decision to slow down on the trail wasn’t as easy as it might seem, but in this case, I had no other option.

I decided to spend the rest of the day working on my rainy day hiking technique. I wore only my T shirt (cotton), shorts( cut off blue jeans), and rain jacket. Because the jacket was totally waterproof I got a lot of condensation inside. However, I found that if I didn’t stop walking, I could reach a temperature equilibrium, and remain relatively comfortable. Consequently, I only stopped twice all day. I also noticed a big difference between light and heavy rain. In light rain it was easy to stay comfortable, while heavy rain was by definition, uncomfortable.

My theory was proven when I got to Cornelius Creek Shelter. During the short time it took to scrawl my name in the register, and heave down some gorp, I got very chilled. A guy from the Roanoke bird club came by on the club’s annual migration count. He had counted about 15 types of birds just from their calls alone. I know only two bird calls, I was impressed.

The rain finally subsided around Apple Orchard Mountain. Although I didn’t go to the top of the mountain, I thought it to be the last 4,000’ peak before Vermont. It turned out that honor fell to the Priest, I spent the night at Thunder Hill Shelter after an easy 12-mile day.

Thunderhill.

May 2, Matts Creek Shelter, 12.1 miles

I did another easy day on my self-inflicted vacation, I only did 12 miles to Matts Creek Shelter. “with a light pack, good trail, and easy terrain it was practically nothing” I got into the shelter a little after one o’clock. My urge to move grew as I hadn’t seen much all day. A white tail waving in the bushes, followed by the trashing of an escape was my only high point. At least the weather had cleared up, but it was a cold 45F in the morning.

Again, my diary refers to the trail with the vague “easy woods walking.” Without the greenery of spring the walk would have been as boring as the browns and grays of Georgia. At least it was a pleasant section. The only real view was from a ridge top that overlooked the James River. 

The James River.

While wasting time at the shelter, I caught up on my rest. The staunch advocates of slow hiking would have been proud of me. My own philosophy lies somewhere between the slow hikers and the speedsters. Along with my copy of Thoreau (Walden) I was entertained by hordes of butterflies, I identified some monarchs and swallowtails, and there were numerous others. Another note in my journal adds that I had washed up in Matts Creek and that I should try to wash up at least once a month.

Good old Eric pulled into the shelter around nightfall after knocking off 32 miles. Those twenty-mile days are tough on me, but 30 miles would be a significant challenge.

May 3, Punchbowl Spring Shelter, 12.8 miles (Snowden)

My first stop of the day was in the booming town of Snowden. All I could see of the town was a combination of general store and post office. I got all my mail and bought more food for the hike to Waynesboro. Luckily, I didn’t need much as the store in Snowden matched the one in Tyringham, Mass for having the poorest food selection along the trail.

I borrowed the post master’s phone for a (collect?) call home. After one unsuccessful try I got ahold of my mother. All the things happening at home seemed very far away, it seemed almost like another life to me. After I hung up I was feeling homesick.

Since the James River was at an elevation of 750 feet, I had a big climb to get out of town. The highest point I reached was 3300’ on Bluff Mountain. When I got there, I was disappointed to see that the fire tower had been torn down. However, I did enjoy a lone grove of evergreens on top.

Punchbowl Spring Shelter was a great place to stop. The shelter was very nice and there was a beautiful lake out front. In a field by the pond, I stretched out to read my copy of the Dartmouth Freshman Yearbook. I also picked up some sun. To compliment the idyllic setting, the shelter boasted a new latrine. Since it was my third 12-mile day in a row, I was getting used to this life of leisure.

Appalachian Trail Thru-hike, Damascus to Pearisburg, 4-14, 1975

My trusty guidebook.

April 14, Damascus Hostel, 0.0 miles

Chris, Eric, and Bill at the hostel in Damascus.

After a month on the trail, I decided it was time for a day off. If there ever was a town designed for lounging around it was Damascus. It felt good to be lazy for a day. My most strenuous activities were letter writing and grocery shopping. By careful pacing, I was able to make it through.

Later in the day Bill and Chris arrived, followed later by Alex and Jim. Bill, Chris, Eric, and I got together for an activity that had been sorely neglected. After a month on the road that beer sure tasted fine. We all sat in front of the hostel in derelict fashion, empty beer cans scattered amongst back copies of National Lampoon and the Rolling Stone. It’s a wonder that the people of Damacus were able to treat us with such respect.

Probably the best indicator of how relaxed I was is the lack of information in my journal for the day. All I remembered was gorging at the dairy bar and working on a vigorous tan in the hot Virginia sun.

(Reaching Damascus, a month into the hike and almost one quarter the way through was a major milestone for thru hikers. By this time a hiker had faced nearly all the obstacles common to thru hikes. Damascus remains the queen of hiking towns, and in later years would enjoy both the Virginia Creeper Rail Trail and the Transcontinental Bike route passing through town. I’d make a hiking trip to Damacus soon after my move to Knoxville in 1993, and Jean and I joined a backpacking trip to nearby Grayson Highlands with our local Sierra Club group in 2012. We also made several biking trips on the Virginia Creeper rail trail which is included in my Smokies and Blue Ridge biking guide. Amazon) 

Biking on the Creeper in 2006.

April,15, Damascus Hostel, 12.0 miles

My pack at a quarry along the AT.

This day had one of the weirder schedules of the trip. We woke up in the morning planning for some day hiking. Eric was planning to go 50 miles, We had a bet of a pint of ice cream riding on his success. Martin, Jim, and I planned on a 20-miler. However, everything does not always work out. We planned to hitchhike out of town to an AT crossing and hike back to town. None of us got a ride. After an hour and a half, we gave up and went back to the hostel. Soon Mr. Trivett showed up and took us to a nearby restaurant where we bought a pretty lousy meal.

Finally, Martin and I took to the woods about noon. Right away we hit a relocation. Relocations would turn out to be a frequent hassle in VA. The rumor was that the ATC was trying to extend the AT to 2000 miles in VA alone! This relocation was tough because it bypassed Taylors Valley and took the trail up countless switchbacks to the top of a viewless and anonymous peak.

But Martin and I were having a good time walking together. We both had gone to fairly liberal private high schools. He had already been accepted to Cooper Union in New York for college, and would go there unless he was accepted to Yale, which he thought unlikely.

After about 10 or 12 miles we set up Martin’s tent near a nice stream in a rhododendron patch. No sooner was the tent up than we saw headlights up on a nearby hill. The lure of Damascus was still strong (and I’m sure we did not want to listen to road noise all night), so we packed up and headed for the road. After getting directions from a helpful girl on a motorbike we got a ride in the right direction back to Damascus. (It may be that carrying backpacks was helpful in getting rides.)

Part of the reason for going back to town was to surprise the other hikers with our arrival. Eric had trouble deciding what to say. Just after our arrival Mr. and Mrs. Trivett came by with cake and ice cream for all. I knew coming back was the right move! The Trivetts were wonderful people and could never be fully repaid for all their kindness to AT hikers. (I don’t think Bill and Chris or Martin show up in my AT journal after Damascus. I would occasionally hike with Eric but was about to start a much less crowded section of trail.)

 April 16, Deep Gap Shelter, 10.3 miles

Back on the road again. I woke up at the hostel and hitchhiked back to the place where Martin and I had left the trail. Martin was going to stay in town, so I was on my own for the first time in a while. But after all that company a little quiet time felt good.

It took me a long time to get to Summit Cut, a distance of only 14 miles by the fact sheet (so yes, I was using the fact sheet in this era.) The relocation must have added a lot of miles to the trail. I didn’t mind the extra distance because the trail was in good shape. I remembered one section where the trail followed a dirt road and parallelled a pretty mountain stream.

However, the people building the trail in VA didn’t believe in letting a hiker have fun for too long. The climb up Whitetop held no mercy. It took me straight up without regard for leg or lung. The view wasn’t much either, because of all the haze. Just to aggravate me further the trail followed another road, then turned off that road with no indication of where it went. But, after a bit more walking and a few obscenities I found the markers again.

I stopped for my last break at Elk Garden. My huge pack got the attention of some horsemen. After being primed with a lukewarm brew I was up for some conversation. But shortly I was back on my way. Just after leaving the road, I passed a group of about 50 girls. Normally, I would have thought I was hallucinating, but since I had just left town I’m sure they were real.

Deep Gap Shelter looked like a camping show in progress. I had never seen so many tents in one place in my life. There were about 30 Boy Scouts there. The group was loud and noisy, but I still managed to sleep. But I learned why most hikers feared camping with scout groups.

April 17, Raccoon Branch Shelter, 17.5 miles

Mt. Rogers is the highest point in Virginia. That, and its excellent name, made me eager for the climb. The summit was wooded and unimpressive. However, the north slope of the mountain makes it a major attraction. The balds of Grayson Highlands were a really beautiful sight. Mt. Rogers is also the last of the southern balds on the AT.

At Mount Rogers in 1993 with John.

Good old Eric pulled off another of his surprises. He pulled into the shelter about 9:30 (4:30?) for a rest stop. He then slept to 5:30. Since he was only going 40 miles, he conceded that he had lost our bet.

I had my first piece of equipment fail, luckily it was a simple fix. The split ring that held on my clevis pin, which was attached to the lower part of a shoulder strap broke. At the moment it broke I had a vision of Danny’s pack broken into five pieces on the floor back in Damascus. Fortunately, a safety pin was all I needed for repair.

With Jean at Grayson Highlands in 2012.

My day was 19 miles to Racoon Branch Shelter. I was amazed to realize that this was the first night I had spent alone (at a shelter) on the trail. So much for the road less travelled. I spent some time reading the trail register. There were now only ten thru-hikers ahead of me. Dan Sullivan, of Westport, Connecticut, was the latest dropout. He had gotten way behind on his schoolwork and had to hitchhike to Pearisburg to finish it. 

Ponies at Grayson Highlands in 2012.

April 18, Killinger Creek Shelter, 15.2 miles

Killinger Creek Shelter has a latrine without comparison on the AT. It was undoubtedly the finest spot for communing with nature to be found on the entire 2000 miles. When I had the privilege of sitting on its throne, the latrine had just been completed. No charge extras included two rolls of toilet paper (few latrines had even one roll, so thru-hikers always carried their own). Although the view was mediocre, the place had atmosphere. This was a special treat, especially after the conditions of some of the latrines in Tennessee.

The shelter was also brand new. It had been rebuilt three miles north of the old one, which was too close to a dirt road, and presumably was used as a party spot and/or waste dump. The new one was in a perfect location. A beautiful brook ran right in front of the shelter. I didn’t see anyone on the trail all day, and there was no one else at the shelter.

By some act of stupidity, I left my journal at Deep Gap. I didn’t find another until I reached Pearisburg six days later. (Luckily my practice was to send home completed journal pages whenever I had a mail drop.) For most days I had at least scratched a few notes in the margins of my guidebook, but I had nothing for this date, which explains in part why my latrine visit is discussed in such detail.

April 19, Monster Rock Shelter, 18.5 miles

Monster Rock Shelter.

One of my least favorite sections of the AT was Walker Mountain. It’s not really a mountain, but more of a long ridge (I was transitioning into the ridge and valley province). The worst feature of the mountain was lack of water. “Been sweating hard and drinking H₂0 by the quart. However, the water supply is limited today. Now I know why there are plans to relocate this whole section. I’d give my feet for a pitcher of ice water. But my feet are in such bad shape I doubt no one would take them.” (I’m not sure how I got this quote with my journal missing. Water was generally less of an issue back in those days, when giardia was not a problem and it was safe to drink untreated water from creeks and springs.)

I had the misfortune to reach Walker Mountain during a heat wave. Since the trail was primarily on dirt roads there was no escaping the heat. But the heat took away my ravenous hunger. This gave my back and legs a breather so that I could cover my miles a little quicker. I was also feeling good that I had avoided the rain for the last three weeks and doubted any other thru-hiker had ever been so lucky.

This was a nineteen-mile day to Monster Rock Shelter. Reaching Monster Rock meant that 500 miles and one quarter of the trail were behind me, In honor of the occasion I walked back up to the Monster Rock Overlook to watch a beautiful sunset. Often on the trail I’d go to bed too early to see the sunset, so these exceptional ones made lasting impressions.

April 20, Turkey Gap Shelter, 10.5 miles

“I got accepted to Dartmouth. I bet I didn’t look Ivy League walking around the shelter in my underwear and eating dinner from a plastic bag.” Dartmouth was my first choice for college, and I was very grateful to get in. A school with the Appalachian Trail running through campus was the place for me. (I didn’t typically eat in my underwear, but had everything else out drying while I had the shelter to myself. I was having one of my Mountain House freeze-dried dinners. These were usually in a plastic bag sealed within a foil wrapper. All you did was add hot water to the bag and stir it in. The bags had a small cardboard sheet that helped to hold the bag open and insulate the food.)

I had called home from Walker Mountain Lookout and gotten the good news. Even as I waited for the restaurant to open, I could feel how hot it would be later in the day. After my call I sat down to celebrate with a victory breakfast. The meal didn’t live up to my expectations, but it was better than my usual granola and tang. I decided just to head for Turkey Gap Shelter which would give me an eleven mile walk.

It was typical Walker Mountain hiking, hot, dry, and dirty. The most interesting thing I saw was a highway tunnel going through the mountain. I assume they had spent all those extra millions to ensure the tranquility of the AT wouldn’t be disturbed.

Appropriately, at Turkey Gap I met set some I met some turkey hunters. Lately, the other hikers had all been asking me how many turkeys I’d been seeing. As a change from the usual questions about snakes, it was fine, but I hadn’t seen any yet. These guys were friendly and treated me to some cake and an apple pie. They also warned me about the snake that hung out by the spring.

Eric pulled into the shelter after a 30-mile day. The Trivetts had kept him in Damascus with several steak dinners. I didn’t recall the whole story, but it was a wild one. Anyhow it was good to have another rummy player along to talk to.

At Turkey Gap Shelter.

April 21, Wapiti Shelter, 22.0 miles

I hate to blame a lot of my bad planning on Eric, but he led me astray again. He convinced me to stay with him at the abandoned church in Crandon. However, when we got there, we found out that it had been closed due to abuse. We were bummed out and headed over to the store to eat and decide where to go next.

We decided to go to Wapiti Shelter which was another five miles away. Since we had already hiked 17 miles, this was no easy decision. Soon my feet felt like they were on fire. Nothing destroys feet like tromping around on hard pavement all day. “I had to stop a few times and take off my boots. Anyone who might have saw me sitting by the side of the road moaning and groaning and rubbing my feet would have called for a straight jacket right away.” (I wonder if this was a reoccurrence of same foot issue I had suffered earlier on the trail in NC, and which may have been athlete’s foot?)

We ate a Stewart sandwich (an early brand of quick serve prepared meals from a company that my Dad had worked for briefly) and absorbed a brew at a store close to Wapiti. The lady at the store checked my ID for the longest time and resorted to a calculator before finally deciding that it was OK to sell me a can of beer. My messy appearance likely didn’t help my case. After Walker Mountain I knew the full meaning of the phrase ‘the dusty road.”

In another slight twist of fate, we saw my first wild turkey in the morning. It seemed amazing that such a large bird could get off the ground.

April 22, Pearisburg, Hostel, 19.6 miles

Couds across the sky

Move with the stillness of time

Soon they will be gone

Perhaps that haiku was the cause of our late start, or maybe it was the confusion of the white and blue blazes north of the shelter. Anyhow, we got a late start for the 20 miles into Pearisburg, VA. But soon it was back to the road again. But we weren’t the only ones in the woods; a young deer bounded off through the tangled undergrowth as we rounded a bend in the trail.

My feet continued to give me a hard time. About a mile south of Devils Knob shelter I put some molefoam (a brand of padding from Dr Scholls) on the ball of my foot. This made my foot twice as sore. It hurt so badly that I just about ran to the shelter, surprising Eric with my speed. I went so fast to keep from yelling out. In the process I worked up a four-sandwich hunger (My usual lunches were still a couple of PB&J sandwiches.)

The hiking after lunch was really nice. We climbed to a beautiful overlook on Pearis Mountain. The view was special because of the “leaf line.”  Below the distinct line, all the trees were green, above they were all still barren of leaves. There was also a nice overlook above Pearisburg form a spot called “Angels Rest.

After a vicious descent into Pearisburg, we arrived at a Dairy Queen. After feasting, I went to the post office and got two packages. From there we headed up to Father Charles’ place. I had to rest twice on the way. Father Charles’ church was reputed to be at the highest point in town, to me it seemed like Everest.

Father Charles has become a legend on the AT. First off, we got a dinner invitation. There was only one other hiker, Bill Yeager, but there were several other church people. We showered before dinner, I think the father was anxious to see us cleaned up. By then I was a basket case, lacking the energy to stand. I’d had to sit in the shower and let the water run over me.

Eric at Father Charles Place in Pearisburg

April 23, Pearisburg Hostel, 0.0 miles

Eric and Father Charles.

Another day off in the big city. Pearisburg is no New York, but it had all I needed, a place to relax. The last few days on the trail had been my worst of the trip. When I crawled into Pearisburg I was as close as I ever got to quitting. I think it was only that I was too scared to quit, and couldn’t bring myself to admit defeat.

I think it was the kindness of Father Charles, and the comradeship of the other thru-hikers, that kept me going. If I was by myself, I’m sure that I would have quit. It’s important (and useful) to have someone along who can help you when you’re feeling down. Both Father Charles and Eric helped me out.

For breakfast Bill Yeager cooked French Toast. Then Father Charles drove him downtown. Bill was going to hitchhike to Vermont, and then hike the northern part of the trail. I only saw his name in the registers once.

I dropped off my boots at a shoe repair place in town (I don’t know what the specific issue was, possibly they needed resoling). They did a great job for only $11. Then we went again to the Dairy Queen again and really gorged ourselves. We just warmed up with a pint of ice cream. Then we bought groceries and walked back to Father Charles Place. Even when I was rested it felt like a long walk. The rest of the day was spent lounging. I reorganized some of my equipment. Some additions included a pair of sneakers and a copy of “Walden”. I also destroyed Eric in the quickest game of Monopoly that I had ever played.

I guess a few words about the set-up at Father Charles are in order. His church is a widely known place for hikers to stay for free. We slept on big foam pads in the Sunday School rooms. For food we just whipped up a bit for community meals. It was a nice place to stay.

Appalachian Trail, Fontana to Damascus, 3-26-76

This is the second of my series of 2025 transcriptions of my journal from my 1976 Appalachian Trail Thru-hike. The journal was compiled from my original trip notes between my finish of the AT in August and heading off to college in September. An introduction to this trip is stored at: AT Intro. Photos are scans of my original prints. (Post 1976 comments in parentheses.)

March 26, Birch Spring Shelter, 5.3 miles

The Great Smoky Mountains are the most popular hiking area on the Appalachian Trail, outside of the White Mountains of New Hampshire. These would be the tallest mountains I had ever climbed. Just to camp overnight in the park hikers needed a permit. Luckily Eric and I found a ranger in in the parking lot at the Fontana Inn. He was kind enough to give us thru-hiker permits. The thru-hiker permits allowed us to stay at any shelter, which was very convenient for thru-hikers.

After an expensive breakfast at Fontana Inn Eric, Lance, and I headed down to the laundromat and store. We managed to get ready to leave by 1:00. I called home and took another shower before we left. Two showers in two days seemed practically sinful.

Again, Lance walked back to the AT. Eric and I weren’t as lucky as we had been the day before, and had to walk a mile before we picked up a ride. We were rewarded for our extra mile by seeing a garter snake alongside the road, our first of the trip.

We stopped by the Visitors Center at Fontana before heading across the dam. The dam was amazing, I didn’t realize that it would be so huge. Up north we don’t have dams that size. Lance took a picture of me standing by the dam.

At Fontana Dam and approaching the Smokies.

The climb up to Birch Spring was long but well graded. With a couple of quick rain showers to spur me on I made good time. The shelter was a real mud hole. I supposed it got a lot of use being on the edge of the park. There was room for the three of us inside the shelter, which was a good thing as the famous rain god of the Smokies was out to show us his reputation was well deserved. Perhaps the rains have to do with the diversity of vegetation in the Smokies. I’d seen a lot of wildflowers on the climb up, and the park is supposed to have more species of trees than all of Europe. (Birch Spring Gap Shelter was later torn down and converted to a campsite. I have a 1999 park map that shows the shelter and a 2003 map that shows it as a campsite.)

March 27, Derrick Knob Shelter, 14.9 miles

I had problems with my feet almost all the way from Georgia to Maine, but this day was definitely the high (low?) point of my problems. Instead of their usual dull ache, my feet itched, just about driving me wild. Several times in the morning I had to stop and throw my pack off, and rip my boots off just to soothe the itch. I must have been quite a sight sitting by the side of the trail, rubbing my feet and moaning in glorious ecstasy. This worked a little bit, I didn’t have any problems the next day or later. I don’t know what the problem was or why it chose to arise when it did. (Maybe this was athlete’s foot from too much time in damp cotton socks?)

The highlight of the day was going over Thunderhead. Thunderhead and Spence Field are both beautiful open balds with wide ranging views. I spent a lot of time in the open enjoying the view, resting and soaking up the sun. The trails in the Smokies then were in very good condition, The only hassles were a few blowdowns, and a lot of water in the trail tread when it rained. (After moving to nearby Knoxville in 1993 Spence Field and Thunderhead became one of my favorite destinations in the park. I also joined the Smoky Mountains Hiking Club, and have done sporadic amounts of trail maintenance on the AT in the Smokies.)

I hiked about 15 miles to Derrick Knob Shelter. This was the distance I would need to average daily, and to do so I needed to pass three shelters. Eric yielded to temptation and stayed at Spence Field, while Lance and I pushed on. (I think both the old and new Spence Field shelters were up then.) It was hard to pass up a shelter, they were feeling like home to me, When I’d settle down in a shelter for the nice all the worry and effort of the day seemed to melt away. It was my time to relax and enjoy myself. Each shelter was different and had a unique personality of its own.

Walking along that afternoon, Lance and I were startled by rustling in the bushes. The sound of vegetation being trampled was soon joined by a menacing snort. Lance saw the creature while I missed it, but he said it was a wild pig. I was just glad that it was heading away. This was my wildlife highlight for the park, since all the bears were presumably still in their winter dens. Later on, another hiker at the shelter told of seeing a boar right on the trail. Both stood still until the hiker yielded and walked the long way around the boar.

March 28, Mount Collins Shelter, 13.1 miles

Bill and Chris at Double Springs Shelter.

This was the first time in a long while that I’d two long days in a row. Before today my daily mileages were 15, 5, 21, 9, 18, 7, and 12. Needless to say, I hadn’t been very consistent. I’ve got to do some good mileage to get to Hot Springs, NC without running out of food. Today’s walk was an easy 13 miles to Mt Collins Shelter.

The weather today was very nice. It’s the first very good day I’ve had since Wesser. Usually, it rains in the morning and clears around noon. The clear weather allowed for excellent views from Clingman’s Dome (renamed Kuwohi in 2024). Cheoah Bald was visible to the south. Unfortunately, the good weather attracted hundreds of tourists to the tower. They milled around asking me lots of questions and irritating me.

During the day we caught up to Bill and Chris at Double Spring Shelter. The four of us were treated to some fried chicken donated by a weekend hiker. It seemed about the best chicken I’d ever had (my appetite was getting into full gear). Bill and Chris remarked about my limp when I got into the shelter. I was surprised and had thought I was walking normally. We didn’t talk much because neither Lance nor I could remember which who Bill, and who was Chris.

Since we were walking at 6,000 feet, a much higher elevation than we were used to, we walked in a different type of forest. Spruce and balsam along, with a few birches, were dominant.  It was good to have a change from the gray and brown of winter. I just felt sorry for all those tourists who drove up to Clingmans Dome and deprived themselves of the satisfaction of having climbed it. To know the mountains you have to climb them.

March 29, Pecks Corner Shelter, 15.6 miles

My magic raincoat worked again. The last four days have begun with various degrees of rain. But all I need to do is put on the magic coat and hit the trail. Mother Nature and her miserable precipitation then have no chance. Today’s rain though was more of a challenge, it took me almost to noon to clear the skies. For that extra burst of power I sang a few verses of Dicky Betts “Blue Sky” while I walked.

I missed the views from Charlies Bunion. When I walked by, the Bunion just seemed like a rocky section of trail with a rock face on one side, but it turns out I was walking along the edge of a cliff. I’m glad I didn’t know. Despite the weather there were hikers all about. An older couple asked to take my picture, then it turned out their camera was back in their car. I told them to ask Lance, but when I talked to him later he seemed insulted by the offer. It was an easy 15 miles to Pecks Corner Shelter. Lance, Bill, and Chris were all staying there. Luckily, we’d found out which was which.

During this time, I was running low on food. My freeze-dried dinners seemed to be getting smaller and smaller every night. I decided the best solution would be to add minute rice or instant potatoes. Most of the evening was spent dreaming about food. (The Smokies section of the AT is a long section with no easy places to resupply. My next food drop was in Hot Springs, which was four days away and with service-free Interstate 40 the only upcoming road crossing. I was now starting to feel the effects of under planning my food. I’d budgeted about 12 days between Franklin and Hot Springs, and had gotten a boost from staying at Fontana Village. But 12 days was far too long to go without resupply, and 12 days of food too massive a load to carry. I would quickly learn to have shorter distances between food drops, and to take advantage of any chances to buy food along the trail. (Thru-hikers now often detour off the trail at Newfound Gap in Smokies to resupply in the tourist town of Gatlinburg.)

March 30, Cosby Knob Shelter, 12.6 miles

Another day of easy walking in the Smokies. Today I only walked 13 miles to Cosby Knob Shelter. Despite the high elevation, the trail in the park doesn’t do very much climbing at all. It hugs the crest of the ridges. With a light pack I had made good time all day. Again, my magic raincoat was put to the test. It worked well enough for me to enjoy the views from the vicinity of Yellow Creek Gap. Since my raincoat now has a 5-0 record, no one will leave the shelter before I do. They want me to get out and stop the rain before they leave. All I need to get myself going is a fun-size Milky Way bar, everything is frozen up here, so the chocolate is nice and hard in the morning, yum!

Eric joined Lance, Bill, Chris, and I at the shelter. Last night he was all by himself at False Gap Shelter (False Gap closed not long after my thru-hike). That must be a first for the crowded Smokies. Bill and Chris impressed me with their organization. They have things planned down to every meal, and have fancy menus planned from Backpacker Magazine and places like that. They are also being supplied by mail packages. But not all their experiments were successful. Just mentioning baby food will bring either one into contortions of agony.

This was my last night in the Smokies, and I wished I could stay longer. The area is tremendously beautiful. I remember one foggy day standing out on an overlook and watching clouds at 8,000 feet suck all of the fog out of the adjacent valley. It was like a gigantic vacuum cleaner. The trail has been some of the best of the trip. Of course, there are some drawbacks, trying to find your way out the cages (the metal fences used to keep bears out of the shelters) on a dark night with no flashlight in 20 degree weather when nature calls. It’s no fun. (I vowed to come back to the Smokies, and certainly did so with hundreds of miles of hiking a year in the park after my 1993 move to Knoxville.)

March 31, Groundhog Creek Shelter, 15.8 miles

Yesh, Blah, more rain today. Unfortunately, even the magic raincoat couldn’t do its job. The rain was on and off all day. At least it stopped long enough that I didn’t get soaked. Sometimes the sun was shining while the rain was still falling. I sat out the worst of it sitting under the Interstate 40 bridge alongside the Pigeon River. As I was taking a gorp break, a guy stopped and asked if I needed a ride. I didn’t, but that hadn’t happened another time on the hike. Usually, my trouble was getting rides when I needed them.

After I got off the high ridges of the Smokies and down into the lowlands I saw the first signs of spring. The pink dogwood trees were very common, and a lot of wildflowers were out. I was very sorry I couldn’t identify any of them. I was glad to see spring bringing life to the valley floor.

Groundhog Creek Shelter was only built for five people. I knew Bill, Chris, Lance, and Eric were all planning to stay there. So, when I saw a fresh boot print ahead, I really started to haul. I passed one guy, and later on a couple. Scott and Janell had left Springer a month ago. They planned to take 8 months to do the trail (Opposed to my 4 ½ months). Since neither Lance nor Eric showed up, it turned out there was room for all of us. (This is likely an earlier version of the AT shelter than the one in place when Jean and I tent camped near the shelter in 2009 and 2017.)

I was proud of my good progress for the day. I had made 16 miles in the rain. It’s hard mentally walking in the rain. There’s no real enjoyment to it. I most thought about how much further I had to go. And I was always overestimating my progress, and then getting mad because it would take me so long.

In addition to the flowers there were a lot of butterflies out.

April 1, Deer Park Mtn Shelter, 20.8 miles

Out on the trail I’m Mr. Natural,

Just as healthy as I can be,

But in town I’m a junk food junkie,

Good Lord have pity on me

I walked 21 miles just to fulfill some bizarre food fantasies. It’s only three more miles to Hot Springs, so I’ll be getting there in time for breakfast. This was the first time that I backpacked 20 miles in a day without it having nearly killed me. I had 17.3 miles done by 2:45. Maybe there was hope for me.

I passed Lance at Browns Gap. He had missed the shelter (Groundhog Creek) and had walked 23 miles yesterday. He had a tough night in the rain (not sure if he was in a shelter?) It had been cold. When I stopped to talk with Lance I was so cold that I could hardly move again and my fingers couldn’t move.

Lance at Browns Gap.

I had a lot of time in the afternoon to myself. Here’s what I wrote “It’s nice sitting here by myself, for now. I could use a long shower, or maybe a bath, And of course a trip to the laundromat wouldn’t hurt either. Backpacking has three parts; sleeping, eating, and walking. Beyond that you move into luxury, a boundary that most backpackers rarely cross. It teaches you to appreciate the things in life you normally take for granted, such as hot food, chairs, showers, or a warm room. Most things that civilization stands for, you reject out in the woods, but those common luxuries are missed.”

Just as I was sitting around feeling good about my 20 mile day, Eric pulled in. He had done 30 miles, I couldn’t believe it. For a little guy he sure could boogie. I asked him if he wanted to continue into Hot Springs and he thought I was serious! Cold days like today are great for long days, because you have to keep going to stay warm. Although it was also relatively easy going today.

April 2, Hot Springs Hostel, 3.3 miles

The hiker hostel in Hot Springs.

Hot Springs is my ideal of a quiet little Southern town. Life there is slow and easy. Nobody is going anywhere except for the hikers passing through. Hot Springs opens hikers with open arms. The restaurant in town has a large sign out front reading:” Hikers Welcome”

The Jesuit residence in town keeps two buildings open as a hiker’s hostel. The first building is an old dormitory. Both buildings inside and out are covered with AT banners. Inside there are newspaper clippings about other hikers who have passed through. A weary hiker can share a room with 4-5 other hikers. A shower is just around the corner. The second building contains a well-stocked kitchen and a lounge. For all this luxury, only a small donation is asked.

To reach this oasis in the wilderness Eric and I had only to walk three miles downhill. You cannot miss the hostel as the AT goes right through the side yard. Once there, Eric and I went to the post office (for my supply package) and then to the grocery store for a pint of ice cream. I gorged myself, then went to work sorting my new supply of food.

Also, in my package was a note from Mom and Dad that I had won a Gulf Oil Corporation Merit Scholarship. The prize was $1000 a year for four years of college. My big worry now was getting into a good school.

Soon Bill and Chris pulled in from Walnut Mountain Shelter, and we all went to the restaurant for lunch to celebrate. For dinner, Eric and I ate a tremendous amount of hamburger (My appetite had reached its peak, all I remember directly about Hot Springs was eating a huge dinner and breakfast. The kitchen at the hostel had everything you’d want and was probably the best equipped along the trail. The rest of the day was summed up by my diary entry, “These rest days are the ultimate in mellowness. After busting your buns for a while, you just need to stop and enjoy yourself for a while.” I spent the rest of the evening reading the latest AT News and listening to another hiker who played guitar. (I’d come back to Hot Spring during Spring Break 1978 with some Dartmouth friends to hike from Hot Springs to Roan Mountain with Buddy. The hostel remained the same welcoming place. By the time I moved to Knoxville in 1993, Hot Springs had undergone a revival, and I believe the hostel was closed, but there were other accommodations in town, and even an outdoor store).

April 3, Spring Mtn Shelter, 7.5 miles

I was getting good at making a pig of myself. This breakfast was probably the largest meal of my life. Eric and I split the food. I ate two bowls of frosted flakes, 4 scrambled eggs, and eight pieces of bacon. Then Bill and Chris came in for breakfast. They invited Eric and I to join is, so we each had eight pieces of French Toast before retiring. All the eating took most of the morning. Somehow on the way back to our room I staggered to the coke machine.

Unfortunately, Lance decided to end his hike in Hot Springs (He had never planned to walk the entire trail. Though my notes don’t say so I remember he was from Australia or New Zealand and had just a limited time to explore the US before returning home.) He told me if he went any farther he’d feel compelled to hike the whole thing. Coming from anyone else I would have thought “Bull”, but that’s the kind of guy he was. I was sorry to see him go, he was a good friend and hiking partner.

As I staggered out of town with my bloated body and even more bloated pack, I realized that Hot Springs lies in a really deep valley. On top of Rich Mountain there was a fire tower to reward me for all the hard work. I managed to cover only 7.5 miles to Spring Mountain Shelter which I shared with Eric, Bill, and Chris. I left a blank trail register in the shelter. I always enjoyed reading the entries in trail shelters, (and often they were the only reading available).The thru-hikers ahead became familiar through their entries. I just hope I get it back some day, it would be fun to read about all the hikers behind me. (I was lucky enough to get the register back and still have it with the rest of my AT keepsakes. I’ve only paged through small parts of it.)

April 4, Jerry's Cabin Shelter, 14.7 miles

Today’s highlight was provided by my AT Guidebook. (I faithfully carried the relevant section of the official AT guides with me for the entire trail. I didn’t need it normally for following the trail, the tread was usually clear and the route well blazed, but the guidebook gave me a lot of natural history and cultural information about the areas I was hiking through. It was also useful for navigating road crossing where the trail markers might be obscure, and described the amenities and distance to the various towns on the trail or close by. I also had a copy of the AT fact sheet, which seemed to be a new item, which helped a lot with the long-term planning for my overnight stops.)

After passing a side trail to the tower atop Camp Creek Bald, the guidebook said you crossed a rock hummock. Hummock was a new word for us, and for the next week hummock jokes were the rule of the day. I was so anxious to see the hummock that I sped right pass the tower side trail to see it. It was less than spectacular. In fact, it was so subtle that I never saw or recognized it.

Another goodie that the trail passed by was a small store at Allens Gap. We were there on a Sunday, and the store was closed, but we waited anyway. After about a half hour our patience was rewarded, and we snacked on candy bars, pie, and chocolate milk. The three items above were my usual treats whenever I first came to a store.

Although I only walked 15 miles to Jerry’s Cabin Shelter, I really came down with the blahs when I got there. The shelter was right next to a road and as a result there was garbage everywhere. It was cold and I didn’t feel like making dinner, but finally got hungry enough to have to eat. (Some of this was likely due to the large amounts of food I’d been eating lately?) Chris had brought a copy of Time Magazine and I almost fell asleep reading it. This was during a phase I had of going to bed early, as early as 6:30. Bill and Chris were at the shelter with me, Eric had stopped at Little Laurel Shelter.

April 5, Sams Gap Bivi, 15.7 miles

I was privileged this night to stay at the Sams Gap Hilton. We were confronted with a 25-mile gap between shelters, after passing Locust Ridge. We got into Sams Gap (US 23) at dinner time after hiking 15.7 miles. Since there was a spring at the gap we decided to eat in a filthy parking lot. None of the four of us (Eric, Bill, and Chris) were crazy about sleeping out since the weather looked ominous. Directly across from our dining spot was an old derelict looking building. I went over to check and found it open. The building looked like it might have once been a gas station. One room was clearer, so we laid our bags out to spend the night. Although the road noise from the highway was deafening, the Sams Gap Hilton was there when we needed it.

Although this was only a fifteen-mile day, it was a difficult climb and we had gone over both Big Butt and Lick Knob. The trail was nice, and I had clear views over to Big Bald. But, we spent most of our time telling hummock jokes. Chris really cracked me up. The four of us made for a compatible hiking group.

The Pisgah NF seemed much less hiked than what we had seen so far. I didn’t see anyone else on the trail today. (This section abutted Rocky Fork, which was then private property but has since been converted to   Tennessee State Park and Cherokee National Forest Land (Fort Davie and Rocky Fork.) However, at the graves of the Shelton Brothers signs of life were everywhere. There were hundreds of beer and soda cans and bottles scattered about. Not a nice way to treat a grave site.

The Shelton Graves Site.

Shelton Graves in 2021.

My food situation has been much better since I left Hot Springs. I’ve been adding minute rice and potato buds to all my dinners, and this keeps my belly full. I enjoy the hiking more when there is a filling dinner to look forward to. I’m settling into the hiker lifestyle. This now sems less like a trip than just a different way of life.

Sams Gap bivi site.

April 6, No Business Shelter, 15.9, miles

The highlight of the day was hiking over Big Bald. I had to admit that the balds from the Smokies north were more impressive than those further south. Big Bald ranked with Thunderhead and Grassy Ridge/Road Mountain as one of the finest (and largest). Big Bald was a long climb up, but worth the effort The temperature was down to about 40F, but there was only a bit of wind. Bill, Chris, Eric, and I all took off our shirts to soak up a few rays. I think I could have spent the rest of my life right there on top. The view spanned from Road Mountain and Mount Mitchell to Big Butt and Mt LeConte. It was so nice laying up there that we stayed for one of my longest mid-day breaks of the trip.

The last of the day’s walk just wound around one contour of No Business Knob. I was out in front and making good time. In fact, I thought I was blowing everyone else off the trail, but it turned out they were all right behind me. The exhilaration of the top of Big Bald stayed with through all the rhododendron of No Business Knob.

Big Bald.

After the 16 mile walk to No Business Shelter was over and dinner was cooked, I walked the ¼ mile down to the stream to wash. As I walked I was struck by the solitude of the woods. I had spent so much of my time the past few days walking with one of the others that that now by myself I was surprised to feel alone.

Bill and Chris on Big Bald.

Stillness of the night

Blankets the sleeping forest

Darkness quiets all

April 7, Cherry Gap Shelter, 22.4, miles

“Oh!, my feet are in agony. Twenty two miles and what a bitch.” My diary starts off with this expression of exhaustion. When I finally reached the shelter at Cherry Gap all I could think about was how tired I was (it was another new record long day for me). I think part of the problem was that I got psyched out but such a long distance. The next day my body was beaten. However, I did almost get sick along the trail. This was the only time when I felt that ill on the thru-hike. The only thing that kept me going was my reluctance to camp out. To compound my embarrassment, Eric came into the shelter after spending the morning buying food in Erwin, and then hiking over ten miles in less than three hours.

Since I don’t have much else in my journal, I’ll pass on a few Erwin stories (the place had a bad reputation for red necks.) Eric was picked up by a guy in a Mercedes Benz while hitching into town. It turned out the guy was queer and wanted Eric to come over to his house and shower. Eric was lucky enough to be able to decline and still have the guy drop him off in the right place.

In the early 1900s an elephant killed a man working for the circus. The industrious people of Erwin failed to hang the elephant by conventional methods, so they called the railroad to do the deed.

In addition to the elephant killing, blacks weren’t welcome, and none resided in the county. Most of the other stories concerned the grizzly conditions at the Erwin YMCA and the hamburger place across the street. Playboy was rumored to have done a story on the town. (Erwin was one of the towns most effected by the flooding of Hurricane Helene in 2024).

The only other excitement of the day was a bald called Beauty Spot. However, it preceded a murderous relocation up Unaka Mountain, Instead of going around the mountain, the trail was relocated straight over the top. No views either. I guess that’s the way it goes with relocations. This was my most miles yet, so I shouldn’t have expected to breeze through it.

April 8, Grassy Ridge Shelter, 17.1 Miles

Outside of the Smokies and Mt. Washington in NH, the Appalachian Trail climbs above 6,000 feet in only one place. This is Roan Mountain, The primary attraction of Roan is its rhododendron gardens (and easy access from Carvers Gap). Unfortunately, we were far too early for the June blooms.

Among thru-hikers Roan is also noted for the climb up its south side. Here the trail gains about 2,000 feet in barely two miles. I decided to take the climb slow and easy and found it to be as tough as advertised. The worst part was getting to the top and searching vainly for water. The top is accessible by car and has a picnic area. But the water was turned off for the season, and all the latrines were closed. I hiked up the side trail to the rickety cabin at Roan High Knob, and then went on toward Grassy Ridge Shelter. 

Roan Mountain rhododendron.

From the highway at Carvers Gap to Grassy Ridge Shelter the trail is exposed at it traverses a series of balds. While walking I was treated to a magnificent, if somewhat chilly, view of the whole Roan Highlands. When I arrived at the shelter, I found it occupied by four vested figures in the process of making popcorn. Between munches, I found out they were all thru-hikers. Martin Axe and his friend Danny were hiking together, and had picked up Jim Westhall and Alex Wells along the trail. I would not see any of them past Damacus, but I knew that both Jim and Alex made it at least to Hanover. 

Cabin on Roan High Knob.

After I stopped walking it became obvious why the others were in all their clothes inside their bags. It was cold! While the other four told Olga jokes(?) and stories of Erwin, Bill, Chris, Eric, and I quickly made dinner. Bill and Eric set up a tent on the mountain, leaving just six of us in the shelter. I think the tenters got the best deal. The shelter had a very decided pitch down the slope.

April 9, Roadside Bivi?, 14.0 miles

I woke up in the morning and nearly everything was frozen. There was ice in my canteen for the first time in a long while. Luckily it took only a little stomping and cursing to cram my feet into stiff, frozen boots. We all ate breakfast as fast as possible so that we could get walking and reach the warmth of the valley.

Old Mother Nature seemed to have other plans for our humble crew. Before it was time for our descent, we had to pass over three open balds. All I had on was my wool shirt, which the wind just tore through like I was naked. I walked with Danny for a while, but about the only remark that passed between us was a comment about which part of my body I’d be willing to give up in exchange for a 60/40 (wind) parka.

Finally, we reached the end of the balds at Big Hump, and began our descent. The descent down to Elk Park was easy so we had time to talk. Danny and Martin had started with two other partners. It seemed that the toughest part of their trip was just getting up Springer Mountain. Amid great difficulties, they made it on their second attempt. Somewhere along the way the other two had dropped. Danny was not planning to go all the way. He would just accompany Martin until late April.

The restaurant in Elk Park had the best burgers on the AT. I held my self to three burgers and some French fries. The other six(?) guys congregated there to enjoy some of the best eating along the AT. The waitress was baffled by our appetites. Eric had learned that somewhere in the valley the overnight temperature had reached 15F. I didn’t want to think how cold it had gotten on the mountain.

Bill and Chris planned to spend the night at the Trivett house in Elk Park, but the rest of us aimed for the combination tool shed/trail shelter at Sunset Orchard. I left first, by myself, a definite mistake. First, I had some serious route-finding issues. Second, I had to play “King of the Road” with a bunch of cows. This was my first cow face off, and no amount of logic could persuade them that the AT was for people and not cows, and that therefore I had the right of way. It took until I could find a short bushwhack to get around them.

Somewhere in that time I passed by the shelter. There were a lot of farm buildings around, and one of them must have been Sunset Orchard. However, I did recognize Sunset Orchard as the place on the cover of volume 2 of Hare’s Appalachian Trail Book.

About the time I admitted defeat and faced the fact that I had passed the shelter, Martin and Danny came by (also having missed the shelter). We agreed to camp at the next available spot, which turned out to be five miles from Elk Park. Even then, all we did was jump into the bushes along a deserted stretch of dirt road. I only had time for a quick dinner before bed. Barking dogs and our proximity to the road didn’t allow for much sleep.

April 10, Laurel Fork Shelter, 11.5 miles

I took some time off today. I didn’t plan on the rest until I got to Laurel Fork Gorge, which I found to be one of the most beautiful places along the trail. The contrast between the dull gray of the granite cliffs and the deep greens of the bottom of the gorge were breath taking. The trail goes through the upper part of the gorge on an old railroad bed. The walking was so easy that I had plenty of time to truly enjoy the beauty around me. 

Laurel Fork Falls.

Danny, Martin, and I ate lunch on the bridge over Laurel Fork. We saw a steady stream of day hikers. I was concerned that the shelter might be crowded since it was a Saturday, but my worries were unfounded. Danny and Martin told me they would push on to the next shelter that afternoon. I was tempted to go on with them but decided not to. It was a perfect day for walking and if I went on I would be assured of reaching Damascus on time. However, I doubted I would find any places along the trail like the gorge. Eventually the “stop and enjoy philosophy won out over the “hike, hike, hike” philosophy.

The shelter was empty when I got there so I unpacked my pack and sorted out all my gear. My sleeping bag was wet from condensation, so I hung it out to dry. Then I went down to the river to soak my feet and write in my journal. The water was amazingly cold. It took a long while to just get my feet fully in the water. I was tempted to go back to the falls, but I taken two pictures and it seemed a long walk at the time. 

Laurel Fork Falls.

Later Eric pulled into the shelter. He got a real kick out of hearing that all three of us had missed Sunset Orchard. There were a lot of weekend hikers including one older guy that talked nonstop. Some students for Eat Tennessee State University got into a long discussion of the merits of the Vietnam War that went well into the night, and kept me up late.

April 11, Van Deventer Shelter, 13.4 miles

The pitfalls of long distance hiking are many. North of Watauga Dam I saw Eric stopped by the road talking to a hiker I didn’t recognize. I wasn’t expecting to see Danny. His pack frame had broken in about five places. I noted with some satisfaction that it was a Camp Trails, not a Kelty. He was planning to end his hike there and hitchhike to Damascus and wait for Martin to hike in. I felt sorry for Danny, not only for his bad luck, but because he was a good guy to have around.

Though Eric and I hiked only thirteen miles to Van Deventer Shelter it was still a tough walk. I remembered numerous knobs and knoll walking around South Pierce Shelter. We hiked down to the shelter to get away from the wind which whistled across the ridgetop.

Butterfly weed.

When Eric and I stopped at Watauga Road for a break we noticed that the sky had turned black. The weather had been beautiful since Hot Springs, so we knew it couldn’t last much longer. Luckily it didn’t rain long, and we managed to stay dry.

Van Deventer Shelter is one of the more “infamous” shelters along the trail. The previous year a man killed a female hiker there. The story was confusing, but it was an eerie place. In back of the shelter was a sheer cliff which offered an extraordinary view of Watauga Lake.

Martin was the only other hiker at the shelter. The three of us had a good time playing gin and telling jokes. Martin was one of the funnier hikers I’d met.

April 12, Rich Knob Shelter, 14.6 miles

The trail south of Damascus runs along Holsten and Iron Mountain. These two long ridges are connected by a shorter ridge to form a giant “H”. The hiking along the ridge tops is flat and easy. However, in early spring it is certainly not very interesting. I didn’t mind the ridgetops, because I needed some easy trail. Eric, Martin, and I pulled into Rich Knob Shelter about 2 PM after covering 14 ½ miles. More jokes and gin playing ensued, and I had to admit while I was holding my own in the former I was getting thumped in the later.

My diary for day had little worth repeating, so I’ll discuss my system of hiking together while hiking alone. It’s well known on the AT that it is tough for two people to hike together for the entire trip. Bill and Chris, and later Buddy and Tim, were rare exceptions. It’s also well known that most thru-hikers would prefer to have a partner, given the chance. It is obvious some sort of compromise is needed.

When I hiked with other people, we all travelled as independent units. There were no conflicts about where to go for the night, since we were able to camp wherever we wanted. Since we only walked together when we had a conversation going, the pace didn’t bother anyone. Hiking apart, you wouldn’t get tired of being with a person, and you were glad to stop with them at lunch, or at the shelter at the end of the day. There were no formal ties or group equipment that would force us to stay together.

This arrangement worked especially well with Eric Heinrich. He was fond of doing 5 miles one day and then twenty-five, or even thirty-five, the next day. Since my pace was more consistent, I think we would have bothered each other if we tried to stay together. The only thing that kept me hiking with Lance, Eric, or Buddy and Tim was our similar paces and the bond of friendship.

April 13, Damascus Hostel, 18.7 miles

Among the towns along the Appalachian Trail, Damascus, VA is the favorite of thru-hikers. Damascus is a small town nestled in a valley at the base of Iron Mountain and sits about four miles north of the Tennessee border (reaching Damascus and VA is a significant milestone for hikers, who, if they can reach Damascus, have proven they have what it takes to finish the AT.) The town (even then) is one of the hiker friendliest. Unlike some places, the town embraced its onslaught of hikers with open arms. 

Martin and Eric at Grindstaff Garve.

One of the churches in town bought the old house in back of it and opened it as a hostel for hikers. The hostel’s only luxury was hot showers, but the price was free. The trail went right through town, so almost every hiker stopped to resupply, enjoy a good meal and rest up. Danny was the only hiker at the hostel when Eric, Martin, and I arrived. He stayed just long enough to say goodbye to Martin, before he was sped off to catch a bus to Philadelphia.

Our hike was similar to the day before, so our 19 miles were completed by early afternoon. The usual “town” chores of laundry and mail were done quickly. Also high on my list was a trip to the store to “pig out” on food.

The man who had taken Danny to the bus station was Mr. Charles Trivett, a native of Damascus. He had taken it upon himself to look after the hostel, and all of its occupants. His generosity was well known up and down the trail. I didn’t see him much my first day at the hostel, because when he arrived for a hiker’s trip to Backbone Rock I was off making a phone call home.

Later in the evening we went to the dairy bar for ice cream. Seeing a pinball machine and slamming in a quarter, Eric proceeded to go wild. With some amazing body English, he racked up free game after free game. He was a real wizard. My only attempt was so embarrassing that I’ll skip it here. I spent my time listening to Ol’ 55 on the juke box.