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.