TRAIL DAY 81
Wed, May 11, 2016 It was a wet morning and the tent was covered with damp spring catkins dropping from oak trees.
There was a bench along the elevated dirt road on the ridge where I camped. I had sat there the night before and left the egg on the bench for the next hiker or whatever life and time would conjure up. It was still there in the morning before I packed but not after. No hiker had come by. Some critter or other must have been curious.
While presenting the spectacle of Theo’s and my drenched bodies to the Niday Shelter occupants, I learned that there was a monument to Audie Murphy at the top of Brush Mountain. I was .7 miles from it and eager to visit. I knew the name Audie Murphy from movies he’d made but did not know his story which I have since learned.
Audie Murphy was the most decorated soldier of the Second World War, with 33 medals. He single-handedly took out an entire company of German infantry with a captured German machine gun. Atop a burning tank he withstood an advancing squad of German foot soldiers and tanks leaving the burning tank just before it exploded. He suffered from PTSD after the war before it was a recognized condition and became addicted to sleeping pills.
He wrote his autobiography under the title To Hell and Back which was made into a movie by Universal Studios. He starred as himself and the movie became Universal’s highest grossing movie for 20 years. On May 28, 1971, at age 45, Murphy was killed when a twin-engine aircraft in which he and 4 others were passengers was being piloted through a storm by a pilot without an instrument rating, which is required if you are in clouds, and crashed into Brush Mountain not far from the monument I was about to visit. The large granite marker was placed along the Appalachian Trail in 1974.
It was a special privilege to hike the ridge of Brush Mountain to this monument on an overcast morning with the path and the woods damp and a little mournful.
Soon after leaving the monument, I had to tighten my pants as I did frequently because of my significant weight loss. Farther north, I would resolve that my gear list for any further long-distance hiking would include suspenders.
The overcast eventually broke. As we continued hiking the crest of a geological wave, when there was a view, it was of one or more neighboring ridges.
I remember coming into a field surrounded by a thick stand of tall, thin trees and soon after, a pile of rocks had me wondering if someone years before had cleared some land here for farming.
I saw my first creamy green-orange-yellow pod that seemed to have fallen from some tree but I saw them only on the ground.
During a late lunch, it was again dry-out time after which there were more ridge views as the trail got rockier. We were soon coming to Dragon’s Tooth which, but for a Google image, I missed completely. I did not, however, miss the treacherous descent from the ridge. There were some rebar steps for some of it but mostly you were on your own negotiating sections of very steep rock slabs with top edges no more than a few inches wide. I would be asked months later how Theo managed this section and my routine answer was, “Peace-a-cake!” He got his bearings then negotiated the narrow ledges with ease. I, on the other hand, took great care believing that a false step could prove very painful if not fatal. Others down the way agreed with me. I survived unscathed.
Soon after the precipitous ledges I came upon my first rhododendron flower. As I saw the bloom lying on the ground, I wondered if it had been a gift to a young lady which got lost and then I saw them everywhere! Reminds me of our arrival in Yellowstone in 1993 with our 2 youngest. We came upon a bison wondering on a street and stopped as had many tourists to take pictures. “A bison! A bison!” Happy to have the pictures, we set out again only to round a corner to an open area where an entire herd roamed free.
A sign along the trail warned of steep rocky areas and to stay on the trail following the blazes. Descents were indeed steep as were the climbs to stunning views. We were in pine woods which had been scrub pines higher up.
In time we came to Newport Road (VA 624) were I was able to call for a shuttle to the Four Pines Hostel. The driver arrived in short order and took me a few miles to the hostel just behind 4 tall pines lining the road. We turned left onto the drive past the large house on the right. On the left were a watershed and small barn. The drive climbed a slight grade then curved right to a parking area in front of a very large garage which was the main hostel and the general hangout spot. The walls were lined with tables, a refrigerator, tool benches and a shower in the front right corner. Beds, cots, couches, tables and a pot belly stove completed the interior. The wall behind the stove was black chalkboard filled with trail names of hikers wanting to leave their mark.
Next to the garage were two sheds for quinea hens and farm equipment. Behind the sheds, up a hill was another barn with a ledge a couple of feet off the ground all around its interior for sleeping bags. Hikers could also pitch a tent on the large lawn surrounding the garage and barn. Reservations were not necessary and fees were by donation only.
There were multiple vehicles and trailers on the grounds to move whatever needed to be moved on this large property. All beds were taken in the garage so I was invited to stay in the barn up on the hill or in the small barn we passed opposite the house. I chose the latter because Theo and I would have it to ourselves. I brought my gear to our home for the night. There were two sections, one with farm equipment, a card table folded up against a wall, a ladder, boards on the ground and pegs in cross beams with things hanging from them. In the other section was a ladder to a loft area and more pegs. The floor was uneven dirt with bits of straw scattered about. I would sleep in this section on as level ground as I could find.
Chickens roamed in and out unless Theo seemed too interested. They wandered the grounds at will as did guinea hens in great number. I, of course, directed Theo not to chase any of these critters and, being the most amazing dog on the planet, he did not. The interior of the barn smelled of chicken droppings which I’m sure had turned to dust and made their way to my lungs, without incident that I know of.
Beyond the watershed was a pond with white ducks swimming in it.
Dan was the helper at the hostel. He was a very uptight fellow who freaked out over the smallest thing. I tore a clean page out of a notebook filled with clean pages on a very cluttered desk to make some notes and Dan all but pulled his hair out. He loved to hear his own voice and never said much of anything that made sense. Others didn’t seem to have too much trouble with Dan but he and I simply did not hit it off.
I did hit it off with Colin and other hikers in the garage although I was never “one of the fellas,” being always the most senior citizen. I last saw Colin on May 7th at the crest before Simms Gap. He could really make time with his long legs even without trekking poles. He felt they simply held him up. It was good to see him again. It would be my last time.
The uneven ground was a minor discomfort but I did manage to breathe in the chicken dust mostly in my sleep that first night.
Day #81 Brush Mountain > Four Pines Hostel 12.4 miles