TRAIL DAY 86
Mon, May 16, 2016 Some privies are more interesting than others. A body could do a study of them on the AT. The type: composting or not; use of duff (the partially decomposed layer of leaves) or not; use of wood chips or not. Not to mention cleanliness, availability of TP (I kept napkins or tissue in my back pocket) and privacy!
It seems I started this day at a privy that had a wooden Appalachian Trail symbol on the door. And, as always, if I disappeared down a path to a privy, guess who was there waiting for me when I emerged.
In 2.4 miles we would come to the Blue Ridge Parkway and begin seeing what tourist in motor homes, vans, cars, motorcycles and on bikes would see. The walkers and riders would come together for a good long stretch in Virginia as many rhododendron flowers whispered, “Remember, Virginia is for lovers.”
The first overlook at a curved pull-off was to Taylor Mountain 2543′ from an elevation of 2340′. The scenery really was spectacular but the usual traveler didn’t have to work too hard to enjoy it. Just pull off the road, get out, take your pictures, get back in and leave. I had walked to this spot – from Georgia! And I was going to walk from here to Maine! I felt a little proud of myself. I really worked for this view and I felt more deserving of it. It was the same pride I felt climbing into the Smokys from Newfound Gap on Good Friday. I kept it under wraps if a vehicle pulled up and those of the easier way got out. I didn’t flaunt my sense of superiority but it was there. The comparison was hard to ignore. It was like that little niggling competitiveness you felt if you started hiking before your (lazier) companions.
Where’s the truly humble hike-your-own-hike spirit? Live and let live. Walk on, past your “superiority,” back into the woods and the challenge that hasn’t humbled you enough.
At the far end of that first curved pull-off we did re-enter the woods.
The next view was of the town of Montvale, Virginia nestled in a valley between low-lying mountains. Other views followed and then the trail dug back into the woods below the highway. At one point we came to a wall reminiscent of the walls in Cusco, Peru. Not as fine, nor of stones as large but impressive enough.
There were more views of the spectacular Virginia hills and valleys and more woods until I descended into Bearwallow Gap where I saw a very tall man standing in bib overalls, a bright-orange, short-sleeved shirt and moccasins. He was very casual and “down-home.” He spoke slowly and was just standing there all alone. He asked me if I’d seen a couple of fellas heading this way. I said I hadn’t. He said he’d let them off some time ago and they were going to hike to this spot where he’d meet them and take them home. He had his truck parked up the way along the road which was up a short climb from where we were.
“You hungry?” he asked.
“No – thanks. I’m fine.” I answered
“You sure?”
“No. I’m fine, thanks.”
I wasn’t sure who this country bumpkin was. For all I knew he had an ax up the road and was planning on pickling me for livestock back home.
We both made our way up the bank to the side of the road, he a little ahead of me. As we climbed, I figured if he really wanted to take me out, he could have done so already, down in the dip, away from the road. His gestures didn’t suggest a violent man or an odd sort of fella. He seemed pretty decent and mild-mannered.
“You sure you’re not hungry? It’s steak.”
His manner and offering were making it harder to say, “No.”
“You make it hard to say ‘No’ offering steak!” I said. “Sure.”
He led the way and I followed not knowing what to expect but I had decided to take the risk. Not just for the stake – but to live out faith in humankind – faith in my fellow man. I was glad I had.
His truck was about 50 yards up a slight climb to the east and across the road. He crossed and I followed into a clearing where there was a pickup truck. As I approached the truck I saw a card table set up with a couple of chairs beside it. Beyond the table was a grill fastened to a propane tank.
My benefactor invited me to have a seat as he got a partially cooked stake from the back seat of his truck and fired up the grill. In short order, he served me up one of the best stakes I’ve ever had. Of course, the trail turns almost any food into exotic fare.
I asked him his name which, unfortunately, I did not write down, thinking I would remember it – right!
But I do recall that his name had meaning for his kindness. It was something like Will Good – and may, in fact, have been that.
When I finished, there were a few gristly scraps left which I gave to Theo and then, with my sincere thanks, we took our leave as he continued to await his friends.
I went back down the road on the truck side and turned right into the woods opposite the point of our exit. It was a pretty steep climb from Bearwallow Gap, a name which could have an eerie sound to it. As I climbed, I thought of how grateful I was that I trusted this kind man. I wanted to yell out from a point above him on the trail.
WILL GOOD IS VERY GOOD!
But I wasn’t sure he’d hear me or understand my meaning and I didn’t want to leave him confused so I just thought what I would have yelled and carried on.
We climbed up and over Cove Mountain to the Cove Mountain Shelter where I joined Feral, Pop-tart and “Bunky,” who was a spry, middle-aged gal who fell in love with Theo – didn’t they all!
I set up in the shelter with these three hikers and prepared my supper at a table in front. I remember a rather large, new and very neat privy at this site and passing the tent of an older couple (Listen to me! Older!) who would be spooked a little that night as they saw Theo’s eyes glowing in the dark when their headlamp beams caught him. All was well when they realized, “It’s Theo!”
As we crawled in, Bunky wrapped her coat around Theo and hugged him as he lay on the pad I had gotten at Four Pines.
It would rain very hard that night.
Day #86 Wilson Creek Shelter > Cove Mountain Shelter 13.8 miles