Date: 2003-04-19
From: 321

To: Vandeventer shelter
Miles today: 8.6
Weather: broken clouds

Sad to leave this fine hostel, Kincorra, home for the last week. But the time has come. My heel tendons have been restored to the typical hiker hobble, and the Trail calls."I'm getting empty nest syndrome," said Bob as I said goodbye. Pat promised to come visit me in Southern Pines with her two horses this winter for some riding in the longleaf pine preserves there. I have been blessed with some fine Trail magic this week, as my friend eArThworm sent me a box filled with excellent goodies: stamped postcards (what a great idea!), ziplocs, condiments, hot chocolate and, of course, chocolate-chocolate - with mint, the very best kind of chocolate possible. The coup de grace was a package of Oscar Meyer Real Bacon Bits!!! Mmmmm, bacon. Thank you, friend.Then, on the last possible day, another box arrived from my friend Trooper, a former thru-hiker. I suspected what might be in it, and because Kincorra is an alcohol-free hostel, I had Bob witness the opening. Sure enough, tucked in among the Dove chocolates (yowza!), licorice jelly beans, some golden, home-raised honey packed in a double ziplocked bag ("that looks like someone's kidney," observed Bob), a roll of TP ("that's GOLD on the AT") and other sundries - was a bottle of homemade red wine. I promised to wait until tomorrow to open it, if I could borrow a corkscrew and decant it into a water bottle.So today I loaded the goodies into my VERY HEAVY pack, and lumbered off down the road. Oooof! I have been royally spoiled by all this slackpacking, and the chickens have come home to roost today. Well, off we go, feet pointed north.For once, I am ahead of Hotdog and Wench. They are also leaving today, but have to cover the nine miles I've already done.Joining me for a couple days are Louisa and Chandler, poor babies, river running buddies from Lumberton, NC. They wanted to spend some of their Easter vacation torturing their feet, backs and lungs. In addition, Chandler is nursing a horrible cold, which he no doubt hoped to share with me.Of course, we have many miles to do today, and it's all uphill. STEEP uphill. I'd told them it was easy. "The Tennessee Turnpike, they call it," I assured them.Although I'd covered this section SOBO with my hometown hiking partner No Comment two falls ago, I'd forgotten that large and forgettable downhill, which NOBO is, of course, a memorable uphill.My friends will either never speak to me again or attempt to drown me on my first river trip next fall.To soften the misery of the crushing climb, I offered a little of the wine around at lunch and dinner for an evaluation (after all, I WAS schlepping it uphill). Turns out everybody is a closet wine critic. Some assessments:"A light, fruity body, dry but not astringent," said Louisa."Pruney-plum-y," said Hotdog. "Smells sweet but has a dry, tannic bite to it.""Tutti-fruity," said Wench, ever the cut-up. "Wonderful afterburn," said Aurelius who, at 20, is after pure sensation.Louisa didn't offer a final bouquet analysis, but she did laugh a lot after lunch.Actually, our friend Trooper is becoming an impressive wine maker. Thank you too, friend.About mid-day, what should come wandering down the trail to us than a bearded hiker followed by a panting, black, African pygmy goat. As soon as the man stopped, the goat lay down in the shade, and panted like a dog."He's still got his winter coat," said the man. "Plus he's out of shape, he hasn't been hiking all winter." The goat's name was Buddy, he said.Buddy was not on a leash. He followed his master everywhere. In fact, when the man moved to let me take a picture - one doesn't see a companion goat every day - Buddy hoisted his hot carcass onto four hooves and walked over to the man. Even my little dog Pogo is not so devoted.When we were finished taking pictures, the man moved off and Buddy got up again to follow, unwilling to be left behind.After a hot, killing afternoon up a knife-edge ridge, cooled by the Watauga Lake breezes from below, we crashed at the watering hole. Up came Wench and Hotdog. Damn! There went my slim lead! Also come Snappy, Puff-Puff and Manchester. We all have a jolly supper around the spring as the sun falls lower on the ridges. Many laughs.We climb up to Vandeventer Shelter, hauling our water because the shelter water source was said to be a steep, tough down. This shelter is also reputed to be haunted by a female ghost. Instead I find Goldberry, along with Lemming, Wicked Wizard, Aurelius and Lucky. Chandler, Louisa and I tent in the rear, in the windbreak between the rock and the shelter. The shelter's backside has a beautiful view down over the lake, and we watched the lights pop out as the evening grew dark.Bob also warned us about other strange beings roaming on the mountain: emus. Seems a farmer's fence broke down and a dozen escaped into the hills. Three years later, the flock was still going strong. If I am haunted tonight, I may just blame the local ferals.There is supposed to be a meteor shower tonight, and the shelter rats are going for a night hike, starting at 3 am. I do not think we will be joining them.