Date: 2017-09-21
From: Fullhardt Knob shelter

To: Catawba
Miles today: 14.7
Weather: clear sky

On any other day, visiting the most photogenic site on the entire AT and then a legendary trail restaurant would have been today's highlights. But this was no ordinary day and instead the best bit was an encounter with some day hikers in the midst of a rollercoaster section of ridge west of VA Route 311.These were, of course, not just some random strangers. These were Three Gallon and Cucumber boy, who I'd last seen 11 years ago on the PCT somewhere in northern California.I'd been present when they'd first met in the aircon break room of a wind farm that was the final rump of the Enron energy empire (which was being auctioned off that day, which might explain the leisurely pace of the staff and why they so generously welcomed us in to avoid the heat of the day). And I'd been present when that interaction, um, changed into something else a few days later. Just what that "something else" became was best demonstrated by the baby carrier Cucumber Boy was wearing and, in particular, the exceptionally smiley toddler, 20-month-old Sacha, contained within. That's not to diss McAfee Knob or the all-you-can-eat awesomeness of the Home Place, just off the trail at Catawba. An informal rule on the AT is that the merit of a restaurant is directly related to the number of states between it and when we first heard of it. We'd been hearing stories about the Home Place since the first week of our hikes, 10 states ago.I knew all this was coming up today, which is why I'd opted to "eat some spiders" -- AT slang for being the first to hike the trail each day, at the cost of having to break through all the spider webs constructed overnight -- by leaving the shelter at 8am. I had a vague idea that it'd take three hours to get to McAfee's Knob but the trail went alongside Tinker Cliffs in a way that slowed my progress as I enjoyed the expansive views. Then at the shelter shortly before the final climb, I had to detour off to one side to fill up with water at a spring. Footprint joined me there and we got to watch a truly enormous black rat snake who was there first reluctantly slither off after it concluded we were not going to move on quickly enough for its liking.Soon after, I'd sweated my way up to the top of the knob and made a quick side trip on a social trail to find the others, who had all enjoying a lazy and enjoyable morning. I was a little surprised to find they'd been joined by Pan, who I hadn't seen for a couple of weeks. He had been well ahead until he was delayed by rescuing a lost hunting dog. We were later joined by Ben, a sobo thru-hiker I'd last seen in Stratton in Maine and who I'd met briefly on the PCT when we both thru-hiked in 2006. He'd been hauling miles and was 300 miles ahead in Tennessee but the visa of his Teutonic hiking buddy -- BFG, which depending on who you talked to, stood for either Big Friendly German or Big F***ing German -- had run out so he got off trail. Like nearly all those hiking ahead of our sobo bubble, he'd ended up hiking on his own, cranking out long lonely days -- I remember thinking how I'd hate to hike the AT that way -- but he'd decided to take a few days off to meet his (non-hiking) girlfriend and come back to McAfee's Knob.We eventually moved on around 12.30pm, thinking the way down would all be downhill and being surprised by how undulating the trail was. It was also stinking hot and we were definitely wilting, despite downing water in great quantities in a bid to stay hydrated.We were particularly grateful when Ben offered to slackpack our gear to the Home Place restaurant, where he too was dining that night, allowing us to tackle the four mile ridge ahead without full packs. I was definitely down for that idea, although he later admitted that he'd forgotten just how bad a dozen well-used packs can smell, and particularly when the olfactory offence was flailing the unadjusted nostrils of his girlfriend.It was nearly at the end of the ridge that I'd encountered Three Gallon, Cucumber Boy and Sacha. As I stopped to talk, we were quickly passed by everyone else. They were meeting Dirt's family at the road crossing a mile or so ahead, but we were happy to mosey along at the kind of pace a toddler can manage. The others were long gone by the time we reached the road, where we drove a couple of miles along to get to the Home Place.The restaurant was worth the 11-state wait -- for $12, there all you can eat fried chicken, pulled pork, lucious buttery biscuits, mashed potato and ham and pea soup... It was simple but done spectacularly well, which explained why it was only open four days a week but had queues going out the door of the stately farmhouse set in rolling fields. With Ben, we had a mini-reunion of four PCT06 alumni.It was great to catch up with my former PCT buddies and to see them doing well. They were talking about meeting up again to hike with me for a few days in the Grayson Highlands, which will provide an even better chance for a more expansive catchup.Soon they were heading back to their home a couple of hours drive away and I was squeezing in beside the rest of Team KRT into Dirt's family's cars to make the trek to Roanoke for a night off the trail. Dirt's grandfather, Bill, and his daughter Stacie and her husband Shane proved to be gracious and generous hosts who had been well briefed about the realities of the trail and how we ought not to be deemed human until we'd showered and changed into clean clothes. We also put a load of washing on, using the never-before-used double-extra-heavy-duty wash option to counteract nine fetid days -- including climbing The Priest -- since the last wash.Then in defiance of the usual bedtime of 8pm, we sat around shooting the shit with them until the unheard of hour of 11.30pm. A great night.Life is good.AT fact of the day: Although parenthood had obviously changed Three Gallon and Cucumber Boy's lives, they retained an element of thru hiker lifestyle because they were in the midst of building their own home in rural Virginia. I was embarrassed that I was meeting them after nine days since my last shower, but she quickly put me at ease by saying that the last time she'd had a hot shower was when visiting Scout in Daleville as he passed through more than a week before. After that it was all cold splash-washing with a bucket. Hiker trash FTW!