Date: 2003-05-06
From: USFS 156, Johns Creek Valley

To: Va 635, Stony Creek bridge
Miles today: 11.1

For breakfast, Chef Dave made scrambled eggs and toast for this hiker. I swear, I am being cosseted in SW Virginia. Between Dan Hammer, Dave and Chief John Massey, no one is gonna mess with me: Hammer, Chainsaw and Chief. Formidable-sounding friends, eh?Actually, though Dave is a trail maintainer and knows how to wield a power tool, the name Chainsaw reputedly came from his snoring volume. He loves to tell this story on himself, a comment by a camping buddy of his: "I'm telling you, I could have gotten some sleep last night despite Dave's snoring - if the Los Alamos Seismic Center would've quit ringing up every few minutes to inquire about the damage at the epicenter."Luckily, Dave and Carla have given me a soundproof room in the basement den. But I'll take his word for it.Gear note: For future thru-hikers, a comment about snoring. By this time on the AT, the loudest snorers have usually decided to tent at night to spare the community. But that is not a given, and in a crowded shelter there will always be noise of some sort. An irritable personality will have a tough time being happy in a shelter, and life would perhaps be sweeter in a tent. Noise is just one factor of shelter life, as people have to get up to relieve their bladders, or turn over, or get a sip of water, all night.But then, an irritable personality just might mellow out some on the Trail. It could happen.One useful tool for the light sleeper is a set of simple foam ear plugs. You can still hear noises, it just takes the tooth-grinding edge out, and settles volume to the comfortable murmur of nearby humanity.I get my hiking shoes back. No protest from the feet when I put them on. Phil the orthotics guy has stretched my shoes in the places where my feet were "coloring outside the lines." Still, shoes always feel good indoors. The Trail today will tell more. Chainsaw is also helping me stay close to the phones, yet still hike. My aged father has a respiratory thing going on, and is coughing up green phlegm. No fever, but weakness, and when he got out of bed the other night he fell, got badly bruised, possibly breaking some ribs. He won't go to the ER, being a stubborn German and a retired doctor to boot (the worst kind of patient). But he is letting a colleague come to the house to examine him. My brother and I are staying tuned. Old age is not for sissies.Because of the town chores, I get a late start, and we decide I'll do 11 miles. Dave drops me off and points me in the right direction. Shoes feel pretty good walking, but I am just carrying about 15 pounds.Going Southbound, you get to see everyone heading north. The first one I encounter is Noll. "Man, every time I see you, you are going the wrong way, " he teases. It's true. He met me slacking SOBO out of Erwin and Kincorra, then backtracking to look for my jacket south of Trimpi shelter. And now this. "Some people just want both ways," I informed him. "Besides, it's the only way I can catch you young 'uns."Soon after, I meet Trail Frog and Sandal, Apricot and LodeRunner and two women doing a flip-flop from Damascus, Grandma Bear and Grandma Turtle. It's good to see some more women in the woods. The highlight of the day was the fine rocky outcrop, Wind Point. What a campsite this would make! In fact, there were two fire rings and lots of broad, grassy spots. The overlook offered a view of rolling low mountains, all forested and in various stages of green.The adrenaline rush of the day was stepping onto a rocky overlook deep inside the woods (I am a sucker for a rocky overlook), and feeling my feet go sliding on the downward-sloping rock. Yikes! I am falling off a cliff!Where is my friend "Mr. T" (traction)?! Damn! I am not stopping and here comes the edge! I sit down hard on my butt, banging my elbow and tailbone. But, I stopped.As my heart banged away, I notice a thin film of slick, green moss on the rocks, not visible from eye level. The rock was also wet from last night's rains. LodeRunner told me last night was not only wet but the chilliest night in awhile. I have bounced my summer gear ahead one more stop, to Catawba. The oaks at the higher elevations barely have their little pink leaves out, and they are no bigger than my little toe. I know: I have been looking at toes a lot lately.Dave the Punctual is waiting as arranged. Then he takes me on a backroads (and I do mean back roads) tour of the mountains. We are headed for Mountain Lake, one of Virginia's two natural lakes and site of some filming for the movie "Dirty Dancing." Yep, that stone inn is the place I recall from the film.On the way, we see a profusion of wildlife. First a large owl flies towards the truck then cuts back at the last minute. Then, we have a fine viewing of a wild turkey by the side of the road. Then another species of owl flies past the front of the truck, its flat face looking strange in flight. We see many deer, and then a hawk that sends Dave to his bird book: the broad-shouldered hawk, not that common in this area.I see less wildlife when I am hiking than in this noisy truck. Ha! What does that say about my hiking style? "The truck acts as a sort of blind," says Dave, kindly offering me an out.Near Mountain Lake, we also see the biological research station's bird banding operation. Fine black nets are strung to harmlessly capture songbirds, which are banded and released within the hour. We see a blue jay and a downy woodpecker ensnared, awaiting their turn.It's getting late, so we head down off the mountain to hit a bookstore and eat some fantastic Italian antipasto and calzones.It's really late now, and I turn out the lights shortly before midnight. I have a 5:30 am wakeup call. Tomorrow, I hike the 22 miles back to Pearisburg.(Note: Thanks and gratitude for my thru-hiking buddy Anna/"Mudbutt" for transcribing while Suz Buchanan was out on her hiking vacation. Anna just got her heavy cast off her foot, and her walking cast on. See you at Trail Days Anna!)