Date: 2013-04-12
From: Appalachian Folk School

To: Car bound for Richmond, VA
Miles today: 21.7

(In which I slackpack into Damascus, and go to a Boone dance)I am up early for another day of slackpacking from Tennessee Route 91 into Damascus. From the trailhead I go the other direction this morning, in windy and misty weather. I have to keep moving fast to try to keep warm, as I only have a long-sleeved shirt, soccer jersey, and kilt as my clothing. Fortunately the weather is supposed to become drier and warmer today. It also does not help that the walk north starts as a handicapped-accessible trail through open pasture for a mile before returning to the woods.The wind dies down once I am back in the woods. I climb back onto the ridge for what is supposed to be an easy day spent on this ridge. Warren plans to meet me in town at 1630, and I have to hold about three miles per hour to make it there in time. That is much easier to attain with 35 less pounds on my back, but I feel like I am still moving slowly as I climb toward Double Springs Shelter. This shelter is my highest point for today, and I spend little time there before continuing north.Upon descending to US Route 421 I find the gentleman I met at Kinkora Hostel where he had been helping his wife and her friend slackpack. He does not have any trail magic set up, but is waiting for them and chatting with a couple unfamiliar hikers. I stay there briefly to chat and take a snack break, but move on in short order. The Trail continues the ridge walk that has characterized it beyond Watauga Lake. I overtake Zippy and Diddo again, moving much faster than them with my diminished pack weight.Shortly after passing those two I find myself on top of what must be McQueens Knob. There are four concrete pilings here, where there must have once been a fire tower. The guide's cryptically-labeled 'disused shelter' is just below the knob. It is a tiny affair that does not look to be in worse shape than many other shelters. Its small plywood platform might be able to sleep three or four people. I find Chino taking a break at this site, and Zippy and Diddo briefly join us. I am the first to leave, but after traveling downhill for a few minutes I realize I left my trekking pole behind. Zippy and Diddo pass me going the right way as I retrace my steps southbound. I think I left the pole all the way back at the fire tower site, but find it in front of the disused shelter. Chino figured I hadn't left the shelter, but had wandered off to fetch water or go to the bathroom.Having traveled several minutes in the opposite direction, I do not catch up to Zippy and Diddo now that I am moving north again. After plenty of ridge walking, I stop for a brief break on a promising log near the fire ring of a campsite. Shortly after this break I pass the intersection with the Backbone Rock Trail, which looks like it follows a finger of mountain downhill to the east. This is the last landmark in the guidebook before the Tennessee - Virginia border. I know I have found the border when I see Paranoia and another hiker with their packs dropped, setting up to shoot photos next to a sign. I join them for their group photos, take my own photo when clouds a often the hard shadows across the sign, and move into Virginia with them.Virginia is the fourth state on the Appalachian Trail. I stick with these hikers briefly before deciding to resume my faster slackpacking pace. I depart their company, running downhill on the easy terrain until I have some distance ahead of them. Now I resume my audiobook that I am alone again. Even if there is no conversation, it feels strange to be off in my own world listening to music or a book while I am hiking alongside others. From the border, the Trail is almost entirely downhill into Damascus. The town comes into sight below me as the Trail departs the ridge line to begin a series of switchbacks.I enter town in a residential area, but the Trail turns left at the first intersection to follow a path through a narrow strip of grassy park between Mercedes Street and Beaver Dam Creek. Here I run into Cat, still with no trail name, for the first time in almost a month. The last time i saw her and her partner was at the A. Rufus Morgan Shelter near the Nantahala Outdoor Center. Now her and Julian - now going by Firehands - have been joined by a third individual. Lucy is a stray dog they encountered which then followed them for 18 miles before they adopted it. She is a young husky mix, and though thin she seems pleasant and good with people. I catch up for a bit before continuing into the center of town.I have beaten Warren into town, and make a brief visit to the outfitter here. My shoes, which I did not purchase deliberately for this hike, have served me well for months before I started the Trail, and proved to do me well while backpacking too. Since I set foot on Springer Mountain, I have walked 466 miles of Trail and many more miles than don't count, except for counting against the lifetime of the shoes. The most commonly quoted figure regarding shoe life is that a thru-hiker will go through three or four pairs of shoes over length of the Appalachian Trail. I can't expect these shoes to last much longer, and want to get the same kind or something comparable.At this outfitter they only have a small selection of name brand shoes, and by no means can identify the old Timberland shoes I have. I wish I had asked the foot guy back at the Franklin 76 outfitter to take a look at my feet and shoes and recommend something, because the folks here are of no help. I depart frustrated at their lack of selection and knowledge. Warren arrives in town as I walk toward the ice cream place, and I pack into his car to return to his place and get ready for dancing tonight. As an afterthought I pick up almost a half gallon of ice cream at the Dollar General.I cannot get a true half gallon, as the half gallon is three pints and the pint is two ounces shy of a pint. Still, 62 out of 64 ounces is pretty close. I tear into the almost-pint first, eating in the car as Warren grabs some shelving that somebody in town is discarding. Before we get back to the folk school, I am working on the half gallon. I agree to help collect brush for a bonfire that will be set for some folks that will be here tonight. Some international students from the community college are coming to the school for the night, and this fire is for them.I work on the ice cream between carrying bundles of wood and brush to the back of the property. A big part of this folk school campus, as Warren shows me, is for dancing. Dancing and hiking are Warren's two passions, and he is setting up the school to enable large dance gatherings. Between the main house, the bunk houses, and the cabins there are over a hundred beds. A nice bath house sits in the middle of the cluster of buildings. There is already a small dance pavilion, but a larger one is mostly built. The structure is in place behind a barn, which houses more bunks and will also serve for other manner of support. The structure of this big dance pavilion is complete except for the concrete slab and dance floor itself. It will be a great campus for dance weekends when it is all complete, and Warren intends it for just that. He uses other venues for dance weekends several times a year, but plans to move them to this site when it is ready.I finish moving the brush and also finish the ice cream. Roughly a pint of the ice cream is melted enough to drink by the time I get around to finishing it all. It is not quite a half gallon, but close enough for me to count it. I have a little time to shower and change to the cleanest clothing I have left. Fortunately I rarely wear my pants, since I have been hiking solely in my kilt and usually just wear base layers while in camp or sleeping. The dance Warren has decided is most feasible to attend tonight is a square dance in Boone, so we head off in that direction.The square dance here is a small happening, but it is nice to see many young people in attendance. Appalachian State University is in Boone, and there is a college organization that holds dances in addition to the group I already knew about, Boone Country Dancers. Tonight's dance is a college function. Warren does not think there will be any partner dancing, but I am pleased when there are some recorded waltzes played between squares. I query the table of gals behind me as to whether any of them waltz, and wind up dancing with the same gal repeatedly when the others do not have the initiative to try waltzing. Some folks are excited to hear about my trip thus far, and I wind up sitting out a few dances talking with a couple folks about my experience on the AT.Once the dance has ended we head back to the folks school to prepare for the dance weekend. I am going with Warren to a dance weekend in Richmond tomorrow, a plan that manifested on such short notice that I really shouldn't call it a plan. The first dancing is at around 1100 tomorrow, and the drive is about six hours. Our options are leaving now and resting at some point along the way, or sleeping a few hours and leaving very early in the morning. I decide on a sort of compromise - I need to wash my clothes, so there will be some time to nap while that is happening. A couple brief naps are possible while the laundry is washed and dried, but it is tough to leave a warm bed the second time to pack and get on the road.I cannot drive a manual transmission - I really should learn that some day - but Warren is okay with driving overnight. He has undertaken many such long drives for dancing and other happenings. I make myself as comfortable as possible in the passenger seat, though sleep won't be difficult to attain after walking over 20 miles and staying up well beyond hiker bedtime to dance.Peace,