Date: 2014-06-03
From: The Priest Shelter

To: Devils Backbone Brewery via Reeds Gap
Miles today: 15.5
Weather: overcast clouds

It was a full house at The Priest Shelter last night. Initially there was only Ground Score, Pockets, and me, but Trigger and Shellback rolled in after dinner, and True Story arrived just before dark. Yesterday was Shellback's 50th birthday, and to celebrate he brought along a small cardboard carton of chardonnay and rice crispy treats, which he shared with everyone. I partook in the wine, but since I'd already brushed my teeth and am not a big rice crispy treat fan, passed on them.Every shelter has a log book in which hikers record their thoughts or just the fact that they passed by or stayed at the shelter. Some people are terse, e.g., "AZ, in for lunch," while others can be quite verbose. Ground Score, for example, whose name conveys his knack for finding things on the trail, usually food, which he's more than happy to eat, has taken to writing song lyrics in the log, typically a half-page worth. Shellback, on the other hand, leaves elaborate logic puzzles in the log at one shelter and the solution at the next. I'd noticed his entries for several weeks but paid no attention to their author until I met him last night.Shelter logs allow hikers to find out who's up ahead and how far, but they're useless for anyone wanting to know what's going on behind them. From The Priest Shelter log, I know AZ is a day and a half ahead, which makes sense because that's how long I was off the trail in Roanoke and we're both doing 20-mile days, but he doesn't know where I am unless he, or more likely his wife, reads this journal. It took me a while to connect the many confessions in last night's log with the fact that I was staying at The Priest Shelter. In typical thru-hiker fashion, a common theme for the entries centered around bodily functions, e.g., "I confess I fart behind my hiking partner" or "I confess I took a dump on top of McAfee Knob."Over the last 100 miles or so, the trail has had the annoying habit of forcing us to give up all our hard-won elevation and then immediately making us regain it. Take today's hike, for example. After reaching the top of The Priest, bringing us above 4000 feet for the last time until New Hampshire, the trail plummeted over 3000 feet to the Tye River Bridge in four miles. It then went straight back up 3000 feet to the top of Three Ridges Mountain. With the rocks and humidity, which left everyone drenched, it was easily the most difficult ascent since climbing out of the Nantahala Outdoor center to Cheoah Bald during the second week of the trip.Ground Score discovered last night that we'd be passing close by the Devils Backbone Brewery during today's hike. It was no coincidence that he was the first one out of camp at 6:30. As usual, I was the last to leave. The more I thought about a cold beer, particularly during the killer mid-day ascent, the more I realized I should get to that brewery as well. So when I reached Reid's Gap, I put out my thumb for the five-mile ride down the mountain into town. After 15 minutes, during which only a handful of cars, all with unwilling drivers, passed, I started the long walk down the steep grade, which in places reached 15%. After about a mile, I finally got a ride from Cliff, who was heading to the hardware store in town. I threw my pack in the back of his CRV and hopped into the passenger seat. I thanked him when he dropped me in front of the brewery and pulled my pack out. When I went to take my phone from its holder, I was shocked to discover it was gone. I immediately assumed it must have fallen out in the back of Cliff's CRV. My lifeline to the outside world had been severed, which was particularly bad because I was currently arranging the logistics for having my son, Anders, join me on the trail in five days. So I went straight to the bar and asked the first person I saw to borrow his phone, which I used to call my phone in the back of Cliff's CRV. When it went straight to voicemail, I realized my phone was on airplane mode, so there was no hope of getting Cliff's attention. So I asked -- demanded really -- the guy with the phone for a ride to the hardware store in town. I assume he could sense my panic, because he drove me there like an ambulance driver with a woman in labor. Thankfully, Cliff's CRV was parked outside and I quickly found him in the store. We scoured the back of his car, but my phone was nowhere to be found amongst the several buckets of tools. So Cliff drove me back to the brewery, and, with great relief, I learned my phone had been found and returned to front desk. Thank you so much, Cliff, and to the guy who rushed me to the hardware store; I'm sorry I didn't get your name.Needless to say, the beer tasted even sweeter after my phone scare, and the burger and salad were not bad either. Ground Score was at the brewery, along with Red Beard and Snorelax, who'd received a ride down the mountain from Chicken and Rooster, a section-hiking couple from Illinois. We're tenting tonight in a grass field behind the brewery and in the morning will be getting a five-dollar breakfast offered only to thru-hikers.