Date: 2003-04-30
From: Knot Maul Shelter

To: Garden Mountain
Miles today: 14.2
Weather: broken clouds

Late last night a pack of coyotes woke us with their pack-song, from about a half mile away. I would have forgotten this, but Notes and the White Brothers also heard it, and then mentioned it this morning.Notes is slowing down, maybe, he says, just doing the mostly uphill nine miles to Chestnut Knob shelter, a lovely stone hut on the top of a bald knob. At 4,400 feet, I was told this was the highest we would be again, until upper New England.The White Brothers and Drifter plan to do the 19 miles to the next shelter. I am trying to make Pearisburg by Sunday night, and need to do more than 9 miles, but I wonder whether my feet would be willing to carry me that far. The weatherman promises thunderstorms and I am reluctant to be caught out on a high Virginia ridgeline.Ah well, let's see what the day brings.This last day of April, 2003, the morning air is deliciously cool, and the birds are riotous, making a glorious racket. The sun is up, and spackling the slopes with wildflowers and May pops.This is the Appalachian spring in all her glory.The White Brothers hike in sandals today, to see if that will lessen the toe crowding and pinching. My feet set up their howls again, and I must hobble around a few minutes until some accommodation is made between foot and shoe leather. Could I get the toe box and bunion area punched out in Pearisburg - surely there is someone there with a rubbing bar. The shoes, bought in Hot Springs, were working out fine when I was slacking or carrying two days food at most. When I add weight, THAT's when the rubber meets the road or, in this case, the bunion.Seems like most people are commenting on their feet on this stretch. I don't want to make it sound like limb pain is my exclusive purview. It is a shared misery, and the topic of much conversation.Which again begs the question - why do this? I've pondered it, and asked others. I think that, while the body objects to some (many!) aspects of this long-distance journey, something interesting is also happening. It's not really tangible, able to be quantified, yet there it is. The spirit is being nourished. It's just not as fun to talk about as hamburger feet.It's a steep and long climb up Chestnut Knob, through a bald area for about a half mile. A black buzzard circles the stone shelter as I crawl up the last of the grassy approach. It's gotten very hot in the hour, and I am looking forward to a break. Nine miles down, ten to go, and only 12:30 pm.I eat a hearty lunch and am about to embark this lovely shelter when Notes comes in. We chat a bit, and then I look up at the tin roof - it's starting to rain. Ah well, crack out the rain gear, as it's cooling down fast. Then, a thunderclap. Then the sky cracks open and it pours. I look out. Incoming!In comes Tapeworm and Cosmo. Load Runner and Apricot are crawling up the bald; behind them, Swift Sandal.Just about then, the heavens have some fun and pelt blueberry-sized hail down upon the Knob. The racket on the tin is deafening. We all cheer and whoop; we are inside, the ice-beating is outside.Puff-Puff and Snappy were not, and they arrive, dripping and red-cheeked.I am really starting to chill now, shivering hard despite a pot of coffee I'd made. I unroll my z-rest and unpack my bag and crawl onto a bunk. Whereupon I fall asleep. For several hours.This is a lovely shelter, whitewashed and well-lit inside, with a hearth (bricked up) and a mantle. It reminds me of an Irish hut. The roof is strapped down with hurricane cord threaded through the rock walls. Chances are, this exposed knob has weathered a few storms.But I can't camp here. There is no water. Notes kindly gives me some of his water, but I need more to cook. Do I stay or do I go?The others have left, except for Notes and Whitewater, a section hiker. Notes is game to walk on further now that the evening is so pleasant and cool, so we hike for another two hours and change. A flat spot is hard to come by on this 4000 foot ridge. Notes' feet are bothering him, and he's ready to stop.Slightly uphill off the Trail, a flat spot large enough for both tents beckons, the first in miles. We come hither. There is a great sunset, and the lovely "God's Thumbprint" lies below. We have been curling around and looking down on the fertile Burke's Garden, a 20,000 acre community of farmers, direct descendants of the German settlers. This 5X10 mile green jewel of a valley is completely ringed by a rim of mountains. Only one road leads over the mountain to the world outside, and it slices the valley in two. It's the sort of place that makes a person want to get a few good acres of bottomland and settle down. I settle down in my little rim-perched tent. It feels great to take off my shoes.