Date: 2020-07-07
From: VA 606

To: Sugar Run Rd
Miles today: 15.2

Sleeping weather has been fantastic since Damascus. Moderate temperatures and relatively low humidity. If I'm not sleeping in an open shelter I'm sleeping in a bunkhouse with open windows. Last night at Lickskillet Hostel was just as pleasant. So I woke energized and ready to take on the trail.Mongo dropped Dead Bear and me at route 606 where I left off yesterday. Mongo's planning to close the hostel for the season, or at least until southbounders start appearing, and go hiking himself. The tragedy for many hostel owners is they are hikers themselves, but are too busy during prime hiking season to get away. The trail remained well-graded and easy walking. Two miles in I headed down a side trail to Dismal Falls. A creek flows over bedrock before cascading down solid steps into a clear pool large enough for swimming. I took off my shoes and carefully crossed barefoot over the ledges through ankle-deep cascades. No one was about, so I went skinny-dipping to avoid soaking my clothes. The water was warmer than I expected, and quite refreshing. The sun was high enough to illuminate the pool and nearby ledges. After drying out and returning to the trail I followed it along a creek for a ways through dense rhododendron thickets. It remained in the bottomlands for many miles, crossing innumerable streams over wooden trestles and logs. Water, water everywhere today. If only we could divert a couple of these streams south to yesterday's dry stretch.At Wapiti Shelter I caught up with Tortoise, Butcher, Waterqueen, and her friend Mountaineer, an attempted thruhiker who left the trail and is joining her for a couple days. They'd hiked less than seven miles and were restless, so decided to push on at least through the coming climb.The trail climbed 1400 feet over a couple miles, though the tread remained mostly dirt. It was easier going than I expected. Near the top I chatted with a southbounder named Billy. He had a massive unkempt white beard and locks, and a huge, dirty pack. He'd just come from Woods Hole hostel and couldn't stop recommending it. In fact he couldn't really stop talking at all and the conversation started going in circles. I had to politely take my leave after twenty minutes. The trail took a rocky turn in the last couple miles, circling Sugar Run Mountain. I left it at Sugar Run Rd to walk the half mile to Woods Hole Hostel. A restored nineteenth century log cabin perched on the hill facing into the sunrise, it presides over a collection of cabins, a bunkhouse, gardens, farm dogs, and goat pastures. Neville the owner was out but several itinerant helpers showed me around. One, a slight kid with a wispy beard who goes by Tennessee Slim, is working a few days to pick up cash, doing yard work and repairs. He and his Siberian husky are hiking without a destination for six months. Woods Hole is famous for organic home-cooked meals, but it was a busy day so Neville brought back Thai takeout. She rang the dinner bell on the porch and the guests and staff went around to introduce themselves and say what they are thankful for. I named the good people I've met on the trail (which is nearly all), but even more so my family at home who have been so supportive. Afterwards Sunshine, Butcher, a retired thruhiker named Boats, and the raft of helpers dug in. Boats lives on a houseboat and travels up and down the eastern seaboard. His wife is currently supporting his hike by car. Butcher is retired law enforcement who lost his wife to cancer a few years ago. A double rainbow appeared over the valley after dinner, just to remind us this may be as close to paradise as it gets.