Date: 2017-09-26
From: Campsite near Beartree Gap Trail

To: Damascus
Miles today: 12.0

Instead of shouting for joy, the Fall palette is weeping and crying. The falling leaves haven¢t been akin to falling rain. How could I have been so dense? The sound of falling leaves has been the sound of tears.I had expected Fall bursts of color. Back at the University of Oregon in law school, I¢d wait for certain trees, certain stands to strut their stuff on the Fall catwalk, brilliant yellows of van Gogh, reds impossibly bright and rivaling the screaming color of fire engines. Here, the leaves fall like tufts of hair from a cancer patient, splotches of color quickly overridden by shades of brown. Already I walk through stands of trees with silvery branches showing bare. Where is Fall¢s brilliant show?  http://www.trailjournals.com/j...¢Silent Spring¢ ¢Dull Fall¢I have 12 miles to go to Damascus, perhaps the most famous of all AT trail towns. During AT ¢Trail Days¢ in spring the town balloons from 800 to 15,000! Scores of booths, a great hiker parade, an epic squirt gun and water gun fight, and food, food, food. I am on trail at 7:03 am and I walk slowly. Not because I¢m hurting, but the light is still faint and I don¢t want to stumble or fall. The sun pokes its nose up 20 minutes later and illuminates the green tunnel. (Frodo: But isn¢t it now brownish and silvery?)I am thinking about grilled cheese sandwiches. The ones I will make for myself, and or Dot and Franky if they are there at the Virginia Creeper Hostel. Open-faced, multi-grain bread, sliced bell pepper, tomatoes, and green onions tucked under the crispy melted sharp cheddar cheese and the bread bottom slathered with butter and browned. (Frodo: ¢crispy melted¢ may seem like a misnomer, but Scout likes to cook his melted cheese to the point of crispness. Go figure.) At 11:30 I walk into town. The AT saunters down Main Street like it owns the place. Turns out there are 5 of us SOBOs here, a far cry from 15,000. After buying two bags of groceries from Food City I made those grilled cheese sandwiches. Those as well as apple and orange wedges and barbeque potato chips materialized on plates for the three of us. I don¢t know how many sighs of contentment I gave out savoring that lunch.¢Scout, where are the pig photos?¢ That¢s the essence o the message I got rom the three princesses¢ dad. How could I write about them at Woods Hole Hostel and not include a photo?? That¢s a trail sin worth writing down at The Priest Shelter. I called Neville at Woods Hole and she sent me photos. They are pot-belly pigs and they are so cute and adorable they must be named after the Princesses --- Did I just hear an ¢Oh, yuuucckk!¢ from three time zones away? The gray pig is Catherine, the light brown pig with the mud line is Sophia, and that¢s right, Jessica, that¢s the name I give to the spotted one with its belly almost dragging on the ground. The duck is Reuben Scout.  http://www.trailjournals.com/j...You don¢t know how much you miss a kitchen and cooking until you¢re restricted to a stove weighing less than an ounce. Dot, Franky, and I whipped up a salad with grilled salmon, spaghetti squash laden with marinara, garlic bread, brownies and ice cream. I know ¢ foods unrepentant. (Frodo: The last line was squished at the bottom of the page, but I¢m nearly certain that¢s what it says.)