Date: 2011-04-23
From: No Business Shelter

To: Uncle Johnny's Nolichucky Hostel
Miles today: 5.7
Weather: clear sky

(In which I nero at Uncle Johnny's)I get up at 5am so that if my shoes and summer gear have arrived at the hostel I can send my winter gear back home before the post office closes at noon. Sending my winter sleeping bag home before Roan Mountain might be a mistake, I realize, but given that I need my shoes and want to minimize the number of maildrops, now is the easiest time to make the switch. I hastily arranged this package only a few days ago, but I plan to soon arrange to have an actual maildrop, with time for anyone who wishes to send anything (so long as it's edible).I carefully carry my gear out of the shelter to my bear bag and slowly pack up as I wake. When I leave at 6am dawn has not yet begun, but the half-moon is high enough in the sky to allow me to walk without my headlamp. Having not consulted the guidebook or paid close attention to the trail talk at the shelter, I am surprised to find that, five miles out of Erwin, the trail spends almost all of its time gaining elevation. It winds up at a grand height overlooking the very near city of Erwin, TN and an impressive river. After the climb, I walk down to the river. At the bottom I expect to have to hitch three miles in to town, and am pleasantly surprised to find Uncle Johnny's Hostel, where my package was sent and where I hope to spend the night, waiting for me just a stone's throw from the trail.Coming in to Uncle Johnny's around 9am, I see 'Blazes hanging out on the front porch of the hostel, writing postcards. After I have said hello to 'Blazes, Uncle Johnny himself comes out and introduces himself. He has a long white beard and a tremor in his hand, and is as laid back and polite as anybody I've met on the trail. He checks me in to the hostel, pointing me toward the bunk where Earl Shaffer slept on his 50th anniversary hike, and I instantly feel at home.I am disappointed to find that my package hasn't arrived yet, and so skip the free 10am shuttle to the post office. (The shuttle driver walks around the hostel calling out, "Post office run!" When this fails to generate sufficient interest he switches tactics, calling out, "Post office and beer run!") At 10:30am, my package arrives with the postman, and I hurriedly unpack it, pulling out shoes and socks and surprise fudge (thanks Ramona!). I swap my sleeping bag and camera lens with the ones from the box, and tape the box back up. Now I just have to get the four miles to the post office before they close. Uncle Johnny gives me directions to the best place to hitch hike, 0.3 miles down the road, and I start walking. I only get a tenth of a mile or so past the spot when an SUV stops to give me a ride. Greg, the driver, is only going a mile down the road to the Holiday Inn, but is a weekend hiker and decides to drive me all of the way to the post office anyway. He waits outside while I drop my package off, and takes me back across town to the Holiday Inn.The Holiday Inn is next to a gas station and convenience store, and outside I find Sam and Morgan, done with their Spring Break hike, sitting on the curb munching food. Sam-I-Am and Origami show up soon after, and I go inside to buy Pringles and soda, and join the hiker picnic on the pavement. Sam-I-Am and Origami are also looking to get back to the hostel, a mile or so away, and when we see an old VW bus pull in to refuel, Sam-I-Am declares that our ride has arrived. She tells a story of trying to hitchhike to a campground near Crater Lake and having no luck until finally spotting a VW bus off in the distance and knowing that they were saved. She is so busy telling this story that the van pulls away before we even think to go ask for a ride. She runs out after it, waving her hands, and though it is already down the street, the van slows and then turns around to pull back in to the gas station."You know," the driver says, "I was almost going to drive up and see if you guys needed a ride." We pile in to the back of the van, a restored '74 Transporter, Bryan, the driver, tells us. He too is a hiker, and I see AT maps lying on the floor of the van. He drops us off near the hotel at an Easter weekend trail magic barbecue, and we thank him for the ride. Having just eaten, we nevertheless stuff ourselves at the barbecue. When we finally go -- Sam-I-Am and Origami up the trail, me back to the hostel -- we take, at the insistence of the organizers, handfuls of crackers and granola bars to bring on the trail.Having unpleasant initial town experiences, I am coming to better appreciate the allure of the trail towns. I even understand now how for some hiking is simply an activity you do to have something in common with the other hikers, and as a means to getting to the next town. I remember reading a PCT journal in which hikers were classified as hiking the trail to get to the next town versus stopping in town to help get back on the trail. I started in the second camp, but have slowly shifted towards a balance between the two.Sitting with the other hikers at the hostel, I can imagine the restful, stable pleasure of getting off the trail in a town like Erwin, letting the hikers come to me and meeting a continuous stream of new people. I can imagine, too, the eventual jealousy of the hikers, whose stories will continue up the trail, and whose perpetual movement gives them an implicit sense of hopefulness. I am glad I am a hiker, and I am glad that, for today, I can rest and enjoy the pleasures of Erwin.