Date: 2011-04-27
From: Moreland Gap Shelter

To: Kincora Hostel
Miles today: 6.1

(In which I nero at Bob Peoples' pad)The forecasted storm never arrives, though the wind blows throughout the night. Before going to bed I meet Craig from Germany (his actual trail name I've since learned) and Henrick, whom I have not seen since we shared breakfast at the diner in Hot Springs.They get up early in the morning, and I get up earlier than I had planned as well, starting to hike in the cool, overcast weather that still makes the occasional threatening rumbles. I don't feel sore after yesterday's long day, but the miles seem to drag on, and I feel like I've hiked almost twice as much as the stated six miles when I finally get to the road crossing for the hostel.Walking up the road to the hostel I see several unfamiliar hikers walking down from the hostel to start hiking. I nod as we pass, and wonder how many days or weeks it will be before we meet again.The hostel itself is a house set off the road, and I am sure it is the right place mostly because one of the passing hikers told me which mailbox to look for. I find a house filled with dorm bunks and occupied entirely by a dozen or so hikers. Bob and the other guy are out making shuttle runs in to town, one of them mentions after I have walked up, but I can throw my stuff on an unoccupied bunk and toss some money in the donation box.I don't have food or internet, so I spend a lazy morning showering, doing laundry and reading. I brought my Kindle in large part so that I could read books, but the hour I spend reading at Kincora is more than I've read on the rest of the trip combined. My time, I find, is consumed by hiking, eating and writing when I am on the trail, and resupplying, socializing and computers in town. Though I am hungry and had been looking forward to getting some new food, I appreciate the relaxation of this forced break.When Bob Peoples shows up a few hours later, he wears jeans, a t-shirt and a red baseball cap. He walks in to the hostel and starts chatting with the hikers. A young woman has a knee injury that won't heal and Bob counsels her like a concerned grandfather. When he has helped her figure out a plan to fly home and see a specialist, he continues chatting, telling stories, joking and listening intently to each of the hikers.He is short with a white mustache and speaks with a lisp that, along with the appearance, makes him seem uncannily like Elmer Fudd. (The similarity is so strong that only when rereading the previous paragraph did I realize I had written "Elmer" each time in place of "Bob".) I have heard that Elm-, er, Bob, has learned to make use this image, and the unintimidated goodwill it generates, but that he does indeed have a heart of gold, and is tirelessly devoted to making the trail, and the world, a better place.Having timed my food to run out shortly before getting to the hostel, I grow hungrier with every hour that passes without an opportunity to catch a ride into town and resupply. No Problem shows up with two dozen eggs and offers eggs cooked to order or self-prepared to whoever is interested. When he is finished with the skillet I cook two scrambled eggs and, with the help of some of No Problem's bread, have the best egg sandwich I have ever had.I spend the afternoon reading and lounging with other hikers. I meet Pepper and Chili, a father and son team who hiked the AT last year and hope to finish the triple crown before Chili turns 15. They're hiking parts of the AT again this year to stay in shape before their PCT hike next summer. Hostels provide more interaction opportunities for hikers than the trail itself, and I feel sorry for the hikers who skip them to save money or hike more miles.At 5pm it is finally time for the shuttle into town, and 17 hikers cram in to the front and back of a small-sized pickup truck. In town we variously buy combinations of groceries, pizza, soda and beer and cluster together on the sidewalk, eating, talking and gazing at the strange suburban buildings and shoppers. How strange it seems, this world of concrete and cars, we hikers think, and from the looks on the shoppers' faces, the feeling is mutual.