Date: 2018-08-27
To: Appalachian Dreamer Hiker Hostel (VA 610)
Miles today: 21.7
Weather: scattered clouds

A warm night passed quietly at Partnership Shelter. Despite the shelter facing east, only my alarm got me up shortly after six. I feel lazy, being used to a 5am wake up from the sun during my June hike. The calzone is sitting right where I left it, and after a couple unsure bites my stomach decides it is definitely hungry and finishes it off. This is a great shelter and I'm sorry to leave but it's time to press on. The Mount Rogers visitor center is still deserted as I pass at 7:30. The morning passes uneventfully, mostly following a ridge north towards the Great Valley where I-81 passes. I see numerous white-tailed deer today, running fleetly away from me. Not your tame, block-the-trail, Shenandoah deer are these. The skies are clear and the temperature and humidity climb but are manageable. I am on webwalker duty all day, collecting countless webs on my arms, legs, and my hair and face. I'm not used to this for more than the time it takes to reach the next shelter or stealth site. It just shows that no one else has been through this area, maybe for a day or two. And indeed, I see no other hikers all morning.In late morning I reach the Settlers Museum, showcasing a farm and one-room schoolhouse from circa 1890 and artifacts from German and Scotch-Irish settlement of the region in the mid-18th century. The visitors center is closed but I get to talking with a local walking his rotund dog. He retired early from management at the Pepsi plant in Wytheville where they put out a quarter million bottles a day, and he's full of stories about local soft drink lore. This is where Mountain Dew started (sold out to Pepsi in 1965 for a paltry million bucks) and where Dr. Pepper's inventor got his inspiration from a Dr. Charles Pepper, the unamused father of a girl he attempted to court. The schoolhouse is a restful spot complete with hiker box where I snag some oatmeal. There are whimsical lists of the Puritan-like rules for teachers (men may take one evening to court, two if they attend church regularly) and punishments for students like 4 lashes for playing in the creek.  Down to I-81 I go through meadows and over rail tracks. It's my first taste of commerce since Damascus three days ago. I get a half pound burger at the Barn, famous for homestyle cooking. It tastes amazing on Texas toast. The waitress is very accommodating, letting me charge my phone, fill my water bottle, and stamp my AT passport. I joke that I'm so high maintenance. I grab a couple drinks from the gas station and head north under the interstate. Lost in thought I cover much of the ten miles. I told Mack of the Appalachian Dreamer Hiker Hostel to expect me at the road at 5:30 and I realize I'm going slower than expected. So I get my second wind from an iced tea ("slightly sweet" is the least sugary option they had here in sweet tea country), and charge up Walker Mountain. It's a steady incline of 450 feet per mile over two miles and I reach the top in 32 minutes, surprising myself that I had that much energy so late in the day. On the way I passed my first hikers of the day. Yay! I'm off web duty! The downhill to the road is a bit of a struggle though as it winds through overgrown fields and meadows with the trail barely discernible. Someone needs to take a DR mower to this field. But I'm right on time and Mack Spainour has just pulled up in his pickup truck. He's got white-haired stubble on his head and face and has a strong southern accent. He's pointing out a rattlesnake in the grass on the opposite side of the road. I'll watch out for him tomorrow. The three mile ride to his farm showcases the bucolic and serene valley. We see no other cars but have to avoid a squirrel, chipmunk, deer, and two dogs before pulling up his gravel drive to a house perched over steeply rolling hills. The neighbor's beef cows graze on part of his land, and his own donkeys and goats mow the pastures close to the house. After shower and a dinner of hot dogs, corn from the neighbor, and excellent home-made pickles I sit out on the front stoop overlooking a majestic sweep of the valley while my laundry spins. It's golden hour and the ridge I climbed over is highlighted, with colorful clouds above. Suddenly I spot a rainbow prominently falling from clouds to ridgeline. I hear hardly a sound other than the chirping of crickets, the lowing of cattle, and Mack's cat meowing to be let in.The bunk room and bath are spotless and have comfortable mattresses and pillows. I am, unsurprisingly, the only guest in this slow season between north- and southbounders. There's a barber chair in the kitchen Mack uses to trim unruly hiker hair (on request), and a jukebox featuring Patsy Cline, Chubby Checkers but predating the Beatles. Mack's restored that and built the bunkroom and generally restored and renovated this property to make it a perfect hostel since he moved here from south of Raleigh after thruhiking in 2005. He's now 75. I haven't heard this place mentioned much among thruhikers but it is an oasis worth your time in this stretch of peaceful hidden valleys.Tomorrow there's likely some showers but I'll be heading out refreshed and basically dayhiking to the next hostel, Saint Luke's, twenty miles up the trail. I never paid much attention to this section of Virginia since it lacks any traditional highlights, but it may turn out to be one of my most pleasant stretches.