Date: 2006-04-06
From: Flint Mountain Shelter

To: Sam's Gap to Smokey Bowl Family Farm
Miles today: 11.2

Holy Moly. What a fantastically bizarre day yesterday was. The morning was lousy--I felt pretty beat from the day before--muscles more fatigued than ever, and ready for a nap as soon as I woke up, plus I was sad because I missed Casey. Then it started raining and the sky was grey--I wasn't feeling too motivated. At about 2 I reached Hogback Ridge Shelter where I figured I could cool my heels while I decided whether to stay or move on. There I found Tex about to leave, Mountain Goat eating, and Monk and Dud hanging around. Mountain Goat decided to head out, and the rest of us decided to stay eventhough we had only done 8.8--it was still raining, I was tired anyway and Casey didn't recommend using his tent in the rain.But--as Mountain Goat was trying to muster the gumption to go, a few things occurred. Dud opened the register and found a cardboard sign reading, 'Welcome Home--Come to Smoky Bowl Farm--showers, food' and some entries in the register about being 'hippie-napped.' At first we laughed. Haha, good April Fool's joke, "Smoky Bowl Family Farm," good one...and so on. But then we started wondering, as our thru-hiker bellies started to get the better of us--hey, the notes were written on April 5th, not 1st...IF this Smoky Bowl Farm does indeed exist, they most likely have lots of FOOD...gosh, I'm sooo hungry...hey, if we go and it turns out that someone was just pulling our collective leg, what's the worst that will happen--it's just 3 miles away that we won't have to walk tomorrow anyway...who cares that it's .5 off the trail, we're HUNGRY...and so forth. After talking and laughing and deciding for an hour, the sun came out, and we no longer had any excuse to hang around the shelter for the rest of the afternoon. Besides, I was feeling a 2nd (1st, really) wind. Off we went, laughing to ourselves the whole time that we were falling for "Smoky Bowl Farm"...ridiculous. We walked the .5 down an extremely sketchy road with more abandoned and torn apart vehicles, furniture, houses, etc than I have ever seen all together, until we saw a house that looked more inhabited than some of the others--the barn in back was painted rainbow, as were parts of a tree, there was a spray painted sign that said 'Welcome Home' and a bunch of friendly dogs...if Smoky Bowl Farm exists, we decided, this must be it. Mountain Goat was the bravest of us--he walked up, knocked and inquired--'yup, you're in the right place,' said a kid with a tatoo across his face, suspenders, a chicken bone necklace, an old hat with holes in it...followed by a tall skinny guy with dreads. The tall guy was Chris, and the small guy who answered the door was introduced as Soup. They sat on the porch and introduced us to all the dogs, and Soup made up a poem about beef tripe. We sat around and talked with Chris while Soup went in to practice a pretty awful riff on a banjo. Chris had just abandoned a school bus he had been living in after hiking 500 miles of the AT. He was sort of a mix of David Brown, Maude, some other kid I can't remember...but, well...less, uh, present. And I think he believes he's invincible.After being informed by an oil-stained guy who appeared in the doorway named WhichWay that the only food they had was some Ramen, we got desperate--Chris pointed us to a cafe 2.5 miles down the road, and we went for it--as much to get away from the Smokey Bowl as to go towards food. Past more derelict plots of land, garbage-strewn springs, and some roadside sheep that were staring at us...on and on. We finally got to the cafe...closed. Some guy who was working out on his front lawn told us there was a diner attached to the Exxon a little farther down, so we continued. The only motorist that passed going our direction was a mangy old man on a 4-wheeler with a small trailor of what appeared to be manure. He was wearing goggles.Then, around the corner...EXXON! And the 'diner' was open! It was sort of a combination gas mart/KFC type thing. We each had 3 heaping plates of food spread in front of us, which garnered stares of awe and stupifaction from other customers. Salads, fried chicken, fried mac, fried onion rings, fries...aaah, a caloric dream come true. We were going to get back when WhichWay and Chris showed up to pick us up. I offered them fries of gratitude. When we got back they offered to let us stay in one of the cabins on property--as it was late, we were exhausted and in food comas, we accepted. Glen, the owner, came out and apologized for Chris not offering us a ride down to food...other hippies appeared in various states of sobriety, cleanliness, and dredlockedness. They played a 1-bar circus song for about an hour and a half on banjo, violin, piano, accordion, drums, and voice. Hmmmm...we eventually made it up to the cabin--a small rickety room with insulation peeling off the walls and plenty of dead spots in the floor. Mountain Goat, Dud, and I fit on the floor and Monk slept on a table. As they had offered breakfast the next morning, we went back upon waking. Glen made some scrambled egg sandwiches, while we signed the register. While we filled our water, we were informed that it was Spring water that 'should probably be fine'...given that they had also talked about a creek that some of them drank out of and 'only got a little sick, so it's probably fine,'...I treated the water when we got back to the trail. Said goodbyes and, thank-yous, and back up to the relative sanity of the trail. Wow. Don't think I'll be revisiting the Smoky Bowl Farm, but it's definitely something vivid to remember.