Date: 2020-07-04
From: Atkins

To: Chestnut Knob Shelter
Miles today: 24.1
Weather: broken clouds

Woke early at the alpaca farm thanks to a clear sky and an east-facing window. Earlier I had trouble sleeping and went out to the deck to witness a fantastical scene of silvery mist resting in the hollows below the farm, in the glow of the nearly full moon. Ken made us coffee before we took off. He grew up on the Oregon coast and bought this farm with Cyndie in 2014. He remodeled the barn into a home, and is now building a 10-person bunkhouse addition with septic. This area is becoming spoiled for hostels, with at least 3 others within twelve trail miles. But none of them have alpacas! There are also several flocks of hens and a few roosters. Though some are getting aggressive and need to go. Ken recounted the hens he's lost to a fox or which just wandered off, obviously taking a close interest in his flock. One of the hens let me pet her.Crossing under I-81, with a stop at the gas station for breakfast, we wound through meadows choked with tall grass, wildflowers, and prickly plants before returning to forest. For miles we heard an indistinct whine, almost like a siren. Finally I realized it was cicadas. The seventeen-year hatch has been active in western Virginia. We found a few moltings on the trail to confirm our suspicion.A mile in, at the tree line, we found a memorial to Stronghold, the hiker killed near here last year. It was a senseless tragedy. From news reports it seemed he had found new meaning through hiking, so at least he died doing something he loved, and possibly saving another's life in the process.I met married thruhikers Roam and Strider leaving their campsite as I walked by. They're from Tulsa where they've worked three years since college and remodeled a house to flip it. Now they are "homeless and jobless" and planning a life of adventure for awhile. After the AT, perhaps a year working and touring in New Zealand. They started the AT in early March but got off at the NOC when sheriffs blocked off Graham county (Fontana) to all outsiders late in the month. They returned in May and are on day 62. Strider's lost at least 30 pounds and trying to eat more. He looks and apparently feels healthy. Sedentary people often see drastic weight loss early in the trail until their body adjusts.We had to navigate more overgrown fields. Our legs became itchy and swollen from all the brush. The sun, so long missing in action last month, was now brutal and unforgiving out in the open. Going under the trees the temperature instantly dropped ten degrees. The growth was so thick and high it was difficult to follow the trail as it switched back through the meadow. We had to bushwhack a couple times to regain it.Here, two or more mountain ridges removed from the interstate, the valley is sunny, green, and above all quiet. Only the birds are heard. A car rarely appears on the road running down the valley. The homes are spaced so widely even Daniel Boone - who once looked out his window and, seeing smoke rising on the horizon, declared the neighborhood was getting too crowded - would be happy.After twelve miles we took advantage of a break at a hostel right near the trail called Bear Garden. Bob and Roberta ushered us into the air conditioned bunkhouse where we cooled down with cold drinks and ice cream. A young thruhiker named Rooster was there, another who started in March and came back in late May. Roberta said there's a small bubble of hikers about ten days ahead, judging from the 5-6 people who were staying there daily.It was tough to pull ourselves away from this little refreshing vortex. Roam and Strider arrived and decided to call it a day after six miles. The heat was getting to them, and apparently they were still recovering from some big miles they'd done earlier in the week. They plan to press on until they run out of time and then flip up to Katahdin to finish the rest southbound.Sunshine and I dithered about how far to go, but followed our usual pattern of hiking into the setting sun and climbed twelve miles and two thousand feet up to Chestnut Knob. Here there is an enclosed stone shelter - due to the exposed wind and cold on this partially bald ridge. We are the only ones inside, though I spotted tenters at the treeline some hundred yards off. The meadow is thick with grass and it's difficult walking anywhere off trail. On the way up we met a dayhiker out very late in the day. He was geocaching, and showed us an ammo box he'd found with logs inside. He planned to leave a Union Jack patch which he said already had 80,000 miles on it.We also had a rare creek to ford. The bridge had washed out quite spectacularly, with the broken carcass pushed against the far bank. The water was shallow though, so the only question was whether to plow right through or go barefoot. Sunshine busted through like he did on PCT crossings. I valued my dry feet too much after so many days of soggy feet and took off my shoes. This may be the last ford until MaineAtop Chestnut Knob at the shelter, a beautiful sunset glowed behind trees, while in the east the full moon rose with near-blinding brightness. In the rural valley below scattered farms and homesteads shot off fireworks until well after dark to celebrate Independence Day.