The rain continued to be an issue for about a week, but then started to clear up. In that time, I made it to a town in Southwest Virginia called Catawba.
Truth be told, there isn’t much in Catawba. Certainly not a big town by any means, the only buildings in the town center are a gas station/convenience store, a somewhat larger general store, and a post office. Yet there is one attraction in Catawba which thru hikers in both directions look forward to getting to for months. It’s simply called “The Home Place”
It’s not much to look at from the outside; it is merely a quaint house perched at the top of a series of rolling hills about a mile and a half outside of Catawba’s downtown (if you could even call it that). But do not be fooled by its meager appearance. The Home Place Offers what could be argued as the Appalachian Trail’s best restaurant cuisine.
From left to right: Spicy honey mustard, sweet tea, biscuits, green beans, fried chicken, ham, corn, beans, lemonade, roast beef, mashed potatoes, apple butter, and cole slaw.
All the food is home made, and every ingredient comes from local sources. It’s served family style, which means that you and whomever you go with (no matter what your party size) sit at one table and all the food is brought to you at one time and you may eat whatever you wish.
The plethora of delicious food isn’t even the best part, however. The BEST part is that it’s an all you can eat place. If you run out of something, you simply ask a waiter for more and they bring you another serving of whatever.
But with a hefty hiker appetite, it’s amazing that they can manage to make any money on groups of hikers at all. It only took 5 hikers about 10 minutes to completely clean out every plate, pitcher, and bowl of anything they brought us. We subsequently got 4 more refills of everything, and still had room for dessert.
And lucky for us 2011 thru hikers, we had a place to go after we were done with our delicious dinner. In the early 2000’s, there was a hostel in Catawba known as the 4 pines run by a man named Joe Mitchell. Apparently, it was a major trail destination, and those hiking back then always had a great time stopping in. But Joe got married around 2006, and the hostel was unfortunately closed at the demands of his wife.
But in early 2011, Joe divorced his wife, and reopened his hostel. Which means that us 2011 guys are the first hikers to be able to stay at 4 pines in over 5 years. Lucky us.
The hostel and Joe’s house as seen from the trail on a nearby mountain.
Yes. Joe owns a deaf dog.
One thing I could not get over, though, is the fact that I was still in my home state of Virginia, but I was very very far from home. And things kept happening around me that made that point more apparent…
Before going to The Home Place, we stopped by the hostel to drop our stuff off and get cleaned up. Joe offered to provide us with a shuttle down to the restaurant, so we were out waiting in his driveway for him to get his truck. About 800 yards away in a clearing across the road, some deer were resting on the side of a hill. I made some comment about how it was a shame that deer weren’t in season at the time to which Joe’s 13 year old son, Josh, replied “Well theys in season fur me!”
He then disappeared into the garage and reappeared moments later with a .270 hunting rifle which was nearly as big as him strapped to his back.
“Geeze man, I was kidding.”
“It’s youth day today! Anyone under 16 can kill any deer with any gun! It’s great.”
He proceeded to cross the road to attempt to get closer to the deer, but they saw him advancing and started to trot towards the treeline. This would not have been a problem, but direct access to the clearing was limited by his neighbor’s fence line, so Josh wasn’t able to move up on the deer quickly enough. Realizing this, he stopped moving, un-slung his rifle, rested it on his neighbor’s fence post, and quickly cracked off a round.
No deer immediately went down, but it was possible that one of them was hit and had fallen just out of sight inside the treeline. Josh begin to navigate around his neighbor’s fence towards the clearing, when his neighbor emerged from inside her house and began to yell at him and wave at Joe to come over.
“Alright guys, let’s go see what she wants and I’ll take y’all to dinner.”
We all got in the truck, and Joe headed across the road. His neighbor was furious.
“Did you see what your boy just did?!”
“Yeah, he shot at a deer.”
“On MY property!”
“This ain’t YOUR property. This is Jim Layton’s place!”
“That’s some BULLshit, this is MY property. I pay the bills here.”
“No. Jim Layton owns this place. You’re just a damn RENTER!”
“Yeah, well we’ll see what’s what. I’m callin the law.”
“Good, you do that.”
Joe then looked at Josh.
“Well, what’re you waitin for? Go see whatcha done, boy.”
Josh shrugged, and then headed up the hill to the clearing to check for signs that he had hit his deer. Joe turned back to his neighbor.
“Ima take these hikers to dinner, and I’ll be back. You know where to find me if you got something more to say…”
He then backed out of the driveway and headed for the restaurant.
Turns out Josh never hit the deer, and Joe was given a citation for improper hunting supervision…apparently, you have to be 100 yards from any dwelling before firing any weapons; giving Josh’s firing position 25 yards from the house would’ve been generous. Joe got the ticket, though, because Josh was a minor and apparently wasn't old enough to know better. Or something.
Now I’m assuming these types of incidents are a regular occurrence down south, but in all the places I’ve lived, nothing like that would’ve ever happened. People in the suburbs of DC simply don’t have the opportunity to hunt deer from their front yards, but even if they did, I don’t think many people would. Nor would anyone bring up a personal distinction between someone renting a property and someone owning a property in any form of disagreement. The whole thing seemed fairly absurd to me…
Still in my home state…but a LONG way from home.
After leaving Catawba, however, I came upon several trail points of interest:
A continental divide…
The site of the plane crash that killed Audie Murphy (most highly decorated soldier of WWII)
And a randomly placed sign that simply read “Captains”
I had no idea what the sign meant when I came across it (and almost went by it) by I figured that I would never be in a situation again when I would come across a random sign in the woods and have the option to follow it somewhere. So I got off trail and made my way down a small narrow path when I eventually came upon a zip line crossing a large creek to someone‘s backyard.
I gave the zip line a closer look. Clearly it was made for hikers, but I seriously doubted its ability to hold me. I debated turning back to the trail, but it was still early in the day and I figured the Captain would provide some sort of trail magic soda or food. Definitely didn’t want to pass that up, even if the zip line was rickety.
I threw my pack down and started to untie my boots. I hadn’t forded anything since Maine, but the water in the creek was calm and only about ankle deep. It wouldn’t be too difficult to switch shoes from my boots to my five-fingers and walk across the creek. I had almost got my first boot off when I heard a voice behind me.
“What the hell are you doin’ boy?!”
I turned. An old portly man was standing across the creek on the opposite bank.
“Are you the Captain?”
“Sure am!”
“Well hi! I’m Foot-z”
“Glad to meet you. Now what’re you doin’?”
“I was gonna ford this creek here. The zip line doesn’t look too--”
“Hell no! You leave your pack there and get in that swing right there. I’ll pull ya across.”
I still didn’t trust the zip line, but I wasn’t about to argue. And If I fell in, at least my pack would be dry.
I got in the swing.
“Alright, now give that tree a good kick and shove off!”
I kicked the tree and flew across the creek, inches above the water. I made it to the opposite bank just fine.
“Come getcha some soda.”
I followed the Captain from the bank of the creek to his back porch. We chatted a while over some soda, when I noticed something rather unusual. An enclosed wood box with a door on it sitting on his porch:
"Say Captain, what is that thing?"
"Oh that? It's a sauna."
"No shit?! That's awesome!"
"Yes but it...doesn't work.."
Ha. Right. What he means is doesn't work for HIKERS. No worries, I wasn't about to ask him to use it anyway...
We continued our conversation, and he gave me advice about the water situation farther south, and helped me get back across the creek. We said our goodbyes, and I headed back to the trail. Despite all the weird people out here, there are PLENTY of good ones.
That night I ended up at a great camp site on top of a mountain. Great views, and the sunset looked awesome.
The nice weather didn’t last, though. On October 1st, I got snowed on. Big time.
Some of you might think this is a majestic and beautiful thing and I am a lucky person for witnessing the first snowfall of the year. But I can assure you that I am not. At 4,500 feet, on top of a mountain, hiking through 2 inches of snow in shorts and a t-shirt that are soaked from falling snow with boots that aren’t waterproof (at least anymore) is not a fun experience. I was totally unprepared. Mainly because October 1st does NOT take place during the winter.
Luckily, the snowy weather was only really for a day or so, and then the good weather resumed. This was an especially good thing because the section of trail known as the Grayson Highlands is a fairly exposed region at high altitude. A very pretty place, complete with picturesque views and wild horses
Would you believe the horses don’t like Snicker’s bars? Tried to give him one and he spit it out. I was offended.
A day after leaving the Grayson Highlands, I arrived in Damascus, VA and took a well deserved 0. I made it a point to stop by the outfitter and get geared up for winter, as well as obtained a new set of boots (totally free thanks to Merrell’s on-trail replacement policy.
Check out the difference:
Left boot: 0 miles
Right boot: 1,390 miles
And not only did I get new boots, but one of my good friends from way way back in the day goes to UVA-Wise, a university in a town not far from Damascus.
She was nice enough to let RedBeard and I stay at her place for a 0 day and relax. We even got to go to class with her. It was fun, but I definitely feel a bit for her roomates and her classmates…RedBeard and I did shower and were relatively clean when she picked us up/when we went to class, but by this point even our town clothes seem to have a damp, harsh smell to them that won’t come out no matter how much they get washed. We probably didn’t smell too good.
Still, it was good to take a 0 and spend a day not hiking. Thanks for everything, Megan!
Then, once out of Damascus, Red Beard and I pressed on further south into TN to reach the famous Kincora Hostel, owned by the legendary trail maintainer and switchback manufacturer, Bob Peoples.
Some words on Bob Peoples. Bob has been involved with the trail as long as anyone can remember. He takes trail maintenance very personally, and frequently organizes crews to clear blow downs, dig anti-erosion ditches, create stone “steps” over/down obstacles, and add switchbacks (periodic gradual inclines up mountains). It is said that Bob Peoples himself has added roughly 16 miles to the trail over the years just in switchbacks alone, although I do not know how true that statement is.
Yet because of his ability to effectively alter the earth’s terra firma at will, AT hikers often jokingly speak of Bob People’s as a trail version of Chuck Norris; an ultimate badass who can literally do anything he wants, even the physically impossible. Common jokes about Bob Peoples include “Bob Peoples gives his boots blisters,” “Bob Peoples can slam turnstyles” and “Every time Bob Peoples builds a switchback, an angel gets its wings.”
He bought the property he lives on now simply because the trail crosses a road less than a mile away from it and it is an optimal location for a hostel. He then built the hostel himself, but only charges $4 a night to stay there (merely to cover the electric and water bills run up by the hikers).
The name “Kincora,” comes from a Celtic phrase meaning “kindness of the heart.” The hostel, attached to Bob’s main cabin residence, consists of one large main building and a treehouse.
Main hostel:
Treehouse:
Inside of treehouse:
The living room of the main building. It has sort of a “club house” type feel:
The walls and ceilings of Kincora are covered with the finishing photos of literally thousands of thru hikers. I plan to send him a copy of mine when I finish, too:
The bunkroom:
And no joke, the man even has a pet raccoon.
The only sad part: Bob Peoples, the man, the myth, the legend…wasn’t there. He had gone to an AT sponsored event up in New England and wasn’t due to be back for several days. Quite disappointing indeed.
The good weather held out for a good few days after our stay at Kincora, though. The fall colors are definitely in full bloom here in TN:
And coming over the Roan highlands was simply beautiful:
But then weather took a turn for the worse, and I hunkered down in a hostel about 20 miles from Erwin, TN for a 0. It’s nowhere near as famous as Kincora, but the lady who runs it, See-see, LOVES Southbounders and has a collection of our footprints on her kitchen floor:
Her logic: Her hostel is at mile marker 364. Therefore, she believes that lots of people can walk 364 miles away FROM Springer...but not everyone can walk 1,816 miles TOWARDS it.
Well...can't argue with that.
Her plan is to fill every tile on the floor with footprints and then seal the whole thing. It seems a bit goofy, but I do like the idea and was happy to help her out:
The main thing about this hostel, though, is the paranoid schizophrenic neighbor next door. The man is seriously a disturbed individual. He is retired, but now spends his life creating trouble for See-see as well as the patron hikers who stay at her hostel.
For starters, the man gets up at 4:30 in the morning (EVERY morning) and runs his ATV up and down the road right next to the hostel, revving the engine and screaming out incoherent phrases in an effort to wake everyone up. He spends maybe an hour using his ATV, but then switches to his lawnmower as a noise making device. Of course he doesn’t actually mow his lawn with it…he props it up on its side and ties the handle down so it runs until the gas tank is empty.
He also makes it a point to put up signs on the trail saying things like “Hostel closed due to death in the family” even though the hostel is still very much open. Or he does things like tear down signs at the trail that point hikers in the direction of the hostel, meaning anyone with their eyes peeled for directions could be mislead or miss the hostel completely.
And according to See-see, the man is simply doing all of this just to get her to move away. She says that before she moved in, the man was alone for miles in either direction. Yet after she moved in, the man decided he wanted her gone and started making life difficult for her.
The following actions have been taken to remedy the situation, all to no avail:
Law enforcement involvement: See-see ignored. Local law enforcement sides with “native” residents (her neighbor) and not “outsiders” (See-see) who move into the area.
3 Civil lawsuits: Verdict for the plaintiff (See-see) in all 3 cases. No effect.
2 Mediation attempts (local conflict resolution in lieu of court): Neighbor feigns forgiveness, temporarily ceases, and then resumes activities.
Countless hiker negotiation/conversation attempts: Hikers are ignored. Or he simply calls them hiker trash and tells them to go away.
See-see’s dinner invites/acts of genuine kindness: See-see ignored/snubbed.
If I was planning on sticking around there for longer, I’d definitely do SOMETHING to try to get him to stop and step in to try to help See-see. But solving the problem might take a while, and it’s just not the kind of time I have.
It had been raining off and on all day yesterday, but I’m at the point in my hike now where I’m close enough to the end that I am in no scheduling time crunch. If I don’t want to be cold and wet, I can take the day off and stick around a nice cushy hostel. With TV. And Internet. And a computer. And Ice cream.
Man. Finishing the trail for good never seemed like a better idea...
Had much better weather today, though. As well as an unexpected slack pack opportunity to Erwin when a hiker rolled into the hostel late last night and bought a shuttle to the next town in the morning from See-see. She ran our packs over to the local outfitter, and we were able to make the 25 mile run without a full loadout.
Awesome stuff.
And now, I have 339 miles to go. So very very close...it's about fricken time. The woods are nice and all, but I definitely look forward to the day where I don't have to get up at 7 in the morning just to hike all day. Sleeping in is nice. I just don't really remember how to do it.
that kid sounds like a BOSS
ReplyDeleteThat neighbor guy sounds like a prick. Anyhow, your "sleeping in" will be more akin to "passing out" when you get back. Expect lots of alcohol and demands for stories.
ReplyDeletePonies!
ReplyDeleteCan't wait to get you back!
ReplyDelete-Emily