Meeting our first long distance bike riders—Two surly girls; arriving at the Appalachian Trail

October 29, 2007: Day 10.

From Near the top of Hayter’s Gap (elevation 3281) to Damascus, VA
Distance: 23.0 miles: Total Distance 266.5

Today we came to two major landmarks. First was I-81 a major north south route we have followed many times on our travels to our home state of Pennsylvania. Second was arrival in Damascus, VA, one of the more famous towns on the Appalachian Trail that we walked in the year 2000. Millie and I (as Sweet Pea and Bear Bag) walked to Damascus from Springer Mountain, Georgia, a distance of 450 miles in about 30 days. We then walked on to the northern end of the trail over the subsequent 6 months. You can read all about that hike at our Trail Journals Blog: http://www.trailjournals.com/ Once at Trail Journals search for Bear Bag and Sweet Pea the Trail Boss.

But to get started today we had to drive back to our stopping point on the upside of Hayter’s Gap in the Clinch Mountains. We had stopped last night at a particularly steep switchback a half mile or so from the peak, and I was concerned about the Trail Boss turning the van at that point. So I suggested he leave me off at the top of the mountain and I would ride the bike down to the switchback and then walk back up. But he wanted to take me to the start for the day. So I insisted we stop where there was room at the top of the mountain and prepare for my days ride.

The preparation included getting out of my breakfast clothes of blue jeans and fleece sweat shirt and into the following: riding shorts, orange over shorts, long sleeve under shirt, neon yellow t-shirt, nylon vest, safety vest and yellow windbreaker, thin balaclava, helmet, fleece bike riding gloves with leather palms, biking sock anklets, and riding shoes with cleat for clipping into the pedals. It was about 40 degrees and at the very peak of the gap the wind was at least 25 mph. Then I mounted the portable pump (which has never been used), the cycle computer, the rear trunk bag (with rain pants, toilet paper, extra tube, and snacks) the small handle bar bag (with cell phone, locking chain, and medical gloves), the MP-3 Player and external speaker, and two bottles of water. When we were prepared, we then drove the mile down the western side of Clinch Mountain to the starting point.

At the starting point there was barely enough room to turn the van so as to be pointing in the easterly direction. I wish I had gotten out, because the Trail Boss wasn’t able to stay off the road and we were maneuvering broadside in the middle of the road at the blind switchback for a considerable period. If a vehicle came in any direction I don’t think they could have avoided us. Especially if a laden coal truck came down the hill we would have been broadsided and pushed many yards down the road or off the hillside. But it didn’t happen and we finally got off the road and turned. I quickly grabbed the bike off the back bike rack and started my mile walk up the mountain. It took about an hour and I reached the top waving to the Trail Boss as I went by. He had wanted to move on off the mountain but I didn’t want to be far out of touch what with the colder weather and my lack of survival camping gear. I didn’t want a small accident, which prevented riding the bike to be able to cause my death from hypothermia. For instance a sprained ankle in a hiker without proper shelter could cause death from hypothermia if the hiker can’t make physical progress and keep warm.

So, as I left the top of Clinch Mountain and started down I came to a cottage sitting with a gorgeous view out over the mountains. I stopped and got the picture of beautiful mountains and valleys for at least 30 miles. As I got on the bike and was coming up to downhill speed my right shoestring caught in the chain! This is a certain crash if not managed properly with a lot of luck. I immediately stopped pedal rotation, braked and slowed and then had to carefully plan a stop so I would lean to the left (my free foot) and put down my foot. If I leaned right the caught shoestring would prevent using my right foot and I would fall over onto the right side possibly cracking my head and for sure bruising my right leg and shoulder. But I pulled it off beautifully when I stopped I fell left and just put my left foot down for support. However, all was not yet saved as I was on a 25-degree downhill slope on my left leg with my right leg stuck over the bike in the chain. I kept the brakes applied so the bike wouldn’t roll, hoped out to the left side to make room to lay the bike on the road, and was now standing left foot on road and right foot on chain rings of the bike. But at least I was balanced although leaning down hill. I reached down and got hold of the pedal, which I now needed to turn by hand to turn loose the offending string. Turning the pedal meant the wheel must turn so could not drag on the road surface. I got it done, and I didn’t fall or twist a knee. Amazing. If the shoestring had caught while I was in full speed down the hill I could have had a catastrophic fall. I was thankful I had asked the Trail Boss to remain behind me today. If I had been injured, there was little or no traffic, so no one would have found me for a considerable time.

I sat and double-checked that all laces were tucked in and then did the free five downhill miles in just about 15 minutes with speeds up to 35 mph. I made good progress to one of the forks of the Holston River and again to a branch of the Clinch River. These rivers are contributories of the Tennessee River, which flows south through parts of Kentucky, into Tennessee, into Alabama and then turns back north through Tennessee and off to the Ohio. So, here in Appalachia we are west of the Eastern Continental Divide.

Finally we got to Meadowview and I-81. We felt like we were home again as we’ve both traveled on I-81 significantly. Soon we crossed (under) I-81 and came to Route 11 the old North South Route through Virginia. There was a nice deli and family food store/gas station at the corner of Route 11 and Route 80/803. They advertised roasted chicken and it was excellent, although the Trail Boss did not partake.

As we sat and ate some snacks and had some fluid replacement, we noted two girls pedaling up Route 803, the road to Damascus. As is always the case with people on the road, we were anxious to hear their story and to learn meaningful trail information (Location of food, water, trail conditions, motels, trail angels, etc.) Well these girls made a half wave ignoring us and headed up Route 11 away from the trail. Then they stopped along the road just 50 yards away. In all my days I had never seen a hiker or biker totally ignore other hiker/bikers along the trail. So I walked over to see them. It was a mistake. They were a surly couple. The taller dark haired one had on some sort of revealing tank top and a short skirt. She kept bending over and exposing breasts smaller than mine. Under the skirt she had a pair of gray worn out long john bottoms with multiple holes showing parts of knees, thighs, and lower legs. She wore a dark colored flowered night gown over her top that extended down to about the mid thigh region. She had scruffy black hair on both her head and her armpits and a bad attitude to match. Her associate was blondish, short haired, and similarly dressed although not so low cut, and much more likable. She had a t-shirt and a white slip over top extending likewise to just above her knees. I think she had a pair of shorts and don’t recall long johns. I don’t know the functionality of nightgown and slip worn over t-shirt and tank top, but that’s the way it was. They did have helmets, but their clothes looked more like camouflage than distinctive bicycle safety wear.

I know my attitude wasn’t the greatest as I couldn’t understand why two travelers weren’t interested in talking to other obvious travelers. They were the first cyclists we saw in over two hundred miles and I suspect they hadn’t seen many either. There is camaraderie of the trail and so much meaningful information to be gained from conversing with those who just traveled your intended route.

So I walked on over to the two who had just ignored us. “Hey, Where are you going?” I asked. “We’re traveling from Rhode Island to Austin, Texas” said the blond with bushy dark underarm hair. “That’s some outfit you’re wearing,” said I. “And you look like some Halloween character in that orange and neon yellow,” said the tall mouthy one. I replied, “I’m just trying to avoid being hit by a car. Why did you avoid us over there? That’s a good deli, and I’d like to buy you lunch.” “We saw benches over here and we don’t eat meat,” said the surliest one. “I didn’t eat meat either for twenty years,” said I, while adding (the fatal mistake), “But you’ll grow out of it like I did.” “That’s condescending,” said the bitch. “You’re too sensitive,” said I, “let’s go get the lunch as they’ll have something you can eat.” “I’m really hungry and need to eat now,” said the ugly mean one. The nicer blond started with me toward the deli, when the jerk said, “NO, we’re not going.” The black bushy armpit blond said, “I’m sorry sir, thank you for the offer, but we must turn you down.” So I walked back to the Trail Boss and said, “I’m going to Damascus. See if you can give those non-meat eating kids something like bananas, peanut butter and bread, soda or whatever they want or buy them lunch in the deli. Give it another shot, but they sure don’t like me much.” The Trail Boss said, “What do I want to do that for?” And I said, “Just do it for me. They are the only people who didn’t talk to me on the whole trip.”

So I learned later the Trail Boss drove over and told them I was just trying to be a trail angel. They said, “What’s that?” And he explained that it’s a kind of unexpected surprise offer of help along the trial that appears out of nowhere and needs management for maximum benefit. He opened the side door to the van showing his stash of goods with an inventory matching a Super Wal-Mart. He said you can have anything you want and they reached for the Bailey’s Irish Cream, stating, “We can really party with that.” He then said, “You can have ALMOST anything you want.” Disappointedly they took some chive crackers, turned down the peanut butter, took my last supply of soda pop, and grabbed a few other things and were quickly gone up Route 11 (the wrong direction) with arm pit hair flying in the breeze. Yuck.

I pedaled on into Damascus some ten more miles and it was a nice trip mostly down hill. The HAPG’s (hairy arm pit girls) must have had a difficult ride up hill all the way. I chuckled as I visualized armpit hair flying by in a slip and a nightgown on two bikes.

In Damascus, Virginia, I rode right into town and stopped first at the Dairy Bar for a chocolate milkshake. I was sitting in the sun in a nice plastic chair (ala Wal-Mart) when the Trail Boss and Van went by. He was driving with both hands on the wheel at 10 and 2 o’clock and staring straight ahead so he never saw me sitting just ten paces off the road. He was headed for The Place, the hostel in town to take a nap.

I finished the milkshake and rode down to Mt. Rogers Outfitters (MRO). Dave the owner is well known on the AT for his service to hikers. On our AT hike our water filter was getting tough to pump so I thought it needed a new filter cartridge which costs about $39. So I went into Dave and said, “I think I need a new cartridge.” “I doubt it,” he said, “have you greased the o-ring?” So he popped the pump handle off, pulled out the shaft, put two drops of silicone lubricant on the o-ring, and it worked perfectly. Then he took out the cartridge and inspected it for filth and said, “You have the best looking cartridge on the trail, congratulations. And here take the rest of this silicone lubricant with you. There will be no charge.” We spent an extra day in Damascus so the next day Millie bought $200 dollars worth of new boots and new pack shoulder straps from Dave.

I walked into MRO and there stood Pirate. The same Pirate we talked about several days ago at the Gateway Motel in Elkhorn City, KY. Pirate is a full time hiker. He doesn’t live anywhere; he lives everywhere. He’s about 50 years old and is said to draw some type of check so he can’t actually starve. He is a member of the group that calls themselves the Blue Blazers or the Hobos and he spends the winter at Lake Okeechobee at the Hobo City. He goes to his sister’s house near our home in Pensacola most years for Christmas. He lists his address as the storage facility he rents near Pensacola. If you hike the Appalachian Trial, you’ll know Pirate. Like horse manure, he’s everywhere. He is a likeable fellow with lots of friends and even made friends with the HAPG’s last night. Pirate said they were nice kids and especially enjoyed some of his whiskey.

Pirate then took me to another store to pick up new riding gloves (fingerless) and to get a new mirror for the bike. The MRO concentrates on hiking although they rent bikes for trips on the Creeper Trail. The Creeper Trail is a converted “rails to trails” trail where an old railroad bed from Abingdon, VA, has been restored through Damascus to an area near Mt Rogers north of Damascus. There are now at least four outfitters (MRO included) in Damascus that haul riders and rental bikes fourteen-mile uphill and north and allow them to ride (mostly coast) back to Damascus on the Creeper Trail. The views of the mountains and streams are gorgeous and this is the height of the leaf season so we saw many full fifteen-passenger vans headed out towing fifteen bikes behind.
I learned from Pirate that Lone Wolf and Gypsy live in Damascus. I first met Lone Wolf in 2000 when he was crew for Mainiac who was attempting to walk the Appalachian Trail in record time. At the same time our friend David Horton “The Runner” was attempting a record of the AT. David had planned for several years to attempt to run the trail from Georgia to Maine in record time. At the time the fastest trip up the trail had been in about 63 days. David recruited Millie and me as his crew for the first four days and had alternating crews to meet him all along the trail. He was to run about 40 miles per day for 56 or so days and beat the record by a week. Well, on the night before his start he learned that Mainiac, a power walker with several previous walks of the AT had also planned a record attempt. And he learned Mainiac started one day ahead. He would walk about 16 hours per day and Lone Wolf, also an experienced previous AT end-to-ender would be the crew. David Horton is a national class long distance runner who has won many a 50 and 100-mile foot race and once ran across America in 60 days.

As soon as we heard this we thought it a joke. How could a walker ever think he could beat David Horton The Runner? So we expected David to pass Mainiac on the first day in Georgia. Well, David did pass Mainiac. He passed him in Vermont! Mainiac was a great walker and he stayed on the trail for often double the hours of Horton. Later they became great friends and Mainiac has competed successfully in running races proving his athletic excellence. You can look up some of this stuff at Horton’s websites: http://www.extremeultrarunning.com/dhhist.htm
http://www.montrail.com/AthleteDetails.aspx?id=134&sport=2

In any event, Lone Wolf and Gypsy hiked some of the Appalachian Trail with Millie and me in 2000. We met them in Stratford, Maine, and spent several days with them. They spent several years hiking, but are now settled into Damascus, the hiker’s town. Gypsy is working at Target and going to college. Lone Wolf is enjoying himself and helping out with “throwing bums out of The Place” and generally keeping the hikers in order.

Cimarron the Trail Boss was real psyched to be getting back to Damascus. We each remember that Damascus is an important landmark on the Appalachian Trail located about 1/5th the distance from start to finish. It is said that if one can hike to Damascus, 450 miles from the start of the AT in Georgia, one can make it all the way to the end at Katahdin in Maine. Cimarron didn’t much like “The Place” when he was here before because of the crowds, but he wanted to stay here now what with just one other hiker present. The hiker was called “Tumbler” and we never learned why. He was a young kid perhaps 25 years old and had commandeered a room on the second floor. When we arrived he was in the shower and steam was coming out the bathroom door. We went off to The Pizza-Plus at the shopping center just out of town and when we came back the steam was still coming out of the shower. It was now about 45 degrees outside and the wind was blowing. I didn’t have a pad for sleeping so the Trail Boss made the bed in the van for me. We went in for a shower and Tumbler said there was good hot water when he ended his shower, “but we might have to wait a while for a good supply.” I noted that The Place has an eighty-gallon hot water tank! I showered in very cool (not hot and not cold) water. This is what I would call a thrilling shower and one the Trail Boss would not like. I went out to bed at about 8:00 as it was getting too cold in the hostel for me. The Trail Boss spent time organizing his stuff. He is one of the world’s most persistent organizers. In the morning he told me the water got warmer after an hour or so. How could the Tumbler use 80 gallons of hot water for one shower?

In the morning the Trail Boss said the Tumbler started a southbound hike 12 miles north of Damascus two weeks ago and had been at the hostel for two days. The Tumbler said he got soaked by rains in his hike and had to come to town to dry up. Pirate said it hadn’t rained in a week. We’ll never know what the kid has been doing for the past 12 days. His story, like so many on the trail, doesn’t add up. It’s the wrong time of year, it’s the wrong place to start, he has 12 missing days in 14, he got rained on without rain, he has cotton clothing, and he is wearing work boots not hiking shoes. Perhaps he should have gone on with the HAPG’s.

It was another great day on the Trans-America Bike Route. Temperatures are expected to be below freezing again tonight and for several nights into the future