“Dude, I think I’ve got an ear infection!”

It’s COLD in the morning, and Mule is hurting.  It’s after 8:00, but none of us are in a hurry to go out into the frigid world, Gritty included.  Mule thinks he has an inner ear infection and needs antibiotics.  Gritty says that if we continue north a couple of miles, there’s a shuttle pickup to a local hostel.  Maybe they’ll have medicine, or at least a way to get Mule to an urgent care or an ER?

I am the first to brave a peek outside.  And WOW- it snowed while we slept!  Looks like 3-4 inches.  

It’s probably about 15 degrees outside, and the wind chill is around zero.

I head for the privy.

The privy has no door, and the open front faces directly into the wind.  Until you’ve experienced swirling subzero wind chill on your nether regions, you haven’t lived.  I made the quickest privy visit of all time while pondering how quickly testicular frostbite can occur.

It’s not a whole lot warmer back in the “shelter.”

We decide to take Gritty’s advice to get off the trail to Garden Mountain Hostel.  The hike down the mountain is beautiful, and the world seems eerily quiet, the way that it always is after a good snow.

We are heading down to Burke’s Garden, known to the locals as “God’s Thumbprint.”  It is a bowl-like 8 x 4 mile fertile depression that resembles a crater.  There is limited road access.  Back in the day, the locals there rebuffed the Vanderbilt estate and wouldn’t sell them land to build their big vacation home, which ended up being built in North Carolina (Biltmore).  The story behind the name is that a surveyor named Burke threw away some potato peelings, and when the survey party returned a year later they found potatoes growing.

We hiked down to the Walker Gap road and called for a pickup.  It didn’t take Farmer long to fetch us and drive us a few miles northeast to the hostel.  Before that, we were offered a hitch by a nice snowplow driver.

As far as hostels go, Garden Mountain was somewhat spartan but well-equipped.  Our upstairs room had 2 clean beds and access to a solid bathroom.  Downstairs was a kitchen and living room area with a wood stove.  Garden Mountain is actually a working farm as well, and Farmer had duties with pigs and sheep.

I celebrated our warm surroundings with a cold one courtesy of the house.

The combination of losing elevation and gaining warmth had Mule’s ear feeling better.  Which was a good thing, because we discovered that he had forgotten his wallet.  No money to pay for a doctor’s visit, and no ID to pick up medications with.  He was nonetheless pretty wiped out and decided rest would do him about as much good as antibiotics.

I spent the afternoon napping in front of the wood stove and playing with Wanda the Dog.  

By evening, Mule was feeling much better.  We decided to cook our planned trail dinner in the hostel kitchen.

While Farmer and his helper Hippie made chili for themselves, Mule and I feasted on African Peanut Stew with Pelau Rice.  SO good.  Hippie scarfed our leftovers and gave it two thumbs up.

Hippie gave me a PBR for an after-dinner libation, and lightweight that I am, I got sleepy.  We were asleep before 9:00.  Day 4: a meager 1.5 miles.

Mule felt much better the following morning.  We were anxious to return to the trail, and arranged for a shuttle from Bubba to Suiter Rd/VA615, which would put us a little further up the trail but allow us to keep to our itinerary.  While Farmer took care of farm chores, we hung out with Hippie for a bit.  Hippie had been up all night on a spiritual quest.  I suspect there may have been mycological aids on his quest.

A SOBO thru-hiker named Pony Keg must’ve arrived after we fell asleep, and he was leaving earlier than us.  He was proud of his HMG pack, which looked like it had held up to the rigors of a thru-hike very well.

While we waited for Bubba to arrive, I toured the grounds and took some pictures.  It was a classic farm setting, made even prettier by the snow.

Bubba arrived around 10:30 and dropped us off close to 11:30.  There are no direct roads to anywhere in Burke’s Garden, so we weaved up and over at least one mountain before reaching our destination.  I was surprised at the good condition of the forest roads.

During our stay, we had received word of Winter Storm Diego racing across the country, with Virginia right in its crosshairs.  We checked the AT weather website, and it was only predicting modest snow for our final night, so we still planned to stick to….our plans.  But we were concerned.

So anyway, from Suiter Rd. we had over 9 miles to hike, and it was nearly lunchtime.  But it was Day 5, we were rested, and suddenly we had TRAIL LEGS!  We hoofed it over a 600 foot climb and then cruised on some friendly trail for 4-5 miles before another 500 foot climb that brought us into view of Bland.  We were excited, because Bland had a new resupply spot right on the trail.  Somewhere along the way we passed a nice vista.

At 2:40 we reached the Brushy Mountain Outpost to our right just as we reached a road.  Yes, we had just hiked 6.9 miles in a little over 3 hours.  That’s about an average speed for your typical thru-hiker, but it qualified as a scorching pace for Mule and myself.

While not all that impressive from the outside, we knew what was inside- a GRILL.  As in, greasy burgers!

The shelves were a little bit bare with it being late in the hiking season, but we saw evidence that a thru-hiker could do a solid resupply there.  They carried all the basics- ramen, Idahoan, pouches of tuna, various bars, etc.

We weren’t interested in that though.  We were on a mission for grease, and we scored.  We were lucky too in that they were just starting their winter hours, and would be closing in 20 minutes.  If we had arrived to a closed outpost I might have sat in their parking lot and cried.

I ponied up for a bacon cheeseburger, cajun fries and a large Powerade, which I devoured while recharging my phone.

It turned out that my strange food craving for this week was ketchup, not normally something that excites me.

We left the store around 3;30 and, following a road crossing of I-77, made quick work of the 2.5 miles to Helvey’s Mill Shelter, which was on a 0.3 mile side trail.  While we walked this trail we grabbed firewood.

Nobody else was there when we arrived.  What was waiting at the shelter were stacks of small sticks under the shelter- dry wood!  Mule had carried a stash of fatwood we found a couple of days earlier, and he quickly got a nice fire going.  Which was nice, because as the sun went down it got COLD.

We were both still full from our burgers, so we just had some snacks for dinner.  Mule went to get water, and then we dried out our shoes and socks over the fire.  Around 7:00 we turned in.  Before doing so, we checked the weather forecast again.  It was getting worse.  Day 5:  9.4 miles.

In the morning (this is now Friday) we texted Neville and learned that Diego was currently forecast to drop at least a foot of snow at Wapiti Shelter, where we planned to be, on Saturday night.  She was insistent that “we have to get you guys off the trail.”  A foot of snow would have been interesting to hike out in, but I knew that we would be unable to drive home from Woods Hole in those conditions, so we had no choice but to bail.  We debated whether to hike a few miles further to a road crossing, or to hike back to Bland.  Mule had not slept well, not being able to get warm at all during the night, and he was about done, so we hiked back to VA612 just north of the interstate crossing at Bland.

While we waited, we noticed a funny sign posted over a large garbage can.

There were no dead bodies in the can, but we did smell out two rotting deer carcasses a short distance away in the creek.  Harf.

We were expecting Neville to pick us up at 10:00, but at 10:10 we heard the familiar sputter of Bubba’s vehicle and its failing transmission.

It took over an hour to reach Woods Hole.  Neville put us in a nice room upstairs.  We were the only hikers there for the day.

It was now lunchtime, and we were hungry.  Neville graciously let me use her kitchen to cook up what would have been dinner the previous night- Indian Butter Chicken.  This might’ve been my favorite meal of the trip.

Neville said she had to run to the Amish store to do errands, but suggested that we all go to Pearisburg for dinner that night.  We agreed and offered to treat her for being such a nice hostess.

While she was gone, we took a nap and then explored the old log house structure.  They have a really cool living room with a wood stove and library that contained many volumes on the AT, self-sufficient living, herbal medicine, wilderness foraging and other topics that might be of interest to hikers.

Neville was a little late getting back, but unlike most women she only took 5 minutes to get ready, and then we were off to Pearisburg….for a Korean dinner.  I LOVE Asian food, and I certainly wasn’t expecting to find any in the little town of Pearisburg, but let me tell you, the Kal-Bee was LEGIT.  We had dumpling and an amazing shrimp pancake for appetizers.

After that, we split orders of barbecued flank steak and bibimbap, the portions of which were absolutely huge.

I was rather torporous after this meal, but I managed to hold the boxed leftovers without spilling anything while Neville drove us back to the hostel. At which point it was straight to bed.  BTW, there was a cat waiting for me in my bed.  And it wouldn’t leave.  Day 6:  LOLOLOL 1.7 miles.  Trip total:  35.9 miles.

We got up early the next morning, paid Neville for our lodging as well as for some of her nice custom pottery bowls and mugs, and began the boring 6 hour drive back to Alabama. We hated leaving Woods Hole.  It’s reputation as one of if not THE best hostel on the AT is well-deserved.

It was kind of disappointing that a planned 75 mile section hike had been cut in half due to illness and weather, but on the other hand we’d had some great experiences and met some even better people, so we still counted this a positive week.  It reiterates what I’ve learned about how you need to be flexible and roll with the flow of the journey instead of being hung up on schedules and miles.  I definitely love the satisfaction of completing an end-to-end section hike. But unlike most thru-hikers, I’m on a limited schedule, and don’t have a flex day or two built in to allow me to adjust to illness or whatever. The parts of the trail we didn’t get to hike will still be waiting for us another day. But you better believe that one day when I get to schedule longer and more epic trips, I’m gonna build in several of those flex days, because when I get a chance to do a bucket list hike I’m damn sure going to get it done.

This was the section hike that went anything but as planned.

Mule had 3 of his 5 kids competing in our state high school swim meet, and he didn’t get back to town until 2 AM Sunday morning.  He spent a (too) hurried 30 minutes packing, and we were off racing to Woods Hole Hostel.  We would later learn that Mule probably brought the wrong sleeping bag, forgot his neck gaiter and left his wallet behind.  The perils of hurrying.  At least his kids kicked butt at the meet.

We had to stop at a convenience store somewhere in Virginia to purchase Mule’s 7 days worth of breakfasts and lunch snacks, and the selection wasn’t adequate.  Poor Mule ended up with a lot of beef jerky and granola bars.  The look on the cashier’s face when he dumped it all on the counter was priceless.

We pulled in to Woods Hole Hostel around 10:30 EST.

We were greeted by Neville, who quickly whisked us off on our shuttle down to I-81.  We had a great conversation along the way.  At about 12;30 we were deposited at the drop-off point and began our hike.  At this point, both of us had gone over 30 hours without sleep, but the excitement of starting a new hike gave us some early energy.

We hiked through some old abandoned fields and orchards coming up from a stream, and at 1.2 miles crossed a stile and entered the woods.  By the way, I loathe stiles.

At nearly 2.5 miles we came upon the old Davis Path campsite.  There used to be a shelter here, but due to abuse it was torn down in 2008.  The privy remains, however, and I consider a privy to be the more crucial of the two structures.

We had some gentle climbs through the woods, and our lack of sleep started to catch up to us.  We passed a father/daughter SOBO thru-hiker team featuring Rocket- aged NINE.  A total little badass.  I wish I’d taken her picture. 

Mule broke out his iPad and played a few crucial tunes to keep us moving.  “Ante Up” got us over a knob and brought us to a rare view on Day 1.

Somewhere towards late afternoon we passed something unexpected.

I don’t have all of those miles hiked yet, but I do have most of them checked off.

At dusk we finally arrived at Reed Creek, where we intended to camp.  The first few campsites we found were quite “moist,” but eventually we found one that was acceptably dry.  We got my HMG Echo II tarp set up, and while Mule worked on our water supply, I got to cooking dinner.  The One Pot Pizza Pasta was a smashing success.

After dinner the temperature started to drop, and since we were both sleepless for about 40 hours at this point, we went straight to sleep and slept like petrified logs.  Day 1:  6.6 miles.

We didn’t wake up until after 8:00 the next morning, and discovered that in our sleep-deprived stupor the previous evening we had forgotten to put the food bag UP.  Something- probably raccoons- had gotten into our food and trash.  Fortunately for us, our ziploc bags foiled most of their efforts at getting our food.  They had better luck with our garbage, but that was easy enough to clean up.  We kicked ourselves for being so stupid.  It just as easily could have been B’rer Bear instead of raccoons.

The climb up from the creek bottom led us through some drier oak woods, where we happened upon this little fella:

Although garter snakes are probably the most cold-tolerant of our snakes, I wasn’t expecting to see one when the temperature was still in the 40’s.  Like any good southerners do when they encounter a snake, we poked at it with my trekking poles.  To make sure it was alive of course.  At least we didn’t call it a “moccasin.”  Many southerners think all snakes are moccasins that need killing. Most feared of all is the copper-headed rattling moccasin.

We then came out into a still-used but kinda beat pasture that had a long, gentle climb.

We then began a long leisurely descent into the Rich Valley, again through some overgrown pastures.  A line of large, obviously planted trees hinted at an old driveway, but we saw no evidence of the actual homesite.

After crossing VA610 at the bottom of the valley we then climbed some more actively used pastures for about a half mile.

A mile later we found ourselves at the VERY low bridge crossing the North Fork of the Holston River at the old Tilson’s Mill.

Apparently, this old mill dates back to before the Civil War and operated into the 1940’s.  It is the last surviving structure of a small community of stores, businesses and a post office that served the area decades ago.

Another mile ahead we crossed VA42, from where there is pickup to Bear Garden Hostel a short distance to the east if so desired.  We continued on and came upon a nice view.

We also came upon our nemesis- the lost bear hunting dog.  Not for the first time either.

The name on the tracking collar said “Perry,” and Perry was one dumb SOB.  He latched onto us like herpes- he wouldn’t go away.  We figured we’d let him follow us to whatever was the next road we crossed.

Well, we didn’t cross another road that day.  Instead, we arrived at Knot Maul Shelter near dusk.

Notice the pile of leaves partly obscured by my black food bag?  Those leaves were placed by ME to cover an excrementary disaster- clearly somebody had nearly shat themselves to death there recently.  There were also surgical gloves and bandages in the fire pit.  We figured something bad had occurred, but regardless, it was nearing dark and we had nowhere else to go- we were stuck with Camp Crap.

*We learned later from several hikers that 2 nights before our arrival, a solo hiker had gone down to get water and slipped, striking their head on a rock while falling, and fell unconscious for nearly 24 hours with their feet in the cold water. When they came to, their feet were non-functional. They crawled back to the shelter and were found by some hunters and carried out. Word was that he was probably going to lose his feet.

Mule went off on a water run, and I had some Massaman Beef Curry waiting for him upon his return that he said was the best meal of the trip.  Perry did his best to ingest my mini scrubbie and be a general PITA.  We fed him the leftovers and a handful of Fritos.  At least he laid down and was quiet when it was bedtime.  Day 2:  7.7 miles.

During the night we got a light dusting of snow.

We also got lower temperatures to match, probably around 25F.  As a result, we weren’t terribly motivated to leave our bags and eat breakfast.  However, the general spazzing of Perry had us wanting to find the nearest road ASAP, so we got moving.  We had a pretty easy downhill stroll for several miles, crossing several small creeks.

After about 3.5 miles we reached a very nice bridge over Lick Creek.

Lick Creek not only has native trout, it hosts one of Virginia’s two populations of the endangered Tennessee Dace.

Amazingly, we acquired a SECOND bear dog after this.  I must be the Pied Piper for stupid lost dogs.  Thank goodness a mile later we reached a forest service road.  Mule tied the dogs up to a tree next to the road, and of course they started tangling themselves up.  We felt kinda bad about leaving them there, but if they had continued to follow us for 50 more miles they were going to starve.  

At this point the miracle we’d hoped for came to pass- Perry’s owner drove up in a pickup truck.  He’d been tracking his collar and figured we were on the AT and would cross here.  We learned that his last name was Perry, and that the dog was actually named, appropriately enough, Homer.  He tossed Homer into his dog carrier, where his comrades greeted him with snarls.  Poor Homer apparently was at the bottom of his pack’s pecking order.

The other dog belonged to a different hunter, and he pulled up 2 minutes later as well.  Both owners said we had done the right thing in tying them to a tree by the road, so we felt a little better about that decision.  Since they were both nice gentlemen we didn’t let them know that their dogs were so dumb they probably couldn’t tell a bear from a skunk, but we let that go.

No longer encumbered by intellectually-challenged canines, we turned to face the over 2,000 foot climb up Garden Mountain.  The first half of the climb was uncomfortably steep, and as we gained elevation it started to snow again.

The grade lessened over the latter half of the climb, and eventually we came out on a ridge crest that had some large recently mowed fields, as well as impressive views of the adjacent Clinch Mountains.

It was cold and windy on the exposed ridgetop, but the two brave hikers soldiered on.

We continued to slowly climb the better part of 2 miles along the ridgetop, passing a pond and a spring before coming to a gravel road leading to a spring just shy of the shelter.  Mule, awesome hiking partner that he is, went to fill our 6L DromLite while I waited.  We then finished the final 0.2 miles to Chestnut Knob Shelter, an old repurposed fire warden cabin “renovated” in 1994.

While it’s stone walls suggested a cold tomb awaiting us inside, any shelter was welcome at this point.  Sadly, there was no fireplace.  We were both frozen and had cold wet feet upon arrival.  We did our best to warm up.  I cooked some Ethiopian Chicken and Red Lentil Stew with couscous for dinner, and then we turned in not long after hiker midnight.  Bourbon may have been consumed.

Two hours after dark, a SOBO thru-hiker named Gritty showed up.  Good dude, and pretty hardcore to have hiked 2 hours in the dark in those conditions.  Day 3:  9.0 miles.