We left Trail Days and drove to Middle Creek Campground, where we would finish together and I would continue alone. A shuttle driver gave us a ride back to where I got off at the McAfee Knob parking area. He had been hiking and living near the AT for 30 years, so he was very informative about the trail. He said the trail culture has changed over the years, something about "spoiled kids" thruhiking. He glanced in the rear view mirror. "You're not spoiled, are you?" he asked. "Absolutely not," I assured him, looking at my mom. He dumped us off at an overflowing parking lot and we headed up the trail.
Somehow my mom managed to come out for one of the easiest and most beautiful sections. She decided to go by the trail name Lil' Bit. If you want to know why she chose that name you will have to ask her, but as she was only on the trail for a little bit, it was fitting.
McAfee Knob is possibly the most photographed view on the AT. If angled right, the photo will show you sitting on a rock jutting dangerously over a valley. I had been looking forward to this shot for a long time, so it had to be perfect. But I should have known better, shoving a smartphone into the hands of a baby boomer and expecting her to know how to use it. It took five trips back and forth to explain how to press the shutter button, zoom in with a pinch, and record, until I was finally satisfied with the pictures. Out of 53 taken, one had to he good, right?
The first morning I left to get water while Lil Bit finished packing. I met her going down to the water source as I was coming back up. She still had her pack on. I laughed. Lesson number one: don't carry your pack more than you have to. I left mine at the shelter. I told her I would wait for her there. I sat on the edge of the shelter, swinging my legs and reading the log book, when suddenly I realized I had just shoved the filter into her hands without showing her how to use it. She's a smart lady, she'll figure it out. Still, I rushed down to the spring and found her coming back up. She had filled her containers with unfiltered water in hopes of filtering it at the shelter. Because we would need more water to rinse the containers out and make them clean, I went back to the spring with her to show her how to use it. I had forgotten what it was like to be in new territory.
This section was proof that the trail makers want to make hikers lives miserable and possibly even kill us. A blaze led you to the edge of a cliff when there was a clear path through the woods. The switchbacks were longer than they needed to be, and the trail had you walking on the tops of boulders rather than the soft forest floor a mere 10 feet below.
I was even more convinced of their evil plans when the "temporary campsites" they set up were under dead trees and down steep hills. We decided to move a bit further past the designated campsites and found a perfect area big enough for 6 tents. Why they hadn't designated that area was beyond me.
I stood in the rain watching Lil Bit pack up; she was making everything perfect. On days like today I just shoved everything into my pack. We were only going a few miles; I could deal with it in town. Once we got going she seemed slower than usual, and I was especially impatient because I wanted to get into town in time for breakfast. "I thought you said it was a slow morning," she said after one of my impatient comments. It was true, I had said that earlier from my hammock as I watched the rain drip from my tarp. "It's always a slow morning when you wake up and it's raining... you can stay in bed a little longer. But when you hike, you move fast, especially because of the rain," I explained.
We still ended up getting into town too late for breakfast so we headed over to a barbecue place for an early lunch. We were the only ones there, and we were delighted to find we had been seated at the same spot George H.W. Bush had sat when he visited Daleville, VA 10 years before. I really wanted a hamburger and fries, but apparently their barbecue was very good too. The indecisiveness was killing me, so to solve my dilemma, I got both. The waitress brought out a heaping plate of barbecue nachos. I started scarfing them down in front of Lil' Bit. "Oh look, she brought out two plates to share," my mom noted. Oh. I had noticed there was a plate tucked under the nacho plate, but it didn't cross my mind that that was for sharing. As I forlornly watched my nacho pile get cut in two, we waitress came over. "Oh I didn't realize those were to share, I would have brought a share plate." I hadn't realized they were to share either.
"I know you are still eating, but you are saving room for the banana pudding?"
The waitress asked, as I demolished my hamburger. I assured her I was. Thruhikers got free banana pudding. I suppose it was clear from my rain-plastered hair and dirty clothes that I was a thruhiker, not to mention the horrendous smell. She brought out two puddings. Lil Bit got one too (or was it two for me?)! Guilty by association?
We hiked the remaining miles to Troutville where there was a city park to camp at for free. I had always wanted to camp in a park, but I'm pretty sure it is illegal. Now was my chance. So many choices.... should I sleep on the merry go round? The tunnel? On that lofted fort? The picnic pavilion? We set up on a covered stage and headed over to the fire station for a shower. The rest of the day was spent playing a game, watching a hoard of kids run around at a birthday party, and talking to a man who was biking across America. I wondered what the locals thought of all the homeless people sleeping in the park.
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