[at-l] Easter in Erwin, part 1

[ATnavi@aol.com]

Green: pale shades, the color of spring, seeping over the hillsides and down 
the hollows of North Carolina and Tennessee. Dogwoods bursting in white, 
pink, and red. 

Blue: attitudes, train cars. The good folks hunkering down in Erwin, 
interrupting their hikers for two to four days, doing so because of dreary 
days, neverending, crushing their spirits, laying them low.

When I walked into the bunkhouse this Saturday at Johnny's, a motley 
assortment of hikers greeted me. Slowdraft, the only woman in the place, 
looking forward to hiking through home when she reached Harper's Ferry. 
Eventually, figuring he'll have to flipflop if he keeps up the zero days, but 
getting into the zen of the journey. Krispy, looking for the silver lining; 
Shakespere, working through nagging doubts about why the heck he's on the 
trail in the first place. And damn if Shaggy doesn't look just like his 
namesake-- I half-expected to hear Kasey Kasem's voice. Of course he's 
carrying  Scooby Doo with him.

"Oh, it's you!" 
Huh?
"Yeah, Sarge woke us up at 8 AM, said we had to clean the place up because a 
writer lady was coming."
Geez. Talk about awkward. So I talked about my writing, and needing to 
interview Johnny, and hanging out with artists for the past week up at a 
mountain retreat. I get tidbits from everyone's lives in return...but the BIG 
focus, per usual, is food.  They're waiting for the overwhelmed Miss Janet to 
run them into town to buy groceries. Another round of hikers swarm the car; 
this crowd loses out. 

"C'mon, I'll take you." I lead them out to my big red wagon. 
Shakespere grins. "Cool! Navigator packed in a car!"

It's a fight as to which store comes first; I suggest Dollar Bargain, but 
they're dying to hit the Food Lion first. Shakespere wanders into Radio 
Shack. "Maybe I can find a radio." I wander through the store with Eventually 
and Krispy, pointing out offbeat but cool backpacking foods. "Wow, what a 
selection of ramen!" Eventually looks mezmerized. Only a thru-hiker would 
care about the 15 different kinds of ramen in this store. "But they don't 
have french onion!"

Ah well. But we do find the irradiated bacon. Slowdraft's done ages before 
the guys are, waiting patiently at the exit. 

On to Dollar Bargain. Eventually just HAS to check the grocery store in this 
plaza for french onion ramen. "Nope. None." In the bargain store, Krispy has 
a "doh!" moment. "Oatmeal is only a dollar here, and I just paid $2.69!" I 
refrain from the "told you so!"

It's 2 PM and they talk about a meal. A second lunch. "Gee, aren't you 
hungry? C'mon, let's get something. We'll buy you lunch." We walk to Pizza 
Hut. "Buy me a beer. Oh shoot, this is Erwin-- can't do that." So I do salad, 
watching the throng around me consume mass quantities. To their credit, they 
DO take part of a large pizza back to the hostel, where it immediately begins 
to disappear. Ah-- but have to stop at the Exxon for the beer, first!

Johnny asks me about joining Janet in hauling hikers out for entertainment in 
the eve, and I agree. As dusk falls and the hostel fills to the brim, Janet 
shows up. "Follow me to the Holiday Inn!" Between us, we stuff an assortment 
of a dozen-plus hikers in the two cars, head for the hills-- Jonesborough, 
where there's a bluegrass concert going on, a real country deal, inside a 
produce dealer's barn with a church-group cake booth in one corner. Hikers 
find the food, of course. And start mingling with the local folks. It's an 
interesting scene to watch, when the spark catches and the unsuspecting local 
says "Hiking the Appalachian Trail?,"  unprepared for the torrent of feeling 
that pours forth from each hiker. Powerful.

Folks are clogging, and some of the hikers decide to join in-- first 
Rochelle, then Kokopelli, and soon they've got Yahtzee and some of the other 
guys on the floor. Eventually asks me if I dance, and I say no, and thereby 
get out of being pulled into some square dancing. The musicians are good-- 
and having never seen live bluegrass before, it amazes me how close the set 
of instruments is to a string quartet, only the sounds they produce are so 
completely different, so fitting for these mountains and hollows...

It almost takes an act of God ("whisper STEAK in his ear," I said) to pry the 
dancers out of the barn and back on the road so we can get to Johnson City 
before the steakhouse closes. Back at the interstate, Janet pulls off in a 
parking lot. "I've got some vegetarians in the car." Ooops. "I'll take 'em 
back to Johnny's" I say.

Back at Johnny's, I swap two vegetarians for two meat-eaters and hit the road 
again. "Can you turn the music down? Why are we going so fast?" Ah, the 
delicate sensibilities of thru-hikers. Janet leads me down a few false paths 
but doesn't manage to shake me, and under the glare of the Walmart lights 
("hey, how less trail-like can we get?") we find the Outback steakhouse, 
stumble in. Less than an hour before closing time. It doesn't take them long 
to seat our crowd, though, despite the fact they have to push three tables 
together.

Separate checks. Drink orders. "I have to see your id. Where y'all from?" Out 
come the driver's licenses, the stories. "We're hiking the Appalachian 
Trail!" "Cool!" says the waitress, who, moments later, drops a glass of ice 
water down Firemaker's bath. But he's been under the control of the Alien in 
Janet's car (watch for it at Trail Days) and laughs it off. "I needed a 
shower!"

Vast quantities of beef, beer, cheese fries, onion blossoms appear and 
disappear. Conversations ebb and flow, too numerous to follow. My head is 
ringing; I've been up since 7 on 6 hours sleep and already spent 6 hours 
driving around today. "So, we going to the club?"

Uncle! "Janet," I say, "if you want to take some of these guys to the club, 
go for it. I'll take the rest home." Maybe that explains the puppy-dog eyes 
on several of the guys. Any hiker babe in a storm....ah, dry spell. "I mean, 
Johnny's. Y'know."

We stumble in the hostel after 1 AM; I find my bunk, and despite the lurid 
philosophical discussion going on outside the room, dissolve into oblivion on 
the firm mattress, reminding me of falling asleep on the Indian Railways 
train...

(to be continued)


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