[at-l] Trail Fest

["Cora Drake" <cora_drake@hotmail.com>]

Every hiker's experience of any event is different from the next 
one's; for me, Trail Fest was not at all what I expected and loaded 
with serendipity -- just what the Trail always brings.

Took I-81 south through Virginia between ridges loaded with floral 
arrangements:  little fairy-leaves in every shade of green possible, 
shot through with dogwood and redbud.  Even the sprouting telecom 
towers couldn't mar the glory.

Got into Hot Springs Saturday evening and went straight to the 
Diner.  Knew no one.  Got a little blue.  Found Big John and 
Fannypack in the register; ordered dinner; eavesdropped on adjacent 
thruhikers and eventually butted into their conversations; got 
discovered by Fannypack -- and felt all better.

Traipsed through town with FP. His van now has a fannypack of its own 
-- holds two coolers very neatly! We visited the hostel (excellent! 
I'd never seen it), Elmer's (oh my the memories; Edward Abbey's 
Monkeywrench gang on the water cabinet of the downstairs toilet where 
last year there was a book of Zen sayings) and the NOC campground 
(also new to me; cool) as the sun set on a perfect April day -- the 
day of the PATC Half Hundred.  Ran into Mogo '98 the Blackburn 
caretaker and screamed and hugged and compared notes since Trail Days 
last year.  Missed Trail Boss/Chris Brunton by just hours, I guess.  

98ers included only the best:  Nimblewill Nomad and Sonray, who I 
nominate, with Sensei, as keepers of the communal Trail soul of the 
class of '98.

99ers:  Au Cautier (Gaelic; means harpist; a Mr. Lesley from 
Arlington, VA; 76 years old; did trail maintenance with Tom Floyd, 
etc.); Jimbo; Overpacked (excellent name; ex-buyer for the Big Apple 
Circus and fan of the W&OD and C&O trails); Sage; Kinickinack (sp?) 
to whom I gave Chocolate's internet hug -- it was much appreciated.

I have seen the class of '99 and they are worthy!

There was a drum circle east of the French Broad after dark; some 
beerdrinkers mumbling amiably and a guitar shambling in the 
background at the next campsite as I curled up in my car for the 
night.  

I skipped the five miles out of town when I was hiking last year 
(thank you Max; that was a really WET rainstorm) so made it up this 
weekend in vastly better weather.  Told Overpacked, who was seated at 
the milpond, eating, that if it wasn't already Sunday we'd have to 
rename it.  That's a lovely piece of trail.  Some is even 
switchbacked -- tho efforts need to be made to prevent downhill 
hikers from shortcutting.  It boasts wonderful treadway; great 
overlooks (Lover's Leap and the one below it which you first mistake 
for the real thing); every wildflower known to God; ups; downs; a 
high grassy open field (has many of the good aspects of a bald); and 
a millpond formed by a neat old timber dam.  

Even the roadwalk winding downhill back to my car was good; the cop 
pondering my parking site was simply glad to know I hadn't broken 
down; and there was a goat in the road at the intersection on the way 
out of town.  Yep.  Didn't plan to leave, either; it was interested 
in something seeping up out of the asphalt in the middle of the 
paving and was not to be deterred.  That's a goat for ya.   

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