Rt 11 Appalachian Trail Inn
Mid-afternoon, we broke out of Boiling Spring for more miles. JettButt and I upset a groundhog as we headed for Rt 11. 12.5 miles and folks were making choices. The next shelter was Darlington up another 6.5. Darlington wasn't known as a pleasant shelter, mainly for the long sidetrail walk to get any water. It was already uncommonly hot and humid. Another factor was some really omnious clouds covering most of the western skyline. Almost nothing to the east. The proximity of a nest of motels made the decision even easier.
Walked past the Appalachian Trail Inn. Probably would have stayed there, but the Motel 8 was on our side of the road. That's when the winds hit. From nowhere, this dust and sandstorm blew up across the parking lots and highway, gusting and buffeting everyone and bellowing with thunder, so we dashed into the lobby of the Motel 8. The couples grabbed a room. I was feeling a bit fifth-wheelish, but Indiana Jean and DelDoc were fine with a third. The storm thrashed outside, wicked winds, rain and lightning.
OK, so under normal circumstances in the 'other world' we just don't think about sharing a room or bed with a stranger. Oh, there are connotations there, and one-night-stands happen plenty more than most well-heeled folk probably want to think, but in the hiker world, it's about conserving resources. You've been out on trail, hiking and camping, cooking and poop stories, sweating and shivering with each other. With some, you bond instantly. Others, it might take a few hundred miles or more, but we're family. We've shared shelter floors, stoves and stories. I was sheltering with two other hikers of the 'over 30 club' in a two queen-bed room.
DelDoc had been a lot of fun on the hike. He was eccentric in a thru-hiker culture that in itself was eccentric. Both as a senior member of our family, and for his animated way of getting involved and contributing to conversation with a very self-assured offering. Frustratingly most of the time, he was right -- as he would say, 'Exactly!'. He spent the evening giddliy clapping along and laughing at a t.v. broadcast of a classical music program. DelDoc had offered to pay more for his share of the room if he had a bed to himself and the remote control.
That was OK with us, as I spent the evening catching up in my journal here and Indy read. So here, I'm lying in a bed with a lady hiker a dozen years my senior (platonically, thank you very much), and the remarkable part of the evening was asking her real name and address for my entry. This is the craziness and the remarkable coolness of the Trail. Save for the violent blow of a boomer, I would have thought about walking the pedestrian bridge over 11 and the interstate (81), and moving north. Instead, I got a room and a show to remember.