Brushy Mountain to Woodshole Hostel

Brushy Mountain to Woodshole Hostel

Day Six – Saturday, March 29, 2014

18.5 miles

8:30 a.m. to 6:00 p.m.

 

The first thing I noticed this morning was the lack of air in my air mattress.  It evidently had sprung a leak.  The weather was not too terribly bad this morning with temperatures around 51 degrees again.  But the temperature dropped throughout the day until it started drizzling rain by the afternoon.  We figured we were in for another cold night. 

We passed a couple of highways and crossed Kimberling Creek Suspension Bridge before coming to Dismal Creek Falls sign.  We decided against taking the trail down to the creek to see the falls.  The trail running parallel to the creek was pretty flat. 

We continued on to Wapiti Shelter where we took a short break before continuing on to try to make it to approximately Big Horse Gap where we would stealth camp.  As we walked the weather got colder and colder and more miserable with the cold rain.  We started talking about how nice it would be to have a room at Woodshole Hostel to get out of the weather.  If we could manage to hike another 1.6 miles, we could make it there for the night.  The thought of a warm bed kept us going.

We reached the road at Sugar Run Gap and saw the sign with directions to the hostel.  We turned right and walked down the road about a half mile.  Before we rounded the corner to see the hostel, we first saw someone’s tent pitched out in the fenced-in field.

Woodshole Hostel has a stellar reputation amongst hikers.  It is an 1880’s log cabin, first opened as a hostel in 1986 by Roy and Tillie Wood.  Their granddaughter, Neville and her husband, Michael, now run the hostel.  They practice farming, beekeeping, organic gardening, yoga, and massage therapy.  They offer a couple of rooms in the log cabin, private (which we were hoping for) or shared, and also have a bunkhouse and tent camping.  Guests are invited to help with chores and participate in meals. 

We stepped up on the porch dripping with rain.  We left our bags and boots on the porch and stepped inside to be greeted by Neville.  She immediately offered us a shower and asked if we would like to join them for dinner.  We took her up on both.  

After our hot shower dinner was ready to be served.  We joined several other people in the dining room for a Woodshole tradition. We stood around the tables, held hands and went around the circle telling what we are thankful for.  It was a great way to get to know the other folks just a little bit.  There were a couple of sisters meeting there for a reunion, a young couple on their honeymoon, a trio of hikers, and a young lady who was working at the hostel.  Michael was not at home, but had gone to visit his sick mother.  We then walked around the serving table in the kitchen to get our food.  I remember a salad, diced potatoes, and homemade bread, but for the life of me cannot remember the whole meal.  I just know it was good.   

With that many people in the room, we knew it was hopeless to expect a bed in the main cabin. We were sent to the bunkhouse.  “Okay,” we thought, “that’s better than being outside in the elements. “ After dinner we were warm, full, and comfortable but it was short-lived as we donned our jackets, boots and packs and trudged through the rain to the barn.  We entered a kitchen area and found the ladder leading upstairs to the loft/bedroom which contained about a dozen twin-sized mattresses.  We chose two on the end of the room by the shuttered window.  One other bunk was contained the gear of a person whom we assumed would show up later in the night.  Of course, the barn had no bathroom and, before going to sleep, I had to make a trip to the privy out back.

The loft was cold with gaps between the logs in the wall and under the eaves, but we had warm bags so we settled in and were soon fast asleep.  Later, we did hear two fellows come up the stairs and quietly go to bed.  Throughout the night, we could hear the wind howling outside, making doors and windows on the barn open and bang shut again.  Occasionally I felt rain blowing in on my face through the shutters on the window. Overall, we both slept pretty well and were warm.

When we awoke the next morning, we found out that it was not rain blowing in on us after all.   The foot of my sleeping bag, being closest to the window, was covered in snow.   In fact, there was snow all over the room that had blown in under the eaves of the roof.  I’m not sure now that this was better than being in the tent.