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| Main House |
What: An overnight stay after a 5 day, 78 mile AT hike
When: September 10 & 11, 2013
Where: Wood's Hole Hostel, 3696 Sugar Run Road, Pearisburg, VA 24134 (Sugar Run Gap on VA Rt. 633)
Link: Wood's Hole Hostel
Weather: pleasant in the afternoon upon arrival, 60s that night, cool the next morning, warmer upon departure in the afternoon, moderate humidity.
If you read my last blog post you know the events leading up to my stay here; if not, go back and read it to catch up with the story.
WHH is one of several hostels located near the Appalachian Trail, intended, among other things, to serve hikers who want to take some time off the trail in more hospitable surroundings than their tent or a trail shelter. I have limited experience with hostels (see previous post on Standing Bear Farm) and if it serves me well each has its own particular character. The folk at WHH have an excellent web site that explains and illustrates their vision for the farm and what the hostel has to offer. I highly recommend you check it out and, even if you are not a hiker, consider becoming acquainted with them and/or taking advantage of what they have to offer.
I rolled into the WHH about 3:30p on Tuesday after a difficult day of hiking, with sore feet, but a lighter spirit knowing that my 6-day AT hiking adventure was near its end (at that point I thought I was going to hike 10 more miles into Pearisburg, which never happened). I was met by a host of construction and trade vehicles with a handful of tradesmen plying their skill to the installation of a new septic system on site. I skirted their equipment and made my way up the drive to what appeared to be the main house. Up on the porch, I looked around for the proprietors, one of whom, Michael, I had spoken with on my mobile two days prior to alert him to my arrival. No one was home as stated may be the case so I shed my gear, found a good sitting spot and happily settled in to wait.
From the left side of the porch as you look at the main house I could see the Bunkhouse and a gathering area around a sizable fire pit below and the Privy up on the right behind. The fenced off garden in front of the center portion of the porch had nearly a dozen, 4 x 8 foot raised beds for tomatoes and other vegetables. Later investigation revealed many garden spots to support the cultivation of much of what they need here. There were several cats in residence as well as a friendly hound dog that was moving kinda slow. Chickens pecked about the yard and drive. Tradesmen's chatter filled the air as their industry proceeded unabated by my arrival.
Link: Wood's Hole Hostel
Weather: pleasant in the afternoon upon arrival, 60s that night, cool the next morning, warmer upon departure in the afternoon, moderate humidity.
If you read my last blog post you know the events leading up to my stay here; if not, go back and read it to catch up with the story.
WHH is one of several hostels located near the Appalachian Trail, intended, among other things, to serve hikers who want to take some time off the trail in more hospitable surroundings than their tent or a trail shelter. I have limited experience with hostels (see previous post on Standing Bear Farm) and if it serves me well each has its own particular character. The folk at WHH have an excellent web site that explains and illustrates their vision for the farm and what the hostel has to offer. I highly recommend you check it out and, even if you are not a hiker, consider becoming acquainted with them and/or taking advantage of what they have to offer.
I rolled into the WHH about 3:30p on Tuesday after a difficult day of hiking, with sore feet, but a lighter spirit knowing that my 6-day AT hiking adventure was near its end (at that point I thought I was going to hike 10 more miles into Pearisburg, which never happened). I was met by a host of construction and trade vehicles with a handful of tradesmen plying their skill to the installation of a new septic system on site. I skirted their equipment and made my way up the drive to what appeared to be the main house. Up on the porch, I looked around for the proprietors, one of whom, Michael, I had spoken with on my mobile two days prior to alert him to my arrival. No one was home as stated may be the case so I shed my gear, found a good sitting spot and happily settled in to wait.
From the left side of the porch as you look at the main house I could see the Bunkhouse and a gathering area around a sizable fire pit below and the Privy up on the right behind. The fenced off garden in front of the center portion of the porch had nearly a dozen, 4 x 8 foot raised beds for tomatoes and other vegetables. Later investigation revealed many garden spots to support the cultivation of much of what they need here. There were several cats in residence as well as a friendly hound dog that was moving kinda slow. Chickens pecked about the yard and drive. Tradesmen's chatter filled the air as their industry proceeded unabated by my arrival.
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| Left-side porch with view to Bunkhouse |
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| Front of Bunkhouse New sewer line at lower left |
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| End of Bunkhouse leading to gathering area |
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| Gathering Area and Fire pit |
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| Privy |
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| Everyone is happy |
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| Dog guarding guitar bench. Dining table at corner. |
I had been alerted to the fact that the waste lines from the house would likely be disconnected when I arrived, so I took advantage of the spigot near the fire pit to literally hose off. No sooner had I enjoyed that cooling experience when Neville appeared around the corner of the porch trilling yoo-hoo.
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| Neville Harris in bakers garb |
After a warm welcome she confirmed that the waste lines were not connected but would be in an hour or so, so that I could do anything in the house or grounds as long as I did not run anything down the drain. She directed me up to my room on the second floor of the main section of the house and set about a flurry of other activity. She asked me if I would like to eat dinner with them and I jumped at the opportunity. It seemed as if I would be the only guest that evening. The upstairs included two bedrooms, one for sharing containing two single- and one double-bed and the other a private accommodation with en suite sink. The common use bathroom stood at the top of the stairs and was delightfully decorated with an unusual sink and artwork on the walls.
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| Shared bedroom with two other single beds and a pleasant sitting area near one of three windows. Ceiling fan above. |
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| Private room with ceiling fan and two windows |
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| Window alcove hosts sink left and closet right |
Both rooms were very inviting: fresh scents, crisp linens, warm colors, and clean, clean, clean! A pleasant breeze floated through the upstairs accompanied by the sounds of the continued labor out front. Terrycloth robes hung in the closets waiting to hug me directly from the shower. I changed into my camp clothes, unpacked some, and wandered over to the Bunkhouse to make a deposit of food I would not use into the hiker boxes. The Bunkhhouse contained two large connected rooms downstairs for sitting and storage. A fridge contained some snacks and sodas available on the honor system. Up a steep ladder was the sleeping area containing a dozen or more mattresses arranged on deck. Communal living at its best. I am glad I chose to pamper myself in the house with all the comforts of home but to a thru-hiker on a budget these digs would be the Ritz.
On my way back to the house, Neville announced that the drains were functioning. Ah, that shower was going to feel good. After a cleansing drench sweetened with home-made soap (it had bits of flora and some grit to lave away trail grime), I lay on the wonderfully comfortable bed listening to the sounds of the men complete their day, Michael arriving from his errands and the both of them preparing for the evening. During part of that time, things got very quiet and later I realized that Neville had been engaged in her discipline of meditation, an important part of her daily routine. She called me down to dinner, so I made my way into the kitchen as she was putting on the finishing touches. Michael was busy and told us to start and that he would join us after completing another chore and a wash.
We ate on the corner of the porch of the main house at a small wooden table with heavy place mats, colorful bandana napkins held by chunky rings, earthen plates, comfortable but sturdy cutlery, and Mason jars for water. From the kitchen we toted out, salad, bread and dressing. Before we ate she explained that before meals their tradition was to have a moment of silence and then a time for each individual at the table to say something they are thankful for which we did; she closed with a soft Amen. The salad was fresh mixed greens and vegetables from their garden, and oil and vinegar. The bread was a coarse, crusty loaf. Neville suggested I put on something like a drizzle (my own word since I cannot remember what she called it). As to its constituents, it was oily, had some green stuff in it and was the best thing I have ever put on bread in my life. Move over fancy olive oil and garlic dipping sauces. My appetite had been waning over the past days and I wondered if I would embarrass myself by not being able to eat. No problem. I took my time, savored every bite and felt my desire for more food take hold. O joy!
Next she brought out a curried beef and pork stir-fry in a cast-iron skillet which was both hardy and flavorful. Michael joined us, caught up quickly and we chatted more about the hostel, its history, their lives, and my life in a relaxed, family atmosphere. We washed down the feast with cool well water in those familiar jars, and dabbed our glistening mouths with the bandanas. Afterward we retreated into the kitchen where Neville commenced to clean up and prepare for the next day. Michael was busy, so she and I just chatted away finding conversation easy and meaningful. She offered ice cream from a 5-gallon bucket, and she told be more about the hostel and her family.
Not too soon thereafter, I felt it time to vacate the lower regions to give them their space. The lower level contained some common areas: an entry hall, kitchen, full bathroom, and room for meditation, yoga, massage, and quiet activity. Off the hall in what was the original house was a sitting room they used for family time and a loft above for sleeping. There may have been some other features there but I deemed it their private space. After a bit a reading, I slipped under the covers for the sleep of the dead. Night sounds and a light breeze entered through the windows. I awoke in the night at nature's call and while padding to the head, realized full well that my hike was over. Once that realization struck home I felt a peace come over me; I suppose I was more anxious about the 10 miles and how I was going to push through those. I was relieved to consider that instead of heading out at 8:30a I could just relax in situ until M could pick me up. More blessed sleep followed.
I was up just before 6:00a and could here movement below. Neville had planned breakfast for 7:30a so I could get on the trail. When I came down to the aroma of freshly brewed coffee it was quiet, so I just sat in the kitchen with a cup and a book. A bit later Neville came in and started to work on breakfast. I mentioned that I would not be hiking out that morning so there was no hurry. After a moments pause she decided to go back to her meditation. I called M and we planned for a pick up here instead of Pearisburg. Neville came back later and while preparing breakfast we conversed more, again a comfortable family atmosphere like we were old souls. Watching her prepare homemade tortillas in a hot cast-iron skillet, while cooking some vegetables and fruit was a artful trip into country cuisine. Our breakfast consisted of large vegetable burritos, fried bananas (cinnamon, sugar and some other spices), and rough looking rice with yogurt and berry topping. What a feast. We ate together at the porch corner table while Michael was off on another errand or chore. Prior to the meal I stated that I was thankful for being there with her at that moment and no where else; she dittoed my thanks and my eyes swimmed a bit.
After breakfast we went back to the kitchen. Part of the experience of the WHH is for those who partake of the meals to help out in preparation, serving, and clean up. There were boxes of recently picked peppers in a wide variety of colors and shapes as well as purple onions ready to be chopped. So as she cleaned up I began slicing, chopping, rinsing, bagging, and whatever else needed to be done to get those vegetables ready for their next showing. This allowed for a morning of more conversation and enlightenment.
At one point I went back upstairs to finish packing, and clear out of the room. I stripped and remade the bed, emptied trash, swept, and set things in their place (this is expected of guests as well, so I am not seeking accolades).
The tradesmen were back and making great strides with the installation of the septic system: electricians, pipe fitters, backhoe operators, bosses and helpers. Michael was among them consulting, directing, and confirming what they were doing. He has lots of projects and relishes doing them, so he does not sit around much during the day (not long enough for me to grab a photo). The septic update was a major undertaking for them and financially challenging. Wisely, they chose to give those who know them and the hostel an opportunity to donate. As you visit their web site you will see a tab that explains what they are doing and how you can donate to the project. As I settled up with Neville for the room and meals, I gladly kicked in some for the project - a sound investment in my judgment.
Neville needed to go into town in the early afternoon, so we said our goodbyes, knowing that I would be back in October. I had already planned a return trip with M so I could finish those 10 miles and we could enjoy some time at the farm together. With my gear sitting on the porch and book in hand I just relaxed until M showed. I watched the construction, played with the animals, read, and just took in the surroundings: a most peaceful experience. When she arrived, she got a look-a-round, and met Michael. It was early afternoon so to decided to head home. He gave us a fond farewell and we drove down the tortuous and bumpy gravel road to the main highway, kicking up a bit of dust along the way. Beautiful drive.
I was very much impressed with Michael and Neville and their vision for wholesome living off the land in collaboration with their family, neighbors and community, and their provision of a unique experience for hikers and other visitors and guests. They work very hard, and their industry shows in every space and meal. But most memorable were the genuine conversations about those things dear to our hearts, especially the gifts we have received, the skills bestowed upon us, and their employment for the benefit of others.
I was up just before 6:00a and could here movement below. Neville had planned breakfast for 7:30a so I could get on the trail. When I came down to the aroma of freshly brewed coffee it was quiet, so I just sat in the kitchen with a cup and a book. A bit later Neville came in and started to work on breakfast. I mentioned that I would not be hiking out that morning so there was no hurry. After a moments pause she decided to go back to her meditation. I called M and we planned for a pick up here instead of Pearisburg. Neville came back later and while preparing breakfast we conversed more, again a comfortable family atmosphere like we were old souls. Watching her prepare homemade tortillas in a hot cast-iron skillet, while cooking some vegetables and fruit was a artful trip into country cuisine. Our breakfast consisted of large vegetable burritos, fried bananas (cinnamon, sugar and some other spices), and rough looking rice with yogurt and berry topping. What a feast. We ate together at the porch corner table while Michael was off on another errand or chore. Prior to the meal I stated that I was thankful for being there with her at that moment and no where else; she dittoed my thanks and my eyes swimmed a bit.
After breakfast we went back to the kitchen. Part of the experience of the WHH is for those who partake of the meals to help out in preparation, serving, and clean up. There were boxes of recently picked peppers in a wide variety of colors and shapes as well as purple onions ready to be chopped. So as she cleaned up I began slicing, chopping, rinsing, bagging, and whatever else needed to be done to get those vegetables ready for their next showing. This allowed for a morning of more conversation and enlightenment.
At one point I went back upstairs to finish packing, and clear out of the room. I stripped and remade the bed, emptied trash, swept, and set things in their place (this is expected of guests as well, so I am not seeking accolades).
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| Dirt ready to fill drain line trench Oldest house construction on left |
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| Drain line from under house down in front of Bunkhouse and to the tank |
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| Septic tank located below Bunkhouse with pump to drain field over a rise |
Neville needed to go into town in the early afternoon, so we said our goodbyes, knowing that I would be back in October. I had already planned a return trip with M so I could finish those 10 miles and we could enjoy some time at the farm together. With my gear sitting on the porch and book in hand I just relaxed until M showed. I watched the construction, played with the animals, read, and just took in the surroundings: a most peaceful experience. When she arrived, she got a look-a-round, and met Michael. It was early afternoon so to decided to head home. He gave us a fond farewell and we drove down the tortuous and bumpy gravel road to the main highway, kicking up a bit of dust along the way. Beautiful drive.
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| View from eating corner of porch |
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| Main Entrance with shoe and walking stick racks Guitar bench on right, table far right |
