Laurel Creek Shelter, Va. AT mile 669.1, Sat. March 15 — Today started and ended with nasty, trippy rocks. The first three miles up and out of Bailey Gap took three hours.

The meat in the middle was nutritious loamy trail bed set in open forest. Delicious. That was followed by an up and over the mountain rock salad.

Every tendon in my feet is sore from the twisting and pivoting on the uneven surface. Usually your knees can act as shock absorbers. Not so when you can’t get a square foot plant. The extra 35 lbs. on the back just adds to the fun.

The good news is that I enjoyed a lovely lunch by a jolly rushing brook.

I found one of the hikers ahead of me having dinner at the shelter picnic table as I hobbled in. He headed out straight away. He likes hiking by moonlight – and it’s full tonight. Good for sleeping too, I thought.

Bailey Gap Shelter, Va., NOBO mile 654.5 — The dawn broke cool with a warm note in the wind. The promise of a good day turned out not to be.

My pack slid over my shoulders with ease. This one, the winter newbee, squeaks as I walk. That a good signs that it’s breaking in. The shelter spring was dry, but not to worry, the guide marked water less than an hour away.

For the second day in a row, the morning sun high beamed me dead in the eyes. If the spring was marked, I didn’t see it. The next water was eight miles. I’ll chance it. Cool day and an easy walk according to my guide. That was almost true.

The trail was rocky and difficult. The ground was littered with branches torn away by the 50 mph wind gusts two nights before. The further I traveled, the worse it was. At one point I spent seven hours hiking four miles – climbing over, under, and around massive amounts of blowdown. The worst I’ve ever seen.

I was fortunate to find water in a tiny pond full of frogs eggs soon to hatch. Judging from the signs around it, it’s the local watering hole for the entire animal neighborhood.

The Captain’s zip line was obscured. I hope it’s still there. Fortunately, the next mountain over, the one I’m on now, is clean.

I’ve never been more physically exhausted on this hike, including the hard days last week. Tomorrow we strike out again with a chance of rain.

Niday Shelter, Va. AT mile 681.5, Sunday March 16 — yesterday the high temp was 60F. Today it isn’t.

The morning opened with a leaden sky. Sleet on the menu for dinner. As things generally go on the AT, it didn’t quite happen that way.

I slept in until 8. Why not? The overnight temp was 40 F. All good for a leisurely start. Only 12.4 miles to my objective. Plus it was up and over only one mountain. Piece of cake, right?

The early terrain was picturesque, but the skies foretold the future. Today’s trail candy was the Keffer Oak. 18 feet in circumference and more than 300 years old, it’s the largest white oak south of the Mason-Dixon Line, according to my trail guide.

After that, a brisk climb to where the trail followed the leading edge of a thrust fault. Que the snow, except it was 1:30 pm, a bit early. I dropped my pack and jerked on my rain jacket and ski hat.

Did I mention that the rocks started to glaze over after about an hour? Not good. A fall could easily end this epic adventure. Fortunately all was well.

Niday Shelter appeared around 4:30 pm on schedule. I startled the dickens out of a 44-year-old southbound section hiker who happened to be encamped inside the shelter cocooned in her tent. Didn’t mean it.

Meanwhile the light snow is forecast to continue all day tomorrow. Just now our shelter picnic table is finely dusted with a bit of White Christmas.

I have a long hard day tomorrow to make Dragon’s tooth on time to meet my friend Val. I’m sure her young boys will be very interested in my gear.

Years ago a writer tagged Woods Hole Hostel “A little bit of heaven, not to be missed.” That about sums it up. Game. Set. Match.

A unique benefit of being ahead of the main “hiker bubbles” is the exclusivity of the experiences snagable along the way. The lack of crowds is worth trading for occasional loneliness and isolation.

Last night Matt and I enjoyed dinner with Neville and Michael at their intimate kitchen table where we underscored the evening with buoyant conversation about all things large and small.

Woods Hole is more than a unique hostel experience noted for organic home cooked meals and yoga. It’s a working farm with incredible demands on its owners time and energy.

From Scottish Highland cattle to herds of hogs (and piglets), goats, chickens and ducks to rows of vegetable beds there’s endless work. Then there’s the hostel, bunkhouse and hoards of hikers who arrive in force around April 15 – a little more than a month from now.

Michael is principally responsible for the farm while Neville manages the hostel. They’re the whole show assisted in season only by one intern each! They do make a marvelous team.

Hikers often volunteer to help. This afternoon Matt and I pitched in with Michael and Neville to fence in a new hog pen. Just after that two weather ducking hikers arrived and Michael slid into the kitchen to cook a special pasta sauce while Neville and I rolled fresh pasta noodles in tandem.

This couple seems to be doing it right, building on Neville’s Grandmother Tillie’s vision. The character of the original log cabin – the one Neville’s grandparents used when her grandfather migrated to the region to study the elk population as a wildlife biologist – is visible in the expansion architecture. The evolution is sure and pure in its spirit.

Tonight the wind is howling outside gusting to 50 mph. The overnight projected low is 11F. It’s a perfect night to nest in a little bit of heaven.

Post script: The goat struggling to have a kid on our first night had a miscarriage, but her health is good.

Woods Hole Hostel, Pearisburg, Va. Mile 620.9. Tuesday March 11 — Pearisburg sits on a plateau above Bland, the town we just escaped.

The bifurcated 15-mile hike featured a seven mile gentle take off climb followed by a straight-up jump to cruising altitude. All-in-all, not bad.

We climbed through a range of Eco systems from hardwood deciduous forest to tall pines.

Thirst continued its grip as a side effect of the unseasonal 70 degree heat wave. The sun’s heat infused the air with a soothing pine aroma. Beats the heck out of the skunk that wafted over our tent site at Trent’s Grocery during the wee hours of this morning.

We were tenting next to a horse pasture last night. During the night the horses got frisky, galloping along the fence line. First question: what spooked them? Too tired to care. Zzzzzzz

More and more rocks are forcing themselves into the trail tread. Aside from the ouch factor on the feet, they reach out to trip you and bend your poles. Rocks, go away. You own Pennsylvania. Why not stay there? Maybe they’re Russian rocks?

We pulled into Woods Hole at 4:30 pm. Neville and her husband Michael were birthing a goat. Now that’s a welcome.

More on that tomorrow when I’m going to zero (not hike) to send a box of excess equipment home and “bounce” some food ahead to Buena Vista’s Bluedogart Cafe and hostel, my third planned stop. Should be there in about two weeks.

Helvey’s Mill Shelter, Va. — mile 589.7 from Georgia.

Being a pseudo macho type, I’m not sure what degree of tragedy is truly associated with breaking a finger nail. I suspect it depends on age and gender.

Two days ago something analogous happened. My right trekking pole lost its tip in a tiny cravass between two rocks on the trail.

At first I didn’t notice. What with trying to read the rocks under the leaf litter, I had enough to do just to stay vertical.

At some point I noticed my right pole was blooming like a brown leafy bouquet. What the …. is that?

I. scrapped it off to discover the rubber tip was gone. Oh the tragedy of it. Now I sound like a peg leg pirate thump, thump, thumping along the path. It’ll scare the bears away. Worse, the other hikers (what other hikers?) might think I’m an idiot. The sound and the worry of it all!

Remember the old New Yorker cartoons about the stereotypical NYC sanitation worker spearing litter with a stick with a nail on the end? That’s me.

There’s a photo enclosed.

The weather forecast is good! We’re going to try and tent at Trent’s Grocery tomorrow – mile 606.0. With luck we’ll reach Woods Hole Hostel – mile 620.9 on Tuesday before dark.

A super nova sunset capped the day at Chestnut Knob Shelter. We were surrounded by four walls with a door. Glory be!

The temp was moderate through the night. My lactic acid soaked muscles would not let me sleep. Even though I throughly stretched.

Nature called around 2 am. When I opened the door, a starry, starry night hung overhead in all its mystery. The wind was calm and the temp comfortable. Before zipping up my down cocoon I took a sleeping pill and slept fitfully until 7:30 am.

Oh what a beautiful morning. With only 10 moderately strenuous miles on the trip tik, I lingered over coffee which I stopped making when it turned cold back in early November. Four walls remember…

Matt, the hiker I met at Knott Maul was in no hurry either. He is a very pleasant engineering technology student hiking from Georgia to Harpers Ferry. We decided to team up until Pearisburg where he plans to visit a cousin at Virginia Tech. Seems I’m one of the few folks he’s seen since around Thanksgiving.

We launched around nine o’clock. That late hour is unheard of on Team Sisu. The sky was severe clear – pilot speak for cloudless. The temp ultimately reached 60F. Do you believe it! Take that polar vortex.

We hiked reasonable PUDs ( pointless ups and down in AT speak) most of the day along a basalt escarpment formed by a thrust fault. My old friend leaf litter was back with a vengeance. Dry and slick as banana peaks, the litter transformed the rocky path into a Winter Olympic sliding event at times.

We reached our destination just past three. The Jenkins Shelter was papered in fresh bear warning posters. Not the usual kind, ones with a strong suggestion that using the shelter might be a bad idea. Too bad. The real estate was above average as shelters go.

The next camp site was five more miles away beginning with a steep climb. I’m thinking what a choice. Get mauled by a bear or maul my body myself. No brainer after my bear encounter at Carter Gap.

I was actually feeling strong physically. So off we went. Thanks to a gentle elevation profile on a disused logging road, we covered the five extra miles in less than two hours.

We’re currently tenting at Laurel Creek. The water is gorgeous.

That’s the first time I’ve pitched my tent since just after Thanksgiving. It may not even dip below freezing tonight.

You bet that a day can make a lot of difference. Now to see what tomorrow brings.