ROANOKE TIMES

                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: MONDAY, July 24, 1995                   TAG: 9507240110
SECTION: VIRGINIA                    PAGE: C-1   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: F.J. GALLAGHER STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: DALEVILLE                                 LENGTH: Long


WHERE `THRU-HIKERS' SIP THE CREAM

DALEVILLE HAS BECOME the capital of civilization to hikers going all the way on the Appalachian Trail.

After more than two months and 700 miles of hiking on the Appalachian Trail, Lon Eric, Mugsy and WheryaBen? were not about to pass up the chance to take a long, hot shower and spend a night or two in a real bed. Besides, Lon Eric's pack was beginning to come apart at the seams and desperately needed attention.

So, when the three "thru-hikers" reached the spot where the trail intersects U.S. 220, near Exit 150B on Interstate 81 and just behind the Bank of Fincastle's Daleville branch office, they didn't pause to think about which direction they should go. They took a right and started down the road to civilization in all its glory, just two-tenths of a mile away.

"The cream is the air conditioning," said WheryaBen?, 31, of Lincolnville, Maine, whose real name is Ben Hardy, as he sprawled across a rumpled bed in a room at the Best Western motel, an open bottle of Guinness Stout on the nightstand.

"No, the cream is the all-you-can-eat buffet across the street," Mugsy, aka Rob Girouard, 23, of North Conway, N.H., said from the other bed.

Although nearly 4 million people use some portion of the trail each year, only 1,500 or so declare themselves to be thru-hikers, the Appalachian Trail Conference's word for those who attempt to go the entire 2,158 miles. Most begin the trek at Spring Mountain in Georgia and head north, said Brian King, the ATC's public affairs director.

Of the 1,500, more than half will have dropped off the trail long before they reach the U.S. 220 intersection in Daleville, suffering from equipment problems, fatigue or a combination of the two. Only 175 or so will complete the journey and see the sunset from the Knife Edge on Maine's Mount Katahdin, the trail's New England terminus.

But nearly all of the 700 or so who make it as far as Daleville stop there for at least one night, King said. As a result, the businesses around the 220 intersection have grown accustomed to an avalanche of thru-hikers pouring through their doors during the summer.

The couple of days' reprieve from the harsh conditions of the trail is a welcome diversion for the thru-hikers.

"Most of the time, you just stop in a town somewhere and hit the grocery store," Mugsy said. "This gives us a chance to enjoy some of the luxuries, like listening to music and drinking a little beer."

All three, who met on the trail and had been hiking together for two weeks, agreed that the prospect of eating food that didn't come from a pouch was too much to resist.

Dot Johnson has worked at the Daleville Western Sizzlin' since 1967. Over the years, she and her co-worker, Mary Edna Thompson, have seen thousands of thru-hikers belly up to the restaurant's $3.99 all-you-can-eat salad bar.

"One thing we've learned," said Thompson, who has worked at the restaurant for six years, "is to give 'em all a pitcher of whatever it is they're drinking. That way, you don't have to keep going back to the table every five minutes."

The majority of the hikers, she said, don't eat meat, preferring instead to hit the smorgasbord of carbohydrates and vegetables three, four or even five times.

A hiker, King said, needs an average of 4,000 to 6,000 calories per day, depending on the individual's rate of metabolism and pace.

Johnson and Thompson have seen hikers consume twice that amount in one sitting.

Thompson told of one hiker, "an older man," she said, who came in, sat down and ate enough for four people.

"That man had a 23-ounce steak, two potatoes, the salad bar and cheesecake for dessert," she recalled. "I don't know how he put it all away. I got full just looking at him."

Johnson said that while a regular customer will take a half-hour or so for lunch, a thru-hiker will park at one of the tables for two or three hours, talking with the waitresses and eating mounds of food.

"You get to know 'em," Johnson said. "They're all very talkative. I guess they get tired of talking to trees out in the woods all the time."

According to the personnel at the two nearby motels, the hikers get tired of sleeping out in the woods all the time, too.

"We're right in the middle of the busy season for hikers right now," Jenette Hipes, the Best Western's desk clerk, said. "If they're not here by Friday afternoon or so, they're out of luck. We'll be full."

Hikers unable to get a room for the night are welcome to pitch a tent on the lawn, Hipes said, and wait for one of the motel's 98 rooms to open up.

The inn offers rooms to the weary hikers at a considerably discounted price. A double-occupancy room would normally go for $62 per night, but hikers can get one for $38.

"Usually, four or five of them share the room anyway," Hipes said, "so it ends up being even cheaper per person."

Most thru-hikers depend on friends or relatives to send them parcels of supplies that can be picked up at various points along the trail, so getting to the post office becomes a central concern. Motel staff, if they have the time, often will serve as chauffeurs for thru-hikers, ferrying them to town to replenish supplies or to the post office to pick up a package of food. Members of the local Appalachian Trail Club also provide taxi service.

Many who decide to drop off the trail will do it at Daleville, Hipes said, recalling one woman who simply ran out of money.

"She said she spent about $200 every time they came to a town," she laughed. "She got here and just didn't have enough to finish."

Hiking the length of the Appalachian Trail can be a very expensive experience, the trail conference's King said, with an average cost, not including the necessary equipment, of around $3,000.

"Most of that is for food," he said, adding that it can be done for considerably less, depending on the hiker. "Remember, you've got to plan on six months of supplies."

The equipment, including boots, sleeping bag, tent, pack, cooking gear and clothing, also varies widely in cost, King said, but a thru-hiker should plan on spending at least $1,000.

By the time thru-hikers arrive in Daleville, that gear usually is starting to look a little worse for wear and the Tanglewood Mall Blue Ridge Outdoors store is one of the most common destinations for hikers in need of a ride, Hipes said.

Blue Ridge Outdoors, a dealer in hiking, camping and climbing equipment, has a reputation among thru-hikers as the place to go for new gear, repairs or just plain old advice.

"Three years ago, we'd get eight or 10 a week," General Manager Bill Wilson said. "Now, at this time of year, we get that many in a day. It's sort of like the swallows returning to Capistrano."

He attributes the increase to a growing national interest in outdoor sports and to the hikers themselves.

"We've got a reputation for providing service to thru-hikers that a lot of other stores don't," he said. "For example, we'll help them with a warranty situation, and a lot of times it's for gear that we don't even stock."

In fact, Lon Eric, 23, whose real name is Eric Hill, of Poquoson bought his pack at a store in a different state, yet Wilson wasted no time in getting on the phone and trying to work out a low-cost, or no-cost, replacement for the hiker.

Eventually, the thru-hiker opted to buy a new, larger pack and have it mailed to a friend up the trail where he would pick it up.

So, after only one night in the comparative luxury of the motel, Lon Eric got back on the trail, leaving Mugsy and WheryaBen? to stay another day.

"We'll catch up to him," WheryaBen? said, stretching out on the bed and relishing the prospect of another night in air-conditioned comfort.



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