Sinking Creek MT (3450'el), Slanted Rocks on Ridge, GOAT LICK, Catawba - nice town, mail drop and Homeplace Restaurant.

Peaches for breakfast - what a welcome change. I tore down camp, packed up and headed up Sinking Creek Mountain. I took it slow and steady, taking my time and resting a lot on the way up. The mountain the trail went through an old farm near a powerline right-of-way. There was Keffer's oak - one of the largest standing blazed trees on the AT. It was big, but small compared to the massive "lone wolf" white pine I have back home in my woods

On the side of Sinking Creek Mt - Keffer Oak, redbuds, an old farm.

This particular section of the AT in Virginia was known for its repetitive nature. That is, a hiker would climb to a high wooded ridge from a low valley or gap, then walk the ridge for several miles, drop into a valley or gap and repeat the process. Sometimes, depending on how far you hiked or how long the ridges were, you could do this three or more times a day. The ascents and descents were often around 1500 feet each, often fairly steep, so you could get tired of this in a hurry. Add to this the fact that there seldom were clear views or vistas, even though you may be 4000 feet up. All you saw was trees. Mile after mile. Climb, see trees, descend, repeat. I was tiring of it.

I'd been on the trail nearly two weeks and was getting very anxious to get home, too. I needed a fantastic reward or adventure to lift my spirits and motivate me. Also, the daily heat was getting to me. I had the hikers blues. Sometimes they manifest themselves in the form of lethargy. Some hikers deal with them by taking zero days in town or at a bar, camp or hostel. I wanted to keep moving; no zero days for me.

Just past Sarvers cabin on the ridge of Sinking Creek Mt., I encountered the slanting rocks. There, the ridge was clear, at least on one side. The views were nice. The footing was tricky, though. I had to be very careful because sometimes the slanting rocks ended abruptly in a cliff and the trail traversed their top edge and the slope of the rocks was steep - if I slipped, it would be a long skid to the bottom resulting in plenty of road rash. There were plenty of places the massive stone was fractured and I had to climb up or jump down. It was fun and different.

Slanting rocks along Sinking Mt. ridge.

As I was carefully navigating and enjoying the ridge I was suddenly and unexpectedly confronted by a goat, standing right on the trail looking at me rather intently. I froze. Then I saw two others nearby. They did not seem timid like the goats I saw on Pearis Mt. What were they going to do? They came right up to me and started licking me. All my exposed skin - my legs and arms. I reached out and petted them. They kept licking. I was surprised and amazed. They were friendly and determined to keep licking me. Even when I gently pushed their head away and wiggled out of my backpack, they came right back for more. I snapped some pictures, knowing that I needed evidence of this phenomenal happening. Here I was at 3500 feet, miles from nowhere, on a rocky mountain ridge being lavishly licked by three adorable goats. ( Two males and a female.) I ran out of film and took my pack off to reload the camera and they started licking that. Anything that had a salt residue. I moved down the trail. They followed. And kept licking. They were totally at home on these steeply sloped rocks and they hopped over them like they were flat green pasture.

The GOAT LICK. One of 3 feral goats licks my sweaty leg.

Reluctantly, I moved on. They had enough salt for a while and nibbled on some foliage. They did not follow me. I think they were waiting for the next hiker, though. They had licked me clean! That was a spirit-lifting experience!

I continued the ridge and began the descent to the valley, passing Niday shelter on the way. There I met two college-age guys that were hiking across America from east to west. They were big guys, in great shape and looked like football players. They had started in Virginia Beach and wanted to include a segment of the AT and PCT in their journey. I wished them well.

I Crossed VA 621 and two streams in Craig Creek Valley, then climbed back onto another ridge where the monument to Audie Murphy was, then descended into Trout Creek valley. Tired, hot and sweaty, I bathed in Trout Creek just out of sight of VA 620. As I was getting dressed, a day hiker came along. I really wanted to make Catawba today, but did not think I had either the energy or drive. I planned on getting as close as I could so I'd be sure to get to the post office before it closed on noon (Saturday). We chatted and he wound up giving me a ride into Catawba, dropping me off at the post office before it closed. He had hiked a lot of the AT and enjoyed helping out fellow hikers. I got my mail drop and sent back my exposed film and trail guides. The lady in the post office was very friendly, helpful and nice.

Catawba was a small crossroads with four things: a country store, PO, the Homeplace restaurant, and a mental institution one mile from the crossroads. Farms completed the rest of the valley. Hungry and reasonably clean and fresh, I headed for the Homeplace. Every trail register for the last several shelters had rave reviews of the food and good treatment there. They were right. I was treated like any other good customer - if not better - and offered a place to stay - they allowed AT hikers to set up camp in their back lawn or stay in any one of their three gazebos and use the restrooms as long as they were open. That resolved where I and a few other hikers were spending the night. Several other hikers had taken rooms in the nearby bed and breakfasts and come here to eat their fill.

After a most satisfying dinner I relaxed in the gazebo in their side yard, a really pretty setting with gardens and horse pasture. It was interesting watching the guests come and go in their assorted finery. A few came over and asked me about my hike. After he closed the restaurant I spread my sleeping bag on the gazebo floor and went to bed.