The Legend of Big Country

Good morning, friends,

First off, my mom is doing better. Thank you for all your thoughts, prayers, and good vibrations. They’re working. If things continue to stay stable, we’ll be back on the trail on Thursday. My mom might be more eager for us to get back out there than we are. Fingers crossed.

This week, we’re flashing back to our time in Eastern Tennessee and a story I didn’t get to share when it happened.

The story really begins on our hike into Erwin, TN. This was early on in the trail so we weren’t as well tuned into how much food we should carry, and the resupply options were few and further in between. We did know we’d be reaching town that day, but we still had to hike 16 miles and our snack supply was basically nonexistent by that point. We didn’t run out of food, but I was down to eating dry ramen as a snack throughout that day. Ciara scoffed at this, so she opted to eat the little trail mix we had left. It wasn’t our favorite day, but we got to the road into town just a couple minutes after 4pm. And we were hungry.

Just 100 feet up from where the trail crosses the road is Uncle Johnny’s Hiker Hostel. Nothing remarkable, but as of 2024 they’ve been sitting particularly pretty. The bridge where the trail crosses the Nolichucky River was washed out after Hurricane Helene, so now you have to walk past Uncle Johnny’s no matter what. You can walk the 3.6 mile detour (which technically aren’t trail miles), or you can stay there and they’ll shuttle you across the next morning. There is also apparently a way to ford the river further up the bank for the adventurous, but we didn’t look too hard into that. We needed food.

Our friends, Suds and Cardinal, were there and already had a room with two extra bunks that they had been holding for us. We were being squirrelish and didn’t want to commit to staying there ahead of time, but when we walked up we basically had to make a decision in the moment. If we stayed there, we could get the shuttle into Food Lion. Seems like a plan, right? I would pay for that later.

The town trip wasn’t terribly eventful. We went into town and ate a disgusting amount of fast food, the only restaurants open on that Monday evening, and one of our friends admirably ate so much that he threw up (shoutout Suds). When we got back, Ciara had her first “crash out” (vernacular from our online youth) about how the trail was a waste of time, most days are bad, this was much more social than she anticipated, staying at hostels is “glamping”, and she didn’t see the point in any of this. We talked through it all and had to sleep on it, but we overcame this mental low.

It’s a good thing we overcame it, too, because at the same time we were working through those difficulties, I was trying to do our laundry. Trying is the keyword here. We found out the next day, ten miles up the trail at Beauty Spot, that I left C’s souvenir Dollywood shirt and her thermals in the shared drier load. Didn’t forget any of my clothes, though👍. Just a few more difficulties that we were able to overcome.

The following morning we didn’t have our puppies in order to catch the 8:30AM shuttle. In fact, we got shuttled into town and went to a cafe to wait out rain instead. Uncle Johnny’s was wonky because they would basically shuttle you to town as much as you wanted, making multiple trips there in one day, but they only shuttled hikers across the river at 8:30 AM in the morning. We believe it was a way to trap hikers and coerce them into staying another night.

When we finally got back to the hostel late that morning we sat on the porch and chatted with other guests as we finished packing our bags. This tall, lightly bearded man with shoulder length hair introduced himself as Big Country from West Virginia. The name did not mislead, Big Country was a big man. At least 6’4 and probably around 260 to 280 pounds. He was jovial, polite, and appeared to be as gracious as all of the folks we met in Eastern Tennessee. He had hiked the trail last year, but he had driven overnight to Uncle Johnny’s to see his buddy who was hiking the trail this year.

“Where you guys going?” he asked as he saw our shuffling and organizing of gear and bags.

“Well, we’re going to walk the detour.”

“Do you guys want a ride?”

“Oh my gosh, sure.”

We were overjoyed. A 3.6 mile road walk would probably only take an hour or so, but if you can turn that into a five minute drive it’s a no-brainer. With that, he brought us over to his truck. I was lagging behind, still organizing my stuff, when he turned to Ciara and said:

“You look like you’re sober.”

Insulted, and not trying to appear like a narc in front of our cool, new friend, she quickly retorted: “Well, I am right now. But not always!” Nailed it.

“Great, you can drive” as he handed her the keys. Big Country had graciously offered us a ride in his truck, but he didn’t specify that he would be the one driving. He provided the ride, which was more than enough.

Honored to be entrusted with the job, C quickly realized that she did not actually want the job. She came over to me as I was still shoving the last few things in my bag (I’m always last to be packed up), and asked if I wanted to drive. Not a fan of the stuff, I declined and encouraged her to ask Cardinal, who drove tanks in the army and I imagined this would be much more appealing to him than either of us. He jumped at the opportunity and we were all relieved.

Meanwhile, Big Country was shoveling armfuls of debris out of the back of his cab with the hopes of eventually unearthing seats for us to sit in. By the time we climbed in, there was only a polite dusting of dried flowers and other organic material on the seats. Frankly, we were just thrilled we didn’t have to walk. Before we left, he even corralled another woman staying at the hostel to come along for the ride and serve as his chauffeur on the way home. This did not appear to be his first rodeo.

As Cardinal pulled out and eased us up along the detour road, hugging Nolichucky River, Big Country made himself at home in his passenger seat. He turned on Harry McClintock’s rendition of “Hallelujah, I’m a Bum” and reclined so that his feet were comfortably kicked out the window. It’s important to note the seat was not reclined, but he was, and so much so that it was natural for his feet to extent out the window. I like to think I’ve seen a lot, but never have I seen someone chill so hard. And so we drove.

The chilling was interrupted when one of the passengers asked if they could borrow his THC vaporizer. You can do a lot of things in Eastern Tennessee, but the legal recreational use of cannabis is not one of them, so I have to lean toward discretion (who could it be??). Anyway, he spent the latter half of the ~5 minute drive looking for his vape, even opening his door to make sure it wasn’t on the road. Alas, it still eluded him.

When we pulled into the church parking lot directly across the river from Uncle Johnny’s and unloaded, we heard a “EUREKA!” from the front seat. He found it. “Wow, there really is a God”, I said kind of off-handedly. We were in the parking lot of a church and I figured it played well with the setting. The next thing I know, he grabbed my shoulders with both hands, looked past my eyes, and into depths of my soul that I have yet to explore.

“Do you really believe that?” he asked.

Taken a back, but gripped by the moment, I looked up at the steeple, and then back at Big Country.

“Yea, I do.”

He took me into a huge embrace. “He loves you, brother.”

He then went back to his car and came back with a wad of cash. He peeled off three 20 dollar bills. One each for Ciara, Cardinal, and me. We tried to say no but he was insistent; people helped him when he was on the trail and now he wanted to help us. I held on to that $20, waiting for the right moment to use it, and ended up giving it to our buddy Eject as a tip for when he cut my hair in Harpers Ferry. Big Country also bequeathed his vape to one of us (my mom’s doing better, but hopefully she doesn’t have the stamina to read this far down). His kindness knew no ends.

It all happened so fast that we were standing there in shock when he pulled out (well, actually, his designated driver pulled out). Looking back on it, we did come up with a couple of hypotheses:

1. There is a possibility he got back in his car the next morning, ready to drive back to West Virginia, and suddenly asked himself, “Why is my seat so far forward? Did someone drive my car? And where the heck is my gas money?”

2. We also believe that he could’ve been an Angel that roams between Uncle Johnny’s and the Baptist Church, helping shuttle wayward hikers across the Nolichucky.

Wherever he is now, we miss him. Before he left, I wanted to stay in touch so I asked him if he had instagram. He said no (of course he doesn’t, I knew it was dumb to ask), but he said “If you’re ever in Greenbrier County, just ask around and you’ll find me.”

If everything holds, we to get back on trail on Thursday in Pennsylvania.

Full moon tonight. Love you all and thanks again for the support,

Aubrey