Starting Point: Roanoke Virginia
Destination: Standing Bear Farm, Hartford, Tennessee; 3 miles north of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park
We wake early and leave Roanoke Tennessee Roanoke 260 miles from Roanoke
We take turns driving and the ride is uneventful, except when AK takes the wheel. AK commutes from Richmond Petersburg
At the next stop, I take the wheel again. I’m not going to take any chances with having AK try to find the hostel. We get off the highway and are immediately confronted with steep gravel road to the hostel. We encounter our first thru-hiker on this road, and we offer him a lift to the hostel, but he replies, “No, thanks; I’m enjoying my hike.”
We arrive at the hostel at . Even though we had called while on route to reconfirm the cabin, when we see Curtis, he tells us that the cabin has been taken. He is only mildly apologetic. Perhaps he is in shock at our appearance. I guess we don’t fit the typical hiker profile. He tries to cover his surprise by saying he is not used to seeing such beautiful women, but my sense is that he doesn’t think we are capable of hiking the Smokies.
Not only is the cabin taken, but the bunkhouse is full too, so Curtis offers to let us tent on his front lawn—for $15 per person. Either that or we can go to a motel. We choose to tent. We pitch our tents near a creek and a dilapidated dog kennel (Curtis boards dogs while their owners hike in the Smokies, since the park does not allow dogs). Then we head into the closest town, Newport
Back at the hostel, I’m able to start to take it all in. As described on the hostel website, Standing Bear Farm is:
A turn of the century multi-generational farmstead including the original homestead, barns, outbuildings and farmhouse. The outbuildings have now been converted to a bunkhouse and cabin where we offer rustic lodging to hikers . . .
Rustic does not begin to describe it. There is a privy (“bring your own toilet paper,” Curtis tells me), which needs to be cleaned out or replaced. The showers are in a separate building with stone floors and walls lined with old beer bottles. The supplied towels are as stiff as the warped wooden planks lining the walkways.
The center of the hostel activity is a fire pit surrounded by logs for sitting, located next to a wishing well and a stream. This central area is bounded by a small building that houses the computer, another one containing a washing machine (the old fashioned kind with rollers) and dryer. The kitchen is attached to the laundry and contains an ancient gas stove, a microwave oven and an assortment of cups, plates and glasses, all dirty, as the hikers are supposed to wash the dishes themselves. Next to the kitchen is the bunkhouse, which contains two rows of bunkbeds. Across from the bunkhouse sits the cabin, which used to be a shed. I take a quick peek in there and I’m glad I ended up in my tent. All the buildings are made of weathered, unpainted dark wood. They remind me of the cabin from the Beverly Hillbillies (before they moved to LA).
 |
| The cabin at Standing Bear |
 |
| Rainbow, Jenni and Turtle Feet in the kitchen at Standing Bear |
 |
| The privy at Standing Bear |
 |
| Our campsite at Standing Bear; that's my tent in back and Jenni and AK's tarp in front |
There is also a little store for short term resupply, which sells everything from noodles to honey buns, frozen pizzas, toiletries, and clothes (obviously items left behind by previous hikers.) All in all, despite its rusticity, the hostel has just about everything a thru hiker needs.
Curtis hangs around with the hikers. He looks as scruffy as his clientele. He is tall and thin, with long brown hair held back in a pony tail. A man of few words, he has even fewer for us. The other hikers, however, were much friendlier, especially with Janet, who is perky and blond and talkative. And of course AK, being outgoing, throws herself into the crowd and makes friends quickly. Jenni is more reserved, but it doesn’t take long before she’s in the mix as well.
 |
| Curtis, owner of Standing Bear Hostel |
I count about 15 hikers here. All of them have just finished hiking the Smokies, and they look tired but happy. I wonder what we will look like after we finish our hike. We spend some time getting to know them before they go into town to hear live bluegrass music.
Thru-hikers tend to adopt or earn trail names. Some are self-imposed, but most are given by fellow hikers based on some attribute or funny story. We meet Turtle Feet, a middle aged woman from Wisconsin
