It was supposed to be chore day. I told Kenzie that we would do a little laundry, shake out the rugs, sweep out the cabin, and then go into town for some groceries
Well, the laundry got done and the rugs got dragged to the deck before those plans were dust in the wind. That is just the way some days are. Someone says good morning with a British accent, and you are compelled by some unknown force to just let it be, let it be, let it be, yeah, let it be.
My new British friend, James, unlike the others, was coming down the trail, heading to Damascus from Atkins, Virginia. It is about a 75-mile hike, so he had been at it for a while. He had spent the last two cold nights in shelters with some AT hikers and appeared to be over it.
I offered James some tea--because I assumed that is what any good Brit would drink in the morning--but he surprised me by requesting a cup of coffee. Coffee? I had not made a cup of coffee in a very long time, but I somehow managed to serve up something that did not resemble sludge--which is more important than you may think since I poured it through a cobweb on the top. When will I learn that cabin living means you check the cup before you pour?
From my vast experience of getting to know hikers on the Creeper Trail, I can tell you that it takes time to uncover the fascinating in a person. James is a very fascinating fellow. If he had stayed ten minutes, it would not have been enough time to find that out. Even one hour would not have been enough time to find that out. It took a couple of hours to peel back the layers of this young man.
He is in the United States because something popped up on his Yahoo news page one day about a program called Workaway.