#116 Lake Mountain Rd to Four Pines Hostel
“Always trust the trail.” I tell him. “Things always work out when you trust the trail.”
CONTINUED FROM #115
The trail crosses a gravel road near Wind Rock. I see a hiker sitting on a large rock by the entrance to the trail on the other side. He’s talking on his phone. As I approach I notice his knee has been bandaged with a shirt. the shirt is bloody. I stop to take a break on the rock next to his. I ask how he’s doing and what can I do to help. He’s not doing well at all.
“I’m trying to reach a shuttle driver.” He tells me.
“To where?” I ask as I pull a snack from my bag.
“Four Pines Hostel.”
“Oh man, my truck is there, if you’re still there tomorrow and need a ride somewhere let me know.”
“Are you getting off the trail here?” He asks.
“No. Well, I don’t know. I think I’m supposed to.” I say.
He looks at me funny.
“I was planning to hike to the next shelter then Get off tomorrow, but I’ve had this unexplainable feeling for the past hour or so that my hike will end here,” I tell him.
We trade names and stories. He hadn’t been on the trail very long, only a couple of days. He overextended his leg while climbing over a fallen tree which caused him to fall and tear his knee open.
“It’s pretty bad,” Salamander tells me.
I ask if he needs any first aid supplies since he has it wrapped up in a bloody shirt. He assured me it’s better if it stays like it is.
The shuttle driver on the phone tells him the drive it too far.
I call Four Pines Hostel. Their driver says it’s too far.
“Well, it is Sunday evening. People usually want to be home.” I say.
“Have there been any cars through here since you’ve gotten here?” I ask
“No.”
I GPS the Four Pines Hostel; Fifty-three minutes away.
One of the scenarios that ran through my mind an hour before reaching the gravel road was to hitch to the hostel. Maybe I’m supposed to help him do that.
“The first vehicle that comes over the mountain will take you to the hostel.” I said, pointing in the opposite direction he needs to go.
“How do you know?”
“I don’t know, but I think it’s just going to work like that.”
A few minutes later a Jeep comes up the mountain from the direction I pointed. Their doors and top are off. I waved for them to stop.
“My friend here busted up his knee up pretty bad and needs to get off the mountain. Is it possible for him to catch a ride? I have the place on GPS, fifty-three minutes away, where he needs to get to. We’re able to cover the fuel costs.”
“We’re just out for a ride on the mountain and not really looking to get too far from home.” The driver explains.
“Oh man, my truck is there. I have another friend behind me who isn’t doing very well. Two other friends are with him at a shelter. I was hoping to have my truck up here in the morning when he gets here. Plus if my friend here needs to go to the hospital, I can get him there with my truck.”
“Sorry man. Wish we could help out. But that’s almost a two-hour round trip for us. Plus, our back end has a cooler and another box in it.” Says the driver.
“No worries. We’ll catch the next one.”
As they drive off I notice his wife looking back, turns forward, then she looks back again just before they disappear down the other side of the mountain.
“They’ll be back within five minutes. How much can you pay them?” I ask
“Well, the shuttle driver told me it was a $55 run if he were able.”
“We’ll offer them forty, twenty each,” I suggest.
It looks like I’m getting off the trail tonight after all.
We get our money ready, then hear a motor roaring up the mountain from the direction the Jeep went. Before we even see them, I tell Salamander to get his gear ready so I can carry it over for him as the black Jeep comes into sight.
“How did you know?” He asks with an astonished look.
“Always trust the trail.” I tell him. “Things always work out when you trust the trail.”
The driver moves the stuff in the back of the Jeep against the back of his seat. We each hand the driver our twenty dollar bill as we climb in. I lay my pack against the back of one of the seats then sit on it. Salamander sits with his back against his pack and props his leg up on a box.
Introductions are made and stories exchanged with our chauffeurs as we roll down the mountain.
“Ever see the movie Dirty Dancing?” The driver yells back to us over the swirling wind.
“Parts of it, or maybe all of it. I don’t know!” I yell back.
“We’re about to pass the hotel where it was filmed.” He tells us.
Just then he stops so Salamander and I can take pictures of the lake if we want.
After a moment of sightseeing, we drive down the curvy road to the bottom of the mountain, Salamander and I bouncing around in our small storage area, trying not to bounce out.
The pace really increases once on the highway. It’s a good thing too, some serious looking storm clouds appear to be closing in on us as we close in on the hostel.
We grab our gear from the Jeep, thank them for their help, and head toward the hostel. Hard Rock music is blasting inside. Hikers are milling around inside and out. Many more hikers will return soon from a shuttle run into town.