A different brand of friendly folk

30 April - Sinking Creek-Pearisburg: mostly- to partly-cloudy, lo-mid 60s; 2:20-6:00, 36.3 miles
Here I am, sitting on top of a hill, watching dusk settle over the adjacent mountains and valleys, surrounded by people called Corunna Miel, Bullwinkle, and Happy Feet...
After we treated our wonderful hosts to breakfast, they took us back to their house. Ron and Tim then spent a couple hours tweaking Tim's bike, correcting problems that had slowed him down. They then drove us past Roanoke and over the Great Eastern Divide, sparing us the worst climbs out of Virginia. We can't thank them enough...
We finally got on our bikes in Sinking Creek, perhaps the most awesome of the wonderful back roads we've taken. For 17 miles we rode by a succession of scenes that could only be described as eye candy.
The second half of the trip was again on US460 - no shoulders, but acceptably light traffic. As we cycled through Pearisburg heading for the motels, a car pulled up and the passenger yelled out, "Looking for a place to stay? You just passed the hostel!" He got us turned around, and after stopping four more times for additional directions, we finally found it - a two-story wood shack tucked into the trees behind the Catholic church. No owners present (it must belong to the church), the sign asks only for a donation to keep it running. With electric lights, a small kitchen and bathroom, and bean-bag matresses for beds, it reminded me of an upscale version of the shelter huts along the Appalachian Trail.
Of course, it WAS an upscale shelter hut along the Appalachian Trail (AT). The hut is only two miles from the AT, and is considered prime lodging by thru-hikers. Most such folks go by trail handles, so I resurrected my name from the walk and introduced myself as Mr. Litter. Tim decided he needed his own moniker, so he chose Gasper, since he was always gasping trying to keep up with me.