Bob Peoples is Good People – Kincora Hostel
Damn that coffee was delightful! What a refreshing change of pace to devour iron skillet-made eggs, bacon and cinnamon rolls! Heaven you say? With a shower on the horizon and one pink toenail (courtesy: Rainbow Mama) it just might be. Except I hate mornings. Given the option I would be up at noon with coffee in my cup so close to tar a spoon would stick straight up in it, my breath would emanate the stench of a half pack of smokes and my ears and mouth would remain as immovable as any mountain one cares to imagine. Oh well. Someday I’ll be a reasonable soul after waking; I’m getting better.
This place, Bob Peoples’ Kincora Hostel in Tennessee, is honestly pretty damn close to a hovel, truth be told. The bunks smell like week old foot and the rafters made themselves known mid-slumber by cracking me a good one over my left temple. I guess that one’s my fault after insisting on the top bunk — apparently I was in need of some childhood nostalgia yesterday. Oh! Did I mention the cats? Not really an important detail, there are only 17 OF THEM (and Bob knows them all by name). Me and Mama Cat are getting on fine. She tried to eat my pizza last night and found the rewards of hiker feet to the face less than appetizing. Today she decided my journal would make a good bed, I can’t exactly blame her. I find it an excellent pillow myself after some of of my longer writing sessions when I bore myself to tears with my own pointless ramblings.
The place is indescribably exactly what my mind’s eye envisioned a hostel to be; it smells, it’s dirty, the toilet isn’t actually attached to the ground and the floor in the living room suddenly slants 30° when you get too close to the window. Sorry, did I mention yet how much I love this place?? We had real coffee this morning! We went to the store and bought the aforementioned breakfast supplies and ate like real people in a real kitchen! Bob is truly a wonderful man (despite his open cat-door policy) and anyone believing blasphemous online reviews to the contrary should be ashamed of themselves (this addition courtesy of the yuppy prick at the adjacent hostel, Black Bear, who opted to avoid Bob’s iconic little lodge based on his, “cat problem.”) The man actually left here this morning to do trail maintenance with hikers sill in residence — what a trusting and honest fellow! For god’s sake he doesn’t even charge to stay here! It is simply suggested that a $5 donation be made to keep the lights on and what poor mangy hiker can’t scrape up some spare change in order to see while he brushes his teeth in front of a proper sink, running water and all? In addition to this man’s pious and simplistic way of running a hostel he built with his own two hands he is also an overflowing fountain of hiker knowledge. I certainly know what I’m doing next fall — Camino de Santiago here I come! We gleaned the specifics on the famed 500 mile pilgrimage through France and Spain at the measly cost of two good ears and a tongue burning with curiosity. The man, Bob Peoples, is a saint; don’t ever believe a word to the contrary.
With a full belly and a caffeinated mind I feel refreshed and free of my morning animosity. Now, if I can only summon the courage to pack the cornucopia of food my overly-generous mother (speaking of saints) shipped me and attain the strength of Atlas to sling it all onto my back I think I’ll go hiking today — it seems the appropriate thing to do.
In the meantime, to put off the inevitable, I’m going to quit gabbing about my new-found hero and scrub the grime off my filthy stinking hiker body. Shower ahoy! I pray the donations are sufficient for five minutes of unadulterated hot water too…
Till next time,
On a side note, I received some rather disheartening news whilst typing this blog. Rainbow Mama just got off the phone and found our good friends and hiking companions from Arkansas, Yogi and Skeeter, will no longer be continuing on the trail 🙁 Yogi has a rib which has a tendency to pop out of place (old football injury) and despite the best efforts of both chiropractor and massage therapist he is in excruciating pain and had to call it quits, Skeeter (his best friend), in tow. We will miss them dearly and cannot wait to go visit them in the land of milk and honey they call Arkansas as soon as humanly possible. They will be missed.
So, goodbye, “Wolfpack.” With three out of six members MIA it’s time the three remaining amigos carry on. Love ya fellas, hoping all is well!
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