Owner of Popular AT Hiker Hostel Speaks Out About His Decision To Close Up Shop

The following is a guest post by Jeff Hood. It was reproduced with permission from zerodaystay.com. Have a story you want to share with the trail community? Submit it here.

About 4 years ago, I bought a 3/4 acre plot of land next to Pen Mar Park, MD and the Appalachian Trail.  A few days later, I posted a picture of the land and a question: “I just bought some land near the Appalachian Trail, and I am considering opening a modest hiker hostel/B&B.  What were some of the most clever features you have found at hostels?”  The feedback was overwhelming. Not only did I get piles of hiker-friendly advice and features, but I got the most important bit of feedback — there’s a lot of thoughtful people in the trail community.  And there were a lot of hikers on the trail looking for a place to stay. That was it, I thought, I’m doing this.

After sitting down with a modular home designer, we came up with a single-level, 6-bedroom, 3-bathroom layout — with all rooms connecting to a big common area with the kitchen, laundry, and resupply. Early on, I decided against offering beds by the bunk (a decision which often led to consternation among tired, but frugal, hikers). Zero Day Stay offered all private rooms and do-it-yourself everything.  And if you needed a short trip for resupply, we had you covered there too.

For many, though, the best part was the location. Not only was it walking distance to the trail, it was smack-dab between Harpers Ferry and Ironmasters Mansion. For that 80-ish mile stretch, there aren’t lots of options for rooms, resupply, shuttles, etc.  And yet, with all that going for it …

Photo courtesy of Jeff Hood

Why did you close the hostel?

About a week ago (as of the author’s original posting in early June — ed.), I made the decision to close. It wasn’t easy, and I took forever to come to this decision. Before plowing into why I closed, …

Why did I open?

Photo courtesy of Jeff Hood

I like hikers. Though I’m not a thru-hiker, a good hunk of my summers are spent out west on 1-2 day hikes. And I genuinely enjoy chatting with hikers at stopping points or trailheads. So if I was going to open some business, having hikers as customers sounded like a good idea. (And still does.)

What did I like? 

I liked being the owner.  Inasmuch as a 5-room hiker B&B can be profitable, it was profitable. And it felt great when someone says, ‘This is your place? I love it.” I liked doing the social media and the marketing. And I liked doing the accounting and keeping spreadsheets.

I liked being the only caretaker. I didn’t mind cleaning, doing laundry, or making up the beds. And I didn’t mind the shopping and restocking.

I like doing shuttles, and I’ll keep doing them. Oddly, my shyness around folks I don’t know dissipates in shuttles. Granted, I do get paid extra for shuttles (so it sort of feels like a totally different job). But I like doing shuttles. 

But best of all, it allowed me to avoid having a real, 9-5 job … for a little while.

Photo courtesy of Jeff Hood

So what *was* it?

Being unable to go anywhere for the best four weather months every year was a bummer. But I knew that going in. Nothing changed, but it still wore on me.

It being difficult to meet up with family for 4 months was also tough.  Just this month, my boy JJ really needed some academic support, and quickly. And if I’m running a hostel, it doesn’t happen. Again though, I knew this going in.

It was the hosting. At this point, folks who knew me before the hostel can eject here. You, me, and everybody knew this was going to be the hard part for me. A socially anxious guy in his 50s cosplaying as a hostel host is an absurd idea. But, I thought I could get more comfortable sharing my home if I had my own little separate space (not really). And I also thought, frankly, that I needed the additional social interaction in my life (that is still an open-ended question for me and my Dr. Melfi).

So, as much as possible, I made my hostel a do-it-yourself hostel. My ethos was: “Here’s everything you need, and some easy instructions. Please make yourself at home — text me if you need anything.” And for 80-90% of guests, that really hit the spot.  But, for that 10-20% who were expecting a socially engaged host, I struggled.  

Even when I knew all the guests were happy and comfortable, I still couldn’t relax. Again, the hostel was also my home (I lived in bedroom #6).  It was like having the best 30-50 hour/week job in the world, but you had to be *at* work 16 hours a day, 7 days a week.  I wish I were wired to be energized by hanging out in the common area and telling stories. That was a lot of fun a lot of the times. But as an anxious guy — fun or no fun — it always takes energy.  And after cleaning, shuttling, restocking, posting, laundry-ing, bed-stripping, booking, and worrying, there just isn’t much left.

Photo courtesy of Jeff Hood

So if it’s profitable, hire somebody to do the hosting.

I started to. I found a job at a high school, then started the process of hiring somebody to do the daily hosting and caretaking. I was going to do shuttles, bookings, fill in the gaps, but live somewhere else. Unfortunately, the high school job was quite horrible, and I bailed. With no income, I couldn’t afford to hire a host/caretaker, so I decided to give hosting one last try this season. And if I’m brutally honest, after paying a host a proper amount, the hostel goes from being a profitable 4-month business to a 4-month maybe-profitable labor of love.  

So that’s it? 

Photo courtesy of Jeff Hood

The whole house is still available on Airbnb (though I know that means zilch to most hikers). I am toying with the idea of doing organized slackpacks through the Northern Virginia, Maryland, and Southern PA sections. And I’m always looking for a cheap little house near the trail to have another (cheaper) Airbnb.  

But me as the host of a hiker hostel, yes, that’s it. I gave it 2.3 seasons, nearly 800 hiker guests, hikers liked it, and it made money.  And there are hiker friends who will now just become friend friends. 

And I do feel like a more confident person. It would be impossible not to. When I was 16, my dad was the baseball umpiring assigner, and he would assign me to umpire adult league baseball games. So here’s this skinny unconfident 16-year-old umpiring washed-up, angry 37-year-old dads. But I had a choice to either improve at this skill of managing lots of different kinds of people, or be miserable. So I slightly improved.  And as a group, hikers are about as all over the place as you get, bonded only by their cleverness, kindness, and determinedness.

I decided not to accept new guests for two weeks, then see how I felt.  Two weeks are up.  My cats are happier, I’m happier, and my boy JJ is happier.  The desire to keep doing this is still there, but my desire to exit is just a little greater right now.

About the Author

Photo courtesy of Jeff Hood