Day 17: more zero

Miles:0

Pa rocks took their toll on our feet, took a zero day at the Doyle.

The Doyle is pretty awesome, it's like it is designed to make hipster dudes think it is awesome. The owner gave us a ride to the grocery store today because the kitchen ran out of lettuce. He gave us the brief history of the hotel. A wooden trading post stood here from forever ago. When it burned down in the late 1800's a hotel baron built the current building. For a while it was owned by Budweiser brewing, until prohibition. I think in 1905 the original Doyle gave it it's name. He ran it for years until his death. Since then there have been 3 owners including the current owners who bought it 16 years ago. I imagine it's Wikipedia page is much more accurate.

The building is old and awesome. The clientele is almost entirely hikers and locals. The owners are super friendly to the kind of people they like, and pretty rude to the kinds of people they don't like, tourists and non hikers. There is a constant stream of new people coming and going with that institutional camaraderie inherent in thru hiking. All that and the pent up undercurrent of anxiety that this kind of place must be consumed by the outside world eventually, leads to a magical trap of fascination and in the moment nostalgia.

I'm sure half the people who come here want to write a book about it.

I would want to write a book about it, but there were two transmetropolitan graphic novels in the library here that I read today, and that comic can color your world view cynical.

If you are hiking the AT, you really should at least stop in and see it. I think it's appeal to non hikers is much more limited.

Check out the insides of the fuse box right outside our room. The fuse box is held shut by  a folded up brochure wedged in the frame. The whole place is like this. You can look nearly anywhere and find a quaint detail.

Rested up, fresh load of supplies, (the heavy pack that goes with it,) and a short outing planned for tomorrow, I'm ready to get walking again.