Mile 641. Wood’s Hole

Clang-clang-clang-clang-clang-clang-clang-clang-clanggggggg !!!

Neville sets down the rod iron striker as the triangle dinner bell reverberates throughout the bucolic 1880s homestead.   

The waning day casts long shadows across the lush green lawn that frames the hand-hewn chestnut log cabin.   A family of hummingbirds vibrates from one basket of overflowing fusha to the next.   In a fleeting moment, they rest on the wire fence that protects the organic romaine, broccoli and squash garden.   

“Y’all, dinner is ready.   Come gather in a circle right here on the front lawn.”   Neville’s thick brown, chin-length hair frames her classic Irish freckles.  She finished teaching a yoga class on the same lawn just a few hours ago; and her petite clothes are as relaxed as she is.   

“We have a tradition of taking a moment of silence.   After that moment, whenever the first person is ready, please go round in a circle to introduce yourself, tell us where you are from, and tell us one thing you are grateful for.”    

Wood’s Hole is not just any hiker hostel; it’s a hiker community.   As many do, I altered my through-hike plans for the chance to stay here.

“Today we are serving homemade pasta with broccoli, tomatoes, squash and mushrooms grown right here in this garden.   We also have fresh grated cheese from my Amish neighbors, bread that I made in the brick oven just this afternoon, homemade apple butter, homemade strawberry jam, and Amish butter.   We also have a leafy green salad with local apples, homemade croutons, and homemade vinaigrette.   To finish, we have hot chocolate chip cookies that I just pulled out from the oven with a whole lot of love.”   My limp body is brought back to life just hearing about all the vitamins and minerals I’m about to consume.   Oh, yes please.

After three - yes three - heaping plates full, I join a group of five hikers who help to clean up.   All of the dishes and cups are hand-thrown by Neville herself.   The brown, cobalt and tan clay are accented either with the famous “AT” symbol or the famous white blaze.    It’s a pleasure to hand-wash, admiring the nuance and character of each piece.   This is not work - it’s art appreciation.

Staying here, eating here, being here is not just a place to rest from a long day of hiking.    It’s a place to connect, to contribute, and to fill up my soul.