The Priest Shelter to Maupin Field Shelter Junction---May 14th

Another stormy night, but I was snug as a bug in the rug in the corner of the shelter.  Awoke to thick fog and commenced the hike seeing nothing beyond 50 feet.  So much for any views from The Priest.massif.  At the Tye River a light rain began to fall making the rocks wet and slick.  Why is it that over the last three days it's started raining as I'm crossing a river bridge?  Coincidence?
Bundled up yet again to combat the nasty weather, I was surprised to see a large group of people without packs on the trail ahead of me as I was approaching Harpers Creek Shelter.  They happened to be members of the Tidewater Appalachian Trail Club out doing spring maintenance, all carrying some kind of tool required for the job:  grubbing hoes, picks, saws, pruning shears, an axe.  I was immediately invited to the big dinner they were having down at base camp. If I was interested, they told me I'd run into another trail crew further up the trail and I should talk to them about getting a ride there.  Appreciative of the offer, I thought I'd just push on until one of them said they were serving Mexican food.  It being my favorite, that clinched it for me.  I was going to a fiesta!  Before departing, they asked me to do a favor for them.  It had been reported that there was a large blowdown somewhere along the trail.  If it was true, could I tell the other crew where it was located because Harpers Creek Shelter was the end to the area they had been assigned.  Seemed a pretty reasonable trade-off for a meal.  Sure enough, less than a half mile up the ascent a large tree had fallen awkwardly across a bend, its massive trunk and branches at just the right height to make it difficult to climb over and low enough that if you wanted to pass under it you'd have to crawl.  Weighing the two options, I reckoned crawling was the better one.  Getting down into a kind of push-up position, I wriggled my way forward past the obstacle.
The trail conditions up from Chimney Rocks to Three Ridges and back down to Hanging Rock were less than ideal.  Fairly steep in some sections and the footing on the rain-slicked rocks was marginal at best.  Slow going at times because I certainly didn't want to slip and fall.  Came across the other trail crew on their way up to these spots and told them about the blowdown and my dinner invitation.  They were happy I'd decided to join them, telling me they had invited any thru-hikers they'd seen that day.  If I'd just wait near the cars parked on the forest road at Maupin Field Shelter Junction, it wouldn't be too long until they were done and someone could ferry me to the shindig.
Following their instructions, I went to the junction and sat on a log to wait.  Grabbed a book out of my pack to read, leaning over it to shelter it with my body and keep the pages dry.  Before long, another crew came up from the Mau- Har trail that led to the shelter.  They had one extra seat in the back of a covered pickup truck, so I hopped in and was driven to their camp at a state park down in the valley.
Enjoyed an ever so nice hot shower in a caravan and then played cards with Mike, Laura and Nancy until the cry of chow time rang throughout the camp.  True to their word, the main dish was chicken fajitas with black beans and a tasty array of fresh veggies.  In addition to that, there was fresh garden salad, biscuits, chips and dip and ginger ale.  After everyone was served, I felt a little sheepish going back for more.  However, the cook assured me there was plenty left.  Lifting up the lid to the pots, he showed me the huge amount of food that still remained.  "We only have half the number we usually have.", he told me.  "The forecast for bad weather must have kept some of them away.  You can have as much as you like.  Help yourself."  Music to my ears!  This was to prove the best meal I'd have on the trail.  All of the homemade desserts that the ladies had brought were the cherry on top.
The bad news that filtered through the camp that evening was that one of the trail volunteers had slipped and fallen on the rocks up near Three Ridges, fracturing his ankle.  A team of four paramedics had had to walk in and use a special piece of equipment to cart him off the mountain.  I was sorry to hear it, but at the same time happy it wasn't me.  One little misstep is all it would take to end a thru-hike in the blink of an eye.
After dinner, a small group of us stayed up late, sitting around the fireplace in the picnic pavilion, sharing our experiences from hiking or for a couple in the group, their times mountaineering.  One by one, they slowly drifted off to their tents until I was left alone with the dying fire.  My bed was the top of the picnic table closest to the heat.  The pavilion was my own private shelter.  Hard to believe that I was the only thru-hiker to accept the invitation.  Sometimes it is definitely better to stop, slow down, and enjoy what's in front of you.

Chimney Rocks