AT Project In VA - A River Runs Through It

Appalachian Trail Project in VA – 7/14/13 - Wilson Creek Shelter to VA 614 Jennings Creek – 17 Miles

The night was as pitch black as I have ever seen.  Usually my eyes adjust, but there was not a smidge of light from moon or stars.  Rain fell all night, sometimes hard, sometimes soft, nonstop pitter-pattering on the shelter roof.  Towards morning it was hard to distinguish whether I heard rain or just water dripping from the trees.  No matter what, we were gonna get a little bit wet out on the trail.

Morning light came a little after 6:00 a.m.  I discovered my food bag had been invaded by a small creature, but at least it wasn’t soaking wet from hanging out in a tree all night.  As we stirred around in our sleeping bags, Mike checked the radar on his phone and saw that the jury had brought in an innocent verdict in the Zimmerman trial.  Is having internet access on the trail a good thing?  I think it’s better to walk in ignorant bliss.  Later in the day I would wish for that a lot more.

We were packed up and moving out at 6:50 a.m.  Sounded like a light drizzle, may as well get it over with…but it turned out to be just dripping from wet leaves, so no need for rain gear.  

You know how I feel about burls on trees

Today I tried Becky’s suggestions, walking downhill concentrating on the balls of my feet, lowering my center of gravity a tiny bit, pushing my hip bones exaggeratedly forward.  It may have looked a little silly, but my right knee did not hurt nearly as much.  My butt and thighs got tired, but muscle fatigue is preferable to excruciating knee pain.  The key seemed to be lowering my center of gravity a few inches, making me keep my thighs tensed and taking the pounding rather than my knees.  Becky practically runs down hills in this manner.  Did I mention that she is 70?

Our group was quickly spread out as usual.  We passed a group of summer camp kids carrying backpacks, middle schoolers.  They all looked terribly young.  If anyone was in charge, they were no more than college age.  Near the end of the line I asked a girl about their trip and she told me they were out for 2 weeks and it had rained 12 days.  That lesson should serve them well in their later years:  what seems like a hardship now will be a great story later.

The first overlooks we passed were fogged in, nothing to see, and the sky remained overcast until late morning when the sun finally broke through.  Very few flowers, but fungi were worth noting.

Yellow mushrooms disguised as yellow flowers

We all caught up together as the AT crossed the Blue Ridge Parkway at the Peaks of Otter overlook.  I turned on my phone to send a photo to Jim.  He and I camped at the Peaks once when we were in college – it rained then also, as I recall. 

As I said earlier, I prefer to stay unaware of the goings-on in the world when I’m on the trail.  But when I turned on my phone for the camera, I had a text message from my daughter Megan telling about the death of an actor whom I greatly admired, Cory Monteith of “Glee.”  He had died at the age of 31 of a drug overdose.  Not someone I knew at all, but I felt a knot in my stomach and such a sadness at the loss of such a young, talented person from a terrible, baffling disease.  And here I was on a mountaintop.  Nothing to do but walk on. 

Becky and I leapfrogged each other most of the day, me a little faster on the uphills, she trotting on the downhills.  At Bearwallow Gap she stopped to filter water and soak her feet in the creek, and I continued on to climb Cove Mountain.  I knew from the elevation profile that it was the biggest push of the day.  It was high noon, a steep climb, mountain laurel and scrub brush, not many trees, and my heart pounded as sweat ran in rivers down my clothes.  I felt really overheated but did not stop until the summit.

What goes up must come down.  Next I descended the other side of Cove Mountain.  The openness and lack of mature trees is the result of a forest fire in the 1930's that burned for nearly a month.  While the openness meant hot sun on the back of my neck, it also meant beautiful wildflowers.

Cathy and Mike were waiting at Cove Mountain Shelter to regroup and we rested for a short while.  Becky didn’t appear, but a few minutes after we resumed, I heard her fast approaching on the downhill and she passed me for the final time near the end of our section. 

My car was waiting where Homer put it in a small parking area beside Jennings Creek – ahhh, heaven!  After the hot, hot, hot day, the creek was flowing wide, cold and shallow enough to lie down in.  A great swimming hole!

A perfect way to end the day – we will be back here again!

“Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it.”  ~Norman Mclean

 

AT Project in VA - When Does A Deer Look Like a Cow?

Appalachian Trail in VA Project – 7/13/13 – US 220 Daleville to Wilson Creek Shelter – 11.2 Miles

The backpacking community throws arms open wide to those suffering from the same "affliction.”  Cathy introduced me to her AT-obsessed friends Mike and Becky and arranged a “quick” overnight trip.  I thought I had things figured out but I was about to learn some more.  

At least this time I knew I wanted the shorter day to be first.  Early Saturday morning we made the 4-hour drive from Charlotte to Daleville, VA with a dubious forecast looming.

Our good shuttle friend Homer helped us out in a way that was new to me.  We picked him up at his home, drove to our starting point, and from there he took my car back to his home overnight.  The next morning he had help delivering it to our end point.  I’ve never had any problems but I have seen other cars at remote trailheads with busted windshields (and heard stories of stolen vehicles).  I appreciated the security of my car sitting in Homer’s driveway overnight.

Goodbye six-lane highway, hello dirt footpath

Next obstacle, going under I-81 with trucks roaring overhead

My three fellow hikers were fast and I soon found myself in that familiar last place, comfortable for me as long as the white blazes are consistent.  At the back of the pack sometimes you see what others miss.   I stopped to watch a cautious mama deer and her two little ones crossing the railroad tracks.

A fence stile at the edge of an apple orchard

A reminder to behave so we can have nice things

We stopped at Fullhardt Knob Shelter for a lunch break and a little drizzle began but didn’t last.  Soon we were back at full speed on the trail.  On the moderately steep downhills my right knee began talking to me, sharp pains like I had been experiencing since March.  This was bad news for the early miles of an overnight trip.  Though my backpack weighed only about 22 pounds, the extra weight greatly exacerbated my fragile knee. 

Carolina vetch

Chicken of the woods

Becky in her hiking skirt.  This lady is remarkable, at age 70.  She began backpacking in her 60’s and has completed all the AT except a few miles in Maine, much of it as a solo hiker with her dog named Justice.  Justice has had to retire from the trail because of leg injuries, so now Becky’s trail name is “No Justice.”

Our timing in reaching Wilson Creek Shelter was excellent.  The shelter sits in view of the trail, but its water source is .3 miles down a steep switchback.  I followed Cathy down the hill to collect water, wincing with each step as my knee scraped and popped, but I made it.  Becky pitched her tent (she’s used to sleeping with her dog) and the rest of us chose the shelter.  As we finished up cooking supper the rain began to come down. 

A young backpacker named Bob had already set up residence in the shelter.  He was admittedly a novice, learning a lot by trial and error and having fun with it.  He built a fire and cooked his dinner in foil packets (yummy stuff but heavy to carry and most backpackers don’t build fires).  Using his camera tripod (also heavy to carry but at least he was finding multiple uses for it) he contrived hanging a can over his fire to boil water.   Bob asked lots of questions and was attentive to our advice and suggestions.  He had not heard of shuttles and was amazed that you could get a ride to your starting point and hike in one direction.  He seemed to be loving this new endeavor and I wish him a lifetime of adventures on the trails.

With the clouds and rain, dusk set in quickly.  The biggest deer I have ever seen walked around the edge of the shelter area.  Looking at its huge, squared-off flank passing silently through the trees, for one crazy moment I thought it might be a cow.  What’s a cow doing wandering around in the woods?

As we sat and watched the rain increase, we enjoyed trading stories about hikes completed and planned, ultralight gear, crazy high mileage days (not me).  Cathy and Mike are both seriously whittling away at the AT and Becky just likes to get out whenever and wherever she can.  When I mentioned my knee pain, Becky offered advice for the downhills which I shall try tomorrow.

There was lively discussion about hanging our food in a tree versus inside the shelter.  No convenient bear bag poles or pulley systems in this neck of the woods.  Mike said he hangs his food in the shelters and nothing ever disturbs it.  No bears?   Well, I caved in – after all, by now it was pouring rain – and hung my food bag with everyone else’s.  But I didn’t feel good about it. (Note:  the next morning my food bag was on the floor and a tiny hole was in it and my trail mix was all over the place.)

Becky went to bed, Bob tried to, while Cathy and Mike and I played a lengthy card game of war – guess who won.

“A man who carries a cat by the tail learns something he can learn in no other way.”  ~Mark Twain