Three for Three

5:00 am.

After reflexively silencing my alarm to keep the camp quiet, I had to lie back for a few minutes to recall why I was breaking camp before dawn.

Right. Eight miles to the Virginia border, three more miles to Damascus, and five hours driving to Round Hill. Up. Retrieve bear bag … huh, one of the noobs took advantage of the extra line I left coiled on the ground to hang their own bag. Would have been less irritating if they had asked first.

Boil water, make breakfast. Stuff sleeping bag, change to hiking clothes, collect and pack gear while breakfast is cooling.

Big City packed as quickly as I do, but it took her longer to boil water for breakfast. She admired the design of my JetBoil®; we exchanged best wishes and headed off in opposite directions. Happy trails, m’am.

I passed the flip floppers’ tent site as I left camp northbound and waved to them. They seemed to be taking time to appreciate the final tent strikedown of their long adventure.

Smooth trail, easy downgrades and few upgrades, lots of energy … I was almost halfway to the border and taking a siesta when the flipfloppers overtook me, chattering about a weekend festival in Damascus they had heard about. The “Fall Down” Festival, sponsored by the local craft breweries? I made polite noises, encouraged them to accept the festival as the town’s recognition of their personal success as well, offered what I knew of good food locations in Damascus, congratulated them and wished them well.  

Some troubles keeping the backpack centered on my back took very little away from a great hiking day. I made the border by 11:30, next stop Damascus! The mountains looked remarkably similar in Virginia and Tennessee.

Eight miles done, three miles to go on a steep descent, muscles tiring. Two hours? I chose 2 pm as a target.

Some short and easy climbs reminded me of my limits — the Snail had already done seven miles for the day — I updated my target to 3 pm, and pressed on.

“Hello, good to see you again!” The flipfloppers, coming up from behind? They had stopped for an, umm, extended lunch. They rushed on before it occurred to me that I should have offered shuttle help, a little trail magic to ease the letdown of their finish.

Then, down. And Down. And Down some more. There are a number of switchback odysseys like this on the Trail, and Down is of course much easier than Up. Still, mind numbing, and it was a welcome relief when the Trail leveled out and a building roof appeared below the trees filling the valley.

Finally, Damascus. 3:15 pm.

Staying on to the End

No rain! Breakfast, pack, an earnest goodbye to Snickers the UL hiker and a less earnest see ya at the next shelter to the noobs. One of them woke the camp this morning,  screaming from his hammock at a creature moving through their area … it was his buddy, answering Nature's call. Good grief, sixty year old Boy Scouts.

Rolling! Do I keep going and struggle through eleven miles into Damascus tomorrow, or do I call for a shuttle? When the trail runs level, I'm for option A; when it tilts up or a chilly gust crosses the ridge, B.

Sunshine breaks out and seals the deal. On to the shelter!

I was the first-in at Abingdon Gap Shelter. Close behind, a cheery hospital social worker arrived. I offered help with hanging her bear bag.

A young flip flop couple stops in, and we recognize each other. I thought they would be miles ahead of me! They say that are finishing the Trail in Damascus. After a brief chat, they go off to find a space for their tent.

No sign of the noob trio, could they have gotten into trouble and given up?  As we are finishing up and withdrawing to our sleeping bags, though, they arrive, still headed to Damascus like I am.

To sleep. Tomorrow, early up and on the trail for eleven more miles, good weather anticipated!

Eleven miles? Don't let the Snail know.

Every End Is A New Beginning

Doctor Who? (the question mark is part of his trail name) and I took a while this morning convincing ourselves that it wasn't raining hard enough to justify crawling back into our sleeping bags. Nature and the promise of reaching Damascus got me moving first.

As I was finishing pack-up, I noticed that he was sitting and staring at the rain with a tired expression I have seen a few times on the Trail. “It won't rain all the way to Springer,” I offered.

“Yeah. But I'm done. Maybe next year.”

We offered best wishes, and I headed out into the drizzle.

This was a good test of my hunter orange rain kilt, and it passed with flying colors! It kept my lower body dry, was much more comfortable than rain pants. None of the half-dozen SOBOs who passed made disparaging comments, other than one woman who asked if hunting season was open in Tennessee?

A dayhiker joined in one of my SOBO conversations, unfortunately a chatty sort who wanted to talk about his prostate surgery. I helped the poor SOBO escape, but would up with “Jolly Roger” trailing me and chattering all the way to the next shelter.

Three more SOBO acolytes were taking a break there, all chattering about the members of their clan that were either ahead of or behind them on the trail. So, a full shelter … not. Everyone moved on but me. Why would anyone be fixing dinner at 4:30? Because it's cold, I'm wet, I'm tired, the next shelter is eight miles away, and I want to put on my warm dry stuff and curl up in my sleeping bag. Alone is fine, take care, happy trails, don't let the door slam on your way out ....

Except, a group of older guys out on their first multi-day AT hike rolled in. They plan to hammock out in the rain? Ok, have a good time …. And an ultralight hiker joined us and goes straight to set up on the shelter deck with me while the others go about learning how to set up camp in the woods when it is raining.

Thunder and hard rain tonight. Tomorrow, more rain? Possibly.

When it rains in Tennessee, hikers know it

Much cooler temperatures and only five hours of hiking, which the muscles appreciated. I made it to the spring before the rain started … once again finding myself filtering water while gallons of purer water are pouring from the skies.

Hiking skirt performed admirably, though. A pair of lightweight gaiters may help keep the boots dryer, but I doubt it.

Three SOBOs joined me in the shelter to watch the rain and rant about Everything Trailwise. Two of them then decided to brave the elements and push on, but the older one chose to close up and shut down. So did I.

Johnson Ridge

Happily, cool lake breezes helped break the heat this afternoon. At nine miles plus a 400’ climb for water at day's end, this has been a hard one. Beautiful views of the lake and the mountains and a full moon at Vandeventer shelter, though.

Full shelter this evening, an activist mother and her young teen daughter, a young fellow who excused himself to check in with his mother, and two veteran hikers.

Too tired to write more. Next stop, Iron Mountain Shelter.

Another Damascus Zero, and on!

Sorting gear, reviewing the hike, updating the blog, checking the weather … go or no? Dave at Mount Rogers Outfitters shrugged and said “You'll get wet, but you won't die. Unless you ought to.”  His bunkroom is closed for renovation, though (translation: too much trouble to open it up for a stranger). I reserved a shuttle back to Huntley in the morning, then walked down the street to the Hikers Inn.

  

Lots of Protestant churches in this town,  and there are a few Cory Stewart lawn signs and only one for Tim Kaine, our Democratic incumbent. One of the recent dust-ups down here involved a young white owner of a popular spot who pushed his strong views on white rights over the civility line with A Customer. He was publicly chastised (because, well, Customer), but he was widely supported by the community and given a warning by the police.

Common courtesy, isn't it? If a guest has different opinions and offers them politely, the host needs to treat the encounter as a learning moment, not an attack. On the other side, when one stops over at a place where people have invested themselves in a different worldview, it is not going to do any good to shout one's contrary views at them. I scrubbed off the bumper stickers before I drove south.

Choice for dinner downtown after 6 are limited, but fortunately the Damascus Diner stays open until 9. Meatloaf that needs no ketchup, grilled cabbage, and clog-your-arteries mac and cheese, bluegrass tunes playing in the background … Americana. It wears out fast for me, but I love the people just trying to be themselves.

Sure you'll want ice cream on that pah?

2179 miles in 2010. They decided that Damascus was best.

Off trail to resupply

On the way out in the morning, Rocket let me know that Honcho was rumored to have a casual attitude towards taking other people’s gear, another reason he had moved out of the shuttle last night. I lost nothing, hope that neither of the ladies were victimized!

The Trail a two thousand mile long small town, and it sounds like Honcho has a reputation problem. That is bad news for someone who is trying to live up here more or less permanently.

Southbound along the shore of a small river, I encountered a northbound daypacker who asked me if I had seen the turnoff for Jones Falls? Funny, I was just about to ask the same question … we agreed that whichever of us had missed it, the turn must be poorly marked.

Fortunately for me, it was he who missed the sign!

Jones Falls

Limping over Buck Mountain and down thru an overgrown meadow for a final few miles, I decided that I should demote myself back to Seven Mile Snail. I still get there.

Rocket was at the hostel ahead of me with a bungee strap I had dropped. The ladies, though, had not left camp when he did. I hope they enjoyed a happy day on the Trail!

Buck Mountain meadow

Usual end of week treat, provided by a young couple still busily painting and tiling their new store as the served ice cream and french press coffee (gratis, they were trying out a new grinder!).

Sweet Dreams Banana Split w/ baklava ice cream

Then northbound, with a zero day to restock and reenergize.

UpS and Downs

Slightly cooler weather today, which was helpful. I was sweating before I reached Laurel Falls at the end of the windless gorge!

Laurel Falls

Railroad cut?

Bear scratch

Laurel Gorge

Dead copperheads (top of photo)

Moreland Gap Falls from the top

Eight hours, 3900’ up, 4500’ down, and I found Moreland Gap shelter waiting at the bottom of the hill. Three women who I met on the trail earlier also stopped here for the night, made for a chatty crowd.

Some hiker who stayed last night left the bodies of two copperheads he had killed lying in front of the shelter.

The women were not impressed. One of them picked up a shovel, scooped up the bodies, and tossed them into the woods while muttering imprecations against people who don't clean up their messes ... dead snake bodies, definitely a violation of Leave No Trace protocols.

Fortunately, everyone was tired and observed hikers’ midnight early.

Butterfly wings

9/20 Thursday  

Another flap of the butterflys' wings, and the August heat returns to Cherokee National Forest just in time for my first day on the trail, climbing 1500’ up Pond Mountain as temperatures rose and the wind died, and then descending 720’ on a western exposure. That smell of almost-burning flannel in the dryer? Yup.

Surprisingly, this little niche of Appalachia did not get much rain at all. The hostel owner mentioned how much business he had lost, not that I made a questionable choice in rescheduling or anything ... all his other guests for the weekend had done the same.

Walking through grove of towering trees and tunnels cut through mountain laurel thickets … must be even more beautiful in flowering season than it it now!

Pond Mountain Wilderness

I limped up to the shelter overlooking Laurel Creek, which was noisily racing away its brief moment of stardom as it hurdled over Laurel Falls. Lots of butterflies! The shelter has seen better days, there's no room to set up a tent, and I had to haul water in up a half mile poorly built side trail. Still, it's home for the night.

Laurel Fork Shelter

A Decent Start

The strongest motivation I have to finish up the southern part of the AT is that the trip will likely always begin with a trip down one of my least favorite roadways, Interstate 81. It wasn't too difficult today, actually ... but, six hours on a beautiful post-storm autumn day? Perfect for hiking!

When I checked in at Mountain Harbour, Shannon told me that everyone had cancelled out for the weekend, but the weather was fine. Shuttle leaves at 9 am tomorrow morning, rah!

The cat says I'm okay for a Yankee

A cautionary note: the geography down here tends toward small valleys between steeply sloped hills, with doubtful support for online access. My next post may be as late as the 25th, when I return to Mountain Harbour.

No worry necessary,  this still isn't wilderness! There's conveneience stores everywhere, and I do have my satellite emergency beacon with me.

REscheduling for the calm after Florence passes by

Delay in game!  Out of respect for Nature, I am replanning to start hiking on Thursday, September 20.

An assurance to everyone:  I will be staying in a hostel on Saturday night, and will stay longer if the weather does not flip into the clear post-storm calm that I am expecting.

Forced to stay indoors with nothing to do but enjoy good home cooking ... well, if you want to live an adventurous life, you have to take some risks.

https://weather.com/safety/hurricane/news/2018-09-11-hurricane-florence-forecast-north-carolina-south-carolina-virginia

Expecting New Results

The walls are muttering again about Doing Something Useful With My Time, so I am going to try to collect a few more white blazes before winter e sets in. Hopes for checking off the 1000 mile mark having been dashed in New York last May, I am just pushing to get beyond my mid Atlantic comfort zone.

Also, the partisan drumbeat in northern Virginia ... whatever Canada does to pull off their elections in a couple of months, we need to embrace as protection for the last fragments of our national sanity.

This time, the trail will lead north through the mountains just south of the Virginia border. Highlights will include the shelter at Roan High Knob, highest on the AT at 6186 feet, bracketed by a number of "balds", mountains of similar size that rise above the tree line, close to the Nolichucky Gorge and through the Mountain Harbour B&B (https://mountainharbour.info) , which will doubtless look even better when I collapse at its door after a week of Ups and Downs.

Weather is always a concern in this area. The forecast at the moment is for rain, and rain, and then probably, well, rain.  Having had enough of hiking wet in New Jersey last spring, I will be tuning my hiking plan to dodge between raindrops.

I plan to depart on September 15, return to Round Hill in early October, and post tales of my travels when my Internet connection allows!

Pictures from Delaware

Some photos I took while visiting Claymont to join in welcoming a Kenyan missionary group that Father John Gayton is supporting.

Still serving!

The bridge where Sean and Marie went kayaking

The new Wilmington Poohsticks Bridge

Holy Rosary Catholic Church

Other notes -- one of the big trees in front of 87 South Avon Drive has been taken down, and Claymont Elementary School has been changed to a community center. Time moves on.

Blue Ridge Democrats' Meet and Greet at the B Chord Brewery.

Beer, bluegrass, and blue State visions. State Senator Jennifer Wexton on schmooze, Senator Tim Kaine on harmonica (dark blue shirt, lower left.)

Looking back 2015-2018

I got lost chasing through the posts that have built up here, trying to recall when I was somewhere, or the other place? Time to work out a tag and search widget ... In the meantime, here's a few of my favorites, starting with one from Marie' graduation in 1977.

Event	Links
Grandson Backpacking 2018
Rocksylvania 2017
Solar Eclipse 2017
Mount St Helens and the Lava Tube 2017
Olympia to Vancouver Island 2017
Strawberry Mountain Wilderness 2017
Southwestern Virginia 2017
Olympic Peninsula 2016
Cocoa's Fantastical 4697 Mile Adventure 2015

More later!

Into the light of the dark black night, crying

Remembering roads traveled 2007 - 2018

My Blackbird was the victim of insurance industry practices that discriminate against older automobiles, a tired driver, and a deer.

The driver suffered no physical injuries, but has become a little more gray.

Again.

Resting. Reading. Waiting.

The cellular engineering and the biochemistry that heals tendons and joints have not evolved to dot-com worldstrider speeds yet. Enforced idleness, aargh, the moss is growing back!

Good thing that there's a pile of neglected books at hand to keep me sane.

For nearly a year, I have been working my way through "Pilgrim at Tinker Creek", Annie Dillard's 1974 love song to the southwestern Virginia woodlands. Fellow 1975 Cornellian, bibliophile, and close friend Barbara Cook loaned the paperback to me some time ago; it is a long, slow read, and worth it.

I must return the book to her some day soon.

Tinker Creek -- photo from wildernessescapades.com

What else is going on right this minute while ground water creeps under my feet? The galaxy is careening in a slow, muffled widening.  If a million solar systems are born every hour, then surely hundreds burst into being as I shift my weight to the other elbow. The sun's surface is now exploding; other stars implode and vanish, heavy and black, out of sight. Meteorites are arcing to earth invisibly all day long. On the planet the winds are blowing, the polar easterlies, the westerlies, the northeast and southeast trades. Somewhere, someone under full sail is becalmed, in the horse latitudes, in the doldrums; in the northland, a trapper is maddened, crazed, by the eerie scent of the chinook, the snoweater, a wind that can melt two feet of snow in a day. The pampero blows, and the tramontane, and the Boro, sirocco, levanter, mistral.

Lick a finger: feel the now. -- Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

To the hills, again

A great day hike today with trusted friends Barbara Cook and Mary Thurman anticipating my return to the Trail.  Beautiful day, good companions, enough exercise to justify a small celebratory ice cream!

Harpers Ferry panorama from Maryland Heights -- photo by M. Thurman

Ouch

One of the slippery rocks  finally got me.

Yes, I'm blue

Fellow hiker Naps walked me back to the trailhead, a local hiker drove me to the nearest urgent care center, and the medical team  sympathetically, cheerfully, and quickly ptocessed me into a cast. Recvery time is over six weeks, so my carefully drawn plans will still be useful in 2019!

Sean will be returning me to Round Hill, and Barbara Cook has offered to pick up the Ion and drive it home on her way back from vacationing in New England.

Happy birthday, Marie

The lakes, birds, and flowers here in New Jersey's forest would be enjoyable for you, I think, and you surely would have a glorious time with your grandchildren adding more rock sculptures to the unusual collections around Sunfish Pond. 

The backpacking? Less so, possibly, but you would endure it out of love and determination. These days, I would try harder to see the difference between what you chose to enjoy with me and what you actually like to do.

Still missing you, expect I always will.

Nash Dake crater trail

States Of Mind

Third day on the most challenging section of the Trail I have attempted so far. Done.

New Jersey - New York border on the Trail

x

The light drizzle hardly seemed worth spending the day idling in a chilly shelter, so the seven hikers all set off with packs and bodies wrapped against the storm. A few more swampy boardwalks, a little more drizzle … fellow section hiker Naps tried to arrange a shuttle in to Warwick for a night off trail, but wound up hiking up after me and joining in my plan to go to ground in Fort Montgomery.

According to the map, this is Prospect Rock

Up there? You're kidding, right?

Yes, the Trail goes right by it

A moss covered stone

Yes, those are rebar steps driven into the rock

The trail in New York, we agreed, must have been designed by someone who drew a straight line along the map of the ridge leading north, and laying out the trail accordingly, directly over the piles of fossilized sea bed tossed up by the retreating glaciers … except that it was obvious that the path had been adjusted for a maximum of rock scrambling and a maximum number of high points crossed. Several times, we took the ascents over the wet, slippery rocks one at a time while the other waited ready to call for help if the climber slipped.

Tired, soaked, and sore, we reached the parking lot where the Ion was waiting about 3 pm. It was a happy sight after eight hours of hiking! We drove to the Bellview Creamery for emergency recovery assistance of the dairy variety, and then took the highway north to the Bear Mountain Bridge Inn in Fort Montgomery.

Naps checked into cottage #1, Ten Mile Snail checked in to cottage #4, and - since #2 and #3 were already taken - the inn owner turned on the “NO VACANCY” sign. It's a very small inn at the highway's edge, run by an older couple who are, they say,taking care of it for their son.

Tomorrow, Naps and I will resupply, do laundry, and recover while another storm wave passes by. Then, back to Bellview Creamery by shuttle and four days of hiking back to Fort Montgomery. Bounce, bounce … and on to Connecticut!