Author Archives: Birch

About Birch

After much hiking in my youth (Boy Scouts, working at Grand Canyon, and Army Infantry) and a long hiatus from the trails, I picked up my trekking poles again in 2014 at the age of 53. I'm having a blast! . . . But, alas, so many trails, and so little time.

AT: High Point State Park to NJ-94

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After spending the night in Vernon, Maple and I dropped off our car at the AT crossing on NJ-94 and were picked up by our shuttle driver. Once again, we relied upon George Lightcap, and it has been our pleasure to get acquainted with him.

The morning was foggy, and the High Point monument was almost entirely shielded from view. But, despite the clouds and the chill in the air, it was going to turn into a beautiful autumn day, ideal for backpacking.
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Once we passed High Point Shelter, we ran into two fellow section hikers, Waldo, her dog, and friend, Chad, who were traveling in the same direction.

Six miles into our hike, we stopped at a footbridge over a stream and topped off our water, just to make certain that we had enough to cook a hot lunch of ramen noodles. But, before having lunch, we decided to go a bit further.

And, then, we had a little accident. While traveling over the puncheons through Vernie Swamp, Maple slipped and went feet first into the swamp. Unfortunately, she also, then, lost her balance, and went down onto her hands and knees. Only her backpack stayed above the water and muck. In a panic, I stepped onto the same wet spot on the plank and slipped off into the swamp. I stayed upright on my feet, in eight inches of mud and muck, and with water up to my knees. We both managed to quickly get ourselves back onto the puncheons, but the damage was done. I must say, though, that Maple handled the event marvelously: no screaming, no whining, no moaning.  I even heard her say, “It’s all good.”
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Both of us had soaking wet boots, but Maple was thoroughly drenched and, on top of that, smelling worse than a thru-hiker. So, when we stopped to cook our lunch, she changed her clothes.

Our original plan was to stop in Unionville, NY, and set up camp in the town’s park, which has been made available for that purpose to AT hikers. However, upon arriving at Lott Rd., we decided to press on and try to get to Pochuck Mountain Shelter before nightfall.

There’s a half-mile stretch where the AT runs parallel to NJ-284, and then makes a left turn to cross the road. Maple and I both missed the left turn, and consequently had to walk through a bog several inches deep. We cleared the bog and pressed on for another hundred yards or so before realizing our mistake. Not wanting to retrace our steps through the bog, we bushwacked our way through some thorny bushes until we spotted a couple of hikers and knew we had found our way back to the trail.

Just across NJ-284 there is a steam. We filled our dromedary there, and I carried our water for the next six miles, including the mile-and-a-half through the Wallkill River National Wildlife Refuge. With the recent cold weather, most of the birds appear to have gone south, but Maple and I did see ducks and a crane.

We arrived at Pochuck Mountain Shelter just before nightfall, quickly set up our tent and made ourselves coffee. And then, after sunset, cooked our dinner. By the time we visited the shelter, it was too dark to see and Waldo and Chad had already retired for the night. It was time for Maple and I to retire, as well. We were exhausted.

It rained during the night, and the temperature dropped below freezing, so there was a layer of frost over everything when we awoke in the morning—twelve hours later. By 9:30 we were packed up and ready to get back on the trail.

The highlight of day two was definitely passing over the Pochuck Boardwalk, a remarkable accomplishment of engineering. It follows a circuitous route through Vernon Valley and, by means of a suspension bridge, crosses over Pochuck Creek. Beyond the boardwalk are more puncheons, eventually leading us to NJ-94 and the end of our trip.

AT: Millwood/Blairstown Road to Culver’s Gap

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Day One: Millwood/Blairstown Road to Brink Road Shelter

Once again, Maple and I enjoyed the shuttle service provided by George Lightcap of Newton, NJ. He picked us up promptly at 8:30 at Culver’s Gap and transported us, together with a fellow hiker, Glenn, to Millwood/Blairstown Road. After a couple weeks of rain, it was fortuitous to have a day of sunshine, with clouds—even though the humidity was rather high.

There were a couple of places requiring scrambling and hiking over a rock field, but overall, I’d say that the 10.9 mile hike to Brink Road Shelter was easier than the average AT hike. What made it more difficult for Maple was that one of her hiking poles broke during the first mile. It snapped in two where the sections joined together. We tried using duct tape, but that solution failed miserably.

I saw several salamanders and frogs on the trail during this trip—perhaps, because of all the rain we’ve had recently.

Just before leaving on this trip, I purchased a second Helinox Chair Zero—an excellent chair to bring backpacking, weighing only 1 pound each. I carried both, and Maple and I were able to enjoy a nice lunch break at a place that had no convenient rocks or logs to sit on.

Just before climbing Rattlesnake Mountain, we came to a nicely constructed bridge over a brook, compliments of the Boy Scouts. Rattlesnake Mountain was, I think, the most precipitous and rocky ascent that we had this day, but the view to the north from the top was certainly worth it. There we stopped and took a short break.

9-15_1725When we got to Brink Road Shelter, we found that the ground in front of it was under water. The water stretched out over the road, and most of the way toward the spring—so it was no simple task to make our way to the spring to fill up our dromedary. Once we got there, we found that our water filter would not pump. Ultimately, we decided to take our chances, and take our water directly from the source of the spring, without filtering.

Day Two: Brink Road Shelter to Culver’s Gap

We awoke in our tent on day two to the sound of light rainfall. This was not in the forecast. In fact, the weather report said there was no chance of rain in Newton, just ten miles to the south. Even so, the sprinkling was not bad, and Maple and I got out of our tent and enjoyed a cup of coffee and oatmeal for breakfast.

We didn’t get far on our second day’s journey, without noticing the saturation of the forest with spider webs. Webs crossed the trail, and we both had to use our trekking poles to clear the way before us.9-16_0936

After about an hour, we were out of the spider infested forest. Soon we had to make our steep descent from Kittatinny Mountain to Culver’s Gap.

We had fun, and look forward to continuing our journey in two weeks.

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Birch, with Culver Lake in the background.

AT: Franconia Notch to Crawford Notch

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Day 1: Franconia Notch to Liberty Springs Tentsite

Maple and I were picked up by our shuttle driver, Dan of Trail Angels, at 11:30 at the Rattle River parking area—just south of Gorham. (Our plan was to hike all the way from US-3 to US-2. We had a twelve-day itinerary, but this was not to be. Dan told us that many people that he shuttles don’t make it as far as their intentions, and that we should contact him if we bail. We didn’t think that would apply to us, but we kept it in mind.)

From Franconia Notch, we had to walk through the woods a ways, on the Pemi Trail, before we crossed the bridge that leads directly to the Liberty Springs Trail, part of the AT. From the commencement of this trail, one has 2.6 miles uphill to the tentsite; however, the uphill doesn’t begin in earnest until one has to cross a creek. Then, one has 2 miles still to go, and it is the most strenuous 2 miles I think that I have ever experienced on the AT. Hiking southward up the Priest was definitely easier. The Liberty Springs Trail completely exhausted me. By the time we arrived at the tentsite, I was in no condition to safely backpack much further.

Ryan, the caretaker at Liberty Springs Tentsite, got us situated at platform number 9—and, as I write this at 8:10 in the evening—we have the platform to ourselves. We’ve had to store our food in a bearbox and do all of our cooking—including making coffee—at the cooking area. We filtered our water at a slow-moving spring close to the cooking area.

Maple and I are a bit discouraged by the hard hiking conditions and the time that it took us to make it up the mountain today. It is humid, and I was completely drenched in sweat by the time we got to the top. I think the humidity helped to drain me of energy. We’re committed to giving this hiking trip our best shot, and—if we can’t keep up with our itinerary, then we’ll bail out at Crawford Notch, but that would be a shame.

Day 2: Liberty Springs Tentsite to Garfield Ridge Campsite and Shelter

Birch and I were up at 5:30 a.m. to begin our day. The weather was gorgeous. After eating and breaking camp, we were on the trail by 7:20. We had a serious .4 miles hike to get up to a ridge. After a good night’s sleep, the first 2 miles weren’t too bad, but I was surprised not to see the open ridge that I was expecting.  Pretty soon we had a serious ascent. Franconia Ridge was spectacular but the photos make it look easy. In fact, it was exhausting.  We had a ton of scrambling to do – both up and down. By the half way point I wondered if we would make it! It turned out that the 2nd half was just as difficult. This trail was kicking our patooties!

 

7-17_0556Birch and I were in rough shape when we reached the shelter.  The good news was that the shelter was beautiful! It was huge. Everyone who arrived seemed to stay at the shelter instead of tenting, since rain was forecast for the night and next day. There were a lot of thru-hikers there who were super nice and were also complaining about the difficult hike.  It was encouraging to know that this really WAS tough. We slept well that night.

Day 3: Garfield Ridge Campsite and Shelter to Guyot Campsite and Shelter

Despite a forecast of incoming rain, Maple and I awoke to a still-dry morning. We decided to get moving, so we prepared our coffee and oatmeal, packed up, and got on the trail by 7:00. Unfortunately, we were both under the impression that we had to go back up .2 miles (over steep boulders) to the top of Mt. Garfield to reconnect with the AT. Forty-five minutes later, we were back at the Garfield Ridge spring and ready to move forward.

Those first steps forward turned out to be down a waterfall. It’s strange what a person will become willing to do when the only alternative is an exhausting and humiliating retreat. Climbing down those wet boulders was precarious, to say the least.

Shortly, after the rain began to fall, we got into our raingear. Once again, I was to learn that I get just as soaked hiking in raingear than if I were to go without it—but for some reason, I find it so hard to forego putting it on when it begins to rain. Yet, not to pack it would be irresponsible.

After a difficult descent, followed by an exhausting ascent, we arrived at Galehead Hut, at about 11:30. The coffee (at $1 a cup) was cold and full of grinds, but the bean soup ($2 a bowl), which became available at noon, hit the spot. We bought Snickers for desert, then ventured back out into the rain.

Leaving Galehead Hut, we had a hard climb up South Twin Mountain. The remainder of the way to Mt. Guyot (pronounced Gee-oh) was not as rough, but was still exhausting. Mt. Guyot is in an alpine zone, covered with huge boulders, over which one must navigate, and it was eerily half-hidden with clouds.

At Mt. Guyot, we left the AT and travelled .8 miles on the Bondcliff Trail to Guyot Campsite and Shelter. Jacob, the caretaker, was happy to see us as we were, at 5:30, the first to arrive.

After setting up inside the shelter, which we were to share with “Mr. Maps” (who occupied the top level), we prepared our dinner, filtered our water, and prepared to settle in for the night. We were exhausted. It was then, as I went to retrieve our journal, to write my blog entry, that I got a muscle spasm in my left knee. I could not stand on my leg, bend it, or turn it without causing myself severe pain. Maple sought help for me and returned with Niko, a fellow hiker who was trained in first-aid. He counseled me on how to tend to it and advised that we wait till morning before making any decisions based on my condition. Maple applied a freezer-bag filled with spring water, and I took 1 gram of Ibuprofen to get me through the night.

(Miraculously, by morning, I was as good as new, and so we did not have to take the zero day that we had anticipated.)

Day 4: Guyot Campsite and Shelter to Ethan Pond Campsite and Shelter

Well, miracles do happen. Birch and I had planned to stay an extra day at Guyot for him to recuperate, but it turned out that it wasn’t necessary.  If you had seen the utter pain he was in the night before, you would have assumed that we were in big trouble. However, we were able to hike out of Guyot and we reached the boulder-covered peak in good time. Before long, the trail descended into the trees. Although rocky, it was our smoothest day yet.

 

We were at Zealand Hut in no time and had a chance to relax and have an amazing bowl of lentil soup, plus a Hershey bar. There were quite a few day hikers at the hut, which offers easy access to a waterfall and great views. We saw Mr. Maps again, too, who was pleasantly surprised to see that we had made it.

After an easy and short descent, the trail became amazingly flat.  The only downside in this section is that we had to go through a bog or swamp for the last few miles. We walked on plank upon plank to get to Ethan Pond.  Ethan “Pond” would be considered a lake in Minnesota. We set up our tent on a platform and enjoyed a long nap before having lasagna for dinner.

Overall, this hike was the easiest yet, even though it was 10 miles. We were exhausted, though.The Whites are beautiful but tough!

Day 5: Ethan Pond Campsite and Shelter to Crawford Notch

Lots of aches and pains this morning as we arose. But, after granola with peaches, we packed up and were off.

There were more puncheons at first, then the trail began a slow descent down hill. This is more like the AT that Maple and I knew before we experienced the Whites.

When we arrived at the parking area at Crawford Notch, the first thing I did was try my cell phone to call Garey’s Taxi Service of Littleton. I had talked to Garey in advance and had learned from him that we would have no trouble calling him from the notch, but—alas—no cell coverage, neither for us nor from any other people at the parking lot. Yet, to our good fortune, a fellow hiker that we had met at Ethan Pond offered us a lift into Littleton.

Littleton is a very nice little town, with great restaurants, a hiking store (Lahouts), and the Littleton Motel, “oldest motel in New Hampshire,” where we made plans to stay for two nights.

Here our trip ends. The trail has taken more of a toll on our bodies than we had anticipated. We’ll be saving the remainder of the Whites for another time.

AT: I-70 to Pen Mar

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We awoke at 5:00 on Saturday, May 5, expecting rain, but finding that the forecast had delayed rain until 1:00. We hustled out of our home with two cars, parked one at our destination at Pen Mar Park, and then retreated to our beginning point where the AT crosses I-70 near Greenbrier State Park.
The first flip-floppers that we met were Kool and Kats (pictured ahead of us on the trail), who had spent the night at Pine Knob Shelter, close to I-70. Having just begun their hike at Harper’s Ferry, they were full of determination. “Where are you hiking to tonight?” Maple asked. “Maine” was the answer. “I hope you are planning to spend the night a little closer than Maine,” Maple delicately responded. “Maine” was again the retort. “We have to keep our sights on our destination,” was their explanation.

We would leap-frog with them several times during the day, as we and they rested. When they shared with us that their destination was Raven Rock Shelter, my first response was, “That shelter was dismantled two years ago,” but then—upon checking AWOL’s guidebook, it confirmed that the shelter was still there. As it turned out, the old Raven Rock Shelter was, indeed, dismantled and moved to the new AT museum to be opened at Damascus, VA., but a new, two-level shelter has been erected in its place.

I should mention one other thru-hiker that we met at the creek a mile south of Ensign Cowall Shelter. “How are you doing?” Maple innocently asked. “That’s just one question that everybody asks out here: ‘What does your pack weigh? How much food are you carrying? How are you doing?’ Let me tell you, when you are on the CDT, there’s nobody to bother you for days on end.” I laughed, and Maple persevered, “Where are you headed to tonight?” “That’s another question that people ask. I’m going as far as I’m going.” “Fair enough,” Maple responded, “What’s your trail name?” “Well,” said this stranger, “I’m not going to tell you. What does it matter?”

Maple and I filled our dromedary at the creek, and proceeded to Ensign Cowall Shelter, 8.6 miles into our hike. We were eager to set up our tent before the rain began. And surely enough, once we were set up and had introduced ourselves to those at the shelter, the rain set in—not to stop until about 4 a.m. We moved our cooking equipment and food in order to prepare our dinner at the picnic table under the overhang of the shelter. There were a couple of other flip-floppers there, one extremely talkative older man who just loved to hang out at shelters, and—later—one father with his two children, aged eight and ten, who were hiking 20+ miles a day and deciding whether or not to hike the whole AT.

5-6_0853At 5:00 the following morning, it stopped raining. Maple and I got up as soon as there was daylight, packed up our wet tent, prepared oatmeal for breakfast, and were on our way two hours later. We had a couple of engorged streams to cross that posed a bit of a risk and got our boots wet, and two and a half hours later we arrived at the new Raven Rock Shelter. The wood was new and beautiful, but the interior had been irreparably scarred by someone with an alcohol-burning stove. What a shame!

Just before we got to Raven Rock Shelter we met the sullen man we had the privilege of meeting the day before. “Hi! How you doin’,” Maple asked. The mysterious stranger mumbled something under his breath, and we passed on by. I think that this man was the most unfriendly person we have ever met on the AT. The AT is an especially social trail. It intersects with towns at so many places that you cannot reasonably expect to hike an entire day without meeting people. This sometimes happens, but it is rare. Maple and I have met the most friendly people on this planet on the AT. They are people who not only expect to meet other people, but who look forward to it. There are even people on the trail who do not hike it, but who are on it with the sole purpose of offering “trail magic”—that is, food, drink, transportation into town, or some other kindness to those who are hiking the trail. For many people, hiking the AT has been a way of renewing their faith in humanity, because of all the many kindnesses that they receive upon their way. So, this unfriendly person was an anomaly, a rare species, and because he was so rare I thought I should mention him.

5-6_1042But, moving on, Maple and I came to High Rock, where we had to descend rock and boulder after rock and boulder for 650 feet. We had to be quite careful not to slip upon the wet rocks and tree roots along our path. When we got to the bottom and had 2 miles yet to go, the rain commenced again. Maple and I donned our rain gear. We could have complained, but we were grateful to have made it so far without it raining. Soon, we were in our car; we turned up the heat, got out of our wet clothes and into dry ones, and were on our way back home.

Grand Canyon: Hermit Trailhead to Bright Angel Trailhead via the Tonto Trail

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Day One: Hermit Trailhead to Hermit Creek Campground

Karen and I awoke in our Bright Angel Lodge cabin at 6:45 this morning, packed up, ate a huge breakfast at the B.A. restaurant, and then took the shuttle out to Hermit’s Rest. By the time we got on the trail it was 9:10.

The weather turned out just right. Although Karen and I began our hike wearing down jackets, gloves, and knit hats, we soon grew too warm. Also, there was very little snow on the ground. We were told to leave our crampons with our luggage.

The trail was very rocky the entire way. It was just after 11:00 by the time we made it to the Santa Maria Spring resthouse, at 2.3 miles, and had our first break. It took us six hours to get to Hermit Creek Campground, at 8.2 miles.

I was unsuccessful at locating the place where I was rescued by helicopter back in December of 1979. I was working on the south rim at the time and had gone down to Phantom Ranch for Christmas. The following day, my plan was to hike up the B.A. Trail to Indian Garden, hike across the Tonto Trail, and then up the Hermit Trail. There is now a sign at the junction of the Tonto and Hermit Trails. It would have saved me a lot of grief were it there in ’79. Back then, I missed the turnoff, hiked all the way to Boucher Creek, and ended up spending a very cold night curled up against a rock. The next day, hypothermic, I discovered my mistake and made it partly up the Hermit before being rescued. I doubt I would have survived another night out in the cold.

Also new is a very decent privy at the campsite. It is to the Appalachian Trail privies what a house is to a shed.

Karen and I have already filtered water from the robust creek that runs close to our tentsite. We just had dinner: chicken with mashed potatoes and stuffing. The sun is quickly going down and the temperature is as quickly dropping. It’s going to be a cold night, but we are well prepared.

Day Two: Hermit Creek Campground to Monument Creek Campground

The Monument

Last night Tod and I got up to gaze at the millions of stars. It was very cold but we were toasty warm in our long underwear. Today, by design, was a very short hike. Thus, we took our time leaving camp. The panoramic views were fabulous. However, it wasn’t long before we encountered narrow, downward slanting trails that—with a wrong move—would have left us a thousand feet below. Soon, we saw the famous monument, an amazing work of nature. As we drew closer, we could have sworn that we saw a dry creek bed. No water!? I was convinced that we were in big trouble. Tod assured me that we could always walk down to the river, but I wasn’t looking forward to it. Luckily, we were mistaken; the creek was flowing just fine. We set up camp by 12:30, leaving us a lazy afternoon to relax and bake in the sun. We enjoyed lunch and a delicious dinner before hitting the sleeping bags early to get a good rest for our big hike tomorrow.

Day Three: Monument Creek Campground to Horn Creek Campground

This morning, after packing, Karen and I loaded up with six liters of extra water, adding a good ten pounds to the weight I’m carrying. Horn Creek has only patches of water, and what it has is radioactive.

We left Monument Creek at 8:45 and arrived at Horn Creek five hours later. I was a bit concerned about getting back onto the Tonto, as I had heard that finding the eastward path out of Monument Creek could be very difficult, but Karen and I had no problem following the cairns—although, I should add, the quarter mile ascent out of Monument Creek was not easy.

We got to Salt Creek in about three hours. The trail from there to Horn Creek passes by the edge of the plateau and provides excellent views of the Colorado River. During this section of hiking, the weather changed: the wind picked up, and it suddenly got fairly cold. But, despite the clouds and wind, we got no rain.

A party of five that we met at Monument Creek said they were heading to Bright Angel Campground. They finally came through Horn Creek at 3:00. Two of their number were, by this time, prepared to desert and attempt to get a site at Indian Garden. We wished them all the best.

We are all alone now at Horn Creek. There appears to be two other tent spots here, but—since it is getting late in the day—we expect to have this campground to ourselves tonight.

Day Four: Horn Creek Campground to Indian Garden Campground

Last night was rather cold, but Tod and I enjoyed hearing several different birds—owls? Our water was still plentiful and Tod brought me coffee in “bed” as a birthday present. We left Horn Creek by 8:40, and we were happy to experience the solitude and beauty of the plateau for the two miles to the turn off for Plateau Point. The green trees of Indian Garden were certainly inviting. By 10:15 we arrived at our campsite and set up. After a hot lunch, we hiked out to Plateau Point, minus our packs. It had warmed up to the 70s and was a beautiful day. The views from the Point were spectacular!

As the sun begins to set, I feel a little sad. This is our last night in the Canyon.

Day Five: Indian Garden Campground to Bright Angel Trailhead

After coffee and oatmeal this morning, Karen and I packed up and were on the trail by 7:50. We didn’t stop at all until we had arrived at the first resthouse, signifying that we had traveled 1.5 miles. We had good energy throughout the hike and, after stopping again at the second resthouse for a snack, we made it up, out of the canyon, at 10:35.

I was getting tired of being asked by folks coming down the trail, “Did you go all the way to the bottom?” — as if a Rim-to-River is the only significant hike in the canyon or the only hike that requires stamina and perseverance. I responded, “No, actually we went down the Hermit Trail and across the Tonto,” and they would always look at me with a blank stare or silently shake their heads as though it all made sense to them.

This will probably be the last hike in the canyon for Karen and me until we can get the requisite reservations for a Rim-to-Rim experience. Karen has come to love the Tonto Trail as I do, but she’s not ready for a hike west of the Hermit Trail.

Afterward

This is Karen. Boy, it doesn’t take long to miss the trail! We weren’t even out of Arizona before we were plotting our next visit. To those of you who haven’t visited Grand Canyon, go! Don’t just stay at the Rim, or saunter down the Bright Angel. The beauty of the Canyon is best seen in the more remote parts. Spring is an amazing time of year in the Canyon. I can’t wait to go back.

AT: VA-650 (Dickey Gap) to VA-600 (Elk Garden)

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Day One: VA-650 to Old Orchard Shelter

Maple and I spent the night in Demascus, VA, at The Hikers Inn, right off of the A.T. We had a beautiful bedroom, and the owners, Lee and Paul, were very hospitable and gracious, although, unfortunately, we only got to meet Paul. In the morning, we were up early and, after a five-minute walk from the inn, were at Mojos Trailside Cafe before it opened. We had a hearty breakfast, and were ready to get on the road.

Our shuttle driver, who would lead the way to the A.T. parking at VA-600 (Whitetop Road), was Matt, a local woodworking artist and avid bicyclist, who shuttles part-time for Mt. Rogers Outfitters. Matt’s a really nice man and well-informed about the local area.

We were on the trail, southbound, by 9:00. For the first several hours it rained—not too heavily, but just enough to keep us in our wet weather gear. In such weather, it is sometimes difficult to decide whether one gets wetter with the gear on, from perspiration, or with it off, from the rain.

Comers Falls

There was no shortage of water on the trail. We crossed over a dozen springs, creeks,and streams. Despite it being a Saturday, with temperatures in the 60s, there was a shortage of fellow hikers. We ran into only four in a ten-mile stretch, but at Old Orchard Shelter, we had the company of five other hikers, all northbound. We were all in tents, perhaps because the shelter is notorious for aggressive mice. One of the hikers that we met along our way this day told us that the mice had eaten more than half of his bandana.

Day Two: Old Orchard Shelter to Thomas Knob Shelter

Despite a little rain during the night, the second day of our journey was beautiful. No wet weather gear needed. After an oatmeal breakfast, we packed our gear, and were on our way. Originally, we had planned to make an easy day of it and hike only to Wise Shelter, 5.9 miles away, in Grayson Highlands State Park, but Maple persuaded me to make our third day the easy day and, instead, push on to Thomas Knob Shelter, 11 miles away.

At one point, perhaps it was at a place called The Scales, we came upon a fenced-in area, in which were two trailers and a couple of cars. It appeared to be a private lot. Around it were signs giving directions to various trails. No sign gave any direction to the southbound A.T. Maple and I spent a half hour going one way, then another, then another, trying to find a white blaze. Finally, we gave up and decided to enter the gate of the private lot. Only then did we notice a faded white patch on the gate and a more distinct white blaze on the other side of the lot.

This way led us up Stone Mountain and to our first encounter of wild ponies. We would see many before the day was over.

After over three hours of hiking, we began to wonder why we hadn’t yet reached Wise Shelter. Our pace seemed to be good, so we should have made it. (I should mention here that we didn’t have a map or any guide literature, since I had forgotten them at home.) We finally decided to take a break at Wilson Creek, at a nice tent spot. Afterwards, we discovered that we were less than 100 yards away from the shelter. Anyway, we took another, longer break at the shelter, had a nice hot lunch, and got back on the trail. By that time, we were behind schedule, so we refilled our water bottles at a nearby spring—just in case we didn’t make it to the next shelter before nightfall.

At Massie Gap, we encountered a northbound hiker who told us that Wilburn Ridge had taken a lot out of him. It was a fair warning, but hardly prepared us for just how difficult that climb would be. At one point, one has to squeeze oneself between two boulders to get through to the other side. This is also part of the trail up Mount Rogers. When we, finally, got over the ridge, we came to the Rhododendron Gap. Here were a number of fine looking tent spots. If there had been water here, Maple and I would have camped. Instead, we pressed on and soon arrived at our destination for the night, Thomas Knob Shelter.

Day Three: Thomas Knob Shelter to VA-600

When we awoke on day three, the wind was howling in the treetops, and the temperature had dropped significantly. “At least,” I said to Maple, “it’s not raining.” We started packing, and then it started raining. Soon, it was raining in earnest and would rain throughout the morning. Wet, windy, cold weather is not our favorite. We quickly donned our rain gear, completed packing up, and went over to the shelter to eat a fast breakfast.

While there, we met Steve, who had just summitted Mount Rogers and was on his way to Massie Gap. Steve told us of his mission to summit the highest points of every state, with the exception of Denali. He had completed a good number of them. Maple and I would come within half a mile of summitting Mount Rogers, but we decided, instead, to stay on the A.T. and to get back to our car as soon as possible—which we did within two hours.

AT: US-11 & I-81 to VA-16

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On this frosty October morning, Maple and I checked out of our hotel in Marion, parked one of our cars at our destination on VA-16, across from the Mount Rogers Recreational Visitor’s Center, and then drove to the Barn Restaurant, where we parked our other car and began our hike.

Soon we reached the Settlers’ Museum of Southwest Virginia, which was closed, but I took a photo of the 1894 Lindamood Schoolhouse. We pressed on and soon arrived at the Chatfield Memorial Shelter, which has a running piped spring. It would have been a nice place to spend the night, but Maple and I were on a day hike and had a tight schedule.

From the shelter it was uphill to the top of Glade Mountain, where there was nice overlook of Walker Mountain to the west. We could also see I-81 from this location and were surprised to see how far we had walked in less than three hours. Here, Maple and I took a short break to make ourselves a cup of pumpkin spice latte. Um, that hit the spot on this chilly morning!

A mile or so later, we arrived at FR-86, where we made ourselves a hot lunch of noodles with chicken. By this time, the outside temperature was comfortable. The sky was a rich hue of blue. And the trees were still green, for the most part. We took in the beauty around us and enjoyed ourselves.

On Locust Mountain we met the only fellow hikers we would see this day, a couple who had, over the years, section hiked from Springer Mountain to as far south as where we met them. Like us, they were hiking as their schedules permitted, a little at a time.

All to soon, our hike was over. But, as we had a 7-hour drive ahead of us, back to Maryland, we were glad to get back to our cars. Until next time.

 

AT: VA-52 to VA-42

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Day One: VA-52 to Jenkins Shelter

Maple and I drove six hours in the rain on Friday to get to Wytheville, Virginia. There, at a motel, we called our shuttle driver (Bubba’s Shuttles) and arranged to meet him at the Subway in Bland, to take us to our destination on VA-42, where we would drop off our car, and then to take us to our beginning point just outside of Bland, on VA-52. All went as planned, and by 10:30 Saturday morning we were on the trail.

Our first day was cold and rainy. It mostly drizzled, but the drizzle will soak you, eventually, just as well as a downpour, so Maple and I wore our rain gear all the way to the shelter. I suppose the weather kept most section hikers and day hikers from the trail, for we did not see a single soul during the whole hike.

The trail was, for the most part, relatively smooth, without any major uphill or downhill, so we made great time, hiking between two and two-and-a half miles an hour, and arriving at Jenkins Shelter around 5 p.m.

There, we encountered L.A., (his trail name is his initials), a triple-crown long-distance hiker. He was doing the A.T. for the second time, this time as a south-bound section hiker. Shortly after we arrived, Atilla showed up, a north-bound section hiker who had started just 4.5 miles south of the shelter and was headed to Pearisburg. L.A. dried off and moved on, but we shared the shelter with Atilla.

Day Two: Jenkins Shelter to Chestnut Knob Shelter

Throughout the night it rained off and on, but by the time we rose at 7:30 the rain had passed, leaving only a cloudy sky and cool weather. The temperature would stay within the 50s throughout the day, despite the fact that the sun sometimes made an appearance.

We filled up our water bottles at a creek at Jenkins Shelter and, since there was reportedly no water at Chestnut Knob, we planned to fill up our bottles and dromedary at a piped spring at Walker Gap.

The A.T. was not at all the smooth path of yesterday. Today, it was a rocky path, largely uphill, and much more difficult. It slowed Maple and I down to just over one mile an hour.

For the record: (1) “Davis Farm Campsite” is a field of rocks, just about the worst campsite that Maple and I have ever seen. (2) Most important for us, the spring at Walker Gap was completely dry.

Dry spring at Walker Gap

Maple and I had about a cup of water each left in our bottles. Much dejected after reaching Walker Gap, we decided to hike beyond Chestnut Knob to what the A.T. Guide identifies as a pond, 1.8 miles beyond the shelter, with a “spring at north end, best water source for Chestnut Knob Shelter.” We were on our way when, five minutes beyond the shelter we saw a small pond that looked fairly clear. We filtered our water from this source, but the water was still brown after filtering, and the process clogged our filter. Fortunately, we were able to return to the shelter and spend the night within its stone walls.

Three southbound hikers, all young men, joined us before nightfall. One had the trail name of Bruce Wayne. They were all hiking 20+-mile days and had begun together at Katahdin in June.

Day Three: Chestnut Knob Shelter to VA-42

In the morning, we found a hunting dog outside the door of our shelter, shivering. We let her in, gave her some cheese and water. She had a gps antenna on her, so we put her back out before we left and hoped for the best.

Our travels this day were, despite the constant uphills and downhills, easier than on the previous day. The trail was, simply, not as rocky. This reminded us of how much more difficult Pennsylvania had been.

We never saw the pond that the A.T. Guide listed. Our first decent water source since Jenkins Shelter was at Lick Creek. This means, essentially, that there is a 17.4 mile area that is virtually dry—unless, of course, you include the small pond of stagnant water that we had filtered from. After Lick Creek (going southbound), you go up and down a hill. At the bottom of that hill, there is a stream that appears to be constant. There was no other water source that we encountered on our way to VA-42.

Bridge over Lick Creek

With our clogged water filter, Maple and I were able to get a few extra ounces of water from Lick Creek, but by the time that we arrived at Knot Maul Shelter, we knew that we had to carefully ration our supply. We were already exhausted. But with two miles to go, we were also motivated to continue.

We arrived at our car before 4 p.m., and made it to Staunton, VA, where we spent the night. What a great trip it had been!

Cascade Canyon to South and North Forks, Grand Teton National Park

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Birch and I woke up early on July 22 so that we would be on one of the first boats to cross Jenny Lake. This crossing was the best way to get to the Cascade Canyon trailhead and it had the added bonus of providng us with a beautiful view.

Cascade Canyon is one of the more popular day hikes in the park, but few people make it much past inspiration point, a spot that affords a nice view of Jenny Lake. We were on the trail by 8:15 am so it wasn’t crowded. The first mile or so was very steep, with a 1000 ft. ascent through a canopy of pines. The trail was wide and easy to navigate. Several times we had the chance to look down at Jenny Lake and we took our time going up the trail, stopping at spots to enjoy the cascading water and the river that roars through the canyon.

At the Jenny Lake boat dock.

I must say, Birch and I have finally found our trail legs. We are now used to the elevation and to carrying heavier packs. This made the ascent pretty easy and it wasn’t long before we were on a fairly flat trail. At one point we ran into a Park Ranger who warned us about the Marmots. Apparently, they like chewing trekking pole handles, backpack straps, and other things that taste salty.

At around 4.5 miles we reached the fork in the trail. We turned south to go on the “South Fork”. Finally, we were on the Teton Crest Trail! We began a steep incline and crossed several rapids/rivers. Luckily, the trail was in good shape. There was no snow and it was dry.

Immediately upon entering the camping zone we saw a great camp site. Without hesitation,we took it! We had amazing views of several peaks, including Grand Teton itself. The site was on a river that lived up to the “Cascade Canyon” name. As we looked out our tent, we could see a waterfall on one side, and the mountains on the other. We arrived pretty early (around 11:30 am) so there was plenty of time to relax.

At about 5 pm, a hiker named John and two of his friends joined us in camp. They had been on the trail many more days than us and John was carrying quite a load, including 40 ft. in rope, an ice axe and about 30 pounds of camera equipment. He told us that the rest of the South Fork was not to be missed. So, after dinner, Birch and I took a long hike (sans backpack!) up the trail. We took water and bear spray and went as far as we could while still being able to get back to camp before dark. The side trip was well worth it because we saw an enormous water fall that must have dropped thousands of feet down the side of a mountain.

Sunday morning was chilly! We had coffee and breakfast, then packed up and descended the South Fork until we came to the North Fork. This trail had many open expanses that enabled us to see for miles. The views were breath-taking! The trail is well maintained with stairs in many spots. Before long we encountered bolder fields. Then we saw snow! The snow was mostly off the trail until we got to within a mile of Lake Solitude. The last few yards up to the lake were snowy and icy.

We arrived at the lake just in time for lunch. What an amazing sight, to see so much snow and ice in July! The trail is not well marked so I can see why the park rangers were cautious about people backpacking in this area. Lake Solitude is at 9100 ft. in elevation and we would have had to go another 1300 ft or so in elevation to cross a pass under difficult conditions.

Fortunately, our plan was to camp on North Fork. We went back down the trail and found a spectacular site about halfway down the mountain. The camp had a nice stream for water. However, the best thing about it was that it had a large boulder/ledge with a fallen tree for seating. This had a view that was jaw-dropping. And we had it all to ourselves! Birch made coffee and be basked in the sun while enjoying our surroundings.Late that night we woke up to star gaze. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a night sky!

The view from our campsite.

The next morning was bitter sweet. This would be our last day on the mountain. As we descended, I took time to take enjoy my surroundings. Before long we were at the fork that brought us to the Cascade Canyon trail. The farther we descended, the more day hikers we saw. We were back at the boat before lunchtime. It was done all too soon!

Death Canyon, Grand Teton National Park

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Maple and I had planned to backpack the Teton Crest Trail since before we made our backcountry reservations in January, but a late June heavy snow made our plans all but impossible. Two Park Rangers in GTNP informed us that residual ice and snow made the higher passes treacherous and that hikers were turning back because they could not make out the path. The rangers suggested alternative routes.

The first such route that we managed to secure was an overnight in Death Canyon. Athough terribly disappointed, at first, in our change of plans, I must admit that this hike proved to be both challenging and rewarding.

Not having a 4-wheel drive vehicle, we had to park our car where the pavement ended and begin our backpacking venture a mile before the trail officially began.The trail, once begun, was uphill, and would remain uphill most of the way. The only significant downhill was from Phelps Lake Overlook to where the Death Canyon Trail splits off from the Phelps Lake Trail. All told, we climbed 2,000 feet in elevation, despite the downhill section. Definitely, the hardest section is the ascent up to Death Canyon itself. Once inside the canyon, the ascent becomes more moderate until one reaches Fox Creek Pass, and we made our camp under Fox Creek Pass.

Maple and I crossed over water numerous times, usually on halved logs, that had their sawed, flat side facing up. Once, we had to take off our boots and socks, roll up our pants, and wade across the stream. Even the deepest water that we had to walk over was so clean that we could clearly see the bottom.

Death Canyon has nothing in common with Death Valley. In July, it is green, lush, filled with foliage and wild flowers. We saw many marmots. One, after we set up camp, came quite close to us and checked out our gear. On the return trip, on the second day, we saw two moose, eating close to the trail. One surprised us as he crossed the trail 8 to 10 yards ahead of us.

Before we set up our camp, in the upper reaches of Death Canyon, it began to rain. Maple and I knew that we were approaching our chosen tent site, so we kept going. We were fortunate. No sooner had we set up our tent, than our gentle rain turned into a downpour, a thunder storm and a hail storm. An hour and a half later, the sun was out again, and we laid out our gear to dry.

Death Canyon was awesome. Behind our camp was a racing stream, and in front of us were wide open spaces, with clusters of pine trees and boulders, hemmed in by tall cliffs, down which poured run-off from the snow. No other person was in sight, and it seemed that we had the whole canyon to ourselves.