to the promise land

Annie Dilliard Country: Tinker Cliffs

After a relaxing weekend filled with rest and recuperation, Uwharrie and I resumed our walk north to the Delaware Water Gap. Thirteen miles a day is all we need to average to get there on June 8th. It's a slow ride, take it easy!

We traversed the Tinker Cliffs. Above McAfee and the Dragon's Tooth, they are the crown jewel of the Catawba Valley. We sat and watched the turkey vultures ride the thermals before descending to Lamberts Meadow for the night.

We joined Bird and a section hiker at the shelter. I enjoyed a delicious meal of refried bean burritos supplemented with homegrown spinach and organic zucchini thanks to the folks. We crashed out early after supper.

The next morning, we had a rocky nine mile walk into Daleville. We dropped down into a vernal paradise. A variety of wildflowers are having another go of it: irises, violets, trilliums, azaleas, phlox...

After four cheese enchiladas and three dos equis, I was muy contento. We picked up a few provisions at a gas station and staggered on past I-81 up, up, up out of the valley into the dry piney ridges.

We made it to Fullhardt Knob shelter foolishly expecting a reliable water source. What we found instead was a dried out cistern. It was another three and half miles till we came to Curry Creek, and the beer buzz was long gone. We were so happy to be there. Salvation! I dipped my head in the stream, and set up camp along the bank.

The Guillotine

The next day was mostly overcast, a welcome change. We slogged through the humidity and were soon joined by El Train. We hiked with the Chicago native for a while before stopping early at Bobblets Gap shelter.

I had another great meal here: wraps filled with sauteed garlic, dried maitake mushrooms in couscous and instant mashed potato seasoned with miso soup. It may sound strange, but it's delicious. Bird hiked in to join us for the evening. We also met Stash and Remix.

The next day, Uwharrie and I opted to try something a little different. We left the AT and road walked the BRP to the impressively gnarley Peaks of Otter. I got a ticket for trying to hitch on the parkway. I forgot it's illegal.

We arrived to the Peaks of Otter restaurant in time for a late breakfast. I enjoyed a massive cheese omelette, hashbrowns, fried apples and coffee. The nice waitress even brought me extra biscuits! It was delicious. Poor Uwharrie missed out, but she did get her beef jerky strip treat. Oh yeah!

Charged up on breakfast, we tackled Sharp Top, a three mile round-trip hike. This is one of the most stunning Appalachian summits I've ever set foot on, which is really no surprise given the peak's jagged profile.

Sharp Top from Abbot Lake

One of the summit boulders was used in the construction of the Washington Monument in DC. At the time, the builders thought they were taking a rock from Virginia's highest peak. Given the 360 degree panorama, it's easy to asssume Sharp Top is the state's loftiest perch.

Back down we dropped only to climb another Ottari (Cherokee for high place) peak: Flat Top. This summit is actually a few feet higher than Sharp Top. The climb was much more difficult as well. It was hot and humid after leaving the cooling waters of Big Spring. By the time we dropped down on the other side to the parkway, Uwharrie and I were ready to call it a day.

Another four miles of road walking brought us to a spur trail leading to Cornelius Creek. We joined Bird at the shelter and recounted experiences from our seperate journeys before bedtime. The mice were out of control in the lean-to. I didn't get a good night's rest at all.

The next day was mostly overcast and windy. We climbed up over Apple Orchard mountain and passed through a forest floor covered with gorgeous trilliums. On the high ridges, only the herbacious layer is leafing in, the canopy is still mostly dormant.

What an intense change it was to descend into the bright green gorge of the James River! All the trees are leafing in, the dogwoods are in full bloom. More amazing still, Uwharrie and I passed several blooming rhododendron. It's not even May yet! It's a new world down in the valley where songbirds rejoice.

We were joined at Matts Creek shelter by No Joke and Bacon. I found the dinnertime conversation dull compared to our vivacious surroundings. Many thru-hikers we've met so far walk and talk as if this trail was an interstate, or worse yet, a nascar course.

By no means am I immune to such a mindset. I rather avoid it like an infectious plague. Nor am I alone in observing the peace of mind that can come with a simple task such as walking. To hell with all that multi-tasking nonsense fraying our nerves! Simplify, simplify. Good stuff.

Matts Creek

Uwharrie and I packed and left early. We crossed the footbridge over the foggy James River and got a hitch into Glasgow. As we slid around in the pick-up bed, I wanted to disappear forever into the moment, it was a perfect memory.

We met up with El Train, Stash, Remix and Bird at the Tired Feet Cafe. After breakfast, the dog and I ran our errands. We'll soon be headed over the mountain to greet friends at the Promise Land 50K trail run this weekend. Maybe we'll snarf some aid station goodies while no one's looking!

to infiniti and beyond...

We hope this message finds you well.

We're in Daleville. I sit in an enchilada coma... The trail has been wonderful. I've gotten some good pics and will upload them as soon as possible.

Virginia is for lovers. And I'm in love with Virginia. It's a beautiful state. If you've got some love to send my way, it will be well received at the following address:

Matt Kirk and U-dog
c/o General Delivery
Hold for AT hiker ETA cinco de mayo
Waynesboro, VA 22980

Peace & Love

------------------------------
Tell your friend about PocketMail and let the savings start rolling in!

to catawba, va

"I'm going to go to sleep, and let this wash all over me." -Radiohead

Rice Field, VA

Thanks to Tag Along for the shuttle around town. And thanks to Brenda, the motel owner, for the delicious scrambled eggs with ramps! A strange energy descended upon Pearisburg: a low latitude precipitation band from the big nor'eastern disturbance brought snow and high winds. We were very grateful to be in town.

The strange energy brought horrific news. Waves of terror from Virginia Tech flooded this rural burb. Every local, every human, every spirit was drowning in despair. Uwharrie and I quickly sought higher ground. We were grateful to be out of town.

The vampires and werewolves of our collective conscious chased us into the snow-patched, wind-chaffed hills. We joined Diablo and Carefree at the scenic Rice Field shelter in a brilliant afternoon light. The sun set over a crisp West Virginian landscape. A mad swiral of winds and lenticular clouds accentuated the monster storm just off to our north.

The next day was sunny and breezy. We took a siesta and soaked in the solar rays at Symms Gap Meadow. We soon passed the junction where the Allegheny Trail diverged into West Virginia. We decided to stay the course on the AT for lack of better information on this spur trail.
Uwharrie led the way across a difficult ford of Stony Creek. The bridge has been washed out since 2004 and we missed the road walk. I was very impressed by how my aquaphobic dog tackled the swollen torrent. She's becoming an all-terrain beast!

I dreamt of a cooler filled with little debbies, and it suddenly appeared beside the creek! Wow, thanks to Captain for the trail magic. We joined Diablo, Carefree, El Train and Justin at Bailey Gap shelter to tell of our good fortune.

The next day, the crew migrated 21 miles to the new Sarver Hollow shelter. We sailed over the frothing white granite crests of ancient waves: the ripples of a prehistoric collision of African and American continents.

While traversing the sunny pastures of Sinking Creek Valley, we came to a familiar place. In 2001, there was a farmhouse that gave out apples and cheese to hikers. I fondly remember sitting in the kitchen with the mother and children. While I ate, the kids read their favorite stories to me...

That familiar farmhouse was now a pile of charred rubble. The kitchen was ground zero for the fire. Partially burnt pages from children's books had been caught by the wind and were scattered beneath the stile along the barbwire. Yesterday's headlines blown by the wind, a very strange wind.

Keffer Oak, 2nd Largest on AT

The crew set up camp at the infamous milepost 666 shelter. Our banter must've chased away whatever evil spirits there were at this old haunted settlement. But as for the mice, they launched their first successful invasion on my prized trail mix.

I highly recommend this mix: crumbled pita chips, salted peanuts, chocolate covered almonds, cocoa powdered walnuts, and yogurt covered raisins. The mice seem to like it too, those nasty buggers!

Dragon's Tooth

The next day was mostly cold and rainy. We got a rather late start and hiked steadily over the rocky ridges to arrive at Pickle Branch shelter. We were joined by Carefree, Wild Bill, Scoops, and a southbounding father and son duo. I've noticed the shelters are starting to get crowded.

We climbed over Dragon's Tooth with the morning fog still nestled in Catawba valley. Carefree, Uwharrie and I hitched down to the quaint general store to buy you know what: beer and little debbies. The gang planned a party up on McAfee Knob that afternoon.

McAfee Knob

It was 4/20, a celebration of living the trail lifestyle for one month and close to 500 miles, and quite possibly our last hurrah with our fast paced friends. We were joined by some escapist VT students. Pleasant conversations preceded a memorable sunset over this famous rock outcrop. It's been a strange week on and off the trail.

to pearisburg, va

The Dairy Queen in Atkins I remembered so fondly from 2001 was shut down. There was only the Shell quickie-mart. I ate three pimento cheese sandwiches and drank a half-gallon of chocolate milk. Quiet Paul joined me on a bench out front. I don't remember much of the conversation (the daze of a severe food coma). I do remember that the selection for resupply was abysmal. I had to break down and buy a couple jars of pig's feet and a few bags of pork rinds for the next 90 miles ;-) Honestly, it was slim pickings.

Tired of the gasoline fumes, I packed up with Uwharrie and we scurried underneath I-81. We climbed upwards into sunny Virginian pastures until we were at the edge of the woods. The cars and trucks on the interstate were tiny specks. Here we could only hear the birds chirping and the budweisers hissing. Why does cheap beer taste so good on the trail? We proceeded to lounge in the sun and watch the circus below from a safe distance. Soon we hiked on a short ways to Davis Path shelter and were joined by TMac.

We entered the heart of Virginia on a cool misty morning. It was a beautiful 20 mile hike. We crossed thru quiet pastures and sleepy farms. I felt a lack of energy and realized I didn't have adequate fuel to make it to Pearisburg as planned. Cold rain dripped on us all day. It took everything I had to make it to Chestnut Knob shelter where we happily met up with TMac, Hatchet Jack, Sticker, and Stretchmullet. There was talk of subs and ice cream; a trip to Bland was in order. The patter of rain on the tin roof drowned out the sounds of snoring and farting in the shelter. Dreams of DQ blizzards materialized.

The cold rain broke by morning and we finally got a view of Burkes Garden. For nearly 10 miles, the trail follows the rim of this sunken oval valley, also known as "God's Thumbprint." Uwharrie and I made good time along this stretch. We fixed ourselves a liberal lunch as it was my hope that we'd be able to hitch into Bland, buy food, hitch out and hike two more miles to the next shelter before dusk: a 25 mile day.

It's such an odd feeling coming down from the wooded ridges to the drone of civilization. Like an airplane descending, we slowly entered into another plane of existence: the I-77 corridor. The sidehill approach actually made for enjoyable and easy hiking. We again made good time. Part of the reason why: I got "cracked out" on gatorade left as trail magic in a cooler by a local church shortly after our lunch.

The first car we spotted along the road into Bland picked us up. We got dropped off at the DQ near I-77. The rush of humanity was enough to cause indigestion, but Uwharrie and I did enjoy our ice cream treat. We crossed over I-77 to snarf a foot-long veggie patty subway sandwich. Then it was into Dollar General for a disturbing grocery shopping experience.

It's depressing enough living on Little Debbie snacks when on the trail. But then I see poor families routinely consuming such filth and I get very upset. There's an unnecessary dietary crisis in this country!

The hitch out of town was longer in coming. A young woman took pity on us and went out of her way to get us back on the trail. Thanks! My 12-pack of miller mysteriously turned into a 10-pack on the steep climb to Helveys Mill. There was still some left for Tmac, Diablo and Carefree who joined Uwharrie and I in the shelter. A wild mountain wind blew all night reassuring me all would be right in the world.

Uwharrie and I slept in, everyone else got going early in the chill of the morning. The dog and I had no intention of pushing it so hard into town. The day was sunny, but breezy and cool. We made the most of it and rolled into camp near Dismal Creek Falls after a steady day of hiking. I enjoyed a nice long therapeutic soak in the icy water. My right achilles has developed tendonitus. The dog's paws are fine, seems she was born to hike.

The next day was a drizzler. We tend to make good time in such weather, although getting slapped by cold wet rhodo leaves is never much fun. We climbed out of a wide undulating valley beautifully forested in pine and hemlock. Uwharrie and I took lunch at Doc's Knob shelter. We then pushed on another five miles to camp with Carefree near a spring just three miles outside of town.

In the morning, we faced a cold and rainy descent into Pearisburg. The lightening struck all around, and I was a drenched fool completely deaf, dumb and blind to everything but the beauty of creation. What a glorious life! And now, another 11-day streak without a shower has come to an end at the hiker-friendly Rendezvous Motel.

to atkins, va

Snowstorm in the Grayson Highlands

Cold weather moved in while we rested in Damascus. Locals call this a "dogwood winter," which notoriously hits when the trees are in bloom. In preparation, we packed our sacks to the max. I picked up a pair of waterproof socks called sealskinz at the outfitters. A quick sew to seperate the toe and I had what I hoped would be a pair of winterized chacos. My parents swung by town on their way to pick up bees for their apiary and dropped off a blanket for Uwharrie. With these extras, we set out on Good Friday from the warm hostel with fingers and paws crossed.

On the Virginia Creeper Trail

We opted to hike the Virginia Creeper Trail out of town. This is a rail-to-trail route that reminds me of the Greenbrier River Trail in WV. One problem with these multi-use trails is that the pedestrian loses out. Though cyclists were supposed to yield to us, or at least make room for us, they never did. And there were hordes of holiday bikers out and about.

Regardless, it was a good way to ease our way 15 miles to the Lost Mountain Shelter. We even managed to pick up some trash. I try to pack out at least three pieces of litter daily, it's never too difficult to find. In this age of over-packaging, we're all a rather messy lot.

As we crossed old railroad trestles through the gorges and open valleys of southwest Virginia, Uwharrie and I got a tad frustrated. I had to keep her close by to protect her from getting struck by careless cyclists. The attack of a loose dog was the last straw. The dog nipped at our heels; a boy yelled out "the dog don't bite" and kept mowing his lawn.

This dog chased after us for over half a mile. Uwharrie got upset at our hasty egress on the leash and sat down in protest. By this time, we were well into National Forest property, so I picked up a hefty stone and threw it at the bugger. Perhaps I should've thrown it at the irresponsible kid who didn't restrain his dog. The dog ran off and I made up with Uwharrie. She's pretty easy: the quickest way to her heart is through her stomach, and there ain't nothing wrong with that.

On the ascent to Whitetop

Quiet Paul rolled in to join us at the shelter while flurries started to come down. We set up our tents to boost the warmth factor; this worked well. The next morning, we awoke to a winter wonderland. We were now headed over the highest country in Virginia.

The temperature continued to drop all day. We got ahead of Paul and some dayhikers on the warming climb up Whitetop. Here at Buzzard Rock, clouds dashed across wide fields of snow. They'd break on occassion to reveal a deep blue sky. It was a beautiful scene, but the wind was intolerably brutal. We pushed on quickly to the exposed parking area in the saddle of Elk Garden. There was no relief from the wind, so onwards and upwards we went...

We were now committed to traversing the Grayson Highlands, an area I know well. It's here in these high and exposed rocky meadows that I went for many a backpacking excursion. Perhaps this partly explains my over-confidence to continue up Mount Rogers as conditions worsened. We passed an uncomfortable couple hiking down in their sleeping bags. They were hurrying back to their car after a sleepless overnight trip to Thomas Knob shelter.

Quiet Paul

The snow got deeper and deeper and the wind gusts produced white-outs. At this point, Uwharrie was rocking a bigger ice-beard than me. The drifts were two feet deep, and snow-burdened spruce trees dumped loads of the white stuff on us. I started thinking about how I had a 40 degree sleeping bag in my pack. It didn't make me feel all that great, so I stopped thinking and kept trucking.

Given such weather, the only sane place to bed down in Grayson Highlands is in the valley of the Wise shelter. We faced another five miles of exposure crossing Wilburn Ridge to get there. Enroute, Uwharrie got a ridgerest sleeping pad gifted to her courtesy of some rookie campers. Apparently, these fools abandoned all sorts of gear at Thomas Knob several days back. We were very thankful for this blessing in our time of need.

Below Buzzard Rock

We arrived to Wise shelter with plenty of daylight to spare; we had hiked the last 17 miles virtually nonstop. It was too cold to do anything but set up the tent inside and crawl into the bag. I made sure to quickly heat two liters of water, one for tea and one to put into my sleeping bag. Everything else was frozen. I knew there was no room for error, so I dilligently went to work prepping the dog and myself for a night of bitter cold.

First thing first, we had to stoke our furnaces, so we got down to some serious grubbing. For boosted morale, I swept up the ice and dirt from the tent floor and neatly organized all gear. I bagged my chacos and sealskin socks in a waterproof sack and stuck them at the bottom of the sleeping bag with the warm water. I draped my poncho underneath the tent for an added layer of dead air space. Uwharrie seemed content on her blanket and pad. I started to feel better about the night ahead.

Near dusk, we were joined by a father and son who set up their tent in the other corner of the shelter. They appeared to be competent enough with winter camping, and I appreciated having their company. As they fumbled about, I experienced odd sensations running up and down my thawing feet: not pins and needles, more like fire ants and inchworms.

As conversation waned and a fitful sleep enveloped us, we were jolted awake by a disturbing cry in the distance. It sounded too human. I remembered Paul mentioning that he would try to make it to Wise. I envisioned the 60 year-old portuguese stone mason frozen to the tundra. I tried to flush the image from my mind. A few more cries convinced me that it was a coyote. I thought: we don't need to go out in no stinking sub-zero conditions for a chilly coyote, phew.

Wilburn Ridge

Easter morning was the most joyful Easter I can remember, for we weren't frozen to the shelter floor! Uwharrie and I got going on this chilly, but calm and sunny morn after wishing the father and son farewell. We cut across to Scales and down to Old Orchard shelter. It seemed as though the weather was on the upswing.

We had a relaxing hike in the snow to the new Hurricane Ridge shelter. We soaked up all the sun we could. As it set, the temperature plunged well below freezing, but it was still warmer than the night before. I was comfortable knowing we'd be okay. A resident bat kept us company, but no sign of the hikers behind us.

The next day we pushed nearly 20 miles to get to Partnership shelter. The terrain was much easier and the miles flew by. Again, we bedded down with the confidence that the worst was behind us. Morning came: I love this time when the forest is alive with birds! Our lightened spirits ran the ridges with the deer to Atkins.

Shady school bus shelter along trail

to damascus, va

Doll Flats, TN

In this real time, we drop like rain off high balsam ridges; we flow down rivulets of humanity and nature. We’re accepted and loved in the trail lifestyle. The world unfolds itself unto us like a vernal blossom. And the forest floor is a colorful bouquet of spring beauties, violets, trilliums, toothwort, lilies and several others unknown to this ignorant sojourner. But this is how we shall learn the country on foot…

Sunrise over Watauga Lake, TN

A journey of ten days and 150 miles has brought us safely from Asheville, NC to Damascus, VA. Damascus is the greatest trail town I know. Thank you Adam, Suzanne, Asa and Carol for a pleasant stay in Asheville! Uwharrie and I set out north of the city two Mondays ago. Adam joined us for the first five miles. We lunched at Lunch Rock, an overlook of the Haw valley. The hustle and bustle of a hundred and fifty thousand busy souls evaporated into the haze.

Adam on the MST near Asheville

We camped at the site of Rattlesnake Lodge, which dates back to the late 19th century. The cold water from an old springhouse felt good on the feet. The sun eased its way west, and a mellow glow entered into us. Again, we were on our way away. The resident barred owls hooted under a waxing Gibbous. David Byrne sang: "home is where I want to be, but I guess I'm already there..."

Camp along the MST

A rugged ridge walk brought us to the top of Lane Pinnacle the next morning. We rested. I drank tea and gazed southwards upon the Beetree watershed. The day had started out muggy and hot as hell for it being late-March. Grumpy clouds from the French Broad valley scraped overhead. An injured and angry atmosphere hovered above, but nothing seemed to come of it.

We enjoyed the abundant views along the knife's edge. Lichened boulders and mossy beech trees crested from either side. We followed a grassy boulevard buried under the crisp auburn confetti from an autumn past. Except for juncos mating in the sunshine, the Craggies were remarkably quiet. A few heads bobbled by in their automobiles. I wished there were mandatory motor-free days on the parkway. This would help us slow down and better understand this high and wild land.

On the way up Mt. Mitchell

We camped the second night in a clearing north of Bullhead Mountain with commanding views of the unspoiled valley of the North Fork of the Swannanoa. I spent much of my time before and after a sunset dinner dreaming of a trek into those coves. The twinkling lights of Black Mountain and I-40 appeared below us in the wider South Fork valley. Countless droplets of water crashed in the darkness from a precipitous Glassmine Falls, beginning their long journey thru TVA dams to the Gulf. I realized that we’re all water droplets journeying to the Great Body. Just go with the flow!

The Black Mtn. Crest Trail, NC

The next day, we climbed the highest peaks on this side of the continent. As one should expect, it was a dramatic experience. My little pocketmail gizmo joined me for a dip in a cold creek on our way up through a spruce forest that still had patches of snow. I thought I lost all my writing and other data including the all important address book. But as I would find out many days later, the little thing dried out and is Johnny-five-alive. Amazing! I’ll still be able to keep this blog up to date with our travels. I’m thankful for that.

This momentary malfunction was the main reason I suspended my in-depth journaling. Life had also started to bloom around us so quickly; I just couldn’t keep up! Here now is a brief synopsis:

We met up with Elliot and Kaysa on our way down from a crazy two day storm on the high 6000’ summits of the Black Mountain Crest Trail. During our traverse, close lightening struck ahead of us and behind us in a matter of seconds. With tails between our legs, we booked it to a rainy and windy camp at Deep Gap.

Elliot and Kaysa on Grassy Ridge

Elliot and Kaysa camped with us for two nights. We explored an old gem mine with traces of rubies and munched many a delicious ramp. We yellow-blazed to Carvers Gap and got on the AT. We enjoyed two leisurely hiking days out of Burnsville. I met up with my folks to camp at Bradley Gap. From there, Uwharrie and I blazed 80 miles in four days to get to Damascus before our provisions expired. We caught and met many thru-hikers. Right now, we’ve been grooving north with Johnny Mud, Ice Man Dan, Quiet Paul and several others. It’s a great trail family out here.

Big girl chow time, Damascus

So here we are in Damascus, a good place to be! We anticipate snow in the Grayson Highlands on Easter. That should be a memorable experience indeed. Uwharrie and I are both enjoying the company of thru-hikers. This is the only way to see the country. Every year, thousands of souls hike this special highway and understand an important eternal truth: the more stuff we get, the more it gets us down! The mind, body and spirit of an American majority still rot along the Eisenhower Interstate System. The trash and hatred we encounter near busy road crossings are confirmations of this tragic state of affairs…

Blessings to you all! Here are some more pictures of our journey thus far. Be well on your journeys. We’d love to hear from you!

Landslide, Jones Gap, SC

Cedar Rock, Dupont State Forest, NC

Along Rich Mountain Road, NC

Cold rain and thunder along the Black Mtn. Crest

Trilliums in bloom along the AT

Mom and dad near Bradley Gap

Looking back to Bradley Gap in TN

Near Hardcore Falls, TN

Laurel Fork Falls, TN

The Laurel Fork Gorge, Sweet!

Hanging with an angel named Amoeba