A Foray East

Four eastern Virginia hikes, from December 2006...

December 26. The Virginia Beach Boardwalk (mostly from the beach) and back. 4.0 miles. At this time of year, the boardwalk is transformed at night from a promenade for walkers to a slow-ride runway for a steady stream of cars driving beneath and beside the city's Festival of Lights, brought to you this year by the first big display, the Eat More Chik'n arch from Chick Fil-A. We walked the sand just below the boardwalk, past light displays of Christmas trees and dolphins, bubbles and stars, not to mention a representation for each of the 12 days of Christmas, which were accompanied, on our walk, by The Night Hiker's singing, several times over, of the droning, repetitive, mind-numbing song brought to mind by the bright-light leaping of the 10 lords, for example. It's a little piece of Americana, the lights at Virginia beach and the cars full of kids of all ages rolling along to look. Amid the many spelled-out and acted out Christmas sentiments, we couldn't find one of the oldest: Peace On Earth.

December 27. The Washington Ditch Trail to Lake Drummond in Suffolk, Va. 9.0 miles. We've long wanted to visit Virginia's only other natural lake (Mountain Lake we've visited many times, both at low water and full-pond), and a cool December day - with the sun low in the sky even near midday, no insects at all and the woods on both sides of the trail good and swamped up with water - is the perfect time. Of course there are parallel downsides: minimal wildlife and dormancy for most of the plantlife, rendering this wide, straight, flat road-trail a bit monotonous, even for The Day Hiker, who has a strong record of finding something of interest on the ground in any season. The reward of the walk is Lake Drummond, blue and deeper-looking than it actually is, appearing to be perfectly circular in the midst of the Great Dismal Swamp that surrounds it (giving credence to one theory of its origin - the impact of a meteorite). We had the little dock onto the water to ourselves as we at lunch, with three young-lady cyclists arriving just as we were packing up. We walked past their strewn bikes with just the slightest bit of an envious eye, a first for two such addicted hikers as we.

December 28. The Nags Head Woods and the Nags Head Original Cottages Walk. 6.5 miles. The Nags Head Woods lives up to its claim of being among the most diverse coastal woods areas in the east. Our 3.5-mile loop took us up and down, over and around, through pine and deciduous forest, past marshlands and ponds. The preserve borders the giant dunes of Jockey's Ridge, and the woods' own high points seemed to match those of the dunes, though with vegetative cover muting the feeling of height. The walk to view the weathered old beach cottages is along N.C. 12's walkway/bikeway and is undertaken most effectively if you've bought the book that describes the three dozen cottages' history and current ownership. Most date to the '20s and '30s, with the original 13 having been built in the 1880s, and nearly all have been moved, upgraded and at least put on stilts, in response to the great storms of 1899, 1933 and 1962.

December 29. Pea Island National Wildlife Refuge along the Outer Banks of North Carolina. About 4 miles. These two easiest-of-all walks took us part way around the North Pond impoundment on the bay side of NC 12, where overwintering ducks and other waterfowl have assembled as if for viewing by those of us walking around the perimeter and pausing to gaze through binoculars mounted here and there; and the other up and down the largely empty beach across the road and over the dune, where The Day Hiker was able to realize one of the highest manifestations of her predilection to look down at the ground as she walks: the gathering of the hundreds of tiny shells now spread out on the dining room table at home, with the shell-ID book right there alongside.

Blaze Orange and Rock Hopping

December 20. Wilson Mountain/Sprouts Run trails loop. 7.4 miles.

We'd done the Sprouts Run section of this walk as an out-and-back a few weeks back, having failed to find the connection of the Wilson Mountain Trail; so this time, we went up the Wilson Mountain Trail with hopes of completing the loop in that direction.

The start of this walk – to get to either trail – is across private property, and on this day we came across both the friendly owner (moving earth on a big machine) and his even-friendlier big dog Red, who had to be led away by the collar to keep him from fulfilling his wish to head up the mountain with us.

After perhaps a quarter mile into the woods, the trails diverge, with Wilson Mountain heading up on what is at first a rocky path with switchbacks. The trail then makes its way along the ridge, heading primarily in the opposite direction of the Sprouts Run Trail, creating doubt in the minds of walkers without a map that the two trails do indeed form a loop. But after 3.6 miles, the Wilson Mountain Trail ends at a forest road; and while it can be said that most all Virginia forest roads look alike, we chose to believe that this was another part of the same one onto which the Sprouts Run Trail emerges.

Sure 'nuff, after about a half mile of road walk, we came to the point where we turned around the last time, and began our way down the Sprouts Run Trail. We stopped for lunch as soon as the trail reached the creek. While we ate, we were visited by the loudest, closest firing of a gun that we have ever heard in the woods, rendering us all the more glad that we were wearing our nifty new, if distinctly unstylish, blaze-orange caps. The national forest, on relatively mild Saturday in December, is indeed a land of many uses, and we were pleased when we saw two vehicles up on the horizon, moving along the forest road we'd descended from. We decided the vehicles carried the hunters, that they'd gotten their prey and were headed out of the forest. This hope, along with our bright orange heads and the easy, down-the-pretty-stream nature of the trail, made for an easy and enjoyable walk back out of the woods.

Until... until the very last of the eight or 10 stream crossings, when, as is her tendency, The Greatest Day Hiker Of Them All paused, as a sort of signal for me to show her the best way across the various rock-hop possibilities. And I, over these many years, have always been fully equal to the task. It is, after all, pretty much the only realm where I am lead dog in the woods. But on this day, a quarter mile or so from the car, I found myself suddenly sitting in the stream, with my feet and my pack also dipping into the cold flow. I was up in a hurry of course, making light and talking about once every five years not being too bad a rock-hop record.

The Day Hiker, ever kind and gracious, offered through ill-stifled laughter that it was also, BY FAR, the best total wipe-out for either of us over that time.

8 Miles to Barney's Wall

A Hike from December 2006...
The Cascades Trail and then the Nature Conservancy Trail to Barney's Wall. 8.0 miles.

It was a warmish day with a good smattering of hikers along Little Stony Creek, and an even bigger gathering around the falls. But as usual, once we headed on up from there on the Nature Conservancy Trail, we had things pretty much to ourselves for that gentle, pleasing climb and then the little side trail out to the Barney's Wall vista into the gorge below and out over the New River Valley. It's a favorite lunch spot, even with the constant breeze and cooler temperatures there at the precipice. There's a small, audible but nearly invisible creek running down one side of the mountain into the gorge, and on this day after lunch, we continued a little further on the Conservancy Trail to find the upper reaches of its flow, before turning back for the pleasant, easy walk back down to the parking area.

Hikers, Not Bikers.

December 14, '08 Hike. Bicycling from the boat launch area of Carvins Cove to the base of the Sawmill Branch Trail; hiking up Sawmill Branch to the Appalachian Trail and then south to Lambert's Meadow Shelter and back. 13.5 miles total (about 9 on bicycles).

We hadn't done this bike/hike package in so long that we'd forgotten how demanding/excruciating the bicycling part is. You'd think a ride on a forest road around a reservoir would be easy enough, but what it is really is a series of ups and downs, the ups of which take you to the lowest gear of your bike and even then the occasional need to stand.

A little context before starting the ride: The boys at the Official Check In Station at Carvins Cove are, on a coldish December midday Sunday, collectively so totally bored that one comes rushing out of the door as you drive up. Another follows soon, and as you go in to pay your $2/person day fee, two more are hanging out and glad to see the customers.

But back to the excursion. Maybe it's the extra weight of full day packs; maybe it's that we're OLD and don't really ride bicycles all that much. Whatever it is, it was a minor highlight of the day to pull the bikes off the trail, lock them to a tree and get to start walking, even if it was up a mountainside. The Sawmill Branch Trail, which begins as part of the Arrowhead bike trail, follows what was on this day a healthy-flowing Sawmill Branch, which provided hope that the broad tan banks of the reservoir might soon be covered again with water. Once the foot-only trail departs from Arrowhead, the climb becomes steeper and the trail much less used, to the point that The Greatest Day Hiker Of Them All and I joked, as we kicked our way through previously undisturbed leaves, that we might be the only ones who use it. I'd teased her a time or two on the bikes, when I got up a hill before she did, and so she did not miss the opportunity to bury me on the trail, as of course she can do whenever the fancy strikes her. The walk up the east side of Catawba Mountain is a relatively easy one, and the short distance on the AT – down into Lambert's Meadow – is truly easy and pleasant.

The reason for the shelter as a point for lunch was to use the fire pit, and after a false start or two, we got the damp wood we gathered from around the shelter to burn sufficiently to warm The Day Hiker's hands to the extent that the whitened-finger Raynaud's effects were minimal and short-lived.

The walk back down the mountain was easy and quick, but infused with shared dread over getting back on the bicycles. Once on we did, as The Day Hiker is wont to do, attack the road on the return ride, but by the time we were in sight of the parking lot, we agreed on two things: To throw the bikes into Carvins Cove when we got off them; and that we understood completely how those guys who ride the Alps want and need performance enhancers.

Hikers, The Day Hiker and I, not bikers.

December 7: An Urban Walk

Lick Run Greenway from Hotel Roanoke to Valley View Grande and back. 6.4 miles.
With the season's first genuinely cold day upon us, we had plans to hike to an Appalachian Trail shelter (likely Lambert's Meadow) and build a fire for lunch. But with a relatively dry forest and winds steadily strong and gusting to more than 30 miles an hour, we decided against that and set out instead on an urban walk, beginning in downtown Roanoke in front of the venerable Hotel Roanoke.

The Lick Run Greenway, completed in 2006, begins through Gainsboro, passing between the Roanoke Civic Center on one side and the Roanoke Catholic school/church complex on the other. Urban gives way to park-like once you cross Orange Avenue and ascend into Washington Park. From there, the paved greenway snakes its way beside little Lick Run through lightly wooded land for the most part, before it climbs the hill near the southern end of the Valley View shopping area and crosses above I-581 to deliver you back into an urban context.

Our destination, instead of the usual mid-hike lunch stop, was the Valley View Grande movie complex, and a two-hour pause to watch "Cadillac Records" – the musically-huge-fun history of Chess Records. (Beyonce Knowles playing/singing Etta James alone is worth the price of admission.)

The walk back was into the gathering twilight, one highlight of which was the view from the high point in Washington Park, from where the Roanoke Star, the holiday-decorated Wachovia Tower and the lighted spires of St. Andrews Catholic Church rose out of the hidden floor of the city to create dramatic, late-light, seldom-seen views of these landmarks-in-tandem. We got back to the hotel just as the last light drained out of the sky, having completed a brisk and new-views walk through a part of our city too often neglected in the on-foot context.

Photo by Paul Naret, of the Roanoke skyline from a different perspective (the top of Mill Mountain, in front of the Roanoke Star).

Read Kurt's fiction, recently published in Portland Monthly Magazine - his short story, "Calendar Girl, Arrested. Freed" was the winner of the 2008 Wordstock short fiction contest, judged by "science fiction superstar" Ursula K. Le Guin, who had this to say: "A very funny, subtle story, which covers a lot of ground without seeming to, takes big risks and gets away with them, ends brilliantly, and passes the ultimate test: It’s even better when you reread it."

Calendar Girl, Arrested. Freed

The November Hikes

November 1. Dragon's Tooth Trail to AT to Dragon's Tooth and back. 5 miles. Another stupendous hiking day around Roanoke, as witness the parking lot on 311 at Catawba Mountain being so full that cars spilled down toward Salem along the roadside as we drove by. The Dragon's Tooth Trail lot was only about half full when we arrived at about noon, but was also packed full when we got back down three hours later. The walk itself was wonderful if short (we need to keep in mind that it can be extended by a pretty mile by taking the scout trail around to the AT instead of ascending directly to Lost Spectacles Gap). And from the top of Cove Mountain, the view from just above 3,000 feet was as pretty as we've ever seen it, with a crystal-clear day showing off peak color to the east on Brushy Mountain and down into the Catawba Valley. We had white-dog Fluff along for a rare walk, and his pretty coat and gentle demeanor drew more "beautiful dog" compliments than ever.

November 9. Sprouts Run Trail to the top of Wilson Mountain and back. 8 miles. What a great treat to find a walk we hadn't done, and only a half hour from Roanoke. This trail, just past Arcadia off of Exit 168 of I-81, begins in a small valley at a pretty place called Solitude (not on the state highway map, but shows up on the Virginia Gazeteer), with a little three-car lot and a nice sign to start you out, over a style and into the woods. The trail is gentle as it follows Sprouts Run up the mountainside for 3.4 miles to the meeting of two forest roads. As we'd read about the walk, we had understood it to be a loop, and indeed near the start was a sign offering the Wilson Mountain Trail as an option to the left and, apparently, a more direct walk up the mountain. With the blue blazes ending at the roads, we walked each way on both – and more than half a mile on what seemed the most likely direction – and were unable to find hoped-for Wilson Trail back down. The good parts of the non-find: Next time we'll go up the Wilson Trail first, to try to figure things out; and as an out-and-back, this was a fun hike... lots of stream crossings, some good views near the top and a gentle path all the way up and back down.

November 15. Appalachian Trail from Va. 311 to McAfee Knob and back. 7.6 miles. The uncertain weather of the weekend had us trying to go southwest through the rain toward clearer skies, but the lateness of getting under way sent us to an old favorite. As we got out of the car we felt just the slightest and only momentary mist, and began the walk into still, humid, cloudy, short-sleeve weather. Clouds came and went as we ascended, and by the time we reached the top, you could feel the front about to come through. The sky was still mixed, but the wind had picked up and carried the first wave of the much cooler weather predicted for Sunday. On top for lunch, from a part of the outcropping that offers views of the Catawba and Roanoke valleys, we put on most of the layers we had, with The Day Hiker busting out the gloves. The walk back down was in long sleeves and legs zipped onto the shorts, and at its start we crossed the last set of climbers for the day – still in short sleeves. Walking back down the mountain, with the leaves gone, the western sky was often visible; the soft gray of the early afternoon was gone, and in its place was the distinctive purple-and-orange of a nearly winter late day sky. A classic walk timed luckily perfectly to miss the rain and experience the dynamic of weather moving across the land.

November 23. Fallingwater Cascades loop and Flat Top Trail to peak and back. 6.8 miles. These walks, undertaken from milepost 83 on the Blue Ridge Parkway, provided, on this cold November day, forays into two seasons. Down the hill on the Fallingwater Cascades Trail, it was a nice, if nippy fall day. The flow was not great at the falls, but the first hint of the season to come was evident in the ice formations at the edges of the stream. The start up the Flat Top Trail was also fully fall in context, with the path covered with fallen leaves and the day still and pleasant if nippy. But by the point where the trail switches to working its way up the northeast face of the mountain – after maybe half the 1,300-or-so-foot climb – the occasional patches of snow gave way to walking through about two inches of fallen snow as the temperature dropped and the wind picked up. The walk into winter culminated with our perch on the western side of the summit, where the power of the breeze overcame the power of the sun to make for a cold lunch, and The Day Hiker busting out every layer she brought and then covering it all with the wind-break effect of the rain jacket. We'd likely have eaten on the eastern rocks had they not been occupied as we came up, and a visit to them as we started back down confirmed that they'd have made for a more comfortable lunch. We stopped on the way down to take a photo or two of the thick band of icicles that we've never seen so early in the year.

November 28. The Andy Layne Trail to the Appalachian Trail to Tinker Cliffs and back. 7.2 miles. The two older of our grandsons, who both turned six earlier in the fall, had gone with us on a six-miler up and back the AT from US 220 to the first viewpoint of Carvins Cove; and on the slightly shorter but harder climb to Dragon's tooth via the Tooth Trail and the AT. So they seemed ready for the hard climb of the Andy Layne and on up to Tinker Cliffs. And indeed, with minor pauses for water and snacks, they were both fully up to the task, though the walk took about half an hour longer than usual. Up top, Aden and Matthew were mildly impressed with the views into West Virginia and up and down the Catawba Valley, and waaay impressed with the size of the rocks and the giant drop-off to nowhere of the cliffs. Owing the the cool temps, the strong breeze from the west and that precipice, we retreated to the east side of the ridge for lunch, on a rock looking to the southeast toward Roanoke. Then The Greatest Day Hiker Of Them All pulled out the knife, the bread, the mayo, the lettuce, the salt and pepper and the leftover turkey to create some exquisite mountaintop sandwiches. The fellas, given the chance to pick out whatever they'd like to drink for lunch, enjoyed their neon green Bug Juice immensely, but not nearly as much as they relished in the first mile or so back down the mountain – picking rocks to trip over and leaf accumulations to slide into, all in a glorious competition to see who could fall/slide/wreck/roll the best. The next mile was spent finding the coolest (flattest, smoothest, sharpest) rocks they could; and the last mile working to remember where each of the big-hit styles and bridges was as we approached the car. The affirming lesson to the oldsters who've done the walk a dozen times at least: The woods are full of magic... geology and geography for some, wildflowers and mushrooms for others, and every part of every single turn in the trail for a cherished few.

Walking Virginia

It's a little like hitting a 350-yard drive as a series of two-foot putts.

Or ripping the phone book in half . . . one page at a time.

Still, walking the 546 miles of the Appalachian Trail through Virginia – from the Potomac River just outside of Harpers Ferry, W. Va. down to the Tennessee line below Damascus – is still 546 miles. Even if you do walk it all in day-hikes. Without even once sleeping on the ground.

My walking partner/wife Gail and I didn't set out to do it. We set out to take a walk for something different to do on Valentine's Day, 2004. We did the Cornelius Creek/Apple Orchard loop, including that big 1.1 of the AT. The next week we took another walk, and then another, as it turned out. And the Appalachian Trail, running as it does through Roanoke's back yard, was of course the perfect anchor for what turned out to be 104 weeks before we took a weekend off, with maybe 150 miles of the great trail behind us. The added lure of the AT was that we had some background with the trail, going back to my father walking on it as long ago as 1937, when it was brand-new and he was 21. And a son who walked home to Roanoke from Mt. Katahdin in Maine in 2000, and most of the way home from Springer Mountain in Georgia in 2001.

You learn a few things when you do something – a day hike pretty much every weekend – for years on end:

1. Let the Great Trail build up on you. We started out – just to have new hikes – doing scores of: Park the car at a trailhead, walk in five miles, eat lunch and walk back out. We used that method to cover most of the miles between I-64 at Afton Mountain and where the trail crosses I-81 down near Marion.

2. Treat yourself to the stuff that makes for full walks. Wildflower and mushroom books for Gail, AT books and maps for me, a hiking pole, good day pack and ice water for both of us.

3. Do lunch right. On the Priest/MauHar loop, say, there is nothing better than completing that multi-thou-foot climb with a bunch of tasty, salty, sugary, fatty stuff you shouldn't eat. Jerky and cashews! Cheese and Cheese-Its! Chardonnay and Dove Chocolate! And almost as important as getting the food right: planning the hike so that once you get up from it, it's all down hill back to the car.

In fact, we didn't really much think about finishing the Virginia AT miles until we got up toward 300 miles. Suddenly that stuff up in Northern Virginia and down there by Tennessee seemed more worth driving to. More worth building a few multi-day trips around.

And maybe the best part of hiking with a girl on those multi-dayers – in the form of a 54-year-old woman – is that it is she who insists on a meal and a bed after a day of walking. Or more specifically: "I'll walk as far as you want, Kurt--just make sure there's a gourmet dinner and four-star accommodations ready afterwards."

Then you – even geezier man - can go oh, ookay, only because you insist. Your dignity is protected and you get a great evening with your honey after a great day of walking with her.

Regarding "as far as you want," while we did a dozen or so 15-mile-plus days and six or so in the 18-19 range, we never did do quite an official 20-mile day. From Snickers Gap at Va. 7 north to the West Virginia line was our longest and hardest at about 19.5 – it was cold and rainy that late-December day – but then a hot tub awaited in the funky Hilltop House in Harpers Ferry.

And once you do put the end in your sights, the getaways to get it done get more and more fun. Not just the Hilltop, but visits to historic Big Meadows Lodge and Skyland in Shenandoah National Park. And, best for last, a little cabin just outside of Grayson Highlands State Park to do those majestic Mount Rogers-area miles. Our last day's lunch was on a pinnacle as you walk north from the Mount Rogers Trail. You're past the shelter and its pony collection, and you're on a rock looking down on Rhododendron Gap and more ponies; you're looking off to layers and layers of blue mountain for the full 360. And knowing that once you get up from lunch, it's all downhill for the last few of the 546 – on down to the Wilson Trail back into Grayson Highlands State Park.

It was along here that the The Greatest Day Hiker Of Them All and the old man with her paused a second to exchange a high-five of congratulations. She beamed in full exaultation. He who had followed her up and down the mountains from the little 2,000-footers in NoVa to the mile-highers had to work to hide his tears.