Kurt's Hikes is Moving!

First of all, congratulations to Kurt Rheinheimer - this blog has won first place for web writing in the Virginia Press Women's annual competition, and goes on to national competition (results to be announced in the fall).

In addition, Kurt's Hikes is migrating to BlueRidgeCountry.com - we are in the process of launching our new web design, including this blog and others. You can find future entries here:

http://www.blueridgecountry.com/blogs/kurts-hikes

So be sure to follow Kurt and Gail's continuing adventures on the trail.

Thanks for reading!

The First Short-Sleeves Day of the Year... Without a Map

April 18, 2009. Hoop Hole upper and lower loops. 9.0 miles.

With guest-dog Fluff along in addition to puppy Cookie, we returned to a hike in Botetourt County not too far from where Fluff would lie his head for the night. The Hoop Hole trails, east of Eagle Rock and with multiple stream crossings, are a favorite of dogs, both because of the water and, especially before the leaves return, the openness of the forest - allowing for occasional stops to peer for deer.

For the human hikers, it was the first shorts-and-short-sleeves day of the year, and with the streams in good flow and the sky mostly blue, it was truly all good. Well, except for maybe the 2,400-foot climb, the pesky narrowness of the trail along several steep-slope spots and that false-summit of Pine Mountain that we'd both forgotten, about a half mile before you reach the true peak, at 3,700 feet. And a bunch of big-gnat type flyers who didn't bite or sting, but sure loved to crawl around on things and seemed to want to share our lunch spot on the summit.

Then too there was the reiteration of one of the basic tenets of any hike: Take the map! Even on a most-familiar hike! Our failure to do so led us maybe half a mile down the side trail toward Roaring Run before we returned to our senses and went back up the hill to the main trail, grumbling to each other about our collective stupidity. It's odd: You're out there to walk (and walk and walk), but stick in an accidental mile extra and big bad hikers get cranky with themselves. The dogs, on the other hand, didn't mind a bit.

And they loved the many more easy stream crossings on the way down to the car.

Honoring Wilderness, and Audie Murphy

April 4, 2009. Appalachian Trail, Va. 620 to Audie Murphy Monument and back. 7.6 miles.

We picked this walk on this day in honor the signing by the president of the omnibus outdoors bill, which includes the creation of a new designated wilderness along its route – Brush Mountain East. The new protected area is one of seven new wildernesses bought into being by the Virginia Ridge and Valley Act, which protects 43,000 acres as wilderness, and also creates more than 10,000 acres in two new National Scenic Areas in Virginia. That bill, versions of which go back as far as 2004, was sponsored by both Senators Webb and Warner in the Senate and had sponsorship or contributions from Representatives Goodlatte and Boucher in the House.

The good climb up from the low point at Trout Creek along 620 was of course no less steep by virtue of the new designation, but the approach from this direction does get you on the ridge line sooner than from the other way up, allowing for a pleasant and easy second half of the walk to lunch.

The monument to the fallen war hero is more decorated every time we visit it, with more and more intricate cairn work off to the side, and more and more flowers (artificial for sturdiness), flags and other leave-behinds all around the stone marker. We scouted around for the perfect lunch spot on both the east and west sides of the ridge and ended up, as is The Day Hiker's wont, on the east – in the sun and not in the wind. Frisky puppy Cookie was tired enough to allow us a brief nap before we started back through the woods with just a touch of new meaning to them.

Following in Thomas Jefferson's Footsteps

March 29, 2009. From Blue Ridge Parkway milepost 83.1: Fallingwater Cascades Trail loop and Flat Top Mountain up and back. 7.2 miles.

This two-walk walk is a good one for an early-spring, post-rain trek, given the presence of falling water, moist spots for early wildflowers and the open, pre-leaf views going up 4,001-foot Flat Top.

All three perspectives provided at least some reward on this brisk, increasingly blue-sky day. The falls had a healthy, noisy flow. The Greatest Day Hiker Of Them All paused maybe 20 times during the walk to move leaves, inspect new shoots and occasionally quiz her hiking companion, who was maybe-two-of five on identifying. And on the way up, views onto Harkening Hill to the west and out onto the piedmont to the east were frequent.

The walk up the mountain that the AT guidebook talks about Thomas Jefferson climbing at age 72 is a rewarding one – nicely switch-backed till near the top, where things get rocky and steep, and where there are several faux summits before you reach the terrific views from both the western and eastern rock outcrops at the true summit. One of those false summits was recommended to us pre-hike by son Carl, whose propensity toward photographic memory for hikes manifested itself with the advice to look out for Pinnacle Rock and its gnarly old evergreen, which we did find.

At the true summit, The Day Hiker and her rock-rookie puppy headed immediately for the eastern overlook; I took a quick view westward before joining them on the eastern overlook, where we were surprised to have the big rock to ourselves on this pretty day. Cookie explored it to every edge and precipice, causing her mistress to reach the edge of panic several times.

The air was sufficiently clear to see the city of Bedford fairly clearly. The Bedford reservoir is the most immediate and prominent feature of the view. To the north, Apple Orchard Mountain is prominent, and to the south, Sharp Top's sharp, rocky top is clear and imposing (though about 125 feet shorter in elevation than Flat Top).

On the walk back down, six-month-old Cookie confirmed her readiness for full-distance hikes with a sustained friskiness that manifested itself in off-trail runs and explorations, and in a half-mile or so of repeated taking of Gail's hiking pole into her mouth, to the extent that for many steps at a time, the pole served as sort of a stiff, voluntary leash for the wacky puppy.

In Search of a Tunnel

March 21, 2009. Carvins Cove Boat Launch Lot to Tinker Creek tunnel and beyond on the fire road on the northern side of the reservoir, and back. 8 miles.

This walk was occasioned by the previous week's, when we crossed Tinker Creek on the Appalachian Trail just south of U. S. 220 at Daleville. The creek, fed by the weekend rains, was fuller than we'd ever seen it, rushing its way south toward Roanoke and into the Roanoke River.

The next day in the Roanoke paper was a piece on the status of area reservoirs, in which an official from the Western Virginia Water Authority talked about Tinker Creek continuing to help replenish Carvins Cove. I was puzzled enough to get out the topo map and verify that Tinker Creek flows along one side of formidable Tinker Mountain, and Carvins Cove is on the other, with no visible connection whatsoever to Tinker Creek.

The explanation, with specifics courtesy of Sarah Baumgardner at the water authority: a 6,528-foot, six-foot-diameter tunnel through the mountain.

So our goal for this hiking day became a walk to see where "Tinker Creek" spills into Carvins Cove.

The Brogan tunnel was completed in 1966 and is operational as a reservoir-filler only when Tinker Creek has reached a specified level of flow; thus the continued strong rush of water – far downstream from the tunnel – that we saw where the creek passes under the AT, even as water was being diverted into Carvins Cove as well.

The walk to the mouth of the tunnel is along the fire road. We've done this stretch several times on bicycles – on the way to the Sawmill Branch Trail up to the AT – and agreed it is much more pleasant on foot; its climbs are clearly minor when you walk – think of a climb up Tinker Mountain on the AT or on the Andy Lane, for example, versus little hills along Carvins Cove. (We threatened, on our last ride of the road, to chuck the bikes into the reservoir upon finishing.)

With new-hiker Cookie the five-and-half-month-old puppy in tow, we made good time on the approximately 1.7-mile walk to the point in the road where there is a left to head down to the water. It is at the end of this road – less than a quarter mile – that the tunnel empties into a semi-circle-shaped concrete bowl that creates a short falls as the water spills over and on into Carvins Cove. At this spot as well as at smaller feeder streams along the way, the reservoir was taking on serious water, apparently replenishing still, a week after the rains.

There are suggestions of a trail along the perimeter of Carvins Cove, and we walked along those and at times along the bank created by low water until we found a good sunny spot for lunch. From there, we followed a small stream up from the edge of the reservoir, back to the road and back to the parking lot.

Tiny Trail Magic

March 15, 2009. Appalachian Trail from U.S. 220 southbound to first full viewpoint of Carvins Cove and back. 6 miles.

With rain all weekend and grandkid commitments here and there, we snuck in an old favorite and got lucky not to catch any drops during the two hours we were out; this was late Sunday afternoon and the first two dry hours all weekend.

Not that there weren't good evidences of all the rain that had fallen. The lower part of this trail section seems always to be muddy, and on this day it served in spots as a little brook bed. And Tinker Creek, usually languid where the trail crosses it, was in a discolored rush on its way toward Roanoke and the Roanoke River. Higher up, just prior to where the trail attains the ridge line, we heard the sound of water off to the left, over on another piece of Tinker Mountain. A little farther along, we were able to see where the sound was coming from – a 40-foot rain-fed waterfall over an outcropping. In perhaps a dozen walks on this section over the years, we'd never seen nor heard water over there.

At the ridge line, we entered the light fog of cloud cover, but could still see down to the surface of Carvins Cove when we got to the outcropping of "Hey" Rock (not Hay Rock, but the one where you go, "Hey, there's Carvins Cove"). Even though this was a good weekend for the drought-ridden reservoir, the broad band of tan around it was still starkly evident through the mist.

After we were back down the mountain and back to real life, showers returned, and we counted ourselves lucky to have been visited by yet another, albeit tiny, piece of trail magic.

Snow Day!

March 1, 2009. Appalachian Trail from Va. 620 northward onto Cove Mountain and back, including a stop at Pickle Branch Shelter. About 6.5 miles.

We set out on this day of impending snow to try to find some actual snow to walk in before its predicted arrival in Roanoke-proper long after dark. We wanted a western-facing ridge to walk on, and chose an Appalachian Trail section west of Roanoke. We parked where Va. 620 crosses the trail, heading for the Audie Murphy Memorial 3.8 miles southbound. But as seems to have befallen us once before at this spot, we realized, once we saw the distance sign maybe an eighth of a mile in, that – duh – we were headed the wrong way. Still, Dragon's Tooth at 4.0 miles away, seemed equally fine, and we HAD gone that eighth of a mile, so we continued southbound.

Snow began falling – lightly – after perhaps a quarter mile in. And as we continued to climb, it got stronger and steadier, to the point that by the time we passed the Pickle Branch Shelter spur at about a mile, the forest was quickly filling with white, and visibility was decreasing delightfully. The Day Hiker paused us here and there to look at tracks in the snow – everything from little-bunny hops to big-deer leaps. By the time we reached the ridge line of Cove Mountain, the snow came still stronger, and at times with an almost fully horizontal angle, as the openness to the west that we had sought did indeed serve to deliver the weather. And views to the east and west off the ridge were – well, they were a gray-white wall perhaps 50 feet out.

Our hopes to walk to Dragon's Tooth soon got buried in the wind and snow: Even with good layers, several sets of gloves and hats, we realized that lunch was going to present a challenge in terms of comfort and shelter from the storm, even amid all the big rocks – the "false teeth" along the ridge before the primary formation. And so, after a few pauses and decisions to push on, conditions finally turned us around – sending us back down the mountain and toward the shelter for lunch.

We'd never been to Pickle Branch Shelter before, as its one-mile-in-from-parking rendered it a too-early or too-late stop. But on this day it provided the perfect spot to pull off wet top layers, change socks and gloves, and settle into a comfortable lunch looking out into a forest filling with snow. It's easy to forget, when it's been so long, how quiet and white and peaceful a real snowfall is. And while we have walked through fallen snow many times before over the five years that we've been heading out, this was our first full falling-snow hike.

The snow tailed off as we drove down out of the mountains. But back in Roanoke was evidence of an inch or two that had fallen while we'd been out. The real snow in the city came after midnight, and we awakened to a total of six inches or so, making for more opportunities to walk in the white, albeit urban ones.

Kurt and Gail's Hikes: The Five-Year Mark

February 14, 2009. Apple Orchard Falls Trail to Appalachian Trail to Cornelius Creek Trail. 7.4 miles. (Fifth anniversary return to our first hike.)

On this day, the fifth anniversary of the beginning of our weekly Hikes Oddity, there was ample time and inclination to reflect on the walk on February 14, 2004 vs. the walk on February 14, 2009.

On that first day, while we had hats and gloves, we were nowhere near the gear nuts we've since become. The winter packs now carry not just a full change of upper layers (plus two or three extras), but also several intensities of gloves, ear-band style warmers as well as full hats, an extra pair of socks each; not to mention those little seven-hour hand warmers that The Day Hiker occasionally resorts to; and the fancy bladder full of ice water. But this day's weather was in stark contrast to that first day's, when several inches of iced-over snow covered the ground and for much of the walk, ours were the first human prints in the white. On this sunny day, temperatures moved to around 50, the breeze was light and there was nothing on the ground but last year's fallen leaves. Not much of a test for the gear at all.

On that first day, we ascended on the Cornelius Creek Trail, with its multiple stream crossings and its half-mile section of a significantly steep climb. On this day, as we have done most times since, we took the far-gentler Apple Orchard Falls Trail up. On that first day the falls were significantly fuller than they were on this day, when we could hear ourselves talk just fine.

On that first day, a walk of about seven and a half miles was a daunting thing - something that rendered us proud enough, when we were finished, to go out again the next week. And the next and the next and... The Greatest Day Hiker Of Them All has over the five years toughened us so thoroughly as hikers that the walk now feels more like a pleasant visit with an old friend than a challenge. In fact, with a late start and an early dinner reservation, we'd have been running awfully tight back then, and Gail would have worried. And not just about time, but about darkness and maybe bears. For years now, she has rooted for bears as hard as she roots for sunshine on winter days. And on this day, she talked about the time only when I brought it up, and had us out of the woods a half an hour before my projected time – on a day when she did not feel particularly well.

In that realm, it could be noted that over these 260 weeks, there was only one - of the 13 total we missed - that was because of The Day Hiker, and even that was only half her responsibility. Eleven were for a knee or achilles of mine; one was to move a son to Philadelphia; and one - just one - was a weekend when she felt badly enough on Saturday to vote to wait till Sunday and on Sunday I felt badly enough to vote that we should have gone on Saturday.

Total mileage for the five years is 2,425.5. Longest hike is 19.3 in Northern Virginia into Harpers Ferry. Shortest is 3.4 up and down the Star Trail here in Roanoke. Among the scores of points of true exhilaration over the five years, two stand out from the most recent year: walking to just under 10,000 feet on Oregon's Mount Hood and finishing the 546 miles of the Virginia Appalachian Trail last summer on a glorious day that included the Mount Rogers summit, friendly ponies and a perfect precipice for lunch.

May our luck and will and health continue to allow us to continue to spend a part of our weekends in the woods.

A Warm-Weather Trail Party

February 7, 2009. Appalachian Trail from Va. 311 north on the Appalachian Trail to McAfee Knob and back. 7.6 miles.

On the warmest day of the winter to date, pretty much everybody and his hiking buddy or honey squeezed into the lot where 311 reaches its highest reach on Catawba Mountain – to the point that more cars were parked along the side of the highway down toward Salem. And it makes for a different kind of hike when this many people are out – a sort of linear party full of greetings and exchanges on the weather, the trail, the summit and, in the case of one older couple, a deep lament at all the fair-weather walkers. "We were going to be out here ANYWAY – no matter the weather," the lady asserted. No, it wasn't Gail and me; we enjoyed all the company this day, including fellow Leisureite James Richerson, his wife and a few pals from middle school making their first trek up to the coolest overlook in the area.

The precipice was literally covered with people – nearly all twenty- and thirty-somethings with cameras and cliff-edge poses to go into them. We ate lunch on the far end of the formation, looking down onto Roanoke and across the valley to Brushy Mountain. The Greatest Day Hiker Of Them All spent a considerable amount of time asking about various puppies' ages, toward the day when little lab-mix Cookie – now up to 29 pounds from the 16 when she arrived with a month ago – will be able to climb mountains.

The way back down, as always, was easy and enjoyable, to the point that Gail talked about "the old days," when our sons were boys and this was kind of a long hike. On this day, she got good-naturedly impatient several times when she ran up on the back of hiking parties that were a little slow to move over and make way for somebody who... just... walks... fast. She drug us up the 1,200-foot climb in an hour and a half flat and down in 10 minutes less. A great walk to a great place on a great day.