June 3, the rainiest day we've ever walked into. Sharp Top Trail and Harkening Hill Trail at the Peaks of Otter, Milepost 86 of the Blue Ridge Parkway. 8 miles. The hurricane remnants that made Saturday seem ill-advised as a hiking day hung around just as strongly on Sunday.
That killer 360 at the top of Sharp Top was solid fog, with visibility at maybe 25 feet. But hey, how often do you have that mountaintop to yourselves on a June weekend? The Harkening Hill Trail, on the other side of the parkway, had at least two others of questionable judgment on it--a father and daughter passed us going the other way . . .
running! Our lunch was between hikes . . . in the car! This after we'd asked the lonely ranger about any shelter on any of the Peaks of Otter slopes. No, he said, nothing at all. He should have remembered better than we did that there is one at the top of Sharp Top, where we would have eaten had we carried the packs as usual.
June 16. Appalachian Trail from Salt Log Gap across Cow Camp Gap and over Cold Mountain to the Old Hotel Trail and the AT back to the starting point. 10 miles. A new variation on a favorite, with a bit more mileage by adding Tar Jacket Ridge to the Old Hotel/AT loop.
Heading south on the AT as we were, we crossed several sets of and individual thru-hikers, at least one of whom was seriously miffed to have missed the trail magic we saw at the start of our hike--a young man serving lunch to those thru hikers who crossed the road at Salt Log Gap. Our lunch was atop Cold Mountain, though the day was so full of hikers that we had to wait our turn for the rocky outcrop where the peak marker is. This, overall, is a terrific hike, with great views, fine forest, the good stream near Cow Camp Gap Shelter, and plenty of wildflowers for The Day Hiker.
June 24. The Glenwood Horse Trail from off of Va. 634 to the Gunter Ridge Trail and back. 8.0. The Greatest Day Hiker Of Them All is supremely tolerant of all the usual minor trail irritants and small perils . . . a snake doesn't bother her, and she lives in hopes of seeing a bear. She's not put off by flying insects nor by a long sustained climb that leaves me a quarter mile behind. Sweat, cold, rain, snow, wind--she continues ahead, up and down the mountains of Virginia with nothing but a smile. But on a wet, weedy, little-used section of the Glenwood Horse Trail, her two trail nemeses made their presences known. CHIGGERS! TICKS! Gail was positive they were latching onto her legs and arms as she strode through the grasses and wildflowers of the trail. And at lunch, she spent time not reading the wildflower books as usual, but inspecting herself for her parasitic pals. (Net result, at home and after a shower: minimal bites from either; and new disdain for those tiny deer ticks not much bigger than a chigger.)
June 30. U. S. 220 in Daleville up the AT to Hay Rock and back. 8 miles. We're amazed each time we visit Hay Rock--four miles up from 220 and about nine miles from any road to the south--not in a positive way, but in reaction to the wall of graffiti that covers the north face of the outcropping. How is it that this one rock, among so many along the miles of the trail near the city of Roanoke, has been transformed from natural to the worst of urban? It seems like an infection--beginning small and growing unchecked. More positive: We'd never scrambled to the top of the rock, and finally did so this time, though we decided against lunch up there because of both the slightly slanty perch and the fact that the view into Botetourt County (from a spot just back down from Hay Rock) seemed more compelling than the one we usually take, onto Carvins Cove. It was near dusk as we approached the end of the walk, and The Day Hiker, pretending fear as we entered a forested section after passing through a power-line clearing, turned back to say, in mock horror, "this is when the bears come out!" Perhaps 100 paces further, on cue and off to the right, a mother and tiny cub scurried up the hillside, fleeing in genuine fear.
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