Guest poster: Phillip A. Bostian 7/1-7/5 Rain, Rain, and more Rain

I told Adam a while back that if he did indeed decide to hike the Appalachian trail that I would come and spend a week with him. My resume as a hiker and backpacker is not stunning, but I do have some experience out on the trail. I knew it would be difficult for me to go from sitting all day to hiking with a thru-hiker, but I nevertheless set out to do just that. We decided to meet at REI that Sunday at 11:00, as Adam was coming from Charlotte and I was coming from Greenville (NC). We met and picked up a few obligatory items including some maps and a stove for me. Adam bought some tights for the trail (and yes I mean spandex/lycra pants). -->

Finally, we departed for Thunder Ridge overlook on the blue ridge parkway where I would leave my car, a three hour ride away. On the way we picked up some lunch and a Subway sandwich for dinner that night. We arrived at Thunder Ridge overlook at 2:45 and found just two other cars in the parking lot. It was somewhat overcast and I was afraid the clouds would open up at any moment, so I pushed Adam to hurry up. I was quickly reminded that Adam moves at his own pace. Finally, after taking the obligatory photo at the overlook, we set off into the woods. -->

Our hike into camp was only 5 miles, with a large portion of it being downhill. Luckily for me, Adam had just taken a two week hiatus from the trail and was wanting to ease back into things. I was able to keep up quite well until our first significant up hill, Highcock knob, which rises only about 600 feet from its surroundings over about a mile. 

(We began the afternoon at Thunder Ridge Overlook on the BRP. Our destination for the day was Marble Spring Just past mile 31)

[Highcock knob is so named for a legendary bear hunter who had a cabin in this area. It is said that he had to roosters that would perch high in oak trees to cast their crow across the valley, and thus the name high cock knob.] As I ascended this small peak, my quads began to burn and I quietly began to cuss this mountain under my breath. After reaching a small summit, I found Adam sitting out on a small rock outcropping looking at his guidebook. He quickly informed me that we were at the top and the rest of the hike was downhill into camp. I think he was partly informing me and partly encouraging me. I thanked my lucky stars as I struggled to catch my breath. I decided to push on instead of breaking, thinking that I could possibly beat Adam into camp. Instead, I quickly discovered that Adam had not been the most astute orienteersman as I found that the trail continued steeply upward right past where I had found Adam. Again, he passed me as I laboriously climbed until reaching the top. Finally, I was on the downhill section. We arrived at the Marble Springs campsite between 5:30 and 6:00, a pace which is not bad for an unseasoned backpacker. We quickly set up camp and ate the sub sandwiches that we had packed in for our first dinner. Not long after dinner, we gathered our water bottles and hiked a short distance down to the spring that is right outside of camp. This was an interesting water source in that it was only a small trickle coming out of the side of the hill and after only 30 feet or so disappeared back into the mountain through a sieve of sand and rocks. We quickly filled our water bottles – Adam used a squeeze filter to purify his water and I opted for the lazier (and safer) tablets to treat my water.

(This is Adam using his squeeze purifier at another camp. Sorry for poor quality - it was raining)
While hiking back into camp, we began hearing thunder and a curt drizzle beckoned a strong downpour. We spent the next hour and a half in the tents until the rain stopped. I sat in my tent looking at the map and reading about the Appalachian trail in my guidebook. During this time, I realized my tent was not as waterproof as it had once been. Notably, several of the seams were leaking and rainwater was beginning to pool between the groundcloth and the tent floor (this was a result of poor tent pitching as I had left the groundcloth edge exposed to the runoff from the rainfly). Once the weather broke for a few minutes we gathered back outside and hung our bear bags and brushed our teeth. Shortly after, the rain settled back in for the night and we headed off to bed.

The next morning, I arose early determined to be a better hiker than I had been the day before. It was no longer raining, but was overcast and a heavy fog had settled in. I packed my wet tent and damp sleeping bag into my damp backpack. I quickly packed the rest of my gear and was ready to start hiking as Adam emerged from his tent. So, I set off without Adam but thought for sure he would pass me soon. The trail today was mostly flat with some downhills, but no significant uphills. I made good time on the flat part and was feeling strong. After an hour into my hike, the rain started back up and would not stop until camp. I found a long stretch of wild blueberries and stuffed a few in my mouth as I went along. Soon, I arrived at the James river. This is the longest river in Virginia, and coincidentally, also the site of the longest footbridge on the Appalachian Trail. I stopped here, thinking Adam was right around the corner and we could cross the bridge together.

 After 30 minutes, I strapped my backpack back on and finished the next couple miles to John’s Hollow Shelter without Adam. [John’s Hollow (pronounced holler) is named after a local hermit who was known to live in this area. It is supposedly well known for its abundance of wildflowers, although we did not see any while there] Upon arrival, I met a young lady there with a thick Australian accent who went by the trail name of “Wombat” [On the Appalachian trail, hikers do not use their given names. Instead they use aliases often dubbed “trail names”. These are often given to them by other hikers or simply assumed on their own. Adam’s name is “Zeus”]. She is a physical education teacher from Australia who was hiking for a few days before going to a wedding. Soon, Adam showed up and Wombat headed out. The clouds finally gave way to blue sky and we set out drying our wet clothes and gear on a clothesline behind the shelter. 

(Adam drying stuff out at John's Hollow)

Since we had gotten into camp before lunch, we had quite a bit of time to burn. I spent my time going down to the creek and washing up, reading about the section of trail we were to hike the next day, playing solitaire, and whittling. Adam spent most of his time in a novel.

 For dinner, we each had a Mountain House meal of beef stroganoff, which was quite good. We were by ourselves in camp that night, and I was glad we decided to stay in the shelter as it once again began to rain.

The next morning, I once again beat Adam out of camp and began a difficult uphill climb. On this day, we had a 2000 foot climb directly out of our camp. 

(Our hike for the day was from John's Hollow Shelter to Punchbowl Shelter. The elevation gain between horizontal lines is 500 ft.)

I definitely wanted to get a head start on Adam, as I was sure he would quickly pass me on the uphill portion. Well, I reached the top of our initial ascent and decided to wait for Adam, as I was feeling a little guilty about not actually hiking with him. After about 45 minutes, he finally emerged from below me. Come to find out, he had left an hour after I had. We continued to ascend up Rocky Row mountain. It had been raining all morning, but now all hell broke loose. An absolute deluge drenched us for the next two hours. I swear I have stood in the shower and been drier. Every inch of me was soaked. It rained so hard that many of the smaller trees bent over, unable to withstand the onslaught. [Later I learned that the record daily rainfall total was set in nearby Blacksburg and Roanoke.] Finally, somewhere before our ascent of Bluff mountain, the pouring rain gave way to a measly drizzle. We ascended Bluff mountain and just before the summit we paid our respects to little Ottie Cline Powell. 

(Internet photo of the marker near the summit of Bluff Mountain memorializing the place where the four year old Ottie Cline Powell's body was found)

[Ottie Powell was a four year old from the 1800s who wandered away from his schoolhouse while collecting firewood in November. Despite an extensive search, his body was not recovered until the next April at the summit of Bluff mountain. He is said to haunt nearby Punchbowl shelter, our shelter for the evening. You can read the story here: http://blueridgecountry.com/archive/favorites/ottie-cline-powell/] We arrived at the summit of the mountain, which is known for its breathtaking vistas. The only thing breathtaking for me was how drenched I was at the moment, as the mountain was still socked with fog. Soon, we began our descent to Punchbowl shelter. [Punchbowl shelter is so named for the small pond in its front yard.-->

(Notice the small pond. Picture taken from the from of Punchbowl Shelter)

It is said to be haunted by Ottie Powell, and fittingly, there was a child’s sleeping bag laid out nicely for him in the shelter.] It was mostly downhill and we arrived in short time. We were the first ones there, and quickly set our wet clothes out to dry on a clothesline erected inside the shelter. It soon began to pour again and we hunkered inside the shelter for the rest of the evening. That evening we would meet a gentleman from Staunton VA and a mother-son duo from Connecticut who were thru-hiking.

The next morning, it continued to rain (see a trend here?) and we set out on our mostly flat hike to Brown Mountain Creek Shelter. This hike was quite easy and we made good time. Much of the walk is alongside a large reservoir and a protected demonstration forest. It drizzled most of the time, but we were able to dry out a little bit from the day prior. Just as soon as our shoes were starting to dry out, we came to a stream crossing that was swollen from days of rain and were forced to submerge our shoes in the water – once again we were walking in sopping shoes. Soon we found ourselves along the Brown Mountain Creek, and later in the Brown Mountain Creek Shelter.-->

[Brown Mountain Creek Valley was once inhabited by a black sharecropping community. The remnants of their stonewalls and buildings are still evident.] The rain stopped for a few hours and I was thankful to not spend the entire afternoon in the shelter. Instead I walked around the camp, skipped rocks, and washed off in the creek. I also worked on gently stretching my Achille’s tendon which had begun to bother me. That afternoon it began to downpour once again, and I was relegated to spending my time in the shelter. Later that evening, we were joined by three other thru hikers – Strider, Wilderness, and ??? – who spoke candidly about their experiences on the trail and how much they enjoyed hiking in the rain. This was a notion that I thought was BS, but I let them enjoy their caterwauling without interfering.

It continued to rain throughout the night and was drizzling the next morning. This was the last day on the trail for me, and we had been told it was supposed to clear up today. Again, I was the first one up and quickly packed up my things. I had tossed and turned all night and had not slept well, so I was ready to get moving and head to our pick up point. Originally, we had planned to head to Spy Rock Rd., about 20 miles from Brown Mountain Creek, but we decided to have the family pick us up at Salt Log Gap, a mere 10 miles from the current location. I began walking, although my pace was slow due to left Achille’s pain. The hike was uphill for the first five miles and was the most difficult hike I had while on the trail. After many false summits, I reached the 4,000+ ft Bald knob, whose summit is ironically forested. This was a total of 2500 feet of elevation gain since camp, and I was glad to have it behind me. Next we descended to Cow Camp Gap and then began our ascent of Cold Mountain. In contrast to Bald Knob, Cold Mountain has a bald summit and would have had great views if it had not been raining and foggy.-->

[Cold Mountain used to be a grazing ground for cattle, and since then encroachment by the forest into the meadows has threatened the open peaks of this mountain. Selective burning and mowing are being used to keep this summit open.] After Cold Mountain we descended to Hog Camp Gap and eventually made our way to Salt Log Gap, our pickup point. While waiting for our pickup to arrive, the clouds cleared and the sun came out for the first time in a few days. The bitter irony was that as soon as my hike had ended, the good weather had come. Finally, our family arrived and we headed to Wintergreen resort for a nice weekend vacation.

--Phillip Bostian, July 2013