Day two of my Graduation Celebration on the Appalachian Trail began with sunrise on Rhododendron Gap. One of the best mornings of my entire life. Nature is glorious by well...nature, and I've seen many a glorious sunrise in my life, but the clarity of my ecstasy at that sunrise was insurmountable. We were really out there in it, man.
Virginia is altogether too beautiful of a place. The sun rose over a lake of clouds. We ate a hearty breakfast of oatmeal and dried fruit while we sat on the grass, taking in the grand splendor of it all. The early birds chimed in to announce the daybreak, chirping and rustling around in the rhododendron groves surrounding our mountain pasture. Ponies were whinnying over the hill. Ducky made herself a hot cup of joe, and then we walked back up to our camp to start breaking it down.
Pardon my French, but our campsite was kick ass. Hidden back in the conifers, overlooking the valley, soft, grassy, green, gorgeous. It was crisp, chilly, an absolutely perfect spring morning. We didn't want to leave. But the trail was calling.
So we got back to it.
We were both low on water again. Our last fill had been at the creek down below the last ridge the day before, so our goal was to make it to our next water source as efficiently as possible. Fortunately, we were pretty sure it was only about a mile away at Thomas Knob Shelter. We were right. One thing that kind of rocks about the AT is that a fair amount of the water sources are man-made spouts that come out sparkling clear and are really easy for fill up, i.e. they don't require a water pump to get it into the bottle.
This particular water spout was down the hill from the shelter, and on the side of Mt. Rogers itself, so not only did we have fresh, crystal-clear mountain water to drink, we also had the view.
With a fresh liter of cold water in our bellies, and two full liters in our packs, we headed off again, with a new-found spring in our step. We had just locked into a solid pace, when we hit a road block.
PONIES. A whole herd of them! They were blocking the trail! So we went ahead and made friends.
Even little babies! So adorable!
This guy really wanted a snack. We didn't have any, so he settled for my bootlaces instead.
We hiked on for a while longer after we left the pony herd. We started descending into a forest after a while, and around 9:30 AM, we came upon another gorgeous mountain pasture. We'd been up for about 3 hours at this point, so we decided to stop, rehydrate, and eat again.
Peeling an orange on a boulder.
It's funny how ravenous you become on the trail. You are never truly satiated. With the amount of calories you burn walking all day long like that, it's no wonder, but the problem is you are limited to only the food you can carry on your back, which sadly is not much. But you make do. And we did.
Up on that rock, as I was scanning the horizon, I glimpsed a black rump retreating over the far hill. Bear or pony, I thought. I hoped for pony, but I was prepared for bear. Black bears are very common in Appalachia. Fortunately for us hikers, they are extremely skittish of humans here in the east. The main instance where bear attacks occur (other than intentional human provocation, known in layman's terms as "stupidity") is when a mother bear perceives a threat to her cubs. We decided the best course of action to prevent an interaction with a bear was to proceed along the trail with caution and to make noise to alert the bears to our presence.
The trail got real pretty as we descended. No signs of bears, but a big increase in foliage. The ground become lush and green, and the trees started to show flower buds. The air got warmer, more moist (though that may have been due to the heat of the day coming on). Ducky forged on ahead, like a champ. I hung back mostly, enjoyed the scenery and tended to a budding blister on my toe. It was shortly after noon when I saw a break in the forest up ahead. I came out from under the tree cover, and walked out onto a gorgeous grassy hill where Ducky was waiting for me at the top.
Below the hill was our first major road crossing of the hike. There was a parking area, a bathroom, and a small hut with a map posted under it. We descended the hill and joined a powwow of 3 thru-hikers enjoying the cool shade and a good solid lunch. We got to chatting with the guys, all of whom walked from Springer Mountain in Georgia and had just hit their 500 mile mark. One guy was waiting for a ride, he was hopping off the trail for a few weeks to get home for his sister's graduation. We finished off our food, helped our new friend flag down a car, and then bid our north-bound friends adieu as we turned our boots southward.
We ducked back under the trees on the other side of the lot and immediately were greeted by a steep climb. It was very hot at this point, midday. We were running low on water again, and getting thirsty, Ducky especially. The tree cover helped reduce the heat somewhat, but the humidity was rising down in the dip between ridges. Our next water source was about 2 miles away, so we had to walk another 45-60 minutes uphill to get there.
Once again, Ducky pressed on ahead. My friend Ducky is one tough lady, a real bad ass. God love her, she was the best hiking buddy I could possibly have asked for on my first long distance trip. She got me through the tough miles. I dawdled behind, taking breaks in the shade, pacing myself, knowing that Ducky was blazing the trail, scouting ahead, hunting down that water source with conviction.
This was one of the tougher stretches of the entire trip, to put it lightly. But we came out on top of the ridge at long last! It was gorgeous, and sunny, and the water spout was just ahead!
We drank two bottles each and ate again. The sun was hot and bearing down on us. Shade was not available. We layered on some extra sunscreen and put on our hats. After we had rested and refilled our bottles again, we headed on again. A few minutes later, we climbed a miniature hill to our final beautiful bald at Buzzard Rock on the side of Whitetop Mountain.
Then we began the real descent, the long steady descent back into Damascus. Don't get me wrong, we weren't close to the mark. We still had at least 15 miles to go til we would finally reach town, and by this point we were closing in on 4 PM. Our goal was to make it to just past Creek Junction, where the Appalachian Trail meets the Virginia Creeper Trail about 10 miles from Damascus. Wilson Creek also intersects that spot, so we planned to camp there next to a solid water source. But we had a ways to go. The next two miles were going to be sharply downhill. We paused to take a picture of a nice older couple on a day hike, and they took our picture in return.
So down we went, into the valley. The best part about coming back down from the zenith of the trail on the ridgeline was getting to pass through the arbor of rhododendron that awaited us down below.
We hiked for what felt like ages through the forest. The setting sun filtered through the trees, and the air cooled as the light dimmed. Finally,
finally....we reached Creek Junction.
And we made camp, right next to the river.
The river was ice cold and wonderful. We iced down our aching legs in the frigid water for several minutes before making dinner. Rice-A-Roni sounded less appealing the second day for some reason. Mostly, we were just tired. We didn't even wait for the sun to go down. We were in the tent, fast asleep, before 9:00 PM. Another exhausting, rewarding day down. One more day, 10 more miles, to go.
