Date: 2022-10-03
From: Hog Camp Gap

To: Punchbowl Shelter
Miles today: 17.6
Weather: overcast clouds

Time and the winds will sooner or later bury the Seven Cities of Cibola¢Phoenix, Tucson, Albuquerque, all of them under dunes of glowing sand, over which blue-eyed Navajo bedouin will herd their sheep and horses, following the river in winter, the mountains in summer, and sometimes striking off across the desert toward the red canyons of Utah where great waterfalls plunge over silt-filled, ancient, mysterious dams.-Edward Abbey, from Desert SolitaireWe walked along Brown Mountain Creek for about a mile and a half today. The dell through which it ran was never wider than 300 yards but was flat and gentle with the creek choosing a path down one side or the other. It left a broad valley floor that sharecroppers had settled in the early 1800s. They were freed slave farming tobacco, cotton, and corn for income, along with potatoes and vegetables for sustenance. These farmers sold their land to the forest service in 1920 and it has lain fallow since. One hundred years of idleness has taken the timbers of the houses, the water furrows, and the split rail fences. It has not been able to erase the stone foundations, chimneys, rock walls along the creek and lining old fields, now forested. The roadbed is still plain and passable (helped by 90 years of hikers on it). I think about the interstates, concrete bridges, power line towers, and dams that are commonplace now. What will 100 years of idleness do them? If a century could hardly hide this community of people living off the land, it will likely have little effect on a 4-lane interstate 100 yards wide and 1000 miles long. I don¢t think the Navajo bedouin will need to ¢strike off across the deserts¢ of Utah, they can just follow the interstates. We got a late start today after spending the morning packing up our stuff at the campground. We will not be going back since Grandie and Grandpa leave tomorrow. We ate waffles and pancakes before loading up the truck about 7:30. We were walking south about an hour later with slackpacks. G & G will meet us at the end of the day with our full kits. We climbed Cole Mountain under a cold, rain-washed sky. Lenticular clouds high above showed the wind cleaning out the last of the storm. The forest we climbed though was fresh and clean. We gained an open ridge of meadows and sweeping views showing a wide expanse of Virginia on both sides. The breeze cut though our jacket zippers and necklines chilling the skin, quickly rewarmed by the engine within. It felt good to be back on the trail after a double zero. Ninja Squirrel had read of the wreckage of an A6 Intruder aircraft close to the trail. He saved a waypoint on his GPS and managed to locate the debris. It was a neat find in the middle of the woods. The small gathering of scraps of twisted metal was all that was left of the large fighter plane that crashed here. We don¢t know many other details. Maybe it¢ll still be here for the bedouins - they¢re going to have a lot of questions. As we descended the southerly ridge of Bald Knob we began to encounter serious storm damage in the forest. We didn¢t experience high winds or hard rain in Lexington but this part of the forest got lashed. It seemed like the oaks had it worse than most other trees. Many had broken off high in the canopy and crashed to the forest floor - several times into the trail itself - leaving massive impact indentations in the soft dirt. We did our share of trail maintenance as we passed though. I was glad we weren¢t here on Saturday!We lunched at VA 60 where many SOBOs we¢re getting back onto the trail after their night(s) in town. Camp & Crumbs left just before we arrived. Lennon & Grazer were hanging out when we arrived. We walked away with them after sandwiches and Pringles and followed them to the north end of the Brown Mountain Creek valley. The trail was very quiet through the valley. The leaves in the trail were green or wet (or both) and silenced our footsteps. Those steps that were louder than others got washed out by the creek. The breeze was in our faces. I was walking in front and was very aware that the forest I was looking ahead into couldn¢t yet see me. ¢Seeing¢ is one of the last senses animals detect us with. If they can¢t smell you (because you¢re downwind) and they can¢t hear you (because your steps are silent) then they won¢t be looking for you. It¢s a stalkers dream. Alas, no fauna were spotted. Texas Pete¢s leg continues to get along. We got a better knee brace for it in Lexington and spent some of the morning ironing out the kinks. We¢re trying to strike a balance between progress down the trail and rest for his leg. Slackpacking has been a help but his leg hasn¢t gotten better with slackpacking. It hasn¢t gotten worse, either, but we¢d rather not accept the status quo if we can avoid it. As we climbed the last pitch today I thought we might try swapping the Lone Peaks (shoes) Texas Pete is wearing for the Speedgoats that Fish wears. They are on opposite ends of the ¢cushion¢ continuum and Texas Pete currently wears the ¢no cushion¢ shoe with zero drop. The Speedgoat is all cushion with a 4mm drop. The difference in his knee might be noticeable. We¢ll try that tomorrow. Grandie and Grandpa met us at the Punchbowl overlook on the Blue Ridge Parkway for a farewell dinner of subway sandwiches, cheese its, and Powerade. ¢This is a moment in time!¢, Grandie told us. It has been a week to remember! We enjoyed the slackpacking, the real food, and the zeros at the KOA with them. We¢re now looking forward to a Thanksgiving dinner together. We ate our sandwiches, shouldered our packs now loaded out with winter gear, and headed across the road and back into the woods, waving goodbye from just inside the wood line.