Date: 2003-05-13
From: Wilson Creek Shelter

To: Bryant Ridge Shelter
Miles today: 20.7
Weather: scattered clouds

The wind howled all night, leading to an uneasy sleep. It was downright chilly in the morning, an experience I hadn't had in awhile. Bag-exiting reluctance! Still, it makes for great hiking weather, if you can get past that first tricky spot.The early morning's walk led up some more rounded mounds, and into the finest rhododendron display yet. Lane after lane of lavender-pink blossoms, each the size of my fist or larger. It was a fairyland, and Chuck-and-Di's wedding had nothing more splendid. What a bride wouldn't give to walk down this petaled aisle. For isn't that what life is like, after all, one long blossom-covered path?About 8:30 am, I crossed The Blue Ridge Parkway for the first time. Gusts of wind were knocking me around on the exposed concrete. Views of far-off Taylor Mountain. It was a relief to get in the woods again.The wind is like a living thing lately. It's volume approaches that of a large waterfall, or an incoming ocean wave. It drowns out most all else.The AT starts to weave its way across the Blue Ridge Parkway in this part of Virginia. Usually, they trot us out onto the concrete for the same overlooks the car tourists get.At the first juncture, there is a sign tacked to a tree, warning us about the upcoming gypsy moth spraying. We feel vulnerable, as hikers unenclosed by an automotive bubble, drinking from springs and streams. "Only a mild toxicity to humans" reassures the sign. They would close the parkway to cars, but would they close the AT to foot traffic? Hmmmm...After a descent, I come upon a perfect wooden footbridge, just the right height to dangle my inflamed feet in the icy stream beneath. I eat my lunch streamside in the sun until I can't stand the cold any longer. Then I stretch out on the bridge for a short nap, as I haven't been sleeping well at night. Notes catches me packing up there, and we walk together for several hours. He is planning on doing big miles to Buena Vista, since he's taking five days off-Trail to reunite with his girlfriend at Trail Days.At Jennings Creek, a fine local trout stream, there is a parking lot. Fido-Dido, Two Step, Prince William and Dirty Bird are there, planning to hitch a ride to a local campground grill that serves burgers and corndogs and beer. They have already commandeered a pickup, two local fisherman with coolers and no front teeth. We join them for a ride in, but when the five and their packs cram in the back, there is no room. They offer to make room, but I wasn't that hungry. One of the fishermen offers me a beer from his ice-packed cooler, and I accept. I'm not much of a beer drinker ordinarily, but an icy one in the middle of the woods on hot day can sure hit the spot. I start up Fork Mountain alone in the afternoon heat.The wind has fallen off, and the sun is pleasantly hot. The climb takes over a half hour, but before I know it, the ascent is behind me. The walk down doesn't take long at all, and then there is a little walking along the creek. These big miles unfolded with relative ease. What a change from struggling to eke out ten! The cool temps have a lot to do with it, I know. I am dreading the summer.Suddenly there is Bryant Ridge shelter, a beautiful post-and-beam structure with three levels and a covered picnic table. The shelter is crowded with section hikers we've been seeing off and on again, two southbounding section hikers, Typhoon and the five burger hunters mentioned earlier.When Notes finally arrives, he pulls out a gift he has lugged up the mountain for me, the one left behind. A beer. I was touched. Two beers in one day, a very rare event in my world. When I open it, it sprays my pocketmail.I thought I would feel more tired after doing this twenty mile day, but I don't feel that bad tonight. Tomorrow will tell the tale. And it's all uphill tomorrow, up 4,225-foot Apple Orchard Mountain. The guidebook says it is the highest point between Chestnut Knob and Mount Moosilauke, NH. I'd better rest up.