TRAIL DAY 89

Thu, May 19, 2016 It was going to be a 174-picture day which would start out adding to the wettest-May record in Virginia and turn sunny and glorious by nightfall.

But first: This was James River day!

On the way to the river which I didn’t know was coming, I was taken with pellets of clear water beading up on green leaves and spider webs.  I remember one of these days started out with difficulty – or ended that way.  I had shared some of the difficulties of the day with my dear wife, Bonnie, and remember calling again the next day, after a night’s sleep, so uplifted by the beauty of crystalline droplets in the midst of the mist that my outlook was again bright.  I wanted her to know nature had resurrected me.

All was well.

And Theo waited patiently for me to take my photos.  I probably told you already how, when I took out my phone for pictures, Theo would just lie down, knowing it was going to be awhile.  He must have “thoughts” because I can “hear” them:

If you’re gunna aim that thing around the way you do, wake me when you’re done.

He was kindly tolerant this time.  It was a cool day which did not demand shade and rest at every stop and when it came time to climb, he moved!

I have a note in AWOL at the start of this day.  It reads:

Looking for Theo – right behind me!

If you keep at something in life long enough, anything that can happen will happen.

You know about Murphy, right?  Not Audie but that other guy – far less appealing and all too accomplished, skillful, busy and attentive.  The one who knows how to mess up everything and anything.  He’s the one who prompts the thought:

If it can happen, it will happen and at the worst possible moment.

Many were the times I got irritated with Murphy and urged him to “Go home!  Take a break!  Give it up!  Get lost!” or some such wishful command that always went unheeded.  I took several some pictures of his handiwork which scattered throughout my visual record of the AT.  Well, I guess I’m blaming Murphy for hiding Theo on me.

I see another note in AWOL for this morning: Let the Love out – and in.

I’d been looking for a theme, some organizing principle for what I was doing and what I should do with this adventure when completed.  What would tie it all together?  What was the core or center from which all thoughts and pictures and experiences would radiate?

Let the Love out!

So much was going in.  So many gifts.  So many blessings.  So much goodness.  I had many times thought in life that I need no more input.  I am filled to the brim with so much of the stuff of life that it’s time to heed Amen Henry and express it!  How?

My experience at MOJO’s in Damascus and the sweet, generous kindness of Kazi and Zoe had not left me.  They had taught me a lesson just by being who they were and responding so kindly to the substance of our conversation after a simple kindness of mine: “She can pet him if she’d like.”  Would that we all let love out like that again – and again.  I pray I can help keep that goodness going.

By 10:45 a.m. we were at the Matts Creek Shelter where 3 other hikers were resting.  The shelter is exactly 2 miles from the James River Foot Bridge and 170′ higher in elevation.  Nonetheless, there was a FLASH FLOOD HAZARD sign posted on the outside wall of the shelter.  The danger was either from Matts Creek or the James River or both.  Since the shelter lay in a concave portion of the River’s course, it is possible that James could overflow his banks and fill in the depression.

This oblivious hiker with his oblivious dog just kept hiking until the trail began following a river off to the left.  A fairly wide river.  It may not have been until I got to the footbridge that I knew what the body of water next to me was.

The James River.

There was something about that name – that place.  It was close enough to home to have had meaning in my life.  Not that I ever visited it or have many memories about it but I heard it mentioned enough that it was like Bethesda or Chevy Chase, Maryland.  I didn’t live there as a boy but I’d heard the names enough that they were a small part of my history.

I was leaving the deep south behind and getting closer to home.  The accent was getting more familiar.  The temperament and the way of looking at things were getting more familiar.  When I crossed that river, I was on the other side of a dividing line.  The north side and I was going to hear names of places that I heard growing up or maybe even visited once or twice.  I was approaching the land of my birth.

The footbridge over the James River was no small thing.  The time and effort and funds it took to construct it can only be imagined.  From the perspective of one traveling on foot, away from cranes and large earth-moving equipment, a project like this footbridge is admirable – even awesome.

A plaque on the south side of the river informed me that it’s not “footbridge,” it’s “Foot Bridge” – because dedicated to the memory of William T. Foot (1946-2000).  Pretty easy mistake, right?

Trail Magic greeted us on the north side of the river.   Sodas and snacks and a baloney sandwich or two.

The sun came out as we stood around chatting after another hiker crossed.  There was talk about the climb ahead – the kind of climb that you knew was going to require a little output – but you’d get ‘er done!

We followed the comfortable sun-lit trail into the woods along almost level ground until we came to Johns Hollow Shelter where hikers were setting up camp.  It was only 2:00 p.m. but there’d be that little bit of envy knowing your ordeal was just about to begin.  You’d let yourself be tempted – only slightly – then gird your loins and bid farewell – WIMPS!

No, not really.  But a tiny little measure of superiority would stir as I’m-tougher-than-you and you’re-gunna-have-to-do-this-in-the-morning-and-I’ll-already-be-done thoughts settled like a butterfly on your pack and then would flit off into the woods never to be seen again.  Your focus turned to underfoot: Climb you bugger!  Climb!

Anyone who had done, was doing or would do this climb was a brother – a comrade – a fellow-hiker.  We, he/she/I, were one.  We were out here doin’ it!  And “it” was the same for each of us no matter who; no matter when.

Before the day was over, I would look down on the James River over 2000′ below and begin a descent along a narrow trail cut into the side of a steep hill.  As the day waned, there seemed little hope of finding a place to pitch my tent along the trail.  No hint of a campsite or the like and no place in AWOL close enough.

So!

I looked up the steep, overgrown hill to my right and saw that it crested not too far away.  Evening light could be seen filtering through trees at the top.  Perhaps we could make camp at the top or somewhere on the way up.

We left the trail and pushed and shoved and yanked and pulled our way through thick growth.  I consider myself pretty clever at setting up camp in less-than-ideal terrain.  Remember Holy Saturday?

I checked out a little area here and another there and I even took off my pack and started to clear an area on the hillside but thought better of it – there must be something better up top.

We climbed some more until we were at the crest.  Nothing perfectly level.  The crest rounded from the trail side to the other side.  It also slanted southward – but not too bad.

I found a place amidst some underbrush which I would flatten with the floor of the tent and my weight and gear inside.

Theo took advantage of the slope to get his double-duty back roll relief while I began setting up the tent.  It was a lovely sunny evening and no one on the planet knew where we were.  We had this off-the-trail knoll to ourselves.  And it seemed the sunset and the moonlight were all ours, too.

Day #89   Maple Spring campsite > Hill above Saddle Gap 14.0 miles