Winter Sun

"Wet feet are a fact of life. Wet feet are a fact of life." I repeat to myself. My mantra for the weekend. I'm breaking trail through the snow. The sun is out in the pastures I came up through, but now I'm making my way through the woods on the shadowy north side of the mountain. The snow is deeper here and the only foot steps are mine and the white tail and the squirrels. The creeks are up as the snow is melting in the sun on the balds up top. "Wet feet are a fact of life..." 

I make slow progress. I've been down since May as my knee is slowly recovering. It cuts my mileage and my pace. Breaking through the snow isn't helping me go any faster. Once I make it to the AT there are other foot steps to follow. Single track is packed down as I come up on a group of about 15 teenagers and their group leaders. They're base camping and up for a short day hike. I pass them and the nice solid single track turns into me following the single deep steps of someone with much shorter stride than mine. Its less awkward to just break my own steps in the snow.

I find a spot right below the summit of Little Hump between rocks with a good view of the sunset and sunrise. I chat with the day hikers for a bit before they turn back to camp and fire for the night. I lay out my bivy, my bag and eat dinner and watch the sunset from bed. Its an incredibly clear night and I hope for some star gazing, but thats when the wind picks up. These rocks aren't up for the job as windbreak. The wind rocks me in and out of sleep all night and continues past sunrise. 

Sunrise and breakfast in bed. Still cowering in my bag away from the wind blown snow. Frigid, but absolutely gorgeous. I shiver and shudder as I make my way out of the downy warmth and put on my cold, wet shoes, my body shaking to stay warm as I try to tie my stiff frozen laces. All packed up I hit the trail. Only the nice packed track is gone thanks to the wind. The snow is deeper than ever despite the clear skies. 

Turning back in the direction I came I make my way back off the AT onto the Overmountain Victory Trail. Back into the shadowy side of the mountain where my steps from yesterday remain. Only this time crossed over by deer and coyote since I've been through. The silent side of the mountain. Only the sounds of my feet in the snow, my breath in the air, the wash of the creek over the ice and rocks. The quiet soft sounds of winter broken by the soft rush of owl's wings as it flies over by only a few feet to perch on a branch nearby only to float away further still. Away into the shadows and the white.

Breaking trail up the OVT

Bed for the night

Following the steps of others

The others head back leaving me to the sunset and solitude.

Morning view from bed.

Breakfast in bed with such great sights. 

Morning on the Forest Floor

There is something special about night hiking. The focus is only as large and as intense as your headlamp allows.  Directly in front of your feet and only about 1-2 sq ft. Cool calm September nights filled only with the sounds of the breeze rattling the early autumn leaves, the night birds and the occasionally close run in with a skunk. When I got tired I found a flat enough spot to throw my sleeping pad and crash out. 

The sun breaking through the mostly green trees wakes me.  The trees block out the show in the sky, but sleeping out on the ground gives me the gift of the sunrise at ground level. 

Get on the ground and smell the dirt. See the world contained in a spot smaller than a single foot print. 

All photographs taken less than 24 inches (60 cm) off the ground. 

Roan Highlands: or how I almost injured my friend John

"YOU DA MAN, WIND!" I scream into the clouds as the words whip away into the air before anyone has a chance to hear them. I turn and wait for the sight of John's foggy figure to emerge from the rain cloud we're currently walking through. I'm impressed with his cheery mood as he labors up the Little Hump Mountain and the wind knocks him back and forth out of the rutty trail. The mist we left at camp this morning has turned to a light rain. The high wind has turned that rain against us as it stings the right side of our faces. It puts my mind on the sand blown evening wind biting my face in Arches NP, the rain and wind blowing me off my feet on Franconia Ridge in the Whites, and of course the second time I made the walk across these same balds with sideways hail.  This is probably one of the strongest winds I've felt in this part of the country and rivals the strongest I've ever felt.

John's going strong. We haven't taken too many breaks today, even though we're well behind my usual pace, its nice to hike with a friend after going solo the past few years. We're on the second day of John's first backpacking trip. I tried to pick an easy one, but will later find out how poor my judgment was.

Yesterday we started at Carver's Gap. We're both very familiar with the place, but we'd be going a bit further than John's been before. He's more knowledgeable than most from Carver's Gap to Grassy Ridge, but beyond that its all new territory. 

Taking an easy pace we get to Overmountain Shelter just before the rain hits. An easy going 5ish miles. We're both feeling pretty good after dinner and in the social spirit of the weekend we chat it up with the other 30 people sharing the area with us for the night. This shelter has a way of making a traffic jam of thru-hikers, but luckily it can support the number. As a former thru-hiker I love being around people going through the journey, but usually I leave the social talk to the trail and camp alone. It was nice to meet new people, have a fire and listen to a few musicians (of varying talent) play through dinner. 

The next morning we stay late and rest up as John didn't sleep so well that night. Shelters always take some getting used to before one learns how to sleep solidly. I think the lack of sleep is one of the many factors that would come to haunt my friend later. John's a strong guy, but as a grad student he spends much of his time sitting in front of a computer. This is something I failed to take into consideration when I planned this weekend out. I figured he'd feel rough, spent and worn out at the end of it, but didn't realize just how much it would take out of him. It all went pretty well up until about 5 or 6 miles in the last day. John had a cheap pack that couldn't handle its load and him straining to stabilize it in the wind had worn him out and he started getting muscle spasms in his sides. We took frequent breaks for him to take his pack off, stretch and rest up. I gave him some electrolytes hoping maybe it was just cramps. The last few miles were slow going at less than a mile an hour. It got to the point were he wasn't just hurting, but at the risk of getting hurt so I offered to switch packs with him. With little food in my pack and me wearing almost all the clothes I brought my pack was probably less than 5 lbs where his was more like 40. It took some convincing, but he finally decided it was a good idea to switch up. (note: I'm a firm believer in carrying your own stuff even if its too heavy. Its a good way to learn what you need and don't need, but when its a safety issue I will do what I can to help) It was tough to watch John the last couple miles, but it was also inspiring. He wasn't letting it get the best of him and he wasn't giving up (well he had no option to give up). Its always impressive to watch someone push beyond the limits they thought they had before. He could've turned into a death march and I'm sure at moments it felt like that, but as John fought through the pain and struggled over every obstacle he powered through it and didn't let it take over his attitude. Don't get me wrong he was cussing, but not complaining or feeling sorry for himself.

John texted me the next couple days to tell me he was feeling much better and saying we should do a long day trip soon and some shorter over nights this summer. Which made me feel good until I ran into his roommates on Friday and scolded me for "crippling" John.

A lone Iris standing tall near the shelter

Some type of violet

 John Hiking out with the shelter in the back ground. 

Its beautiful what thrives in a landscape that has such harsh weather so often.

My best guess is some kind of Waterleaf?

Any Way the Wind Blows

I took a very itinerant approach to the weekend. No particular place to go, see or witness. I just had a pack, a map, and a capricious mindset. Every junction lay before me different opportunity. Sometimes I'd pick a direction in a careless way and sometimes I'd pick the trail that would lead to more options miles away, but I'd always pick impulsively. My wayward and aimless mode of walking took me to wide open vistas shared with feral ponies on the verge of bursting forth the next generation. It took me down steep and intimate rocky trails among the shade of mixed hardwoods. It took me to paths along creeks, over streams and beside cascades. I found myself sometimes surrounded by friendly faces stopping to share lunch with a group, help a frantic hiker lost in the clouds, or just chat about memories of trails elsewhere. I'd take the next turn and it would seem I had the entire Jefferson National Forest to myself for hours. Sharing it only with wildflowers and the ubiquitous little gray birds. 

I entered this tripping proclaiming that this area was too small to fill up a weekend. "I'm making too good of time." "These miles are too fast" I'd proclaim to the rocks, birds and occasional sweaty Scout leader. I found a truly aspiring and varying network of hiking trails and horse trails that I occasionally linked together by following game paths or the hoof worn paths of the feral ponies and sometimes open terrain. I couldn't begin to tell you how many miles I did over the past couple days. Its not about the numbers, but I can't begin to put to words what it really is about.

Beautiful clear morning after a rainy night.

This tiny guy was tough to get a good picture of. I think its some kind of violet. They were sporadic across the fields in the high elevations.

Get down face first in the dew and rain soaked grass and really take in and experience all the life that thrives and coexists in a space as small as your footprint. Really be aware of what you're walking through. Mountain vistas aren't the only grand views to be found on the mountain tops.

Unknown. Growing in the grass. It sure was a stinker to get a good photo of this.

I have no idea what this is. They were 1-3 inches tall and growing around rocks in the high elevation balds. These were grouping around a rock in the middle of the trail.

I believe this is Chokeberry, but it could possibly be Blackberry?

Field of Bluets!

A few miles of fields Fringed Phacelia on either side of the trail. With some groups of May Apples and white Trillium mixed in occasionally to break it up.

This one was growing right smack in the middle of a horse trail near the Phacelia. Its tough to identify from this picture, but the leaves were different from the Phacelia.

Mountainside made of Ragweed and Dandelion.

A side not on my photos: I don't edit these in anyway. I used to practically live in Photoshop when I was studying in college, but don't really like to spend too much time on the computer. I don't find any fault with those who do. Its a great tool, but one I do fine without.  Also you can always click on any of my photos to get the full high resolution versions, which is a must to get an idea of any of the panoramas I post.