Bearwallow Gap (2228'el) & Blue Ridge Parkway, Jennings Creek (951'el), Cove Mt (2720'el) and Fork Mt. (2042'el)

I got an early start, on the trail by 7 AM, hoping to beat some of the heat. Shortly after starting out I had to make a decision: follow the blazes and evidently new, relocated, undocumented trail, or follow the old trail without blazes, but with a map and guide. I hate these new, undocumented relocations. They are dangerous - if you miss the trail, or get confused, you have no map or guide to fall back on. And, as I mentioned previously, the Virginia National Forest Service / AT maps are next to useless. I decided that the new trail had enough blazes and evidence of fresh work, that it probably could be followed with no problem. I was right, but boy was it a significant relocation - adding a couple of miles to the trail, probably. Anyway, I came out where I wanted to, in Bearwallow Gap.

This area is extremely rich with wildflowers - especially Trillium. It was also full of a rich and very interesting history. In the 1850's two slaves took their axes to a mean overseer, were hunted down and hung from a tree limb near the present AT. In 1910 a lumberman named Hendricks borrowed 125,000. dollars to buy a powerful, gear driven locomotive to haul raw timber out of the mountains. He tripled the load of logs, lost control on a steep grade and jumped from the out-of-control train just before it crashed into Cornelius Creek, causing bankruptcy. In the 1930's, a freed slave was tending his tobacco crop when a raging Jennings Creek (AT crossing water source) swept away the shack he took refuge in, along with the 300 dollars in gold he had just received for the sale of his crop. His body was found but the gold coins were not. (History excerpted from AT guidebook.)

It was another hot, humid day when any exertion caused me to sweat buckets. I carried extra water and "cameled up" at every stream crossing. I refreshed myself by splashing cold water on my head, face, arms and legs at every opportunity. This was too much like hiking in July. I had a fairly regular amount of miles to hike today with a 500 and 1100 foot climb (Fork Mt.), so I kept moving at my regular pace. The trail broke away from the BRP after a couple of miles and headed into the wilderness. The trail guide, though providing interesting history and many useful pieces of information, once again, after Bearwallow Gap, came nowhere near matching the actual trail; neither did the map. And, to make matters worse, the blazes were few and far between. Several times I found myself uncomfortable with staying the course because of uncertainty. I sure as hell didn't want to get lost out here.

I took a brief lunch break at Cove Mt. Shelter. A couple of day hikers on a circuit hike, Mr. Pat and my least favorite female hiker came by.

Just before Jennings Creek I met the nicest team of AT trail workers. They were mostly senior citizens and wonderful people. They were grooming the trail, working up as much of a sweat as I was on this hot, humid day. One, a Frenchwoman, came all the way over from France to work on our AT. I shook each of their hands and thanked them very much. Without volunteers like them, there would be no AT; at least not a free one, anyway! After I met them, I heard the refreshing sound of running water and Jennings Creek where I broke for lunch with Mr. Pat and Night Train. I really wanted to take my clothes off and take a swim, but it was alongside a busy road and crawling with fishermen, so, reluctantly, I settled for splashing myself down with the cool water.

Night Train - one of the many interesting and nice characters I met - taking a break at Jennings Creek.

I did not look forward to the 1100 foot climb of Fork Mt. in this heat, but I had to do it. I sweated, grunted and put one foot in front of the other until I was over the hump. It was a nice glide downhill to the Bryant Ridge Shelter through a few uncertainties of whether or not I was actually on the trail.

Suddenly, where I did not expect it to be was the infamous Bryant Ridge shelter. They (the AT folks) had not moved the shelter, just the way into it! It was a grand, two-story structure of post and beam construction, lots of porches and balconies, and lots of room. It also had lots of water nearby. A bird, probably a barn swallow, was nesting in the upper level, so I stayed away from that. I took advantage of the nearby streams to get water, do trail laundry and bathe. Please note that I always am careful not to bathe or do laundry in anybody else's water source; I carry the water and wash away from the stream. As I was getting water for my bottle, just about dusk, a mink darted from a hole in the opposite stream bank, swam and ran across the stream right up to me until it realized I was there, whereupon it did a very quick about face. Startled as much as he must have been, I fumbled for my camera but was way too slow for this sleek and fast moving creature. It was the first mink I ever saw in the wild.

Corn Dog was there, Mr. Pat and Night Train came along, and then my least favorite female came by but moved on after a rest and water stop. I hated to see the guys go. Shortly before dark, a 73-year young trail veteran, Linde came by. He was amazing. He'd hiked the trail before, did not hike shelter to shelter or camp to camp, but hiked alone sunup to dark, making camp wherever he was at the time. He was hiking 28 to 35 miles a day and was traveling extremely light - just a rucksack, essentials and no hiking sticks, and wearing sneakers. He was the only through hiker I ever saw that carried next to nothing but was equipped with an umbrella. He only stayed long enough to say hello, answer our questions, then disappeared off into the forest. Simply amazing - and mighty inspirational. God, please grant me the ability to do that at 73.

Linde - another nice character - traveling light, fast, and 73 years young.

So, it was just Corn Dog and I. He was an interesting, young fellow, taking a trail break in the midst of formulating his life plan, on the way to becoming a psychologist. (Surely, I and the other hikers, especially the through hikers, were interesting subjects for him!) It was about 9:30, well after dark and both of us were comfortably asleep when Big Bird stumbled into the shelter - literally. With no flashlight, damn few trail blazes, no map or guidebook, relying only on the bright moon and directions from a store owner five miles distant, he followed the stream up to the shelter and brought his prized possession with him; a six-pack of beer. He was lost, admittedly, but got lucky. Very lucky. He offered us a beer, I accepted. After all, it's the least he could do for waking us.

Big Bird is the quintessential, self-confessed Yellow Blazer. (Yellow Blazer is a less than complimentary term used to describe someone that gets between trail points by means other than their own two-legged propulsion, but usually pretends to be "hiking" the trail.) He was the other "hiker" I'd met back in Pearisburg, riding in the pickup truck. His reputation preceded him thanks to the trail network and register entries, and his swearing " I aint doin no more yellow blazin from now on"! I feel each man is entitled to his own hike, whatever it is! I loaned him a flashlight so he could set up his bed with minimal disruption. He quaffed his warm beer and settled in for the night.

Finally, all was peaceful and we were lulled back to sleep to the sound of water babbling and distant owls hooting at one another.

The unique and beautiful Bryant Ridge Shelter.