Full Circle. I sit at the top of the Priest. Part of me amazed at the beauty of nature around me. Part of me exhausted and wishing that I had slept better. Wednesday started seven miles north of here. And 2000 feet lower.

I will add pictures soon.

Wednesday was the big day. The day I had looked forward to all week, the day I looked forward to even when planning this trip. Wednesday was the day that we climbed the Priest. But first we had to descend 1000 feet to the Tye River. The trail was in great condition and I covered the three miles to the Tye River quickly. At the Tye River, I found a suspension bridge that had been built solely for the Appalachian Trail. We took a small break there, but there was no point in delaying.

We had 3000 feet to climb over four miles of trail. It was long walk. I’m not sure how else to explain it. Have you ever been to the Statue of Liberty? Did you take the stairs to the top? Well that’s about 100 vertical feet. We did 3000 vertical feet. With packs on. You may be asking yourself, why anyone would want to do that. Well, when you to the top of the Statue of Liberty, you get a few minutes to look out of a small scratched up window while, be jostled by tourists. On the other hand, on top of the mountain, we could see forever. Just sitting on a rock on higher than anything else the eye can see. It’s a much better view trust me. It’s worth the climb.

As we climbed, I knew that we would pass the Cripple Creek at about 800 feet up. I planned to camel up and fill up my water at that point. After we hiked a bit I saw a little stream trickling down the mountain. I was a little disappointed, I was hoping for something bigger. It was too small to get water out of, so we just took a break. About a half mile down the trail I heard water again. This time it wasn’t a trickle either. I was pleased to find the Cripple Creek was just was I was hoping for.

I stood on a rock in the middle of the stream and put head in. The cold water refreshed me. We took another break. Drank the water, and filled up our water bottles, this would be the last chance till the top.

I started walking. And then I kept walking. Most of the time, I didn’t even think about the climb. I just kept going. My mind wandered as I continued. When I started backpacking, I would have believed that there was some trick to climbing big mountains. The truth is the only trick is not stopping. Even though I was hot and tired, I kept on, only stopping occasionally to take a drink. After a while, there was a break in the trees, and what I saw was blue sky. I could tell that I was higher than most of the mountains around me.

I came to a nice big rock with a view and I spied a shady spot. I sat down in the shade. I took off my shirt and laid it on the rock to dry. I sipped water and ate beef jerky, while taking in the view in front of me. The Tye River Valley rolled out in to the distance. Through the hazy summer air I could see farms and ponds and trees in the valley below me, 2000 feet below me.

Another hiker, coming down the mountain, disturbed the serenity of my break. He came off of the trail and stood in front of my view. He did not look like the typical hiker. The potbelly that hung over the belt strap hinted that walking was not an everyday activity for this fellow.

Excerpt from my Trail Journal

Saw a nice view at approx. 3000 ft. A fat man, coming from the summit, stopped and talk about everything, including that there were mice in the shelter.
“The got in my sugar, I usually put everything away, but I forgot the sugar. I could tell they were in it, but it didn’t look like they had fouled it. So, I guess that it’s still good to use.”

From that point on, I stopped listening to the fat man. Finally he got back on the trail and walked north, down the mountain. I got up and put my shirt and my pack back on. I started walking south, toward the top.

I climbed the last 1000 feet in sort of a stupor. I was tired and hot. The feet kept going, but the mind was finished. When the trail started to level, my adrenaline started pumping. I had made it to the top. I was standing at 4096 feet above sea level. I found a nice rock out cropping and waited for dad. It was beautiful. I was higher than everything around me. It is quite possible that I was standing higher than I ever had, excluding airplanes. The only disappointing thing was the haze. I could barely make out the features of the Three Ridges as I looked to the north. To the south, there was less haze. I could see Main Top and Spy Glass. But those are mountains for another year. My walk was about over.

Dad arrived and after he was rested we walked a half-mile or so to the shelter. The shelter was set in beautiful meadow situated at about 4000 feet. The shelter itself lest much to desired. The shelter was old and full of graffiti carved in to the wood over the last three decades. There was trash inside the shelter. Apparently, the fat man lest out more than sugar. I swept out the shelter, in effort to remove all mouse attracting materials. For a while we just sat. After a climb like that, sitting at picnic table is the perfect recreation.

As the day grew long, the mosquitoes spurred me into action. I put on long pants and got out my cooking gear. We had dinner and made coffee. There was plenty of wood around, so I decided to make a campfire. It would be a celebration of the climb and of a good hike. Once the fire was roaring, we sat back and enjoyed it. As the sunset, we sat in the shelter and watched the fire and reflected on the days we had spent on the trail. We both agreed this was the best trip we had taken.

Even though it was still pretty early, we decided to turn in. Before we even turned off our headlamps, we heard them. Scratching along the walls. Squeaking at each other. Mice! Of course there were mice, I didn’t really think they had left just because the fat and his sugar had gone away, but I guess my tired brain had kind of hoped just that. No problem, I thought to my self, I’ve slept with mice in the shelter before, and I’ll do it again. But this shelter was small and my head was near the wall. I could hear them running up there above me above my face. I turned my sleeping bag around, so that my head was near the opening of the shelter. My dad laughed at me, but before long he had turned his bag around, too.

I closed my eyes and attempted to put the mice out of my head. That worked for a minute or two, until one of them ran across my sleeping bag right across my back. That was too much. I wanted to pitch a tent, but it was already dark and I was tired. I lit my candle, thinking that this would scare them back to their hiding places. These mice were unimpressed and unconcerned with my candle. I laid very still and tried to put them out of my mind again. After an eternity, I felt myself drifting towards sleep. I blew out my candle.

Some how I slept through the night. I woke up around 5. I heard the mice, but I was rested and unconcerned. I laid there, with my face an inch or two away from the edge of the shelter, looking at the meadow in the predawn light. It was very peaceful and tranquil.

Then the little mouse walked, literally, right in front of my nose. Having that filthy rodent less than inch away from my nose was too much for me. I jumped up and screamed, “Jesus!”

My dad woke up and asked what was happening. I explained and he just laughed at me. I looked at my watch, it read half past five. Time to get up, I decided. I climbed out of my bag and started boiling water for coffee.

Excerpt from my Trail Journal

It is before dawn as I write this. Why? Not because I want to see the sun rise (but that will be nice) I’m up, drinking coffee now, because I’ve been chased out my shelter by mice. I normally take a you don’t bother me — I won’t bother you attitude towards the mice.

These mice didn’t play by the rules. When one ran an inch from nose, I decided to get up…

Note to self. When a fat man, especially a fat guy who seems like he would eat his heart out in the shelter, warns you about mice in the shelter, pitch a tent.

We packed up and hit the trail. We walked about mile to Crabtree Farm Road. We got of the trail there. We walked down the road until we came to the trailhead for the Crabtree Falls trail. We walked down the trail, stopping often to look at the spectacular falls. It was a wonderful way to end the hike. And it truly was a great trip. Mice and all.

I had a pretty good vacation, did some camping, a little hiking, some swimming and some fishing. I love fishing. Not so much for the fish, but to have an excuse to stand next to the water and do nothing. For years, fishing consisted of a bobber and worm for me. I have noticed, over the years, that real fishermen don’t seem to use the old worm and bobber method. Being the geek that I am, I’ve done some research on the internet and purchased some different hooks and lures and bait. Armed with new tools and knowledge, I’ve been trying to haul in some large mouth bass. I haven’t succeeded, which is fine because I still get to stand around the water and do nothing. But I do know that if you come home empty handed, you’d better at least have a fish story. So without further ado, here is my fish story.

Me and the boy went to the upper lake at the campground to do some fishing. I helped him set up his reel and rod with a hook and a bobber, left him with a dozen worms, and headed off to find the right spot to cast for some bass. I tried in the shade with a Texas Rig, I tried under some bushes, near a downed tree, out in the middle of the lake. No luck. I switched to live worms. No luck. And my hook kept snagging. I switched to some nasty little bait,that kind of looked like a little squid. I put the hook in the center of it to make it snagless.

I flipped it out over a log and jigged it a bit around the log. The water was very clear. I saw a sunfish swim over to it. It just looked at it. That was fine with me. I wasn’t fishing for sunnies. I flipped further down the log. Under some nearby brush. Behind some seaweed (or whatever you call it when it is in a lake.)

The line suddenly went taut. Quickly, I pulled with the rod, and the bait flew out of the water. I quickly flipped the bait back towards the seaweed. It landed next to it and began to drift down. A shadow moved from behind the seaweed and engulfed my bait. This time, I did not panic. I let it hold the bait. I gave a small tug to get ti to pull back. It did. As it was pulling, I jerk my rod… and the bait popped out of it’s mouth and into the air. I put the bait right back in the water and could clearly see the Bass open it’s mouth and grab my bait. Patience, I told myself. I gave a little tug. It tugged back. I gave a slightly harder tug. It ran with the bait. I’ve got you now, I thought to myself. It ran till it ran out of line. I pulled the rod firmly and started reeling. The bait popped out of the water.

I reeled the bait in and looked at it. I squeezed it. I couldn’t get the hook to break to the outside of the bait and prick me. I had been so concerned with making the bait snagless, i hadn’t checked to see if I would be able to set the hook. I took the bait off and made a Texas Rig as fast as I could. I flipped the worm out in to the water, but it was too late. The bass had left town. I stood there for another 30 minutes trying to entice him to come back, but it was no use.

My son had long since abandoned me, so I packed up my gear and headed back to camp, empty handed. Except for this tale, of the one that got away (again and again.)

Right now I am drawing the ire of my wife because I am sitting here in front of the computer, instead of packing.

So… this is just a quick note to say, I am going Camping with the wife and kids (which is very different than my backpacking,) and I’ll see you when I get back.

We are getting closer now. Closer that picnic table, on top of a mountain. I want to tell you why I am drinking my coffee before the sun come up. But first I have to tell you how I got here.

We had eaten our breakfast at the Maupin Fields shelter and were taking a nice break in the shade of the shelter. I went to the back of the shelter, to the spring. It was a slow moving spring and we were at a low elevation. In other words, this was not a water source that I want to take any chances with. Water purification has not been a problem for me. My wife had got me a nifty gadget for Christmas, called the SteriPen. This little device irradiates the water with UV light for 40 to 60 seconds. Once it is done, the water is as safe as bottled water. I filled up my three bottles and two for dad. I took them back to the shelter and got out the SteriPen. I put it in the first bottle. It ran for 15 seconds or so then stopped with its little red light blinking.

I hadn’t brought my instruction book with me, but I knew that the device was not functioning properly. Given the conditions, we did not want to take any chances. Dad had in his pack some iodine capsules. We treated the water with the Iodine. Iodine is very effective for water treatment, but you need to let it sit for 30 minutes and it leaves your water tasting like the municipal pool. Having dealt with this set back, we hit the trail.

We entered the Three Ridges Wilderness Area and began our ascent of the Three Ridges. The climb was steep but the trail was in pretty good condition so we made good time. We reached a rocky outcropping on the spur of the North Ridge. We decided to take lunch there. It was already very hot and humid. I had taken my shirt off to try to cool down and to let the shirt dry while we rested, but it felt like there would be no relief. After drinking some water, I decide to look at the rocks on the other side of the rhododendron plants that where at the edge of the rocks. I am so glad I did. On the other side of the plants, a breeze blew across the rock and there was a view that words will not do justice to. I could see clearly, to the southwest of us the Pinnacle ridge where our hike would end. Directly in front me (due south) was the Priest. I knew the Priest was a pretty big mountain by Shenadoah standards. A 4,096 foot summit. It would be a 3000 foot ascent for us. But to see the that Mountain dominate the horizon was breath taking. To my left (East) I could see the Three Ridges, the North Ridge looming above us at 3,970 feet. The Center Ridge and The South Ridge very visible to us.

We sat and took in the view. We watched the Red-tailed Hawks fly above us and below us. The sun dried my shirt and the breeze cooled me down. After a while, it was time to walk again. It did not take too long to reach the Summit of the North Ridge. There was no view to see here at the top of the mountain. I was beginning to feel a little sick. My bowels were watery. I was very hot. What I wanted to do more than anything was to get to the bottom of this mountain and to the shelter where I could cool down. I knew my dad would be moving slower than I would descending the 2000 feet to the shelter, so I told him that I would see him at the shelter and made my way down the trail.

The day got hotter as I walked down the trail which was steep and rocky. When I reached The Center Ridge there was no view, but the trees were thin and the sun beat down on me. I finished the last of my water and kept on moving. The walking was slow due to the grade of the trail and the heat of the day. South of the South Ridge, there was a break in the trees and there in front of me was the Priest again, but this time I was three miles closer and it seemed even bigger. I appreciated the view just long enough to grab a few pictures. There was no shade and no breeze.

Hot and tired, I made my way off the mountain. The trail wound its way back around the mountain I had just climbed. I could water below me, but never near the trail. Finally, the trail wound back into a beautiful hollow, and there in front me of was the Harper’s Creek Shelter and the Harper’s Creek.

Excerpt from my trail journal:

The descent was tough and hot. Very hot. But the Harpers Creek Shelter was great. The Harpers Creek ran in front of it and right there was a pool about 4 feet deep. I was quite a bit ahead of dad, so after some deliberating, I stripped down and got in. Talk about cold!

I had splashed myself down in the creek, but that hadn’t cooled me down. But after standing in that cold mountain stream up to my chest, I cooled right down. After I was done, I just sat on the picnic table and dried. After a while, my dad showed up, hot and grumpy. He was in a bad mood, mostly because he was a little dehydrated and was sick of water that tasted of iodine. We spent a quite night boiling water from the creek so we would have potable water for the next day. When we climb the Priest.

Do you want to know a secret? My oldest son isn’t actually my son. He isn’t related to me in any way. He’s my step son. He lives in my house. I provide him a home, food, help with homework, the occasional game of catch. I teach him how to make a campfire, I talk to him about things he can’t talk about with his mother, like comic books and girls.

I instill in him my morals. I teach him right from wrong. I show him the world as I see it. I love him with all of my heart. I love him as though he were my ‘real’ son. I know that this is true. My younger son is my son. And I love him. My heart feels no asterisk when I love the older one. My heart doesn’t understand that I’m not his real Dad.

His ‘real’ dad is unemployed. His real dad is too disabled to work, yet no one has seen him use his cane outside of a courtroom. His real dad thinks computers are OK for some people, but he ‘just doesn’t understand those computers.’ His real dad’s world extends less than 20 miles in any direction. His real dad can’t read. His real dad lives in a dingy trailer in a dingy trailer park. When my son goes to his real dad’s ‘house,’ he plays video games by himself and plays with the girl next door. A girl who’s older sister is now a mother at age 16. His real dad says he would like to support his son, but he can’t work. His real dad says he would like to do things with him, but he’s too weak.

My son comes home angry. He hates it there. He knows that he is supposed to like this guy, (the real dad’s girlfriend and the real dad’s mother tell him so all the time,) but his real dad doesn’t even talk to him about anything. His real dad asks every time, ‘How’s school?’ ‘Are you staying out of trouble?’ but he never seems to remember what my son has told him. My son doesn’t want to be there. If that place was the home of one of his friends, I would not allow him to spend the night there. (I would have the friend come to my house.) Sometimes, especially when there are family gatherings, weekend trips, and the like, my son asks if he can not go to his real dad’s house. Sometimes my wife says that he doesn’t have to.

His real dad gets angry. He says we are keeping his son from him. His real dad once went over 10 months with out contacting my son. My son’s real dad can’t hold a job and has been excused from paying child support. My son’s real dad, however, can afford a lawyer. My son’s real dad’s lawyer says that my wife is in contempt of court for disobeying the court ordered visitation agreement. The lawyer did not mention the fact that sometimes my son’s real dad is unavailable to get him for the weekend. He did mention that the real dad did not get the two non-consecutive weeks of visitation that is his court ordered right. The lawyer did not mention that the real dad did not provide my wife with the dates of the two non-consecutive weeks by May 31 (as stipulated in the agreement.)

The courts think fathers must care for their sons. The courts are horrified because of the number of fatherless children in this country. The courts will go to great lengths to make sure that fathers and children have access to each other. Even if the father is a criminal. Even is the crime is child abuse. Even is the abuse is sexual. The courts are very clear, fathers will see their children. Children need fathers. My son’s real dad isn’t that bad. But then again, he isn’t very good either.

I am a geek. I know how to use google. I googled my son’s real dad’s lawyer. He specializes in personal injury, bankruptcy, and disability claims. The real dad says he thinks his injuries are getting worse, he may end up in a wheel chair.

The courts insist that my son needs a dad.

And I wonder…

what do they think I am?

In my mind’s eye I am still sitting at that picnic table, in the not so dark of pre-dawn. On top of a mountain sipping my coffee waiting for the sun to come up on the last day of my trip. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Three Days Earlier…

Excerpt from my trail journal:

Long day yesterday, longer day today. Should be on the trail by now but I am sipping my coffee and giving dad a head start.

It was a long and hot day. We had to climb Humpback Ridge and then walk 5 more miles to the next shelter, a total of 16 miles. We had gain 1200 feet of elevation over 7 miles. My dad started out earlier than I did. He knew that this walk was a bit long for him. He wanted to get some miles under his belt before the day got too hot. I took my time, finished my coffee, wrote in my journal, took some pictures. I got on the trail about 45 minutes after dad left. Overall, the climb wasn’t that steep (although there were some steep sections,) but mostly it just kept going. I caught up with dad near the top of mountain. By the time we had made it to the top it was noon. We relaxed and had some lunch, but we only halfway there. Going down took some time, the trail wasn’t great. Loose rocks and some very steep sections. It was just about three o’clock by the time we had descended down to the spring at Dripping Rocks. We sat there at Dripping Rocks, on the side of the Blue Ridge Parkway for a very long break.

We still had 5 miles to the next shelter, and it was getting late. We had known that this stretch of trail might prove to be too far us. I wanted to go at least a few more miles so that the next day did not get too long. (As it was, there was only 9 miles between the next too shelters, stretching that to 11 or 12 miles would be no problem.) We camel-ed up at the spring and were on our way again.

Oh… you don’t know what I mean by ‘camel up.’ I carry with me three 32 ounce water bottles. I usually will only fill two of them at any time. In order to keep myself hydrated, and make sure that the water in bottles can go as far as I need it too, I will ‘camel up’ at a water source. In other words, I will drink as much water as I can (like a camel filling its hump) usually about 32 ounces, but in this case I drank about 64 ounces. Yes, drinking 64 ounces of water makes me feel a little sloshy and just a touch nauseous, but it passes pretty quickly. I wanted to make sure that I had enough water to cook dinner if we decided to pitch tents some where along the trail. I also knew that my dad was getting tired, and was already a little dehydrated, so I was counting on him having any water if we stopped.

The next stretch of trail was horrible, narrow trail and loose rocks. The trail ran along the side of a steep ridge, water seeps on the side of the trail ran over the rocks making the footing treacherous. After two miles of this or so, I came to a small water fall that ran across the trail. I filled up my third water bottle here. I waited there for a while for my dad to catch up. I knew he was too tired to go to the next shelter and the poor condition of the trail was slowing him down. Unfortunately, there didn’t look like there was going to be any where to pitch a tent. My dad put on a brave face and said he could make it to the shelter, if there wasn’t a decent tenting site to be found.

We headed out again, this time I moved slower, not letting dad get too far behind me. Luckily, before we had walk a mile, I found a level spot, with a fire ring. Someone had camped here before. Part of me wanted to push on a little bit more, but I was afraid I wouldn’t find another tenting site. We stopped and pitched our tents. It was about six o’clock, we had been walking for over 10 hours!

Excerpt from my trail journal:

… as the day wore on and the trail conditions grew worse, it became clear to me that dad wasn’t going to be able to make the whole 15 miles, especially with the 500 foot [climb] at the end. It didn’t look promising for finding a place to camp, but we found one about 1.5 [miles] short of the Three Ridges Overlook.

We settled in and made dinner. The food and the rest began to help us recover. I was glad to be done walking for the day. We sat and drank coffee and relaxed. It had bee a long day, we got into our tents early and got a good night sleep.

That morning, I proposed that we break camp quickly and hit the trail. I wanted to walk the 3 or so miles that remained to the next shelter. When we got there we could make breakfast. Dad agreed so we packed up and headed out. The trail remained lousy for the next mile or so and there were no other viable tenting spots along that stretch, it made me very glad that we stopped when and where we did. After the Three Ridges overlook, the trail improved. We ascended a steep but quick 500 feet and then descended again before arriving at the Maupin Fields shelter. We took a nice long break and had breakfast and coffee there. We took our time and rested. Up next we had a 1200 foot ascent up the north side of the Three Ridges, followed by a steep 2000 foot descent.