BADWATER

Originally Bob, Kevin, and I planned to get an early start Saturday morning. However, the Holiday Inn restaurant didn’t start serving breakfast until 7am. I’d been given a coupon at check-in for $20 off breakfast there, and we didn’t want to waste it. So, we got everything packed and the cars loaded and hit the restaurant just after 7. I enjoyed an unusually hearty pre-hike breakfast and we hit the road.

We drove from Roanoke past Blacksburg and up to Mountain Lake. Mountain Lake is famous for being one of only a few natural lakes in the southern Appalachians. It’s also famous for periodically disappearing. Every 50 years or so, all of the water drains out of the lake. There are multiple theories as to why this occurs. The Mountain Lake resort, which operates a hotel on one end of the lake, attributes the phenomena to extreme drought. However, research by Virginia Tech suggests that the natural drainage from the lake is subterranean. This drain is usually plugged by silt and debris, causing the water to back up and flood the basin. However, periodically the plug dissolves, causing the lake to drain.

My first visit to Mountain Lake was in November, 2008. On that occasion, the lake was completely empty. Since then, the lake has begun to refill. As we passed the resort, I was pleasantly surprised to see actual water in the basin! Apparently the lake is now just over half-full. It’s expected to completely fill in the next couple of years.

We drove past the resort (where most of the movie “Dirty Dancing” was filmed) and the lake. Beyond the lake, the road turned to dirt, and we made slow progress. The road was in rough shape in a couple of places, and I wasn’t sure that Kevin’s BMW was going to make it. We finally passed a fork to the right leading to a Virginia Tech field research station and continued deep into the woods. After another couple of miles, we reached the trailhead for the War Spur loop. We left my car there and managed to cram 3 people, 3 packs, and an 80 pound dog into Kevin’s BMW for the ride to Pearisburg.

Our plan was to hike the Appalachian Trail north from Pearisburg. We’d climb from Pearisburg to the crest of Peters Mountain. At that point we’d follow the Virginia / West Virginia line north, before eventually dropping down into the Stony Creek Valley. From the valley we’d climb up to Big Mountain, which we’d follow north to the Mountain Lake Wilderness. Once in the wilderness area, we’d leave the A.T. in favor of a connecting trail that would take us to the War Spur loop. We’d finish our hike on the loop with a visit to the War Spur overlook and a tour of a grove of large (albeit deceased) Hemlocks.

The ride to Pearisburg was a bit comfortable, particularly for me, since I was in the back seat of Kevin’s BMW with Boone in my lap. We found our way to Pearisburg without any trouble, but locating the actual trailhead proved to be a bit more challenging. The A.T. crosses the highway bridge over the New River in Pearisburg, so we could’ve parked most anywhere in town and started the hike there. However, I wanted to begin the hike from Clendennin Road. That would cut off about 2 miles of trail that didn’t sound particularly appealing. The A.T. guide indicated that those first two miles consisted mainly of a bunch of gullies as well as a toxic, sulfurous stream that I would have to keep Boone out of. Since we were planning to hike another 10 miles beyond Clendennin Road, skipping that part seemed like a good idea.

Unfortunately, we drove for several miles along Clendennin Road without seeing the trail. This was puzzling, as logic dictated that the trail would have to cross the road at some point. Adding to the confusion was that I had 2 sets of directions from different guides. One suggested that the trail crossing was ½ mile from highway 460, while the other said it was 2 miles. It turns out both were wrong. Eventually we passed a letter carrier. We asked her for directions, and she was able to get us in the ballpark. It turns out that the trail crosses the road about a ¼ mile from the highway. There is a small pulloff, with room to park 2 or 3 cars. The pulloff continues as a dirt road, but the road is hidden by tall weeds.

We finally hit the trail at 11am. This wasn’t ideal, as we had 10 miles to go, but at least the days in late May are long! Bob got a head start up the mountain, while I waited for Kevin to finish his final packing. Once Kevin got situated, we started up Peters Mountain.

Initially the climb was fairly gentle. We followed a stream for a bit, before passing under some power lines. A steep P.U.D. (pointless up and down) ensued before we began the climb of Peters Mountain in earnest. After a long, steady slog we reached a tiny spring on the mountainside. I had just caught up with Bob, and I knew that water would be scarce on Peters Mountain. We stopped there for lunch, and Kevin caught up with us a few minutes later. Everyone still had plenty of water from the hotel, but I took advantage of the spring to water the dog. I knew it would be critical to keep Boone well hydrated.

While we were eating, a thru-hiker passed by, heading north. Surprisingly, he would be the only person we’d see until late that afternoon.

After lunch we hiked about 100 yards before reaching a campsite and an impressive spring. As usual, I’d picked a lunch spot a few minutes too soon! From that point we only had a short climb to the crest of Peters Mountain. As soon as we reached the ridgeline, things began looking up. The crest of Peters Mountain was absolutely covered in ferns and wildflowers. There were many colorful varieties, including Spiderwort, Wild Geraniums, Fire Pink, and Phlox. Even without the flowers, the walk along Peters Mountain would’ve been delightful. There was a pleasant breeze, and the air seemed cool compared to the stifling valley we had just climbed out of. As I strolled along the flat crest of Peters Mountain, I actually felt like I was floating inches above the ground. The hiking seemed completely effortless after enduring the uphill slog from Pearisburg.

We hiked through the woods for a couple more miles before climbing over a stile into Rice Field. Rice Field was one of the reasons I wanted to hike this stretch of the A.T. Rice Field is a grassy bald featuring sweeping views of West Virginia farmland. The views lived up to their billing, even though it was a partly cloudy, hazy afternoon. We stopped for an extended break at the Rice Field shelter, which is in the woods just beyond the edge of the meadow. We took advantage of the opportunity to explore the meadows without the burden of our packs. Rice Field would’ve been a great place to spend the night. Unfortunately, doing that would’ve made for an extremely long hike on Sunday. Instead, we shouldered our loads and pressed on, bound for Symmes Meadow another 5 miles to the north.

More easy hiking through woods filled with wildflowers followed. We passed under another powerline, which provided a view of Pearisburg and Angels Rest beyond. Not far beyond the powerline we reached a nice campsite with an excellent spring. In hindsight, this would’ve been a great place to get water. However, my guide indicated that there was a reliable water source in Symmes Meadow, where we planned to camp. Based on that information, we had no need to fill up there. I did take advantage of the opportunity to water the dog before hustling to catch up with Bob and Kevin.

Thanks to the easy terrain, we reached Symmes Meadow earlier than expected. However, when we got there, we found the crowds of other hikers that we had somehow missed all day. There are only four water sources along Peters Mountain, so campsites near water tend to be pretty busy, particularly during thru-hiking season. The first site we came to, which was directly across from the “spring”, was occupied by a group of women. We continued up the hill, and found a great spot in the woods on the edge of the meadow. This one was also occupied. However, the hiker, who identified himself as “Muffin Man”, invited us to share the site. We could’ve camped out in the meadow, but those spots were ultimately claimed by late-arriving thru-hikers. Those hikers, “Tater” and “Serenitina”, seemed to be enjoying their hike.

We set up camp and wandered back down to the “spring” to check out the water situation. The water source didn’t look very appealing. If anything, it looked like it could be the source of all life on Planet Earth. It was evolution occurring right before our very eyes. It was more of a bog than a spring, full of Tadpoles and salamanders and muck and reeking of decay. I wasn’t so sure about it, but Boone was. He jumped right in, slurping up everything that got in his way. Ugh.

We wandered downstream, hoping to find a more appealing spot. Eventually we reached a couple of shallow, silty pools that people had obviously collected water from. Unfortunately, the puddles were so silty that they threatened to clog our water filters. I attempted to scope water into my folding bucket, but that process was extremely tedious. Eventually we conceded. We’d have to get our water from the cesspool farther up the hill. Unfortunately there were no other options. The nearest water to the south was over 3 miles away. It was even farther in the other direction. We decided that it should be safe as long as we filtered it. Ultimately though, we ended up either boiling or chemically treating all of it in addition to filtering.

We retreated to camp and I started working on dinner. I made salad and spaghetti for everyone, which turned out pretty well. The evening was generally pleasant except for the pesky bugs. Gnats were everywhere, which was quite a nuisance. At least there weren’t any mosquitoes! Sunset from the meadow was quite nice, and everyone went to bed shortly thereafter, tired from the long hike in.

I slept poorly that night. Boone was restless, waking me several times with smelly burps and equally noxious farts. While our water had been filtered and chemically treated, Boone had taken his straight. Judging from the smells coming from him, that might’ve been a mistake. I let him out on several occasions, afraid that he might get sick. We both survived the night, although I actually had nightmares about what might be lurking in my water bottles the next morning!

WHAT’S YOUR (TRAIL) NAME?

Everyone was up early the next morning, with no apparent ill effects from our water. We awoke early enough to catch a spectacular sunrise from the meadow. The light was particularly beautiful over the fog-choked valleys to the northwest.

We all had instant oatmeal, although I elected to pass on the usual hot cocoa. I wasn’t inclined to drink any more swamp water than necessary, boiled or not. However, with more than 7 miles between us and the next water source, I knew that hydration would be critical. I filled a water bottle with filtered and treated bog water and added lemonade mix. I was counting on the chemicals to kill any stray bugs that had escaped the filter, and the lemonade to mask the taste. I choked down the final concoction quickly and we hit the trail around 8am.

We continued to the far end of Symmes Meadow and into the woods. This part of Peters Mountain was similar to what we’d experienced the previous day. The forest was lovely, featuring abundant wildflowers and a vast sea of ferns. We set an aggressive pace, and eventually reached a junction with the Allegheny Trail at the north end of Peters Mountain. The Allegheny Trail begins on Peters Mountain, and runs north through West Virginia all the way to Pennsylvania. It is considered a less-traveled alternate to the Appalachian Trail.

From the junction we dropped off the east side of Peters Mountain and descended towards the Pine Swamp. We found a number of healthy Hemlock trees along this stretch of trail. This was a surprise, as virtually all of the Hemlocks in Virginia succumbed to the blight years ago. Either the bugs had somehow missed this grove, or someone had hiked in a considerable distance to treat the trees with pesticides.

We reached the Pine Swamp and stopped for a break. There was another swampy water source here, but we decided to skip it. Boone indulged of course, but at this point I didn’t think it could hurt him any more than the water he had already consumed.

We headed down the mountain from there on a seemingly endless series of switchbacks. We passed through tunnels of blooming Mountain Laurel, and I even spotted a single Pink Ladyslipper on the descent. Finally the sound of running water perked up our spirits. A few minutes later we reached a bona fide stream! I can’t remember the last time I was so excited to see running water!

We dumped out all of our remaining water and had lunch there. We filtered some fresh water, and I enjoyed a quart of cold lemonade on the spot. While eating, we played a round of “Hey, what does this look like?” with a bag of dried fruit. The results were either hysterical or gross, depending on your level of maturity. I found it hysterical.

Afterwards we continued downstream a ½ mile to the Pine Swamp Shelter. We paused there briefly so everyone could use the privy. This particular privy had an unusual feature. Oddly, there was a full-sized metal mailbox nailed to the platform right next to the toilet seat. This raised a number of questions. How did it get there? What was its purpose? More importantly, if I want to send a letter to the Pine Swamp Shelter Privy, what address do I use?

I signed the trail register while waiting for Kevin. I made a few comments (mainly about the mailbox) and then realized that protocol dictated that I sign it with our trail names. I have a trail name, Fungi, which was given to me by my wife years ago. However, Bob and Kevin would need names.

At this point, I should probably disclose that Bob hates “trail names”. I’m not sure why. It could be because they are juvenile, or that they typically lack creativity. I mean, how many “Fart Walkers” do we really need on the A.T. at any given time? We actually encountered two individuals known as “Muffin Man” during our hike. I knew I’d have to be creative to satisfy Bob.

Bob went into a bit of a rant about his hatred of trail names. If you’ve ever hiked with Bob, you know that this isn’t terribly unusual. If anything, this particular rant served as a nice distraction from his ongoing (and understandable) rant about British Petroleum executives. Of course, all this hating made Bob’s trail name obvious. Even he saw it coming. He paused in mid-rant and said, “so what are you going to name me, Hater?” Bingo.

It’s too bad we didn’t get the chance to properly introduce Hater to Tater. That would’ve been a fun conversation. All we would’ve needed at that point was a Mater. Hater, Tater, and Mater would’ve made a great threesome.

Kevin wasn’t much more difficult. Prior to the trip I’d volunteered to bring and cook dinners to share. At the time, I’d suggested that Bob and Kevin bring desserts or adult beverages to share. Bob doesn’t drink liquor (though he did bring some wine to share). That left it up to Kevin to bring the booze. We were midway through the hike on Saturday when he disclosed that he’d decided not to. He stated that he wanted this to be a “detox” weekend. Apparently he was going to drag me, kicking and screaming, along with him. All things considered, it seemed like “Detox” was the perfect trail name for Kevin. It wasn’t until later that I realized that “Just Say No” would’ve been even better. Either that or “Nancy Reagan”. “Nancy Reagan” would’ve been a great trail name. After all, we were both children of the 80’s.

Hater, Detox, and Fungi left the shelter early that afternoon. We still had over 4 miles to go, and most of it would be uphill. First though, we had to make the final descent to Stony Creek. We dropped quickly, before following the creek upstream. Stony Creek is a large stream – in some areas it might be considered a river. It would’ve been one of the nicest stretches along the trail except that there is a paved road on the far side. There is some development in the valley, too. As a result, camping along here isn’t very appealing. Also, the trail doesn’t exactly follow the creek. On a couple of occasions we had to climb steeply away from the creek, only to plunge back down to the stream a bit later.

Before long we began passing signs advertising free food for hikers at “The Captains”. This piqued our curiosity. Before long, we discovered the source of the signs. A side trail led down to the creek. There was a zip line there above the creek. It led over to “The Captains”, which was a private home on the banks of Stony Creek. The Captain was hosting quite the party. From our vantage point, it looked like a miniature version of Trail Days in Damascus. We could smell meat roasting on the grill. Later we learned that something like 100 cases of free beer were also included in the festivities. This was all very tempting, but we each had more than enough food already in our packs. We decided to leave the freebies for the long distance hikers and continued on. What we didn’t know was that the party was about to end. The ramifications of this weren’t apparent until later that afternoon.

We endured another P.U.D. or two before reaching a sturdy bridge over Stony Creek. There was a large group car camping here in a nice spot beside the creek. We crossed the road just down from a developed fishing access and started up Big Mountain.

The map suggested that we had a 1000’ climb to tackle in a little over a mile. The map was right. We toiled uphill through a damp blanket of humidity. At one point it actually rained, but the storm didn’t amount to much, passing a minute or two later. A bit later we passed a trail crew that was clearing deadfall from the trail. This was quite welcome, as there had been a surprising number of fallen trees across the trail up on Peters Mountain.

I got a bit ahead of Bob and Kevin on the final climb. It was a bit of a slog, but the hillside was brightened by numerous Flame Azaleas in bloom. Boone and I also spooked a deer. I only got a brief glimpse of it, and Boone seemed too hot or tired to give chase.

We eventually reached a side trail to a spring. I waited for Bob there before investigating. I found a great water source, but there was a better one ahead. It turns out that the seasonal spring farther up, which is much closer to the shelter, was running strong. We ended up getting our water there.

We reached the shelter around 5pm. There was only one hiker there. Dwayne was from Canada, and didn’t seem to have a proper trail name. I decided to call him “Squirrel”, simply because he was hoarding an incredible amount of food. He must’ve had 40 pounds of food, all of it in airtight containers. “Squirrel” wasn’t on a typical thru-hike. He had started at Hot Springs, NC and hiked north. Eventually he had doubled-back to Damascus for Trail Days, before turning back north in late May. Now he was resting a sprained ankle. He intended to skip ahead to Harper’s Ferry, as he had hiked the southern half of the trail a year earlier. He planned to resume his hike there and push on towards Maine.

We settled in at the shelter, which was in a lovely glade surrounded by blooming Flame Azalea. Boone passed out on the cool wood floor of the shelter, and Kevin fetched water. The shelter’s only flaw was the privy, which was located a little too close to the shelter. It was full of flies, and smelled almost as bad as our water source from the previous evening. I eventually found a large rock, which I used to hold the door closed. This improved the odor around the shelter considerably.

We dined on Chili for dinner that evening. While we were eating, a parade of thru-hikers began to arrive. Most of them had just left the Captain’s party, and the shelter was about as far as they could stagger after those festivities. I guess you could say that they all had a little Captain in them. More and more hikers arrived, and before long, all of the decent tent sites surrounding the shelter were taken. A bit later, the marginal sites were occupied, too. When someone set up a tent in front of the privy, I knew things were getting out of hand.

The funny thing about this is that we had selected our route in hopes that the trail wouldn’t be too crowded. I knew there’d be some thru-hikers passing through, but I figured they would be spread out. I hadn’t figured on all of them timing their hike to take advantage of The Captains party! Hater definitely wouldn’t have been amused, but he was largely unaware of the situation. He passed out right after dinner!

Kevin and I stayed up a bit later than that, playing cards with Squirrel and a thru-hiker named “Tiny Dancer”. I’m not sure if she was an Elton John fan, but she was definitely tiny. I have to admit that I didn’t see her actually dance though.

BAG THIEF

That night only Squirrel, Detox, and Hater joined Boone and me in the shelter. Boone and I took the far corner, as I hoped I could keep him from bothering anyone else. How did that work out? Not so good. Apparently he got cold late that night. He woke me up by trying to wriggle into my sleeping bag. That was a physical impossibility, and I pushed him away and went back to sleep.

Apparently Boone assaulted Bob next. Bob was under his sleeping bag, but it was unzipped. Bob woke up later that night, chilled. He was cold because his sleeping bag was no longer on him. Boone was curled up in it, having stolen it from Bob without waking him. Bob ran him off, and Boone spent most of the rest of the night wandering around the shelter, probably terrorizing the thru-hikers.

We headed out about 8:30 on Monday morning. We actually got on the trail ahead of most of the thru-hikers, which was surprising. I suppose a few of them may have been suffering from Captain-induced hangovers. They all caught up to us eventually though. The first several miles beyond the shelter were extremely tedious. The map suggested an easy hike, but what the map didn’t disclose was that this portion of the “trail” was actually just a giant pile of rocks. The guidebook had described this stretch as “sometimes rocky”. I’d say that was about half right. Even the thru-hikers that were passing us were grumbling about it. After a couple of hours, we saw our first stretch of dirt. We celebrated, and actually enjoyed another mile or so through a ferny stretch of forest.

We reached the road that I had parked my car on around 11am. However, we weren’t finished yet. My car was several miles down the road. We still had to traverse a portion of the Mountain Lake Wilderness to get there. We crossed the road and entered the wilderness area. After a brief climb, we reached a short side trail to Wind Rock. We strolled out this path to take in the final view of our hike.

The view from Wind Rock is fantastic. It features an aerial view of the Stony Creek valley, as well as the next ridge to the west. Farther north was an assortment of rugged peaks, while we could trace the route of our hike back to the south. We stopped there for an early long lunch. Wind Rock is definitely not a place you want to rush past!

Kevin decided against finishing the hike due to some knee pain. Bob and I would finish the hike, and then we’d drive back up the mountain to pick up Kevin. We left around 12:30, knowing we still had several miles to go.

We passed some nice campsites and descended into a lovely forest. We skirted an impressive spring, and passed near a grassy meadow. We continued to wander through a grassy, ferny forest, enjoying the wildflowers and more healthy Hemlock trees.

We crossed Lone Pine Mountain, passing another bog. A steep descent through a rocky gully followed. My map showed that we would hit the War Spur Connector a short distance below Lone Pine Mountain. Unfortunately, the map was off, and we descended quite a distance before reaching the side trail. At that point, we immediately had to regain all of the elevation we had just lost. This is definitely an area that could use better trail design!

We began hearing rumbles of thunder as we climbed. Before long the first substantial rain of the trip began to fall. We stopped to don our pack covers and to stash our cameras. Then we resumed the hike, eager to reach the car. We arrived at the War Spur Loop a bit later. Originally I had planned to hike the long way around the loop so we could stop at the War Spur Overlook and see what is left of the Hemlock grove. With the threatening weather though, we felt justified in skipping that part of the hike. Plus, Kevin was waiting for us in the rain. We hurried out to the car and packed quickly. It only took a few minutes to drive up the road to the A.T. crossing despite a couple of washouts along the way. Kevin was waiting for us, and we managed to squeeze him in for the ride back to Pearisburg.

We picked up Kevin’s car and then hit the Dairy Queen in Pearisburg for a post-hike treat. The drive home was surprisingly smooth. It seemed like most of the holiday traffic had already dispersed by the time we reached I-77. Even Kevin managed to get back to D.C. by a reasonable hour.

Aside from the light traffic, the highlight of the drive home was a stop at a rest area in North Carolina. In one of the stalls, an aspiring bathroom artist had written “Eat Sh!t” on one of the walls. The funny thing about this is that it was so close to brilliance. If I’d had a marker, I would’ve fixed it by adding one word and some punctuation – “Eat. Sh!t. Repeat.” There you have it – the meaning of life.

Our trip was a good one. Highlights included the ferns and flowers on Peters Mountain, as well as the views from the grassy balds at Rice Field and Symmes Meadow. The Mountain Lake Wilderness was also delightful, even though we shaved the last couple of miles off the trip there. In between was less thrilling, with a big descent and climb and lots of rocky trail. I’m not sure that I’d do this exact trip again. However, I’d definitely like to hike to Rice Field, Symmes Meadow, and the Mountain Lake Wilderness again!

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