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May 8, 1983, 41 years ago today: There is nothing like trying to pack up everything you own in a downpour. My sleeping bag was soaked, my tent was hopeless; everything was drenched. Adding insult to injury, the rain came to a dead stop about five minutes after I had finished packing.
Some more photos from the run. We had a fair bit of rain yesterday, which made for more soggy spots but also encouraged more tree leaves out. Instead of drab grey and spots of evergreens, the hillsides are sporting clusters of light green.
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May 3, 1983, 41 years ago today: At a spot called Three Forks, four miles from Springer Mountain, the Appalachian Trail crossed a fire road beside the convergence of three streams which had become raging torrents. A blinding mass of rain was creating a surreal, semi-aquatic woodland.
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October 1, 1983: After crossing Pollywog Stream on a logging road bridge, the AT proceeded to Rainbow Stream, which it followed for a good distance upstream, passing a long series of cascades and small waterfalls in the boulder-strewn shallow waters.
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September 28, 1983: At the bottom of the long descent from the Chairback range was the second-biggest water ford on the Appalachian Trail: the West Branch of the Pleasant River.
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July 13, 1983: On the other side of I-70, the stiff climb up Pine Knob was a harbinger of things to come. I had been told that the AT becomes much more rugged in the northern half of Maryland.
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August 31, 1983: The Appalachian Trail followed some dirt roads through a pleasant farm valley encircled by mountains and reentered the forest to begin a rather taxing climb up to Holts Ledge, the first real mountain it had thus far traversed in New Hampshire. It kept turning onto one woods road after another, and each was a bit steeper than the preceding one.
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September 1, 1983: The trail down the far side of Smarts Mountain was in worse shape than the ascent had been, but what did that matter to a man surrounded by that kind of magnificence? The AT lunged downward across more of those dripping, mossy rocks.
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September 29, 1983: A relatively-level ridge walk led to Mountain View Pond. Across the small, crystal-clear lake, Boardman Mountain’s slopes were aflame with fall colors. The air was very tranquil for autumn, virtually a dead calm. A perfect reflection of Boardman was etched into the lake surface, and each stone of its rocky lakebed was clearly visible well out from the shore.
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August 14, 1983: The trail turned into a virtual rock climb straight up the face of a cliff to the top of Barrack Mountain. It was a rather sadistic climb for a backpacking trail, but some open ledges near the summit offered great views to the north and to the south — some of the nicest since Shenandoah National Park.
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July 3, 1983: My final twelve miles today were in Shenandoah. The trail inside the park was well-graded and almost completely cleared of overgrowth. I hiked through dignified old forests of stately trees, following the ridgeline for most of the distance. There were a number of good viewpoints.
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June 2, 1983: Beyond Carvers Gap, the trees rapidly began to thin out along the ridge crest. Near the top of Round Bald stood a small cluster of red pines.
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June 29, 1983: The remainder of the trail was densely wooded, generally lacking in viewpoints. That was of little consequence today. The cold rain intensified and lingered into the night. Rain makes for a much more introverted hiking experience than on a clear day. Far-off vistas disappear and distant colors are muted into shades of gray.
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August 13, 1983: The Appalachian Trail went into Dark Entry Ravine, ascending through the perpetual twilight silence of an old hemlock forest. Long years of decomposing fallen needles had buried the boulder-strewn ground and transformed it into a soft, lumpy carpet. It was lovely, even though the stream was barely running.
Big news today! I am going to thru-hike Appalachian Trail this year!!!
I told my parents yesterday, so I guess it's official.
I'm planning to do a flip flop starting in Harpers Ferry mid-April. I'll hike all the way to Mount Katahdin and then return to Harpers ferry to hike south all the way to Springer mountain.
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June 25, 1983: Picking up the roadwalk under the I-81 overpass near the sprawling truck stops on US 220, I soon found myself drifting back into the #Virginia to which I had grown accustomed on this journey, following rural lanes past rolling pastures, barns, silos and a few small clusters of residences.
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I had not encountered this mountain chain since the eventful early days of my journey in Carolina and Georgia (I had been on the western fork of the Blue Ridge as recently as the Virginia Highlands, but it is the eastern fork which carries that name officially once they diverge).
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August 23, 1983: I followed this road for a mile to an outcrop called Prospect Rock, located at the salient formed by a precipitous set of southward-facing cliffs meeting a vertical westward-facing cliff. A sweeping panoramic view of the town of Manchester, Vermont, its green valley, and the surrounding mountains detained me for fifteen minutes
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September 8, 1983: It was mostly cloudy in Crawford Notch at 12:30 when I set out on the #AppalachianTrail. A nice, stiff breeze was blowing, the air was fresh and dry, and the day was much cooler than the last few had been. As usual, that 12:30 start was considerably later than I wanted it to be.
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August 15, 1983: The southern portion of the Taconic Mountain Range is basically two parallel chains separated by a high central valley. The Appalachian Trail follows the eastern fork. In Connecticut, this consists of a high, wooded plateau called Mount Riga, with the rocky crag of Lions Head rising from its southernmost tip.
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September 27, 1983: The Appalachian Trail continued eastward along a humpy and hummocky ridge. It traveled a rugged course with constant sharp ups and downs through high, windswept forests. Masses of slender downed fir limbs and plenty of blown down trees lie among the moss and rocks of the crest. Dusky fir and spruce rose above black, spongy earth cluttered with masses of dark gray boulders.