By the time Mark cooked us breakfast, we ate it, played with the dog, tossed the cat, and talked conspiracy theories about everything gone wrong in our country, it was almost 10 by the time we got up to the trailhead. We got stuck behind a slow moving car on the way up which turned out to be Gary from Ohio who was doing trail magic in the teepee yesterday. He offered us water but we were already full. He claimed that it was too cold for his propane to work yet. We later discovered that it always happened to work if there was a female hiker passing (even out here on the trail women still have cush lives).
It was a beautiful clear day, but still very crisp. We walked the first several miles along the rim of Burkes Garden. Seen from the sky, Burkes Garden is called God’s thumbprint because it looks just like a giant pressed his thumb into the mountain range. This is really just a sink hole 4 miles wide and 8 miles long. The subterranean make up is limestone and over the eons (I’m guessing since I’m not a geologist) caverns formed in the limestone from groundwater passing through. Eventually enough limestone was carried away that a gigantic cave formed which eventually collapsed under the weight of the overhead mountains. From above, the terrain looks level, but when you are down in “the garden” it’s actually rolling hills. This is the highest valley in the state of Virginia.
We were expecting a lot more celebrants on this NPR recognized holiday (the next step towards legalization) but we didn’t see anyone—so much for the AT being one giant party. The only sign of life we saw was some fur a black bear left behind on the trail. Apparently, all life forms have to decided to celebrate by staying indoors and chilling rather than getting out. Hopefully, “Hike Naked Day” will have higher participation levels.
A few hikers (Knee Deep, Detail, and Buckeye) did catch up with us at a road crossing. Detail wanted to spend the night inside to get a shower and do some laundry. He must be a little dainty because we found out it had only been 3 or 4 days since his last shower. Gnome and I wanted to push on so we could be close enough to Brushy Mountain Outpost so we could grab some breakfast in the morning (we were still almost 7 miles away).
When Bunny left me, she took the phone thinking that I had the Guthook App and the AWOL pdf versions on her iPad and they would work. The gps doesn’t work on her iPad unless I’m connected to WiFi so I don’t consult it much. In this case, if I had consulted it, I would have seen that we didn’t have a water source between where we were and the outpost. If I had put my pack down to get out the iPad, I might also have noticed I was almost out of water and I may have filled up. I didn’t get out the iPad so I quickly ran out of water or know that we didn’t have any ahead. We just kept walking trying to find a water source to stop by for the night.
Without planning to, we hiked all the way to the Brushy Mountain Outpost. It closes at 6. We didn’t get there until 6:20 and we were both out of water. We considered our options. If there was water available near the outpost, we could camp right here. I walked around the building and couldn’t find a spout. I walked across the street and checked the church with similar results. The houses around the area had that not lived in, possible crack house look to them so we had to decide on a plan b.
There’s a creek in less than a mile, but the guidebook says not to drink the water out of it (we are right next to an interstate and assume that’s the reason). If we continue on, it’s 2 more miles to the next shelter and safe water. Plan C. I am 54 years old, but I have never hitched a ride (a little deceptive statement: Bunny and I tried for a few minutes in France last year but quickly stopped when we realized that if we were successful, we probably wouldn’t be able to communicate with the driver, so we decided to grab a bus instead). Gnome says he used to hitch all over the country so he talks me into flagging down a car for a ride to the glorious town of Bland.
Up go the thumbs with the result being that cars not only didn’t slow down, they crossed the double yellow lines courting a head on collision as an emphatic display of “Hell no we are not giving you a ride.” Gnome suggested that we start walking towards Bland as a display of seriousness to the passing cars—he said we’d surely get a sympathy ride this way. A half mile later, he decided to share the story of him getting shot while hitching in Ohio. From that point on, I tried to put a little more distance between us on the shoulder and I quit putting out my thumb—I decided to switch to hands folded in prayer at each passing car to appeal to the southern Christians to save me from the hippy following my down the road; equally successful to the thumb.
In the end, we walked all the way into Bland, VA (which is the most aptly named town in the world). We checked into a bland hotel and ordered a tasteless pizza for supper. The walk into town turned out to be twice the distance we would have walked to the next shelter where we could have stayed for free. We were lucky enough that there were plenty of rooms available at the Big Walker (18 of 20 rooms available—there’s not a bland convention happening right now). Gnome assured me we would be able to easily hitch a ride back to the trail head in the morning since everyone in their right mind would want to get out of Bland as quickly as possible.
EFG
At least the sun is finally out for you – maybe Bunny will be willing to return to the trail now that snow is unlikely!
A week or two with parents will cure her fear of snow