Collage 49

Do you see
My sister and me
Where I am
There’s also Milli
You see one
You see the other
We’re almost
Always together
Except when
At Valley View I be
I tell her
To take care of Mommy
While I learn
How letters make words
So at night
When we lie in bed
I can read
And tell her stories
I teach her
So many lessons
Like counting
And answer questions
She listens
But doesn’t always follow
That’s alright
I'm surely the leader
And much adored
By my little sister

Busted Secret

He runs. He bikes. He swims. And now he takes walks, even on days he already ran. I’d reply “See you later,” as he walks out saying, “Can you lock the door behind me; I have the key.” Walking is not my thing. Nor is running. Nor is biking. And especially not swimming. I’m a land animal. I don’t do well in water. I play soccer and attend dance classes. The things we do together are hiking and backpacking. My legs are still sore from the backpacking trip we took this past weekend. It’s cold out there. My soccer team already registered 16 players for tonight’s game. I didn’t relish the idea of being on the sideline for part of the game. And I wasn’t sure I’d run very well on sore legs while on the field. So instead of going to soccer, I offered to walk with him. He said he wanted to walk briskly.

As I kept up with his brisk walking, I felt the soreness of my thigh muscles. I wondered if I would enjoy it more if we slowed down on a leisurely (and romantic) walk or if I should have stayed home and enjoyed my exercise-free day. But I didn’t want to spoil our walk. And besides, wasn’t that what I wanted? A short exercise to replace the soccer playing.

I followed his lead, crossing the main road to get to the farm. As we walked along the perimeter of the farm, he told me we’d have to jump two fences. I imagined being apprehended for trespassing the public farm after hours. I thought he should have turned off his head lamp at the fence crossings, but he didn’t seem to worry about anything. Right after we “jumped” the first fence, a goat’s bleat startled me and he laughed. After we “jumped” the second fence, he excitedly pointed to a model H tractor marked with the year he was born and told me he always stopped at this spot. Shortly afterwards, we crossed the main street again, but since there is no sidewalk there, we didn’t take the main street. As we walked on the side street into a neighborhood, he pointed out the peculiarity of an old house at the corner with a large piece of land. All other houses are more modern and don’t take up as much land. When we were about to return to the main street, he told me at which driveway he’d cross the side street to continue the walk home.

Now when he goes out for a walk, I will no longer be in the dark of the route he takes. When he talks about the model H, the odd old house, the driveway where he crosses the street, I’ll know exactly where these places are because I have their pictures in my head.

My teammates may or may not miss me this evening, but they probably agree it was a fair trade-off.

White Oaks Camping

by guest writer Tom --

We started driving at 6:00am on Saturday. It was dark until about the 29-South exit. We continued on I-66 to I-81 (following the signs to Roanoke), 2^nd exit after getting on I-81, 19 miles west on US 55. Stopped to pick up forks (we had forgotten utensils), left on Sand Creek Road, left on North Mountain Road, right on Waites Run Road.

Waites Run Road starts off barely 2 lanes. Gradually, it becomes obviously one-lane. Then one-lane gravel. Then one-lane gravel, 2^nd gear only. Then 1^st gear. Eventually, we drove to the designated parking area, but there were no cars there and we weren’t sure. So we went a little farther, found a post with a sign that said Old Mail Trail to the right and Wilson Cove Trail to the left. Also, “to the left” was the road we were on so we decided that we were no longer on a road and went back to the parking area. Turning around was a 2-person job with Tran giving directions.

The weather was beautiful, but cold. Not cool, cold. We would enjoy dry blue skies for the entire weekend, but the trail and streams bore evidence of recent heavy rains.

We strapped on the backpacks and backtracked down the road for a mile towards Pond Run/Tuscarora Trail (apparently, some trails bear multiple names the same way roads will be (e.g.) I66/US55/VA17). But we couldn’t get across Pond Run. We could see where the trail went down to the stream and where it emerged, but we couldn’t find a crossing. The rains had been heavy and that crossing was not for people with our skill/equipment level. We decided to walk back to the car and start up the Old Mail Trail. 

Much of the trail at the beginning was underwater, and we had to slosh through some parts. It was a bit difficult to find the trail again after the 1^st crossing. Tran had brought along gaiters which might have kept some water from getting into our boots. Neither of us got wet feet and we left that swampy area soon enough.

Old Mail Trail continues along a very pretty forest with many long-needled pine trees. Most tress that drop their leaves in the fall had already done so, but the pines were very pretty. The trail, very rocky as eastern mountain trails tend to be, were a little more treacherous than usual since the fresh blanket of leaves hid some of the rocks.

If some mailman ever walked that trail on a routine basis, he was in very good shape. It was steep and long and long and steep. There were hardly any respites from the steady grind going up. We stayed warm from the climb, but I never shed my jacket. I got down to having only a long-sleeve thin shirt under the jacket, but I didn’t sweat much in that outfit. I did unzip the jacket, but that climb in a jacket indicates how cold it was. And we were climbing into the wind and additional cold. The trail was muddy at many places.

Old Mail Trail crosses Racer Camp Hollow Trail and we followed the Racer Camp Hollow Trail accidentally for a short way before we realized our mistake. Don’t forget that Lewis and Clark charged up the Yakima before retracing their steps and continuing down the Columbia. We saw very few people so we were constantly checking the trail. With so many leaves obscuring the trail, it was easy to lose the trail. We got back on the Old Mail Trail until Tuscarora Trail meets it on the right. There is a large rock at the intersection and we stopped for lunch. We’d walked 2.3 miles from the beginning of Old Mail Trail, plus a portion of Racer Camp Hollow Trail. At this point, there were snowflakes on the leaves that had dropped to the ground. Tran couldn’t believe it was snow until I confirmed it was either snow or ice. They looked like small pieces of tapioca pearls to Tran.

We found a nice camp site half mile up the hill and across from it is the White Rock Spur Trail which we wanted to take, but since it was unmarked (like many other trails, including the Tuscarora), we were not sure if that was the trail. We were going to ignore it and continue on until Tran realized we had already walked 20 minutes. So we turned around and took the trail. Tran was ahead and found a camp site and waited for me there. When I didn’t show up after a while, Tran thought perhaps I had gone on. She took off, and in the process, got disoriented. We found each other shortly after, but we couldn’t be sure which way we came from. I wanted to give up and return to the camp site because I thought the trail kept on and on and I didn’t see the overlook. But Tran was glad that we went in the wrong direction. Instead of returning to the camp site, we came to a place that looked like the end of the trail. Tran thought we already made it this far, it’d be a shame to miss the overlook. So she whipped out the directions we had printed out from Atlantic Hikes website. It says that we have to scramble up and over some rocks. Tran loves to scramble over rocks, so she scrambled. It’s not one my strong suits, but I followed along. When Tran came to the view, she exclaimed “Wow. I’m so glad we didn’t miss this.” I had to agree. 

There were three gentlemen taking in the view as well. They were going to camp, but they had hammocks and the forecast was for low teens and strong wind so they said they’d go back home. They asked if we were ready for temperature in the teens. Tran wasn’t sure if the answer should be affirmative. Tran thought of the story of a hiker rescued from the Pacific Crest Trail within 200 miles of the Canadian border. The hiker met a local person who was on a day hike and told the local person she didn’t have snow shoes, but she thought she’d be fine and didn’t want to end the hike even though a snow storm was in the forecast. She wanted to complete the trail, inspired by the movie Wild. She was saved because the local person looked out for her and called for help. The hiker already recorded an apology to her family on her cell phone for perishing on the trail. 

After enjoying the view and taking pictures, we hiked back and decided to set up camp at the camp site we found, instead of continuing on. Tran was glad we did because we wouldn’t have found a better camp site and we didn’t have to walk farther with the heavy backpacks. It was very windy, but the camp site is protected by big rocks. We could definitely feel the difference when we walked higher to try to find a better site for the tent. We decided to use the lower ground for protection from the wind. We threw leaves under our footprint for extra insulation. We cooked some ramen and added in tuna and dry sea weed and called it dinner, though it was only 2:30pm. We used a nearly empty cartridge on the old blue CampingGaz stove. We were told by REI that the kind of cartridge the stove uses is no longer sold in the US. The stove and cartridges are made in France. We have another full cartridge, but our stove will be useless after that cartridge is used up. Tran is sad because she bought the stove and it has served us well. 

We decided to go out on a day hike to explore, hoping to see the Sugar Knob Cabin, a PATC hike-in rental, about three miles away. The last mile of the hike was hard. It was a constant uphill with muddy parts. Keeping an eye on the clock, we almost got there but ran into a huge pool of muddy water that prevented us from proceeding unless we wanted to get wet and dirty. This was also at the threshold of when we could comfortably get back to our campsite in the daylight. So we turned back.

The walk back was downhill, but strenuous (the rocks kept me on edge, and my fatigue was making my steps less certain) and we were pretty tired by the time we got back. I pulled the bear bag from the tree I had used and heated up water for cocoa. I made the cocoa, but Tran was looking for good picture spots. The stove heated things quickly, but the temperature and sun were going down quickly as well, and her cocoa wasn’t that warm by the time she got it.

While I tied up the bear bag, I started to shiver quite a bit but tried to fight through it and function. I tried to floss my teeth but couldn’t feel my fingers so flossing was hard. After I broke it once, I gave up. I did take my nightly medicine. Tran asked if we were going to have a camp fire, I said “I think we should get into the tent and the sleeping bags as soon as possible!” 

We had everything ship-shape and crawled into the tent and our sleeping bags at 5:30pm. That may sound early, but it was dark and we were getting cold. I wasn’t confident that I could quickly get a fire going and even if I had, I wasn’t sure it would keep us warm; wherever we sat and whatever we touched, seemed to such the heat from us. The sleeping bags promised warmth.

And at least mine delivered! I was chilled when I got in. I wrestled my clothes (thankfully dry) off and curled up into my bag that is rated for 20-below (Tran bought the bag for herself and wanted that rating, but gave it to me after she found a smaller bag that fit her better even though it is rated at 30 degrees higher). Because my bag is warmer, I gave my liner to Tran. Shivering at first with numb hands, my hands quickly warmed up and I found the drawstring that closes the hood of the sleeping bag around my head and the bag around my shoulders. I was warm. But then I cooled off for a bit. But I warmed up again and stayed warm the rest of the night. Oh, it was wonderful. I would lie on my back, then on my left side, then on my back, then on my right side. I wanted to reach over and put my arm around Tran, but I was cocooned inside my own bag. At on point, I had only my nose out, and I reached from inside to feel my nose, and it was freezing! Eventually, I loosened the draw string so there was more of my face (even my chin!) outside and I was fine. I never enjoyed a sleeping bag as much as I did that night. 

During the evening, the wind picked up and we could hear it viciously howling. The rain flyer rattled and Tran imagined an animal prowling outside of the tent. For 13 hours, we stayed in the sleeping bags. For those who wonder how that could be, it is dark and cold with little that we could do. At some point, I looked up and saw what I thought was dawn, but the light was only from the moon, I guess. At 6:30am, there was no doubt; the tent was clearly visible. I checked my watch and we decided to get going.

Our water container, which we had brought inside the tent, hoping to keep it from freezing, had sprung a leak which soaked my ball cap. Tran actually noticed some leak before we took the water container into the tent, but thought it had been fixed. The opening of the water container must have been partially frozen before we took it inside the tent and prevented it to be shut. Many other things got frozen even though they were in the tent. Tran’s lens solution got frozen and her right lens was like a fossil in ice. The one thing that didn’t freeze was the water bladder full of water, probably because Tran had covered it with her jacket. It’s a small tent, but we managed to get ready simultaneously. Oh, something as simple as pulling on pants, required some stomach muscles that I barely have. I got a sweater on, but Tran had to pull in down behind me. The boots were in the vestibule and I managed to get them on well enough so I could stumble out…

We were surrounded with an orange sky as we did before going inside the tent the evening before. We could see the orange band through the leafless branches of trees. What a treat.

I went to get the bear bag and heated water for cocoa. There was enough water left in the water container for it. But in the process trying to fix the water container’s leaking problem, I ripped apart the opening and now the water container is no more. Again, the cocoa cooled off quickly but we enjoyed it. We went out to the overlook before breaking camp. It was so pretty even after sunrise. The shadow stretched from left to right over a multi-colored forest and the shadow receded to the left as the sun rose higher in the sky. Tran took some pictures and tried to set up the tripod, but the rocks’ angles wouldn’t cooperate so we have no pictures of us together. This is a spectacular vista with the fall colors in the valley below.

We headed back to the campsite and packed up. For the 2^nd time, I lost a glove. I found it later on, but my fingers were freezing. I wondered if being cold is like being tired on a bike trip; just live with it. I would shake my hand and blow on it, but it stung. But I tried to keep packing and doing things. I remember scouts from miserable campouts more or less “shutting down” and I didn’t want to do that. Tran seemed less affected by the cold than I did. We got everything packed up and started out around 8:30am.

I was dressed as warmly as I could be; long T, light sweater, down vest, big jacket. I knew that I’d be too warm soon enough, but the trail started down and that didn’t warm me. The rocks on the ground are icy, so we had to be extra careful. After a half mile when we still had some energy, we decided to take a side trail for fun. We went as far as the Sulphur Spring Turnoff.

Just as the day before, we had gone up, up, and up, today we were going down, down, and down.  My hip and Tran’s knee felt this. We had to cross a creek several times on the Old Mail Trail. At one crossing, we got there at just the right time. There was a “bridge” which is a single 2x10 or 2x12 that looked as if it could easily break. Both of us wondered about crossing it coming back. As luck would have it, two people with PATC helmets were replacing the plank with another just as we got there. In fact, I actually helped them just a bit, and was the first one to test it. Although it bowed (pronounced boad) quite a bit as I went across, it held. The old one had a foreboding crack in the middle and part of it was splintered off so that it is thin in the middle. We didn’t know how much weight it would hold. We appreciate the trail volunteers very much.

There were a few other notes: I saw one enormous pine tree that seemed to tower over everything else. Most trees, at least in the east, or at least, broadleaf trees, have many lower branches. This tree’s branches didn’t seem to start until after most trees ended. It was beautiful. The pine cones on these pine trees were wonderful. They were dense and big; they looked like Christmas ornaments. Tran and I saw two trees side-by-side on the overlook and we both noticed them, but didn’t talk about them until later. They had similar cones, but were different in colors.

We got back to the car. The apples we had left in the car were frozen, as were the hard-boiled eggs, some left-over coffee in a commuter cup, and some sparkling water. The sandwiches that I left behind were ok, and the coffee in a thermos was only cold. 

We drove (VERY carefully) down the road (one-lane rocky and uneven road with potholes that are filled with water) and stopped at a camp site and picnic area we’d seen when we walked down this road the day before. It was a beautiful day (still cold) and Pond Run was clear and tumbling over rocks (and we weren’t considering trying to cross it). It was so pretty that I snapped a picture on my phone.

We munched a sandwich and drove off, retracing our steps. We stopped at a Denny’s. After seating us, they claimed they were running behind and wouldn’t take orders for 45 minutes. Tran wondered if they didn’t want to serve Asians. I wondered if they didn’t want to serve people in grungy hiking clothes. We got a coffee and shake at the next-door Burger King instead.

It was a wonderful weekend. We hope to get out on more day-hikes. This late in the year, there’s too much dark and cold combined to make the camping worthwhile, but the mid-Atlantic mountains make for wonderful outdoor trips and we hope to take advantage of where we live more often.