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Weekend Hikes - Week 79
WEB EXCLUSIVE
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The weekend hikers: Gail and Kurt Rheinheimer stand on top of Rice Fields, a bald southwest of Blacksburg, Va. along the Appalachian Trail. They were photographed in May by a couple who were thru-hiking the AT with their two children. |
Week 79: The little trek out to Daleville – the nearest the Appalachian Trail gets to the City of Roanoke – is a welcomed short drive with a nifty hiking payoff for us at times when other things intrude onto the weekend. The trail crosses U.S. 220 just north of Exit 150 from I-81, and even though you can hear the trucks rumbling for the first half a mile or so of the walk, you’re very quickly into the woods as the trail crosses Tinker Creek (where a pilgrim had set up camp on this day in August), and starts its climb of Tinker Mountain toward pretty views of Carvins Cove.
We avoided the short-cut trail from the parking lot just south of the Exxon station – The Greatest Day Hiker Of Them All had had her fill of poison ivy the week before, and that little sidetrail is home to some genuine world-class specimens – and got on the AT immediately, adding perhaps a tenth of a mile each way, along with a brief field section that appears to be growing over.
The climb is gentle enough to be pleasant, though it includes several spots where the trail passes beneath giant buzzing towers bringing electricity to our town. This hike is also noteworthy for its gift of a sort of pre-destination if you need it: A four-mile walk from 220 takes you to Hay Rock, a large formation that is so popular as to be spray-painted and campfire-scarred; but on days when you’re not inclined to do eight miles, you can stop at what Gail and I refer to as “Hey” Rock, only about 2.5 miles from the parking lot and affording just as good a view of Carvins Cove and at least as good a spot for lunch (though you are sitting right on the trail as it goes out to the precipice for a few strides).
On this warm, humid day, TGDHOTA and I had decided to go to Hay Rock proper. Gail regretted it on the way back, not for the distance or the heat, but because her ol’ black dog struggled with the conditions, slowing down and seeking deep shade when she saw it.
“This is your last summer hike, girl,” were Gail’s words of comfort not only to the dog but – inadvertently – to the person who’ll welcome a break from the panting-and-drooling on my elbow from the back seat on the drive home.
Click here for the archive of Kurt's Hikes
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