Appalachian Trail: Va. 621 southbound to crest of Sinking Creek Mountain and back. 7.4 miles.
On a day forecast to reach 90 degrees, we set out to go west and up high, in search of a cool breeze.
The walk began with a cool breeze in the form of a couple fellas just down the mountain from the other direction – genuinely good ol’ boys one of whom, with a couple of post-hike beers downed, had this to say when we brought out our hiking poles: “Oh, y’all are goin’ skiin’, I gotta get the camera out!”
The best I could do for a comeback was that what with the big climb, we were hopin’ there might still be a little snow up on the ridge line of Sinking Creek Mountain. And then hey, you gotta give old people a break on any help they can get going up and down rocky-trail mountains.
The 3.7-mile, 1,800-foot climb, gentle at times but always frustrating to me in its interminable teasing of summit-reach, of course yielded no snow; but lots of wildflowers in bloom and the hoped-for good cooling breeze at the top, where we picked a lunch rock.
Midway through lunch a northbound thru hiker stopped by, wanting his picture taken next to the Eastern Continental Divide sign there on the crest of Sinking Creek. We two day hikers are rare dispensers of trail magic (carrying pretty much what we’re going to eat and drink, and little more). But Sam the Jam (real name and trail name in one), in proof-again that nothing on the trail beats ice-cold water, was immensely pleased to have a quart or so of ice dumped into his water bladder.
The 3.7 back down was, as always, considerably easier than the 3.7 up, although The Greatest Day Hiker Of Them All, who had stretched on ahead of me several times on the way up, commented that coming down seemed longer than going up. Pshaw.
April 25, 2009
