Everyone on this trip was athletic and on about the same level, although Jeff has his own special category of "robot," which I learned the first night. The most difficult part of Whorley's Cave was finding it. We drove around searching until about 6:45 AM, when we pulled over into a church parking lot. Half of us camped under the car port and the rest of us (including me) slept in the cars. I woke up to a police officer knocking on my window and I was sure that I was at least going to get a ticket. Apparently our driving and turning around in resident's driveways had alarmed the locals but once I assured the officer that we weren't vagrants but were college students looking for a cave, he wished us luck and left us alone. Enter Robot Jeff. He woke me up around 8:30 and was ready to go. He had located the cave and wanted to get started immediately, running on less than two hours of sleep. I thought he was kidding but I was mistaken.
That afternoon, we drove to Pisgah National Forest, right on the border of Tennessee and North Carolina, to backpack Roan Mountain. As we drove, a cloud descended upon us and everything grew darker and colder. I put on all of my layers, including a blanket that had been in my car that I had sworn I wouldn't take hiking. Despite all the layers I was wearing, I did not warm up during the four/five mile hike to the campsite. It was dark and we were hiking through a cloud. Everything was cold and wet, the ground was muddy and slippery. Though I didn't notice any, apparently it was snowing at the top. When we got to the campsite, the shelter was full. We set up two tents and crammed five people into a three-person tent. Dinner that night was anything we could heat up, no matter what it tasted like. Carolanne and I ate a particularly nasty can of mac-and-cheese just to feel the warmth sliding down our throats. Luckily, I had my sleeping pad on this trip. I had a synthetic sleeping bag, so I took a spot on the end. I was shaking the entire night and my teeth were chattering. At one point, I turned my head to Carolanne and sputtered out "so-o-o-o c-c-c-o-l-d."
The next morning, there was frost on my sleeping bag and everywhere else. Yet, it was beautiful and clear outside: perfect hiking weather. Roan Mountain is one of the most beautiful hikes on the Appalachian Trail. The scenery varies from large, open grassy balds to thick woods with mossy rocks and streams. We stopped a lot along the way to climb large boulders and even did shirtless yoga on top of one of the peaks. The weather was a dream: cold enough that the heat generated from our packs didn't overwhelm us and warm enough that we could be comfortable in short sleeves. The clear blue skies gave us access to scenery that was so pretty it seemed fake, as if someone had photoshopped it. We ate lunch on the rocks with breathtaking 360 views of surrounding mountains.
The hike was long but not particularly strenuous, mostly downhill with gradual uphills. We got to the end in the daylight and, as one of the drivers, I got the privilege of hitchhiking back to my car with Michael, the other driver. We were extremely lucky and got picked up almost immediately. Hikers often hitchhike along these roads so people in the area are accustom to giving rides. We got in three different cars and made it back to the rest of the group before nightfall. We then all went to dinner at the first restaurant we saw, a local cafe. Almost everyone ordered chili, grateful for hot food. That night, we opted against camping again. Bevin, one of the girls on the trip and the current OAR VP (since Frank graduated from his PhD program last spring), contacted the Logels, a family in North Carolina that many OAR members have befriended over the years. The Logels are the most welcoming of families, and they let us stay in their basement in a nearby town in North Carolina. The second oldest, who we all just call Logel for the most part, was college roommates with another current OAR member back in San Diego and is as much a member of OAR as I am. We spent some time with the entire family, having a basement jam session with their ukuleles and guitars.
The next morning, we woke up early and drive to Grayson Highlands, Virginia. Grayson is known for it's wild ponies. In the list serve email concerning this trip, Jeff described these ponies as "curious," a moniker we embraced, referring to them as "curious ponies" every time we discussed them. In addition to their curiosity, these ponies were also delightfully fat. They let us pet them and hug them with ease. The day hike in Grayson is about ten miles but part of the trail was flooded so we got a little creative on the way back. Again, the scenery varied a lot. There were a lot of really cool boulders that we climbed and also some gorgeous wild flowers. By the time we were a little over half way through the hike, I noticed a spot of blood on my heel. I knew better than to take off my shoes until we got to the car. My heel didn't hurt, but once the shoe came off, there were no guarantees. This ended up being a very wise decision. My entire heel was blistered and bloody, a large flap of skin dangling. Another sock sacrificed for the sake of OAR. Yet, I enjoyed the hike so much that I am actually planning my own trip to Grayson this upcoming April. Hopefully the ponies are still fat and curious.
Events occurred: November 3-6, 2011
No comments:
Post a Comment