Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: TUESDAY, May 25, 1993 TAG: 9305250638
SECTION: TRAVEL PAGE: F-8 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: By MELISSA DEVAUGHN STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
It's not of the musical sort, but it does have a tune all its own.
The "Virginia Blues" often hit Appalachian Trail thru-hikers and can force them off the trail. They come in many guises. Sore knees. Blisters that won't heal. Missing that special someone back home. Sometimes it's just that the novelty of hiking 2,146 miles on a narrow wilderness path stretching from Georgia to Maine has worn off.
It doesn't help that a fourth of the Appalachian Trail is in Virginia, more than any of the other 13 states the trail passes through. By the time many hikers are halfway through the state, they are eager to be in another one.
The heat turns on about this time, too, bringing humid days and little water. Coming over Peters Mountain outside of Pearisburg, many hikers commented that the water was too scarce and the sun was too hot.
I could sense the agitation of hikers simply by reading their register entries at the shelters. The registers are how many of the hikers communicate and keep up with each other. It's a collective journal of sorts recording the moods, thoughts and quips of the hiker community.
"Dreadful trail," one entry said of the tricky ridge walk along Sinking Creek Mountain in Craig County. "Too hot, had to stop hiking," another said. "This heat is too much," wrote another hiker, too weary to go on to the next shelter.
Of course, there are the upbeat register entries as well. "Looking forward to taking a dip in the pond before Wapiti shelter," wrote one happy hiker. "Time to take a siesta in the afternoon sun," said another.
Along with the summer weather come the greenbriars, poison ivy and the stinging nettles. I left my pack in the woods one day to run down to a store for a cold Coca-Cola. When I returned and went to retrieve the pack, the stinging nettles got me and the pain, like a constant bee sting, lasted for over an hour.
Ahh, the "Virginia Blues."
Every time I catch up with hikers, I hear of someone else who is getting off the trail, victims of the "Virginia Blues." One misses his girlfriend. Another has foot problems that get worse every day. One decided the swelling in his side may be a ruptured hernia, and several have commented that the heat is just about unbearable.
I have decided that the best action against the "Virginia Blues" is to use all my friends and family to make it the best part of my trip, rather than the worst. I am stopping in every town where I know someone and visiting with friends I haven't seen in ages, from as far south as Damascus all the way to Front Royal.
I am exploring remote parts of the state that I only knew existed on the road signs off the interstate. Damascus, just over the Tennessee line in Virginia, was my first stop. This was a real taste of home, seeing cars drive by with Virginia license tags and watching television newscasts with local anchorpeople.
Troutdale, population 500 and just south of the Mount Rogers National Recreation Area, is a friendly place where the women will cook you up a wonderful breakfast at Danny's Country Store and Deli.
Atkins, right off of Interstate 81, is about the same size, and boasts the best grilled cheese sandwiches ever at the Village Restaurant. Word has it among hikers that the postmaster is quite friendly, making Atkins a worthwhile stop.
I also am serving as tour guide to thru-hikers from other parts of the country, showing off my home state in every way possible.
I insisted that "Kilgore Trout" go to Angel's Rest with me, a short blue-blazed trail (a side trail leading to a point of interest) off Pearis Mountain, even though we were rushing to get to Pearisburg by 5 p.m. And I told "Beauty and the Beast" to make sure they stopped at Kelly Knob south of Virginia 42 and Windrock on Potts Mountain. "Llama Mama" said he would have walked right past Dragon's Tooth near Virginia 311 if I had not pointed out that it was a must-see blue-blazed trail.
No, I don't think this melody should be called the "Virginia Blues." Instead, at the suggestion of a close friend, I prefer to call it the "Virginia Un-blues."
I have been affected by the "Virginia Un-blues" since I walked into Damascus, the town best known as the one-quarter-way mark for hikers and also the home of the yearly Appalachian Trail Days festival, which honors all thru-hikers, past and present. There was something about reaching that state line and walking into Damascus that gave me renewed confidence in my hiking. After all, I have made it to my "back yard."
I got a riff of the "Virginia Un-blues" as I passed through a rural crossroads in Bland County called Ceres. Only about 100 folks live there, mostly on farms.
On this hot, dry Saturday I hiked through Ceres, stopping for a break on a concrete bridge to dangle my feet in the south fork of the Holston River. My clothes were dirty and I had not showered for a week. The prospect of taking a dip in that stream was becoming more and more inviting, although the water was very cold.
Ruby lay in the tall grass next to the bridge, taking advantage of this midafternoon break to take a nap, and I sat talking to my hiking partner for the day, "Bob Eggless." He got his trail name because he started out the hike carrying a small alabaster egg, but lost it in Hot Springs, N.C. His name went from "the Eggman" to "Bob Eggless."
As we talked, I heard a noise and turned to see an older man and woman walking down the road toward me. I assumed they had come from the white farmhouse a couple hundred yards away. It was a beautiful house, freshly painted white with black shutters, and the lawn was neatly mowed. A row of blue jeans and flannel shirts dried on a clothesline behind the house.
As they approached, Ruby jumped up and ran to them, barking in her usual protective but harmless manner.
"Ruby, come here," I called to her.
The woman said, "Hi, Ruby," then turning toward me said, "And you must be Melissa."
I was dumbfounded, not knowing how this woman, out in the middle of nowhere, could possibly know who I was.
"Yes I am, how'd you know?" I asked.
She held up the last article I wrote on my Appalachian Trail journey (this is one of seven articles on the trip) and said, "We've been watching for you and thought you'd be here soon."
It was at that moment that I really felt at home. Thank goodness for that couple, Arten and Jonan Repass, and the "Virginia Un-blues."
I want to share the "Virginia Un-blues" with other hikers, making their experiences in Virginia as positive as mine. After all, this is my home state and if one looks past the copperheads, the heat and the cow patties in every field, there is a lot to be appreciated.
Some of my friends from the newspaper treated me to some "Virginia Un-blues," meeting me outside of Bastian a few weeks ago. I talked three other hikers into coming with me.
"You won't regret it," I promised.
We walked down Walker Gap to where Rob, Alan and Cathryn were waiting for us with cold Coca-Colas and Snickers ice cream bars. Later we were treated to a full course dinner, unlimited snack food and of course -- Ben and Jerry's ice cream. Not to mention they stashed our heavy backpacks in their cars and replaced them with light day packs for the day -- a term we thru-hikers call "slackpacking."
"This is trail magic," said "Kilgore Trout" of Boston. "Bob Eggless" of New Hampshire and "Buckskin" of Connecticut agreed.
The rhododendron are beginning to bloom in Virginia, making the mountains come alive in color. So, too, are the bloodroot, colorful violets, wild columbine and the May apples. And I've grown accustomed to actually "stopping to smell the roses" - or rather wild azaleas - whose fragrance surround me on the trail. How could anyone get the "Virginia Blues" in an environment like this?
And how could I possibly get the "Virginia Blues" when every week I look forward to another visit from my boyfriend, family or other friends living close to the trail? Even people I don't know are giving me support in this section of the trail.
On Hay Rock, near the Interstate 81 interchange in Daleville, there was a bag left for "Chaos and Order" (that's me and Ruby) containing a soda, candy bar and dog biscuits. By the time I got to it only the biscuits, candy wrapper and empty can were left, but still I felt bolstered knowing there are people out there cheering me on.
A fifth-grade class at Colonial Elementary School in Botetourt County surprised me with a letter and some tasty trail mix at my mail drop in Bastian. Even though I don't know any of those kids, the questions they wrote to me ("How do you take a shower?" "Is it fun?" "Are there any scary animals?") made me laugh, and I was eager to return their letter.
And when I took a break off the trail to attend the Damascus Appalachian Trail Days festival, members of the Roanoke Appalachian Trail Club were there, giving me plenty of encouragement.
Several people have asked me what the hardest thing about being on the Appalachian Trail is and I have answered, "missing my family and and friends." I've hiked 700 miles -- that's one-third of the way to Mount Katahdin -- and so far have had something to look forward to in reaching Virginia.
Now I embark into the unknown northern section of the trail, leaving my family and friends behind, not to see them again until September. By then the leaves on the trees will be changing to their fall clothing, and another school year will have begun. By then I will know what it is like to have hiked the entire Appalachian Trail, and remember fondly the "Virginia Un-blues.".
The Appalachian Trail is very accessible with many side trails in the Roanoke area. If you would like to experience some of the trail in this area, write to the Roanoke Appalachian Trail Club, P.O. Box 12282, Roanoke, Va., 24024 for more information. If you want to go elsewhere in the state, contact the Appalachian Trail Conference in Harpers Ferry, W.Va., at 304-535-6331.
by CNB