From PATH's Trail Journals

PATH to the Wind River

by Clint Kawanishi

Are we having fun yet?"

That familiar refrain was heard recently in the Wind River Range of Wyoming. This beautiful range of mountains, through which the Continental Divide meanders, is an outdoorsman's dream located about an hour southeast of Jackson Hole, WY, and the Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks.

These mountains harbor clear lakes, troutfilled streams, coyotes, mountain lions, and -- in early September this year -- a few grizzled hikers from PATH: Dave Brunson: Gene "Old Log" Greer; Kevin Mar; Bill "Sweet William" Medlin; and me. And from the Old Dominion Appalachian Trail Club, there was Sally Wassom, Pete Tansell, and Dave Hale.

We reached the signature peaks of the range, the "Cirque of the Towers," wellknown to rock climbers, after an arduous hike over 10,400 foothigh Jackass Pass with equipment, warm clothes and nine days worth of food on our backs. Luckily, the views were more "breathtaking" than the hike over the pass.

After taking a vote, we decided to continue over 11,600foothigh snowy Texas Pass that day. The axiom, "nature provides," rang true that evening. Sweet William Medlin fetched the lake water for us. It needed only boiling to make soup because it was pre-flavored with the essence of fish.

In the drizzly morning, the ODATC contingent and I parted ways with the remaining PATH members who hiked two days to the Big Sandy Trailhead, where we had started. The remainder of the hike was a bland hohum experience of "those damn blue skies," as Gene calls them, and easy bushwhacking through lakestudded sprucefir forests, open plains, and beautiful valleys. The hike ended, as many do, with greasy foods, showers, and beds in Pinedale, WY.

[Editor's Note: This is a highly chopped and condensed version of Clint's very descriptive account of a recent trip to Wyoming. Sorry, Clint!]

An International Experience

So what good are the Internet and the PATH Web site, you say?

On April 26-27, Karen Worthington, Bill Medlin and Clint Kawanishi did a short AT hike at Grayson Highlands with Walter Troost, a Belgian theoretical physicist who specializes in "string theory."

He was an invited scientist at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. An AT American thruhiker friend of his forbade Walter from returning home without hiking the Smoky Mountain National Park. Though Walter was an avid weekend "walker" back in Belgium, he had little experience backpacking. So he searched the Internet for information and for hikers who lived near Chapel Hill.

He first contacted our president, Parthena Martin, by email after finding the PATH Web site on the Internet. A dinner with Parthena and myself shortly after his arrival convinced us that a short "shakedown" first backpack was in order.

Walter turned out to be a well organized, physically fit, fast learner with good balance and a sense of humor. Carrying a borrowed backpack from Clint, a tent from Parthena, and persuaded to hitch things to his pack with belts instead of strings (he is a string theorist), he streaked upward over the rocks with Karen while the two injured fossils slowly wound their way up Wilburn Ridge. Walter was nice enough to wait for us at the top of each rock outcrop.

Though it was completely overcast and hazy, the views were impressive and, except for having the view from our "lunch rock" usurped by an etiquetteless and obnoxious horde of dayhikers from some large East Coast city, we had a wonderful time. There were large numbers of feral ponies about, horses and riders on the horse trails (the most I have ever seen), as well as large groups of day hikers and backpackers on the AT.

Consequently, we decided not to camp at the usual sites but instead, off trail below the rocks. While not as picturesque, the semblance of solitude provided by the site more than compensated for its deficiencies. Walter set up and camped as if he were alone so he could learn the ins and outs of backpacking. PATH members provided brief demonstrations of such things as hanging food bags and filtering water.

Shortly before bed time, the sky cleared, we saw Comet HaleBopp and hopes for a nice tomorrow danced in our dreams. We woke to the dripdrip from dense fog condensing on the trees above our tent. After an "in tent" breakfast, and packing up (although Bill Medlin was desirous of a nap) Clint took a short cut via the old AT back to Massie Gap. The hike back in the muffled silence of a dense fog was short and enjoyable even though the old trail was indistinct in spots.

An undesirable outcome of the hike was the sunburn suffered by Walter and, to a lesser degree, the rest of us on the first day. However, because of the Internet and the PATH Web site, we made a new hiker friend and Walter gained knowledge needed to hike the Smokies. It also gave him a compassionate understanding of what it feels like to be a redneck.

A Pilgrimage to The Priest

By Clint Kawanishi

The burdened pilgrims were grateful for the cooling breeze and dry air. Dusty from the miles of unpaved roads, they had reached the trail at Salt Log Gap in the Appalachian Mountains after what in itself had been a demanding transit.

Apprehensive, tired and standing in the midday sun, expecting it to be hotter, more humid and exhausting, they set off for the day's goal, the Seely-Woodworth shelter. This would be their humble lodging for the night, the source of life-sustaining water and where they would consume their meager sustenance (homemade spaghetti with parmesan).

"Hot" would describe the most memorable events of their trip, but it would not be the weather. "Hot" was the dried meat (Fire Lip smoked "west coast salmon" jerky from Pittsboro, NC) provided by their old guide, Clint Kawanishi. "Hot" also describes the method the guide used to rid pestilence from the face of his fellow pilgrim, James Young (light a Whisperlite stove when the affected has his face over it). "Hot" also describes the brassy music with a strong beat that came from the direction of the tent of pilgrims Tony Roberts and Karen Worthington, who claimed it mysteriously emanated from the woods.

The other two pilgrims, though they had reached the sacred slopes of the Priest, felt excluded from the holy rituals in pilgrim Karen's tent (Taj Mahal III).

Throughout the trip, the pilgrims were blessed with goodness. There were surprisingly few other sojourners, the weather never got unbearable, the nights were cool, and many mountain laurels were still in late bloom.

The failing memory of the old guide, however, was incapable of retrieving reliable data about previous passages through the area. There was no prior information about scenic overlooks like Wolf Rocks. It remembered only Spy Rock and the summit of the Priest, from whence the chilly pilgrims watched god's fiery orb descend for the night.

Lacking details, the old guide suggested hiking "just another mile before lunch" and had no intimation of the rude, unexpected steep ascent just around the next bend. Overall, however, the treading was good, the terrain not overly demanding, and the woods at the higher elevations were undergrown with luxuriant carpets of fresh ferns which Tony coveted. The last morning's hike was a 3,000 foot descent, mostly next to the cool Crabtree Falls cascade.

Even on the blessed Appalachian Trail, however, there are noxious things: the pestilent black flies; the wooly adelgid, an insect that is killing hundreds of Carolina hemlocks; and a thru-hiker whose ego did not permit the presence of others on the trail. A pilgrim assessed him succinctly when he commented "no wonder he's hiking alone."

After a blessed pilgrimage of good fellowship, the last meal, as is befitting of PATH members, was consumed at Pizza Hut.

Pinnacles of Dan Hike Derailed

By David Craft

The March 29 hike to Pinnacles of Dan did not go on as planned because the trails were closed due to power plant maintenance in the area. Instead we went to the Birkhead Wilderness near Asheboro.

I had not been to this area in a number of years. I was amazed at how scenic and rustic the area was only a few miles from downtown Asheboro. We (John Lynam, Jean Frazier, Jeff Cape, and myself) started at the north trailhead just below the Asheboro Airport and hiked into an impromptu campsite littered with beer bottles.

We bypassed them since we could take care of the problem on the way out. After two miles and a nice 300 foot ascent we turned west on to the Robbins Branch Trail. We immediately saw a pink Piedmont Azalea in full bloom, the only one. The redbuds and dogwoods were also in full bloom with the trees just coming out. We followed the trail to junction with the Hannahs Branch Trail (just in from the parking lot that many use as an access) and up to Birkhead Trail again. After two miles or so we came back to where we were before and hiked the two miles back to the car. We picked up the beer bottles and other debris and deposited in a dumpster up the road.

We found out that Randolph Co. is still dry (you wouldn't know it from the litter) and our thirst would have to wait.

We hope our new prospective members, Jeff and Jean, will soon join us and all hope we can hit the trail again, be it here or on the AT.

Cook's Plan Left A Bitter Taste

By Clint Kawanishi

An Easter Weekend hike of the McAfee Knob -Tinker Cliffs-Tinker ridge section of the AT was enjoyed by a group of PATH members. The wonderful sense of spiritual well being engendered in Tony Roberts, Karen Worthington, Dave Branson, Bill Medlin, and Clint Kawanishi by the outstanding views of McAfee Knob, Tinker Cliffs, Tinker Ridge, and comet Hale-Bopp, was, however, nearly catastrophically destroyed by the recommendation of trip cook and gourmand, Gene Greer.

Luckily, a last minute, transient attack of sensibility dissuaded our connoisseur from leading us to Chuck E Cheese's in Roanoke, VA, for our hike-ending meal.

The excitement and enjoyment of the trip were accentuated by the comraderie, good food, flora (spring flush of leaves and flowers, briars), and fauna (Boy Scout troop, "Old Log Greer" and his faithful companion slumbering in the forest, hordes of biting flies, copperheads, and deer that stalked us all night long).

We each gained valuable insights on this trip. Tony learned the efficacy of prehydration expounded by the hiking sage Bill Medlin. Bill in turn established that his metal parts functioned as were intended, and that ostriches can teach us a thing or two when face-biting flies are abundant. Karen learned not to fear the man-eating deer of Lambert's Meadow. Dave gained confidence in the knowledge that he could snore with the masters. Clint found that old age does nothing for heat tolerance. "Old Log" deduced that the "higher plane" is not far away when you lead hungry hikers astray. The experience was insightful, enjoyable, and has greatly impacted our philosophies of life.

Editor's note: We received this nice passage from Brent Forbis’s account of a weekend loop on McAfee Knob and North Mountain, near Roanoke, VA.

From the ridgeline you look down into other peoples lives as if you are removed from that world. As I descend I gradually return with each step and the roar of the cars at the road brings me quickly back. I am able to retreat after a short walk and pick up the trail again. My trip is coming to a close and the end of the day nears as I close on the parking area where I started.

I think how I hate to get back into that car again and immediately begin planning for another trip. It has been a good one and it is my first to Mac’s knob. The parking area is vacant except for my car and one other. I unload my gear think of all the wonderful views these mountains have to offer, all we have to do is just get out there and enjoy them.

Editor's note: We received this by email from Don Childrey. Who says there's no poetry on the Internet?

17 degrees and sleeping out under the stars after another wilderness church service. We may have something worth pursuing there.

Semi-warm and sunny on the lee-ward side of the mtns, cold and windy on the others. Views you don’t get from the hiking trails.

Rhodo whacking and stream crossings. No wading.

Hibernating bats in a hand dug mine shaft. Betsy N but NOT Betsy T.

Cold beer and a cool sunset. Dinner by moonlight.

Lounging breakfast. and a stroll thru the woods.

Dinner at Don’s. Novicki didn’t take her gloves off til halfway thru the meal. I hope she’s thawed out by now.

Next year?