On to the James River

On July 24-26, 2009, Rhino & Bullfrog continued their journey south on the AT, picking up from where they left off in August 2008 at Hog Camp Gap. But just getting there was a chore as we began to fully be impressed by how far south we have hiked in total.

After meeting up at Gander Mt. for some last minute supplies, we hopped on 81 South, settling in for a couple of hours. We were glad that the traffic in the Northbound lanes was not in our -- or that we were not bound for the north -- as that traffic was stopped or slowed for some 40 miles as the result of three separate accidents. Nevertheless, before our exit, I was beginning to worry about my car which is really showing the signs of its age ... and that little leak in the radiator. Oh, and the CV joints badly in need of replacing.

After stopping in Lexington for some grub and some replenishment of my precious automobile fluids, we headed back over the Interstate and away from cell phone coverage. Passing through Buena Vista, we went past Glasgow and followed the James River east and found the AT footbridge and parked my poor little car there. I hopped into the successor to Gray Ghost and we went back through Buena Vista before heading back to east again into the wilderness and up the Forest Service road that is the only means to Hog Camp Gap.

As we picked up our third leg of the Central Virginia section of the AT, we weren't sure how many hikers we'd see on this trip. Not only was it a miserably hot time of the year, it was too late in the season to see Sobo through hikers. Plus, any Nobo hikers would be way too late to have an honest chance of making it to Mt. Katahdin before it was life-threatening. Nonetheless, the first hiker we came upon, about an hour and a half into our hike turned out to be just that, a Northbound purportedly through-hiker. Yet, it was apparent that this hiker knew that he was done. Never was defeat so palpable to me in the body language (of an adult) than this hiker, who was sitting with his pack off, leaning against a rock. It looked like he had given up even on death. I didn't know how crazy he was, so we didn't dally long by him, but wished him luck and continued on our way.

We had a good, hot time; climbed some nice hills; went around the Lynchburg Reservoir; discovered the remains of a lost civilization, a sort-of self-sufficient commune that was tucked up in a valley, and provided a haven for newly-freed slaves at the end of the 19th Century. We crossed more of these little wooden foot bridges than ever before, by the time we got to the James River. We were exhausted but triumphant once again, and relaxed a little soaking our feet in the River before we headed back to civilization. Another 27.5 miles under our belts. But some of those mountains south of the James looked rather menacing.