A Thousand and One Appalachian Tales
part twelve
Skyland
©Copyright 02002. Fresh Ink. All rights reserved.
It was around mid-afternoon when The Agnostic Monk, Buddy Bear, Bare Bait and The Insufferable Drunken Hog From Hell, said their last goodbyes to Rusty at the Riprap Parking area. Rusty had just dropped them off, their hard times at the hollow officially behind them. Everyone was still a little hung over from The IDHFH's party the night before so it was fortuitous that they did not have very far to go. It was barely a hop, skip and a jump to Blackrock Hut where they stopped for the evening.
The first thing The Monk noticed was that Shenandoah huts were more or less structurally identical to most of the shelters and lean-tos he had passed since Springer. But there the similarities ended. It turned out that each hut had a caretaker and these caretakers took their caretaking seriously. Many huts were lavishly decked out with many if not all of the creature comforts of home. It seemed these caretakers went out of their way to make their huts special, as if it was some sort of competition. Many had lawn chairs and hassocks, some had rugs and mirrors, little dressers, shelves with books, charcoal, food. Each had a distinctive character all it's own, much like the outhouses of Vermont and New Hampshire.
A few other thru-hikers were camped there for the evening, many who did not stop in at Rusty's. Some were disappointed to learn of the concept of slackpacking, their Purist cackle hairs standing on end as if it was a form of cheating. Little did they realize that Warren Doyle, the man who is said to have thru-hiked the entire trail in 72 days could not have done so without a support team racing along side him every step of the way. You don't thru-hike the Appalachian Trail in 72 days without slackpacking.
One prominent aspect of the Trail through the Shenandoah National Park were the deer. It was illegal to hunt them. As a result, not only had they flourished but they had become less fearful of man, to say the least. There were signs everywhere prohibiting the feeding of wildlife, especially the deer, as it led to a good many problems for those who visited the Shenandoah on wheels. Quite often the deer could not distinguish between a potential handout on foot and one from within a car, much to everyone's misfortune. One such tale was of the three legged deer who lost it's leg failing to understand such subtle differences.
Another aspect of the Shenandoah involved an altogether smarter animal, the raccoon. It seemed these rascally creatures had a penchant to rummage through the trash left behind by others, even when special trash receptacles were designed to prevent this. The typical trash container found in most rest stops and parking areas consisted of a special door much like a mailbox, which would seal off the rest of the container when the door was opened. They were specifically designed to stop the raccoons. But they did not stop them. The raccoons would climb in, shut the door on themselves and drop down to the goodies below.
A third and far more ominous aspect of the Park was the gypsy moth caterpillar devastation which lay ahead. First found in the Shenandoah in 1983-84, the moth quickly spread throughout the park producing intense areas of defoliation. Feeding during the months of April, May and June, the gypsy moth caterpillar would strip a tree of all it's leaves, leaving behind a dead lifeless husk in its wake.
Besides a competition in home decoration, the Shenandoah hut caretakers were also fond of providing cookouts for the thru-hikers. Many staying at Blackrock Hut that evening were privy to one such feast held there earlier in the day. Thru-hikers it seemed were as clockwork as a Salmon Migration and many of these huts saw several northbounders a day. Since it was thru-hiker season, these Caretakers went out of their way to show support with lavish cookouts waiting at huts along the way. Many thanks to the caretakers of the huts throughout the Shenandoah!
In the Trail Register, Pablo, Mom and entourage (Zero, Sandbaggers and Bushpigs) were gaining momentum. They discussed their plans to head to Washington DC for the Fourth of July. Pablo had mentioned this to The Monk on June 23rd, back at Rusty's. He had extended an invite to him, but The Monk was now two to three days behind them and it seemed unlikely he could catch up. Still, it was a pleasure to read their tales. He wished someone could gather together all the Trail Registers along the way and publish them.
The next morning, after an early no coffee breakfast, The Monk began a short ascent up and around Blackrock(3.092 ft). This was a rocky, open view with altogether too much view of Skyline Drive. Indeed, much of the day was dogged by repeated crossings. This did not lend itself well to the wilderness experience. Still, there were some marvelous views along the way of Rockytop, Rocky Mtn, and Rocky Mount. He sensed a theme there. One could gather that the area was, well, rocky. Indeed, he would discover it was similar in many ways to The White Mountains of New Hampshire.
After passing the Dundo Group Campground and Loft Mountain Campground, The Monk reached Pinefield Hut right around lunch time. There he ran into a whole herd of thru-hikers congealed like the bottom of a grease pit. They were ready for a cookout. The caretaker had a large Propane Grill and was grilling up burgers and hotdogs for everyone. There was fresh corn on the cob, potato salad, coleslaw, chips, soda - the works!
There were also quite a few thru-hikers there, to say the least. Where they all came from The Monk couldn't say. He hadn't seen that many congealed at a shelter since leaving Hot Springs. He could only conclude that they had a natural radar for food.
After staying for a burger and some potato salad, he moved on. He continued to wonder how it was that these thru-hikers were thru-hiking as, for many, that was the last he'd ever see of them. Nevertheless, he did recognize quite a few from Damascus.
He passed Simmons Gap, Powell Gap, and Smith Roach Gap before reaching Hightop Hut for the evening. Mr. Rogers was already there. Buddy Bear and Bare Bait arrived shortly before dusk. It had been a long day for all.
June 30th began with a brisk ascent up Hightop Mtn (3,587 ft) before a steep descent led to Swift Run Gap. After crossing US 33, the Trail somehow managed to avoid crossing Skyline Drive again for most of the day. Instead, it followed an old road over Saddleback Mtn (3,296 ft), just west of the westernmost peak.
After crossing a fire road, the Trail again began to ascend, this time a long gentle climb up Baldface Mtn (3,600 ft). From there, it descended steeply to the locked Pocosin Cabin. Pocosin was an Indian word originally meaning dismal but now it usually means swamp.
After crossing yet another fire road the Trail pulled in close to Skyline Drive for the next mile and a half. It was so close, it was practically a road walk.
The Monk had been walking most of the morning with Mr. Rogers, Buddy Bear and Bare Bait. It was apparent they were not too enthralled by the close proximity of Skyline Drive either. Nevertheless, the four pushed on to the Lewis Mountain Campground. There, somehow, they ran into Crüzer, aka Lee Collyer. He easily persuaded them to join him and his brother Ron at Big Meadows for the evening. Buddy Bear scrutinized his maps. Except for Hazeltop, it looked like the Trail followed closely along Skyline Drive to Big Meadows most of the way. That, and the lure of cold beer compelled them to accept his offer. Besides, the day was cooking up nicely and they were becoming roasted marshmallows.
Since Crüzer's car was too small to grab everybody at once, he grabbed The Monk and everyone's packs for the first load and headed off to Big Meadows. He dropped off packs and Monk, then went back for the others. The Monk took this opportunity for a power nap. When they returned, he awoke refreshed, rejuvenated, and ready for a serious slackpack. When the topic of conversation naturally turned to talk of a beer run, he hitched along and was dropped off back at Lewis Mountain. Buddy Bear at the last instant decided to join him.
At the junction of Bearfence Loop Trail, they opted to follow blue blazes to outstanding views. It was only a few feet longer than the white blazed trail and it quickly rejoined the AT after a remarkable rock scramble. They descended gradually to Bootens Gap before ascending to the wooded summit of Hazeltop Mtn (3,812 ft). Another long gentle descent brought them to Skyline Drive at Milam Gap. They stopped and cameled up at Lewis Spring. This was perhaps the finest spring on the Trail, an enclosed and protected source, cold and fresh. Next they stumbled out to Blackrock Viewpoint for a spell. They were afforded excellent views of Massanutten Mtn and the Alleghenies beyond. They marveled at the speed with which they could slackpack. Without packs, they could probably have finished the Trail a month early!
They passed along the bottom of Blackrock Cliffs before eventually reaching a small rocky outcropping called Monkey Head. Barely a few feet farther was an unmarked trail which led to Ron and Lee's campsite. Everyone else was there. Crüser had deliberately chosen a site closest to the Trail so he could catch thru-hikers as they passed by. Buddy Bear and The Monk mentioned Monkey Head. Mr. Rogers took this as his cue to pop them both a fresh bottle of beer and together the six relocated to the Monkey Head for fine afternoon vistas.
The next day a fresh blue sky greeted them. Ron and Lee made coffee over which they traded addresses and goodbyes. Then, the call of Katahdin beckoned and they were gone. It was July first.
The Monk was excited. He looked at the Philosopher's Guide as a kind of to-do list and coming up tomorrow was Mountainberry Milkshakes at Elkswallow Gap. Zero had often joked how he would put a soda machine at every summit but for The Monk, a Mountainberry Milkshake sounded absolutely ideal.
He quickly pushed on ahead, looking to kick up some dust. He blew past a side trail to the Fishers Gap Parking Overlook and crossed an old fire road. The day was warming up nicely and he wanted to stay ahead of the heatwave.
"General Desription: Most of the Blue Ridge in this area was at one time covered by a series of lava flows. Today this lava, in its present form of greenstone, is the rock seen in the various rock outcrops along Skyline Drive and along the Appalachian Trail in this section. On the western side of the ridge, where the slope is very steep, the old layers of lava show as a series of vertical cliffs, one above another. The route of the AT below Crescent Rocks, and along Hawksbill and Franklin Cliffs, follows these shelves from one level to another, thus affording a very rugged and photogenic section of the Trail."Appalachian Trail Guide to The Shenandoah National Park, 1999 Twelfth Edition, Pg 141
The guide book also mentioned that these lava beds were laid down in layers of about 100 to 250 ft thick, then later tilted almost a full 90 degrees. But it didn't mention what could have caused such a massive upheaval. It seemed nothing short of a cataclysm would do but The Monk was not a geologist. He did know from his readings, however, that an Archeologist named Zecharia Sitchen told a story of another planet named Tiamat which once orbited the sun where the asteroid belt is today. This planet, according to his translation of stone tablets dating back to the dawn of man, was torn asunder when a moon from the "twelfth planet" Nibiru, knocked Tiamat from it's orbit to where the Earth is today.
He did not know if such a story were true or just a myth. But he wondered, was there any other explanation for how these enormous walls of lava had been turned completely on their sides? He pondered a while longer at Franklin Cliffs then continued on. He passed a side trail which led to Rock Spring Cabin but did not stop. Instead he pressed forward noticing many bright red salamanders along the way. As he continued on he entered the second tier of cliffs along which the Trail ran like classic sidewinders. Only there, it was a bit more dramatic. To his right the base of a wall sprang up sharply, forming the dramatic features of the bottom of Hawksbill Cliffs. To his left the valley fell steeply away leaving only a narrow corridor between the two. It had a surreal quality which could only be fully appreciated after about 800 miles.
So there he was, hiking along a narrow, rocky, walkway beneath Hawksbill Cliffs, when all of a sudden he heard a loud scream and/or something go 'eek!' At that exact moment a large twisted root he was about to step on suddenly flew three feet up into the air and five feet ahead. When it landed, it landed as one pissed off rattlesnake. It sat in a menacing coil in the center of a narrow section of the Trail and said, rather convincingly, none shall pass! It hissed and shook it's rattle like nobody's business.
Well, The Monk instantly felt terrible. The snake had every right to be angry, he had almost stepped on it! In fact he was quite surprised that he didn't - he had never seen a snake do anything like that before. He never would have thought it possible and stood there agog. He suspected a few laws of Physics had just been violated.
The snake glared back at him angrily. It sat on a section of trail barely three feet wide. It would not let him pass and there was no way to go around. What was he to do?
The first thing he did was apologize. He felt truly sorry for having disturbed the snake. He explained that he meant no harm then told the snake his situation, he had to continue north and it was blocking his way. He asked not to be bit when he passed by, then he picked up a big five foot stick. He explained to the snake that he was merely going to use this so that if it should decide it wanted to strike something, this would be ok. He edged the farther end towards the coiled reptile, then carefully approached the snake. Slowly, he edged around. The Monk felt that although the snake was still upset, it had accepted his apology. It watched closely as he passed within mere inches but did nothing. On the other side, The Monk tossed the stick aside and once again apologized to the snake. He promised to be more vigilant in the future. Then, he headed off, amazed that he had not been bit.
From Hawksbill, he passed under the cliffs of Crescent Rock then followed the cliffs along the west side of Pollock Knob. This led to a coral fence and an area commonly known as Skyland. Skyland was a full featured Resort including Amphitheater, Conference Hall, horse stables, lodge, restaurant, tap room, gift shop and no camping.
Skyland was considered by it's founder, George Freeman Pollock, to be the "heart of the Shenandoah National Park." This could perhaps be deduced by the subtitle of his book on the subject, Skyland: The Heart of the Shenandoah National Park. To more than a few, Mr. Pollock was seen as a man who made many misrepresenting statements about the "mountain people" as a means for culling them from the area. Apparently, one subject of Skyland: The Heart of the Shenandoah National Park, was about "mountain people" whom Mr. Pollock characterized as squatters. It seems that, at the time, owners of more than 90% of the parkland did not live on it but had homes in the surrounding valleys. Instead, many had tenant families living on their lands. These families often went back several generations. As a result, some refused to leave when asked to do so. Some successfully challenged the titled land owners via certain legal rights afforded to those who claimed status as squatters. It was the case that a squatter could earn legal ownership from the courts if "beneficial use of the land was demonstrated and the true owner was distant and negligent in visiting and using his land." [Appalachian Trail Guide to the Shenandoah National Park, page 70]
All this didn't sit well with Mr. Pollock who, history shows, often fabricated stories to gather support for his efforts to remove over 400 families from the Shenandoah. One such story was of a group of mountaineers who lived in Nicholson Hollow. They were reputed to be so mean they were considered to be "a law unto themselves" and even the sheriffs were afraid to go there. It turned out, however, that this was a story Pollock used simply to rent more cabins at Skyland. In fact, Aaron Nicholson and his clan owned the deeds to their land long before George Pollock was even born!
"George Pollock was an ambitious man who wrote his memoirs and died before they were published. He was a tenacious, arrogant and self serving businessman. He wasn't factual in his statement's about the mountain people. He called them squatter's when in fact most of them held deeds to their property. Deeds dating back to the early 1800's long before Pollock was born. However, it was to his advantage to portray them as squatters, illiterate, immoral and backward to stir up sentiment against them and thereby get complete approval to establish the Park and displace all these hundreds of people who had lived in the area since the early 1800's. He is solely responsible for the removals and disruptions of over 400 families. How do I know this? I am a descendent of one of those families - one of those so called 'squatters'..."-Diane Nicholson Smith
From an Amazon.com review of
Skyland : The Heart of the Shenandoah National Park
The Trail crossed several roads then passed by a large green water tank, and over the right shoulder of Stony Man Mountain. This was the highest point of the AT in the Shenandoah National Park, at 3,837 ft. From there the Trail followed along the cliffs then descended by switchbacks to again parallel Skyline Drive. It clung to the steep, western slope before ascending to the Pinnacle (3,730 ft). It then descending to US 211 and Thronton Gap. The Monk continued on to Pass Mountain Hut, where he could go no further.
Pass Mountain Hut was crowded. There was room but it would be tight, akin to the days leaving Trail towns in Georgia. Several tourists offered to move but The Monk said no. Instead, he opted to sleep out on the lawn, in a field a short distance from the hut. He wanted to hang out with the deer. Indeed, in the dawn's morning light, he was awakened by one who gave him a friendly lick. He was surrounded by maybe a dozen deer who slowly sauntered off as he began to wake up. Using a deer's kiss for motivational management, he quickly arose and made coffee. He packed up leisurely even though he was anxious to get going. Today was the day he'd reach Elkswallow and the fabled Mountainberry Milkshakes! However, Elkswallow was only 7.4 miles away and he didn't want to get there too early. There was a crispness to the air, dew still clung to the grass, but it was warming up quick and in a few hours a milkshake would rock his boat! He chatted briefly with the other fine folks at Pass Mountain Hut then strapped himself in and headed to Elkswallow. Hell Hike
A short jog to the summit of Pass Mountain (3,052 ft) got his juices flowing nicely. From there he descended to Beahms Gap and crossed Skyline Drive. He cameled up at the next spring then sped along to the Elkswallow picnic area for the remainder of the afternoon. Actually he only intended to stay long enough for a milkshake but he was early and had to wait. Then, Mr. Rogers and Buddy Bear showed up, followed by Bare Bait. There was a sense among the crowd that this was it. They were passing yet another milestone. In another day or two the Shenandoah would be behind them.
Looking at his map, Buddy Bear determined it was an even three miles upward to Hoagback. Followed by a long gradual descent to Gravel Springs Hut, they all agreed it was a cakewalk. To celebrate, they managed to scare up a 12 pack of beer and loafed around at Elkswallow for part of the early afternoon.
They managed to stumble in to Gravel Springs Hut around 10:30 pm. This was rather late for a small group who weren't expecting any more late arrivals. Apparently they weren't the only ones who showed up after dark. After leaving Elkswallow, they crossed several roads and Skyline Drive more than once before ascending the fourth (3,440 ft) of four peaks of Hoagback Mountain. Next came the third peak (3,440 ft), then the second (3,475 ft). There they stayed for the remainder of the afternoon. They watched a spectacular sunset then in the remaining light passed over the first peak (3,420 ft) and hiked on to Gravel Springs for the night. A few others had caught the sunset from the first peak and had only themselves arrived under an hour ago. The Monk quietly unpacked and went to bed.
The next day, he blew out of there on rockets. He was out the door before some of the others had even awoken. This was to be his last day in the Shenandoah and he wanted to stay ahead of the herd. A quick ascent up South Marshall (3,212, ft) pumped fresh endorphins into his cardio-vascular system. He rode the rush over North Marshall (3,368 ft) before stopping to camel up at Hogwallow Spring. He could feel it. He was leaving. Each new ascent was less than the last.
After crossing Skyline Drive at Hogwallow Flats, the Trail began a steep ascent up Compton Mountain (2,909 ft). He fired up the mountain undaunted. Then, quite unexpectedly, he turned abruptly left at a switchback which turned abruptly right. He popped out onto a rocky ledge just in time to catch the rarest of sights, a bobcat! It bolted in a flash but for a split second it was right in front of him, sunning itself. He apologized to the bobcat who was long gone. Nevertheless, he quickly left, bouncing all the way down to Compton Gap. He had seen a bobcat! That was like grand prize for the Shenandoah! It was certainly a real treat.
From Compton Gap to the rest of the way out, it was like the flood gates had been opened. All the animals had gathered there for a convention. He passed dozens of deer and a turkey so huge, in it's efforts to fly away, it became entangled in the trees! It was the biggest bird he'd every seen. One section of the Trail had tall shrubbery on either side and at one point a giant deer with a rack on it the size of an Elk's jumped from one side of the shrubbery, over the Trail, to the other side of the shrubbery and disappeared. If he'd have blinked he'd have missed it. The Monk took this as a blessing from the great spirit of the forest and gave thanks. Then, the Shenandoah were behind him. He flew passed the Tom Floyd Wayside as if on wings then crossed US 522 and continued on.
For the next 2.3 miles he passed through a 4,000-acre wildlife preserve. This belonged to the National Zoological Park, an agency of the Smithsonian Institution. He crossed several old roads before reaching VA 55. His next food drop wasn't until Harpers Ferry so he skipped a visit to Linden and pressed on.
He reached Manassas Gap Shelter a little after 2 pm and stopped for lunch. It was quiet as he ate peanut butter sandwiches and read the Register. Then, suddenly, he heard a rustling in the bushes several feet away. He sat frozen as the sound drew closer and approached a nearby log. One furry paw with sharp black claws and opposable thumbs, then another, grabbed the log and pulled up a strange looking creature he had never seen before. It sat peering at him with dark beady eyes from behind the log. He instantly thought it looked like a Koala Bear. It had a long black nose, cute rounded ears, a full set of sharp white teeth and black sinister pools for eyes. For a long instant they stared at each other. It looked at The Monk as if sizing him up. It bared it's large pointy teeth as if to say it didn't think he sized up much. He got the clear impression that it thought it could take him but for whatever reason decided not to. Then, in a blur, it fled away. Whatever it was, it left him speechless. Later, telling others about his encounter, they suggested the creature was either a Sloth or a Lemur. However, neither the Koala nor the Sloth were indigenous to the area so that left a Lemur as the prime suspect.
The Monk recalled that he was not too far from the 4,000-acre Conservation and Research Center of the National Zoological Park. Perhaps it was a Koala and it had escaped? He did not know. All he could do was curse that he didn't get whatever it was on film.
The silence returned and the creature didn't. As he sat there alone, he grew restless and decided to pull a Maineak and hike on. It was only 14.6 more miles to the next shelter, he could do it! Besides, he suspected Buddy Bear and Bare Bait might spend the night at Tom Floyd Wayside. This meant that, if he spent the night at Manassas Gap, he'd probably spend it alone. Perhaps that creature was just waiting for night fall? Visions of a cute Koala ripping him to shreds suddenly gave him the gusto to get going. He scrawled a quick entry into the Register about the creature, then packed up and shipped out.
He didn't realize how late it was. He quickly passed through the Richard Thompson Wildlife Management Area in the last few hours of the day. Back in 01988 there was no Dicks Dome Shelter (nor Myron Glaser Cabin for that matter) so it never occurred to him to stop there. Instead he pressed on pausing briefly at the trail junction to Sky Meadows State Park. He did not have maps but his data book told him it was 1 mi east to camping and he would have to pay for it. Being nearly broke, he continued to Ashby Gap and US 50. It was dark, maybe sometime after 10 pm.
He hurried across the road and hobbled into the woods as fast as he could. But he was beat. It was only another 3.5 miles to Rod Hollow Shelter but it might as well have been three hundred! It was now completely dark and he stumbled on in the woods with his little pen light. It was proving to be woefully inadequate even before the batteries died. He continued along in total darkness not sure how much farther he had to go. Finally he could go no farther. He stopped and sat down. It was just too dark. Besides, he estimated it had to be close to midnight. It was far too late to be showing up at a shelter anyway. He pulled out his sleeping bag and fell asleep right there on the Trail.
©Copyright 02002. Fresh Ink. All rights reserved.
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