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July
2, 1983 Saturday (1293.3 mtg) From
Gonzo!s Appalachian Trail journal
Today
is a special day. It is the day that I will rendezvous with my parents
somewhere along the Blue Ridge Parkway. They were going to drive
all day to spend the following day with me, then drive back to Illinois
on Monday in order to be back at work on Tuesday. They must really
love me to come all that way to spend such a short period of time
in my presence, especially when I exuded the odor of almost two
months on the trail, and sported a scraggly, long, bushy beard.
I gave mom an idea of where I thought I would meet them the last
time I talked with her - two days ago. I arranged to be waiting
at one of the overlooks at a certain mile along the parkway. That
was about the best I could do without pinning me down to a particular
time as well. I noticed the trail in the Shenandoah's had become
very nice. Nicely graded, sometimes four feet wide and practically
paved. Not at all like other sections of the trail where vegetation
encroaches the trail and at times practically hides it from view.
Another thing that is different about the park is the presence of
campgrounds. There are campgrounds for "normal" camping
situated throughout the park. These are places where people in RV's
and some tent campers are congregated in one huge group. While I
passed behind Loft Mountain Campground, I found a camera attachment
that I thought would be a good addition to my camera gear. I picked
it up, but only intended to carry it until I could send it back
to Illinois with my folks. Having covered roughly twelve miles,
I ate my lunch below the building housing a snack bar, and while
eating, a couple of ladies that I had met yesterday dropped by.
Although yesterday I acquired a Fig Newton from them, today all
I received was conversation. But that was OK, I was all set with
food. I drank a soda purchased from the vending machine, and moved
on. The excitement of seeing my parents was building and I did not
want to miss their arrival. I quickened the pace. This morning I
skirted Blackrock summit, climbed over Big Flat Mountain, and Loft
Mountain. This afternoon I went over Weaver Mountain, Flattop Mountain,
and Roundtop Mountain. The biggest climb of the day was from Powell
Gap up to the summit of Hightop Mountain. The change in elevation
was almost two thousand feet, but took three and a half miles to
ascend. I really stepped up the cruise control on this climb and
worked up a big sweat before I reached the spring one tenth of a
mile from the summit. I guzzled some of its refreshing water and
prepared for the final downhill section that would take me to the
meeting spot in Swift Run Gap.
When
I arrived at the parkway I walked down the road a short distance
to Swift Run Overlook where there was a pull-off and accompanying
vista, but no parents waiting for me. I had arrived at 5.00 pm.
Had they already been there? I did not think so. They would not
come all that way and then not have waited for me. I sat there at
the overlook for what seemed an eternity looking at the view and
watching every passing vehicle in hopes it was my ride. Tourists
passing by occasionally stopped, took in the view, and then went
on. Some stayed longer and had picnics. I put on the charm of the
lost soul and managed to net a piece of fried chicken, some nuts,
and a couple of apples from a lady accompanied by a couple of kids.
The sun was beginning to set and still no parents! I watched and
photographed the sunset. It was one of those sunsets that you can
actually stare at without hurting your eyes. The haze of thick humidity
was what allowed this, and also what made me sweat so heavily on
the way up Hightop Mountain.
Just as the light faded to practically no light at all, a
car rolled into the overlook and I could tell it was them. Who
else would pull into an overlook to see a view in the dark? My ride
had arrived! It was good to see Mom and Dad. This time they were
coming to visit, not to pick me up. I felt good about that, and
knew that I could make the entire journey barring any unforeseen
physical injury. It had been a long trip for them, and the last
bit along the parkway over it's twisty, windy road and numerous
pullouts made travel slow. They had kept their eyes open for a hiker
waiting as they passed each one. It was already between eight and
eight-thirty by the time they arrived, so we headed for Harrisonburg
and asked at two motels before getting probably the last room at
the Belle
Mead Motel for $43.46. We ate supper at the restaurant there
at about 10 pm.
Gonzo!
Appalachian Trail Journals ©1983
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