Friday, June 17th

Lost Mountain Shelter (486.7 mi) to Old Orchard Shelter (510.2 mi)

Hiking Miles: 23.5

Total Ascent: 4,788.1 ft

Total Descent: 4,118.4 ft

Total Grade: 377.9 ft/mi

Steps: 55,427

Today temperatures were cool however it was very WINDY! I got up and headed out of the shelter at 4:40 am, and collected my food that I stored in the bear box heading down the trail. It was a quiet hike to start (mostly downhill) and at 7:30 am I came across some trail magic at a parking lot (across from a field of ponies) that had been left by Fisherman’s mom.

I had some Cheeto’s and a Coke, and also a package of OREO’S that were left by another trail angel. Right then, I video called Teresa and spoke with her, and also petted a few ponies in the fenced-in pasture across the street.

When we arrived at Grayson Highlands, Stevie (who caught up with me at about 11 am) and I spotted several chill ponies grazing in a field. One of them, a dad pony who was very protective of his wife and little one, rushed over very agitated when I moved in too close for a picture. The scenery at the park was absolutely stunning.

Then suddenly more clouds rolled in and we found ourselves caught in a wild rain and wind storm on a bald, and Stevie stopped to piss in the wind. Lucky for him it didn’t blow back in his direction, but it sprayed quite a ways perpendicular across the open field.

We climbed Mount Rogers (Stevie had climbed it before with a group of friends back in 2014) which is actually the highest point in Virginia! It was a hefty but pleasant climb, and at one point we placed our packs down safely behind some brush. The only down side was there were no views at the top of the mountain. All we saw was just a survey marker on a giant rock surrounded by several trees.

We literally got drenched in the storm and we were sincerely hoping we could stay at the Old Orchard Shelter under cover for the evening, to cap a 23.5 mile day. When we arrived at the shelter, there were a half-dozen hikers there occupying it, but fortunately four of the guys who were hiking together decided to move on to the next shelter as soon as the rain stopped.

We hung out with them and chatted until the four of them departed, then we set up our equipment inside the shelter. There were two women who sat at the edge of the shelter and talked with us while the rain tapered off, then subsequently sat at the picnic table in front of the shelter to have something to eat. Both ladies had set up their tents not too far away. 

One lady, named “Gondorf”, was adamant that “Appalachian” was pronounced with a soft “a” (third “a” in the word), rather than being a long vowel sound. I truthfully didn’t care how it was pronounced, but I offered that I would pronounce it with a soft “a” until I reached Harpers Ferry when thereafter I considered us back in the north country where we pronounced it with a long “a”.

The other lady, whose actual name was Charlotte, commented to me “Hey New Hampshire Dad, your son is a little chatterbox”. I laughed to myself because she was the second person (remember Yues) who used that term, but I responded that he actually is not chatty, but rather makes an effort to engage in rich conversation. Too funny.