Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, August 1, 1993 TAG: 9307300427
SECTION: DISCOVER PAGE: D-10 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: BILL COCHRAN
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
He had left the Appalachian Trail atop Catawba Mountain and hiked down to the Catawba Mercantile Co. - a country store with a corporate name - only to discover it is closed on Sundays. No big orange, no PayDay. Not this time.
Now he was on the way back up the mountain, bearing beads of sweat in his beard and a "I could use a friend" look, yet too proud to put his thumb out. I stopped my pickup and said, "I'm Bill."
No need for last names in these circumstances. Hand shakes and smiles and open doors are what count.
He was from Missouri, he told me. He had started his trip weeks earlier at Springer Mountain, Ga. He expressed no displeasure about not being able to fill his pack and belly at the store. After all, what is a couple mile's detour when you are hiking more than 2,000?
Long distance hiking doesn't just hone your body, but your attitude as well. You learn to accept rather than complain, a fact that keeps a noble journey from becoming a nutty one.
I told him there was another store on down the road and I could drop him off there, but he said he had enough M&Ms and peanut butter to get to Daleville. So I let him out atop the mountain, informing him there were some magnificent views to feast on just up ahead.
He thanked me, then was gone, like all thru-hikers, appearing and disappearing as quickly and mysteriously as a wisp of fog. When I pulled off I thought I heard him singing:
"I sing because I'm happy, I sing because I'm free. For His eye is on the sparrow, And I know He watches me."
The Appalachian Trail passes through some of the best scenery of 14 states on its way from Georgia to Maine. Virginia claims a quarter of this national treasure, more than 500 miles. No where is it more delightful than from Virginia 311 north of Catawba south to U.S. 220 near Daleville. In our backyard!
Here is a 28-mile stretch along a green corridor of rocky ridges and pastoral valleys that can be decribed as a thin, elongated national park, all within a 30-minute drive or so of most Roanoke Valley residents.
I doubt anyone who lives here fully comprehends the magnitude of this blessing, but I hope the guy from Missouri could see a good bit of pride reflected in my eyes, because it was there. Pride of scenery and solitude; pride of what has been accomplished, most of it through the grit of volunteers; pride that people come from Missouri, and beyond, to hike our trail; pride that we have preserved it for time to come; pride that these mountains are part of what we call home.
I remember meeting a thru-hiking family on McAfee Knob and hearing their shouts of awe. They had climbed out on that 500-million-year-old upheaval of Silurian sandstone and looked across Catawba Valley into Craig County, a God-like visual gulp that normally you'd have to be encased in the steel and glass of an airplane to savor.
"This is the best yet," one said.
When you stand at the north end of what I call the Catawba Corridor of the AT, you are on a towering, stone monolith that looks like . . . well, it is aptly named Dragon's Tooth. We can thank Tom Campbell for that, a member of the Roanoke Appalachian Trail club from 1947 to his death in 1986. Tom thought it merited something more poetic than Buzzard Rock, so he renamed it. The mountain here is so rocky and rugged that the trees clinging to it are gnarled, our very own little Katahdin.
On south is Sawtooth Ridge, a narrow and irregular stretch of Catawba Mountain that looks like the upturned blade of a handsaw. The trail faithfully traces its peaks and valleys, affording glances to Fort Lewis Mountain where a remote, 7,000-acre chunk of bear, deer and turkey habitat marches up the mountainside. Owned by the state and called the Havens Wildlife Management Area, it may be the best kept secret in the region.
Then comes 3,197-foot McAfee Knob, where some days as many as 200 hikers tread, and after that Tinker Cliffs, with views that rival those of McAfee, and more cubic feet of unshared space.
After that is Hay Rock, along the rocky crest of Tinker Mountain, another upheaval of the Paleozoic era. The deep valley below offers enchanting views of Carvins Cove, which is far enough away to assume an artistic crescent shape, yet near enough for you to watch the mountain breezes weave a variety of patterns on its blue surface, and maybe hear the cry of a loon.
All this, our very own mountains, our old friends.
"I sing because I'm happy."
by CNB