No cake walk for the birthday boy

Thursday June 11, 2026

It’s a sweltering day on the Blue Ridge Parkway and I literally have a mountain to climb. Will I finish my hike in time to treat myself to a birthday present in the city?

Downhill sweating

tToday is my birthday and I will spend all day hiking the trail. I remain optimistic that I can put in some extra miles today and set myself up for an early finish on Saturday. The day has already started strong. Any day that I can get going before 8:00 am will be a good day. Once again, despite the forecast, it didn’t rain overnight, so setting up camp was a breeze. My plan to walk to camp with only 1 liter of water worked. I ate a lot for dinner, a few sips during the night, breakfast and a cup or two to get me started on the trail. I will definitely need to fuel up at 3 miles at Jennings Creek, but that was always the plan.

There is a slight chance of rain around 6:00 pm today, but the most concerning section of the weather report is the temperature, which starts at nine. Although I probably could have guessed it when I was sweating during my first downhill stretch of the day.

The rare day of the 4 climbs

Speaking of worrying numbers, today seems to be a day of four promotions. I say it appears to be because you could argue that there are two rises, one small and one large. Close inspection of the big climb reveals some small breaks that separate the climb into 3 climbs of about 1000 feet each. It may be a bit complicated, but where would the content of this blog come from if I wasn’t constantly splitting hairs?

So although the current mileage is less than 19, it will still be a difficult challenge. However, there is a carrot at the end of the stick. If I have good weather, I might do another 2 mile round trip hike along the James River to get some miles in on my Friday/Saturday hike. Maybe you still have time to go to Glasgow to celebrate a birthday present or two.

pestilent pests

The day really started at Jennings Creek. Although it was before 9:00 am, the day was already as hot as most days by noon. That’s why I decided to filter two liters and take one with me. The stream water had a strong mineral taste but was satisfying. I put it in gear and went up the first hill. Energy-wise I felt great. Some days I just don’t feel like my legs like being on the road. It could be related to the weight of the backpack, I’ll have to start paying attention to that. I was definitely feeling the lack of extra weight in my backpack. My legs voluntarily dug into the ground to propel me down the path. I was in a good rhythm. The only pestilence was the pests: mosquitoes, mosquitoes. They insisted on buzzing around my head, performing flybys near my ears. I could protect my head by putting up the hood, although that meant I would stay warmer. Today I could live with that though, I had already sweated through my gear and it smelled like a fermented sock. These socks would go straight into the kitty litter when I was done walking.

Mixed bag

After the first climb, I descended about 1000 feet to the Bryant Ridge Shelter. All that hard work and literal sweat I just put in disappeared in just a mile or two. My progress was mixed. I was at mile 7 of 18 or so. But I started the day at an elevation of 2000 feet. I had made some serious climbing, but the two descending sessions meant I was now below 1,300 feet. Over the next nine miles it would reach over 4,200 feet. So yes, it was a mixture containing an apple and an anchor.

The next two increases were almost consecutive. The gap between them was about the width of the trail. The grade was over 600 feet per mile. Anything over 500 makes a hiker cringe and AT is never a consistent rating. There will be some steep sections and some easier ones. I can handle the lighter ones, but the steep ones may be too steep for my trekking poles to be of much use. The work falls directly on my quads. My legs will be so heavy that they will disconnect from my brain and occasionally refuse to rise as high as they are told. The result is a clumsy stumble in which my foot misses the obstacle and I continue moving down the path. The burst of energy that courses through every muscle in my body during one of these events immediately evaporates once I stabilize. I stop and realize fully that I have to reset and overcome what seems like a colossal amount of inertia.

Pop

Somehow I do it, leaving climbs two and three behind. My hoodie is soaked with sweat. I’m glad it doesn’t show on the fabric. I give myself the pleasure of stopping to drink water in a stream. I take out a liter of water and hang the filter. I carry my pack to a rock just above the trail so I can sit and take the weight off my feet for a few moments. When I can no longer stand watching the water slowly drip into my water bottle, I pick up the filter and move to bring it closer to my sitting rock. Suddenly there is a pop. My water bottle decides it no longer wants to stay connected to the filter. Filtered water gushes out of the bottle before you can return it upright.

My frustration grows, the wet bottle has picked up a handful of debris from the floor. My drinking water bottle is covered in dirt and I just lost about a minute of filtered water. I brush the leaves and dirt from the bottle and replace the filter. The squeeze bag takes the brunt of my frustration, I squeeze it as hard as I can. The water goes into my bottle; I honestly didn’t know the filter could work so fast. Why can’t it leak as quickly when it’s just hanging from a tree? I keep punishing my juicer for something that is definitely 100% my fault. I have a clean water bottle surprisingly quickly. I pour it into my stomach for storage and put on my backpack.

airplane mode

I have about two miles of gentle trail before the last big climb to the top of Apple Orchard Mountain. I check FarOut several times to check the distance to the start of the climb, the distance to the summit, the elevation gain, and how far it is to the van after the summit. It’s not a long climb at less than 2 miles, and there’s just over two more miles to go to reach the truck. I’m close, my time looks great, it will still be great if I keep moving. But when I get to the bottom of the climb I need a break. I take a seat on the quiet gravel road and spoon peanuts and sunflower seeds into my mouth. A little salty energy to comfort me before climb number four.

I’m less myself than I’ve been all day. It’s after 3:00 pm, I’ve been sweating for 7 hours straight. My brain is cutting out tasks it considers strange like a samurai. My memory is registering the smallest details. Creative thinking is on hold. I hardly think about where I’m stepping so I can focus more on the act of continuing to take steps until I no longer need to. It is a modified form of tunnel vision: trail vision. Or maybe it’s my brain’s version of airplane mode.

It’s effective, but it makes me a little barbaric. Every misstep or slight snag on a rock or root elicits a guttural gasp followed by incoherent curses. Each time, a pang of satisfaction invades my brain. «That will show that the root will not appear before my foot!»

Turning the corner

The rise continues for what seems like much longer than it should. I can see more grass lining the trail, a sure sign that I’m getting closer. I think the trail should level out as I get closer to the summit, but it doesn’t. There are more climbs, some steeper than I think they should be.

I finally turn the corner I need to. Above the trail is an opening in the trees, a meadow, and there, at the other end, is the big white vanilla ice cream cone that somehow manages to guide the planes as well. I keep my momentum moving forward until I finally take a step down. Now I can give gravity the function of moving forward. My trekking poles opportunistically transition from propulsion devices to anti-gravity devices. After pushing myself up the mountain, I now literally need to lean on them to keep from rolling down the mountain. The feature slowly returns to the inactive areas of my brain, although I can take them or leave them at this point.

I finally pass the “parking” sign next to the trail and take my third photo from the Thunder Ridge overlook. It’s my clearest image yet. I’d stay and admire it longer, but I want to admire the view of my backpack sitting in the passenger footwell of my truck and the glow of the air conditioning controls.

Crossing under the Guillotine can make the hiker a little nervous.

The clearest view yet from the Thunder Ridge lookout.

The clearest view yet from the Thunder Ridge lookout.

Hood up, head down

The drive along the Blue Ridge Parkway is pleasant. I highly recommend coming and doing as much traveling as you can if you get the chance. The views will not disappoint and it is almost deserted during the week.

Back at the James River, I hit the trail for two more miles. I remind myself that this is so I have more free time on Sunday. The insects remind me that I am invading their territory. Rocky Row Run seems to work because of the bugs. I keep my hood up and my head down. Soon I will be in the city eating and drinking my fill.

Scott knows

At 5:00 pm I have finished all the walking I had intended to do. I’m back at the James River just in time for a train to cross in front of me. He sounds his horn at the behest of a group of local youths swimming in the river. Glasgow is a short drive away and I pop into Scotto’s Pizza on a whim. A proper meal and a beer seem like a fitting reward for completing a day of four ascents in my 38th orbit of the sun. I order a draft beer and a cowboy burger: a cheeseburger with BBQ sauce, bacon, and onion rings. Presumably, the resemblance of an onion ring with a bow gives the burger its name. I take the beer and clean the plate. Scotto’s knows how to feed a hungry hiker. I cross the street to Glasgow Grocery Express for dessert: a pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. My titanium backpacking spoon is the perfect implement. I can clean the container without fear of getting my fingers stuck with chocolate ice cream residue.

I exchange a few birthday texts from friends and family before heading back to the trail. I plan to start early to avoid some of the heat, but with 20+ miles to walk it’s probably unavoidable.

A train greets swimmers with a few loud blasts of its whistle as it crosses the James River.

The Cowboy Burger at Scotto’s Pizza and Subs.

-See you tomorrow

Total: 20.8 miles, 47,350 steps

• Hike type: Backpacking, Slack-packing
• Camp: van

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