Table Of Contents (page 2)

“If you see two girls and a boy pass by on the trail, tell ‘em ‘Tator Tot’ is gonna hike all the way North to the road”, Tator Tot said as she passed by me at a fast clip. In her early 20s, wielding hiking poles, backpack, and a head full of tight braids, Tator Tot had a kind, yet determined look on her face. “OK”, was all I had time to say as she vanished up the trail. Hiking the AT had thrown me right into thru-hiker trail culture with its trail names, message passing, quick pacing, and AT shelters. The Appalachian Trail is the main route through Three Ridges Wilderness, so there was no escaping the NOBOs, SOBOs*, trail runners, and day hikers on this trip. This would not be a trip spent in solitude, but I really wasn’t expecting that. Even so, I had plenty of time to contemplate things. Plus, I met a lot of good people (and dogs) along the trail. It was great to chat with them and scratch doggy ears. They gave me an excuse to rest as we crossed paths on my grueling climb up and around the Three Ridges mountain range. 

If you read “Carrying The Weight”, you know my backpack used to weigh 46 pounds, but with some help I got it down to 39 pounds. That’s 15% less burden on the trail, which correlates directly to 15% more happiness! I needed all that happiness to help me huff up the 4,800 foot ascent in this 17 mile wilderness loop. A 4,800 foot ascent is a lot in any mountain range, whether it's starting at sea level or at 8,000 feet. My route featured stunning overlooks, rushing streams, and massive boulders channeling cascades of spring water. The trails were steep—filled with switchbacks, high steps, and lots of rock hopping. The weather was perfect with brisk mornings and cool, steady breezes throughout the warming day. 

My wife got me a new tent for my birthday and it is half the weight of my old tent, plus it’s an amazing tent! My new tent inspired me to scour my pack and scrutinize each item with fresh eyes. I’d decided that if I hadn’t used something on a past trip, it was coming out of the pack. I even optimized my first aid kit. The scouring shaved another 3 pounds off my back. By the end of the trip I’d found at least two more pounds to remove. I still carry a heavy pack, but I appreciate the lighter load, especially as I get older and my recovery is slower.

It was a 4 hour drive to the Virginia mountains, and I arrived at the trailhead around 1pm. I checked my gear, hoisted my ‘lighter’ pack and started walking. I could immediately feel the 7 pound difference. The map showed me crossing the wide Tyre river at the start, but I was surprised to find a well crafted narrow rope bridge rising 50 feet above the water. River crossings are common, so I carry a pair of lightweight water shoes along. That way I always have dry ones later for camp. Like most river crossings, it was straight uphill on the other side. 

The trail was rugged in this wilderness and I found myself navigating long stretches of boulder fields and gripping handholds for steep ascents. This held my focus for a disproportionate time. It left less time to take in my surroundings and contemplate things as I walked. Even so, sometimes my surroundings demanded my attention, like when I turned the corner of a switchback and startled a wild turkey and her fledges. We all jumped at once as momma and 4-5 poults sprung out of the bush, squawking next to me. I wish I was fast enough to capture a photo of the harassed look that mother hen gave me as I passed by. The understory here was lush and green and filled with all kinds of small animals and wildflowers. The trees hosted countless birds, singing their myriad songs from dawn to dusk. I almost never find ticks, but I found 2 crawling on me this trip. They hadn’t latched on, so I was able to dispose of them easily. Whenever I pass through sunlit trails filled with tall grass, I check my ankles and legs for ticks. They like to use tall grass to sense the motion of creatures passing by and then leap on them from the grass. When I first started backpacking again in 2020, I would apply DEET each morning before setting off, but I discovered that I almost never encounter ticks or biting insects on my trips, so I stopped using it all together. A lot of hikers wear gators, which are ankle coverings that attach to hiking boots. They protect from ticks and itchy grass. I’ve never tried gators because I think I’d find them hot and burdensome. 

My trips have taught me that there are endless things to worry about, but those worries almost never meet reality. Life is risky: spiritually, physically, intellectually, creatively, and emotionally. Something I would discover on my second day here is that it helps to have a navigator who cares. One who knows what’s coming and where I’ve been. One that lets me see what’s around me and offers a way forward instead of focussing on the anxieties of life and the burdens of my path.

Through the afternoon, I hiked six miles up the steep ridge trail, taking in the scene during frequent pauses to catch my breath. It was early evening when I found a good place to camp. I was near a stream, so I had plenty of easy water. I set up my new tent and admired its thoughtful design. I could tell the designer was an experienced camper that had actually used the product. I used to design new products and I can always tell when the designer has used the product they made. I’m disappointed when I find they haven’t. I have a single burner, flex fuel stove that is 30 years old. I keep using it because the design is so durable, elegant, and thoughtful. At 2.3 pounds, filled with liquid fuel, it’s only slightly heavier than today’s modern stoves. Instead of replacing it, I’ve taken it apart and rebuilt it to keep it running. 

As I was setting up camp, two girls and a boy passed by and I said “do you know Tator Tot?” (That’s a question I never thought I’d ask). They smiled and said yes!. I gave them Tator Tot’s message, and they thanked me and continued on their way. 

The next morning was cool and quiet. I’d put on every piece of clothing in my pack to stay warm and was finally comfortable. The new dawn was flooding the forest with an aura of dim light as the rising sun remained veiled below the mountain range. The birds were singing in the trees. I hadn’t seen anyone since Tator Tot’s friends passed by yesterday and the stillness brought me into contemplation. I was meditating on something Jesus said in Matthew 11:28-30: 

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” 

It’s fascinating when the spiritual metaphors of backpacking reveal themselves. Easier paths and lighter burdens are a backpacker’s joy. They allow me to get outside of myself and my circumstances and discover the immensity beyond. I was thinking about how staying close to Jesus makes life easier. Every time I go my own way things go wrong and I end up going with gravity. I was looking at the forest around me, with all its richness and beauty—and scattered about was the death and decay of dying and fallen trees, plants, and animals. The circle of life. I was thinking about how God always wanted us in the Garden of Eden, but when we went our own way, human pride meant that the Garden was gone and death and corruption had entered the world. Now, all of creation is in the grip of entropy and it ‘groans and suffers’ to be restored (Romans 8:22). I feel the weight of it everywhere. I experience the dissembling of the material realm as I age and loved ones pass away. I see the glimpse of renewal as babies are born, seedlings sprout, and love wins. This world is too complex for any human to navigate without messing things up for themselves and others. But what if we didn’t have to? As I thought about this, the sun peeked over the ridge behind me and a long shadow was cast at my feet. It made me think that when I face the light, the darkness is behind me. It has to be this way. So, as I simply live my life to stay close to Jesus, to wear His easy yoke, to rest in Him, I am facing the light. Justice, hope, grace, and love are right in front of me. My back is to the darkness where it can have no hold. If I simply stay close to Jesus won’t my burden be as light as possible through the sufferings of this fallen world? Won’t He lead me through every part of life if I don’t stake a claim to myself and mess things up? When I do stray, can’t I simply come back to Him, put on the easy yoke, and rest? Won’t He allay my curiosity with the light of understanding? Won’t He make straight all my crooked paths, knowing both my past and the path ahead? Why wouldn’t I want the creator of the universe to navigate? Why is my pride so unyielding and where does it get me? One of my favorite authors and teachers, Dr. Tim Keller said “every heart knows that if you need grace, you do not belong to yourself.” I started thinking about pride. How pride resides in the heart, the same as faith. How one crowds out the other. I kept coming back to the deep still water of staying close to Jesus. Even someone like me, who takes a while to get it, can do this! I can just ‘stay close to Jesus’. I can ‘Keep facing the light’. That’s my new mantra. I was excited! Maybe the best way to counter pride is not through self examination, but to let God’s light shine upon it. Then He can show me plainly, in the light, and bring understanding and positive change.

The sun was up and the new day had dawned, so I packed up camp and got back on the trail. It was a little after daybreak. The trail intersected at an AT shelter a few miles North. There was a spring behind the shelter so I filtered water and refilled my canteen. The map showed a very dry, high elevation trail for most of the day’s trek, so I decided to pack in an extra liter of water. Another hiker told me there was a spring about 2 miles up, but that it was sometimes dry. We’ve been in a drought for some time so I didn’t want to risk it. Yesterday I’d gone through a liter of water every 2-3 miles of climb.

I ascended the ridge all morning. I passed the spring (which was running), and finally reached an overlook at the summit of Three Ridges Mountain. I was thrilled to drop my pack, sprawl out on a large, sunny boulder, and take in the spectacular view. It was a beautiful day and I could see for many miles across a 120 degree panoramic. I wish I could get my photos to show what I experienced at the summit, but there seems to be no way to capture the essence of the place without being there. The culmination of hard climbing, unburdened rest, and stunning beauty left me feeling awed and grateful on top of the mountain. After lunch I started climbing again towards the Chimney Rock summit. The view there was blocked by trees, but the glimpses through the branches were grand. From there, it was straight downhill. The trail down took less exertion but far more concentration. Each step was treacherous with loose and jutting rocks, high steps, and slippery slopes. 

“Watch out! There’s a rattlesnake coiled beneath a boulder next to the trail!”, two hikers told me, as they passed by in the opposite direction. In my fascination, I forgot to ask how far down the trail they saw him! Now my trip down was going to be haunted by trepidation. After a half hour or so I figured I’d passed where they’d seen him. I was disappointed that I didn’t find the snake because Eastern rattlers are rare, and I’ve never seen one. On the other hand, I was relieved to have not gotten too close to surprise him. As I walked, the sounds from the many chipmunks, squirrels, and birds rustling in the trail brush kept my vigilance high for snakes.

At the end of a day of long ascents and descents, I was eager to rest, and when I spotted a great camp near a rushing stream, I pounced. I strung my lightweight backpacking hammock between some trees and took a short nap while a subtle breeze cooled me from the heat of the day. That evening provided more solace and allowed me to rest and contemplate the day. 

The next morning I woke to the sense of imminent rain, so I decided to shorten my usual leisurely morning routine. The sky was dark and the wind was blowing harder as I packed up camp. I was back on the trail as the heels of a cloud covered sunrise lit the forest. It was an easy, 2 hour downhill hike back to the trailhead. It was just starting to drizzle as I spotted my car through the trees. With my journey at an end I thought of lighter burdens and my new mantra. I soaked in the joy of time spent in this beautiful place. I was 15% happier for sure.

__________

*NOBO is the AT convention identifying northbound hikers originating in Georgia. SOBOs are southbounders coming from Maine.

Encountering The Bear, Again!

Lewis Fork Wilderness, Grayson Highlands, VA, June, 2026

COMING SOON -- Listen to my narration of 'Encountering The Bear, Again!' (00h:17m) - press play and allow 10s for the stream to start

How long does it take to go from being serene to being terrified? I was about to find out in the Lewis Fork Wilderness. 

It was raining when I arrived at the trailhead around 3p. As soon as I unpacked my rain poncho, it stopped. The sky was dark, and low storm clouds etched the wilderness in a gloomy haze. Everything on the trail was dripping with the remnants of 2 days’ heavy rain. I was glad to have caught the tail end of the storm. I hiked through the afternoon as the gloom gradually lifted and the sun began shining high through the trees, casting shadows that glimmered through the breezy canopy overhead. 

This was a last minute trip. I have to find windows of time within family activities, so when this opportunity appeared, I jumped at it. My daughter gave me a new ultralight sleeping bag for Father’s Day and I was eager to try it out. The new sleeping bag removed another 2 pounds from my pack. If you read “15% Happier”, you know my backpack is already 7 pounds lighter than before. The new sleeping bag, along with 2 more pounds I removed after my last trip, brings my pack from a whopping 46 pounds all the way down to 35 pounds. Woohoo!

I’ve backpacked here in the past. On those trips I was within the “Wilburn Ridge/Mount Rogers” regions, which have wild ponies that roam freely in the highland pastures along the mountaintops. The ponies will come right up to you on the trail. It’s a very cool place. There are two herds of wild ponies here. One herd lives in Grayson Highlands State Park, the other in the “Crest Zone” of Lewis Fork Wilderness. This trip, I wanted to see new areas, so I picked a loop in the northern section that I’d never explored. That means there are no photos of the cute wild ponies, sorry!

The hard rains had filled the streams, and everywhere the natural springs were percolating and spilling out onto the trail, turning it into a creek bed. My shoes were soaked through and covered with mud early on. I was hoping to hike into the woods 5 miles or so and set up camp. Being so near the summer solstice I had plenty of daylight, and after a few hours of easy hiking, a sharp turn of the trail revealed a fantastic camp positioned above a rushing stream on a large, level plateau. I saw no dead trees leaning towards the camp to threaten my peace of mind. Rhododendron bushes were in full bloom all around. This place was an exceptional find! I excitedly dropped my backpack and started setting up for the night. I filtered water from the stream, pitched my awesome new tent, and strung a line across a high branch to hoist my food and trash for the night. I meditated and thought about how all this beauty was sitting here every hour of every day and what a pity it was that so few saw it. I felt grateful to be here. The air was surprisingly chilly, cradling a cool steady breeze. Like last trip, I put on every piece of clothing in my pack to get warm. By 9p it was almost dark. I was starting to shiver, so I turned in. 

The next day I woke before dawn and made hot coffee as the dim light of the new day fell into the trees. I read and prayed and contemplated things for a couple of hours. I thought about how human it is to give ourselves easy grace, while holding others to a critical standard. I was thinking about the universal human condition of needing to be loved completely for who we are, just as we are, while never being able to find that from others, or from anything “under the sun” (as the great writer of Ecclesiastes put it), and how this conflict creates a hole inside every person. I need to ponder it more on the trail. 

I packed up and started climbing a mountain to a ridge trail above. It was a steady uphill grade, made much easier with the lighter pack. After 20 minutes or so I was in a rhythm, feeling peaceful and relaxed. I was thinking and praying about things as I climbed. The bright sun was before me, warming the morning chill, its penetrating rays adding to my serenity. The forest was quiet and still. Both sides of the trail were obscured by fallen trees and chest high vegetation, and I was hemmed in by the narrow path. 

I’ve never seen a bear run at a full sprint. Part of my terror was learning first hand what I’ve always heard: you cannot out run a bear! Black bears can reach speeds of 35 mph over rough terrain. Usain Bolt, the world’s fastest sprinter runs 27 mph on flat ground. Within 30 seconds the bear had rushed the trail as I stood helpless. He was approaching through the high vegetation and I yelled at him with as deep a voice, and with as much confidence as I could muster: NO!! Git!! I shouted and the bear suddenly veered, crossing 20 feet in front of me at high speed! He turned his head and looked at me as he bounded across the path. Once he’d seen me and heard my shouting, he sprinted off even faster, down the other side of the trail. Unlike my last bear encounter, this one was much closer. I think the bear scented or heard me first this time but didn't see me. I probably startled him, and in his fright, he just started running. He ran towards me not knowing where I was and veered to pass once he spotted me. By then he was right next to me, and I was so scared. The way he was charging, I was sure he was going to tackle me at full speed and maw me on the ground. I didn’t know what to do. I had no time. It all happened so fast. I stood there, frozen on the trail, staring as he ran by in a blur and vanished back into the dense forest. As he was passing by I had a flashing thought, I should grab my camera, then just as fast I rejected that idea. Curiosity killed the cat, I thought as I kept clutching my small canister of bear spray in my fist. 

As he disappeared into the dense woods I finally unfroze and turned to climb the mountain again. Now that bear was somewhere at my back. Would he return? My vigilance kept me looking over my shoulder to where I’d last seen him. Time to whistle and sing to keep the wildlife at bay, I thought lamely. Why does this always happen when I’m going uphill? It reminded me of cycling on rural roads in Indiana long ago. Whenever there was a hill, I could count on there always being a large, mean dog at the bottom waiting to chase me all the way to the top! Now, with each step, it felt good to be getting distance from that bear.

A wide variety of forest trails here

Eventually, my day’s trek brought me back near the same camp I’d stayed in the previous night. I hadn’t seen any good places to camp the whole day, so now I was facing a dilemma. Since I hiked a loop, the camp was only half a mile from where I encountered the bear that morning. Was he still close by? He was so wild and fast! I really didn’t want to see him again. If I camped here another night would he come visit me in the dark? There was an AT shelter several miles away but I didn’t want to stay there, plus it was in the direction the bear was heading when I last saw him. So I said a little prayer, hiked to the camp, and pitched my tent. Me, and my little 4oz canister of bear spray, would be ready for him if he returned. I’d also have my cooking pots to clang at him. The pans worked well during my bear encounter at Citico Wilderness. That settled it, I wasn’t giving up a great camp for that bear. 

As night drew closer and darkness closed in I started second guessing my decision. What was I thinking? What does it take to reach my common sense? There was nothing to do now but to take some deep breaths and calm down for sleep. I was shivering again in the surprising late June cold, so I decided to go to bed. 

There were no growls in the night. A giant bear didn’t claw his way into my tent seeking revenge. My food and trash were still strung high on their branch in the morning. I took my clanging pots from beside my sleeping bag and used them to heat water for coffee. I took a sip in the cold morning air and thought, five seconds. That’s how long it takes to go from being serene to being terrified. 

To Be Continued...

I am developing this page so please check back from time to time. I plan to blog about backpacking trips and share personal experiences and insights here.