Backbone Mountain (MD)

MD-WV state line marker.

The rain picked up as I headed south from the highpoint of Pennsylvania (below) to the top of Maryland and the highest point along Backbone Mountain (July 27).  I had good directions for this one at the west end of the long Maryland panhandle.  The trailhead was adjacent to the highway.  Conveniently, the rain stopped when I parked the car.

16. Backbone Mountain:  An uneventful, one-mile long, 700-foot climb up an old logging road took me to the rocky crest where a concrete monument delineates the boundary between Maryland and West Virgina.  In fact, the whole hike is in the latter state and you don’t reach Maryland until you’re pretty much at the end.  A sign with a tall cairn marks the spot.  The sprinkles held off and the clouds lifted just enough for a view, which wasn’t half bad.

Miles (RT):  2.0 miles; elevation gain: 700 feet
Cumulative mileage and gain:  72.3 miles / 20,520 feet

The summit view.

The highpoint up close.

A captivating fungus next to the trail.

Mount Davis (PA)

Argghh.  Don't trust the blue signs.

Okay, this is not a peak easily bagged.  If it wasn’t for the view tower and a sign, you would never know you were higher than anything else in your sightlines.  It seems if you can’t see the forest for the trees, then you also can’t see the highpoint for the forest.  Nevertheless, it is the surveyor’s official highpoint amid a wide, forested plateau.  I suppose it might be more accurate to call this one plateau-bagging.

I began my journey on July 27 with an aimless drive from my tent site at Colonel Denning State Park.  I had not yet picked up a road map of Pennsylvania, but I knew I needed to go a good distance west and a bit less south.  So I drove west on a couple winding, east-west country highways and south on a couple north-south highways, and lo and behold, I found the historic towns of Meyersdale and Salisbury.  Supposedly, one could start at either town and “just follow the signs” to Mount Davis.  So I started at Salisbury.  Cross the river, turn right at a T and follow the signs, someone had posted on a website.  But at the T, a bright blue highway sign said go left for the Mount Davis highpoint.  I trusted the bright blue sign and went left.  Never again.  Do not trust bright blue signs in Pennsylvania, especially ones with arrows that say ‘Mount Davis’ on them.  After a good hour of driving around in circles, which gave me some quality time to follow Amish horses and black buggies along the backroads, which truly was a nice bonus, I passed a sign that said “Welcome to Maryland.”  This was a cue that I might want to turn around, which I did.

I then ended up back in Meyersdale.  The directions there said to find the Sheetz gas station downtown, then head north and turn left at the Army tank.  After several miles and no Army tank, I thought I’d better go back and regroup.  On the return, I found the tank, slightly hidden (assuming it’s possible to hide an Army tank) in somebody’s front yard.  Cool!  I finally had the right road and twenty minutes later I was at the Mount Davis picnic area, which is a short mile from the summit tower. 

15.  Mount Davis:  The High Point Trail leads to the steel summit tower with an arduous elevation gain of possibly 50 feet.  Add that to the 50-foot tower, give or take, and we’re talking triple digits.  So I called it an even 100-foot gain.  I was almost back at the car when thunder began to boom to the north—and content to be off the tower.  All in all, for what the “mountain” lacked in arduosity, the circuitous drive up there did tap my routefinding skills; therefore, I proudly enter it in my ledger as Peak #15--a quarter of the way toward my goal.

Miles (RT):  2.0 miles; elevation gain: 100 feet
Cumulative mileage and gain:  70.3 miles / 19,820 feet

View from the top.

Topo map at the tower assured me I was on top of Mount Davis.

I think that's Mount Davis there in the grass.

Flat Rock (PA)

 

On track for summit #14 of the big Sixty, I headed north to south-central Pennsylvania mid-day Friday (July 26) for some leisurely peak bagging.  I stumbled on the hike whilst searching around for destinations in the general vicinity of Pennsylvania’s state high point, Mount Davis (above).

14.  Flat Rock:  The trail to the top gains about 1,200 feet in 2.2 miles and departs from a state park campground—perfect.  I arrived at Colonel Denning State Park near Newville in time to pitch the tent and still hit the trail by 5 pm.  A sign at the trailhead about our native cute and cuddly rattlesnakes and how harmless they can be until you step on one, had me staring at my footsteps most of the way up.  After a steep start, the trail eased off at a hollow and ended as an easy stroll up to the stony overlook.

Miles (RT):  4.4 miles; elevation gain: 1,200 feet
Cumulative mileage and gain:  68.3 miles / 19,720 feet

This less precipitous section had nice footholds.

I rated this rock pitch a 1.10c.

Mega Bloomer

The giant corpse flower blooms only rarely, this one after seven years at the U.S. Botanical Garden.  Called “corpse” because it smells like dead meat when it blooms, the city was seriously awed by the appearance.  A couple coworkers and I stood in line for 20 minutes over lunch on July 22 to catch a glimpse.  Fortunately for us, nobody fainted--either the smell had dissipated or we didn’t lean in close enough to get a good whiff.  Gorgeous thing, however.

A cool wooden daisy and bumble bee at the garden.

Mount Marshall (VA)

With a weekend DC forecast in the high-90s and thunderstorms likely, Shenandoah National Park was once again on the radar.  I headed out around noon (July 20) and aimed for Mount Marshall, named for the fourth Chief Justice, John Marshall.  Marshall is one of the northerly summits of the park and not horribly remote from the big metropolis.  A bonus was Marshall's south summit, which is just a few feet lower than the north--and good enough for a two-fer in my quest for 60 new peaks this year.  It was only about a five-mile out-and-back skedaddle, but 1,000 feet of gain meant it wasn't just a walk in the park either.  No wait, it was a walk in the park.  The temp was in the low-80s, providing significant relief from the sweltering washrag heat of DC in July.

12. Mount Marshall - south summit:  There is not much to say about a simple hike in the woods like this one, other than I started at Gravel Springs Gap on Skyline Drive and marched north on the A.T.  Below the top, I paused at a picture-perfect outcrop with a view of the mountains and valleys surrounding the park.  After a deep breath of clear and warm Virginia air, I continued up in search of the actual summit about a mile from the start.  I couldn't find it.  The gently rounded ridge has a few lumps and bumps here and there, but nothing sufficiently prominent to call the true summit.  I wandered on and began descending the other side.  My trek would bring me back the same way, so I decided I'd survey for the summit later.

13. Mount Marshall - north summit:  Descending from the south summit led me back to Skyline Drive, which is crossed to pick up the A.T. continuing on to the north summit.  A short, moderately steep hike wound past a rock pillar with a scrabble trail around the back and up to the apex for another photo and a gulp from the water bottle.  A short distance beyond was, yet again, another classic outcrop with a wide view, and not far above that, a craggy hump of rock about 20 yards off the trail that appeared to be the actual top.  I hopped over and, sure enough, a brass benchmark reading "Marshall 1933" was fixed to the rock.  After a short rest, I reversed course and headed down, or rather down and up to the south summit, which I determined must be a minor hump of rock rubble under a bush.  I foot my foot on it and called it good.

Miles (RT):  4.8 miles; elevation gain: 1,030 feet (both peaks)

Cumulative mileage and gain:  56.9 miles / 18,520 feet

This is supposed to be a 1 and a 3, a dyslectic 13.

DC again

One of the better downtown views, from a parking garage.

Thomas Circle.

Monument to Civil War General George Thomas.

Chilean Consulate.

Kings Peak (UT)

Kings Peak is the distant pyramid left-center.

My brother, Dean, and I have been talking about a trek to Kings Peak, the highest point in Utah, for a decade it seems.  Last year it was for sure, then something came up.  This year was really truly for sure, the two of us plus his wife and mine.  But Kris couldn’t come due to other obligations, and at the last moment Dean’s wife had to beg out, which left the two of us—and eight llamas—to make the trek on our own.  I’d never done a llama trek, nor even spent more than two minutes anywhere near a llama.  And my job was to catch them, load them in the trailer and drive them the 14 miles over to Roosevelt to pick up my brother.  While we could have sufficed with three or four llamas, Dean had some new ones that needed training and a workout, so the whole herd was coming along.

What a hoot.  I’d have done as well herding feral cats.  I did manage to catch the first three without too much trouble in the open catch pen.  These were the docile ones who were easily lured by a bucket of grain.  The others wanted no part of me or my bucket.  Fortunately, my brother’s daughter’s daughter, Mallory, a young cowgirl with exceptional skill around animals, was there to assist.  Even though she is half as tall as me, she had the next two llamas snared in no time and helped me round up two more that I could lasso at close range.  And note that me swinging a lasso in the air is about as much fun to watch as a chicken cackle.  Soon we had all but one, Dilly, and she insisted on staying at the other end of the field or running wide circles around us.  Her buds, Dally and Dolly, were much more cooperative.  Dilly, apparently, had missed the memo.  After much chasing, Mallory’s dad, Mike, showed up and we went at it some more.  After an hour of running ourselves numb in the Utah summer heat, Dilly made her mistake.  She ran right into the catch pen with all the other llamas.  As Mike raced to get the lasso over her head, I lunged for the wire gate and stretched it across the opening just as Dilly surged and plowed right into it, knocking me hard to the ground.  But the obstacle of me sacrificing my body was just enough of an impediment for Mike to snag her.  The roundup phase was over and I was now a bona fide llama wrangler.  We loaded the team without further incident, bandaged my wounds, and we were on our way to Roosevelt.

Llama wrangler extraordinaire and her buff assistant.

You wanna go where?

However, this is supposed to be a story about climbing Kings Peak.

10. Kings Peak:  After picking up my brother at his chiropractic clinic, we drove nearly four hours by way of Flaming Gorge to the trailhead up Henry’s Fork of the Green River, arriving after dark.  We staked out the llamas to feed on grass overnight, pitched our tents and hit the hay ourselves.  Despite a mixed forecast of sun and thunderstorms, the morning looked promising and we saddled up the critters and slung the bags over their wooly backs.  I found the llamas to be a joy to work with overall, although half way to camp my lead llama decided to stop and lie down on the trail.  We rousted her and she plodded another 100 yards before balking and lying down again.  In fits and starts we eventually reached the camp zone about seven miles in, just as a thunderstorm broke loose.  It was the 4^th of July and quite a show as big sparks and loud bangs surrounded us, but we were able to quickly establish camp, stake the critters and pitch the tents without getting too wet.  The storm passed and we broke out the Coleman stove to boil up some dogs for dinner.

The morning sky was still jammed with dark and threatening clouds, but miraculously, they thinned as the hours passed.  The sun shone and we were soon atop Gunsight Pass.  We took the short cut trail up through the rubble and low cliffs to a shoulder where the full glory of 13,536-foot Kings Peak rose ahead.  Dozens of climbers were on the peak that day—as a state highpoint, it’s a popular climb.  Dean also wanted to climb the south peak nearby, Utah’s second highest summit.  We trudged on to Anderson Pass and wide views into sprawling valleys of meadow, forest and lakes of the Uinta Range.  An easy rock scramble led up the final ridge.

Hey, you got lead in your pants? Let's go!

Can we just talk this through a little?

Gunsight Pass.

Summit of Kings Peak.

Looking over to the south peak.

After many stops in search of some air to breathe, we finally stepped onto the summit for the big view and the ceremonial photos.  It occurred to me that Dean and I had not stood on a summit together since the late 1980s when I took him up Mount Shuksan near Bellingham, Washington.  Now with the south peak so close (less than a mile away), Dean was determined to go there too.  So after a sandwich, off we went.

11. South Kings Peak:  About 40 minutes after leaving the main summit we were congratulating ourselves for reaching the state’s second highest summit as well, at 13,524 feet.  For many years, it was assumed to be the highest point, but a more accurate survey corrected the error.  Looking back across Gunsight Pass, the third highest summit, Gilbert Peak, beckoned.  But we thought the best of it, headed back to camp and our lonely llamas and called it a day.

Miles (RT):  24.0 miles; elevation gain: 4,500 feet (both peaks)

Cumulative mileage and gain:  52.1 miles / 17,490 feet

Kings of the mountain.