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STARTING above Nethers, a small town a few miles south of Sperryville, an Arkansan, Pratt Remell, and 1 hurriedly started for Old Rag. It was after three. The first part of Ridge Trail is a depressingly steep woods trail. Later, * the wild, bouldered ridge across to the summit is particularly pleasant after the woods climb, turn after turn when your pack is heaviest.
Wanting to save the ridge for the following morning, we camped on a small knoll, partially protected from the winds which blew up Friday night.
Zipped up in a down sleeping bag after a supper of “turkey tetrazzini,” cups of tea, and chocolate, with the wind howling from several directions, you lie there waiting to be cold. Now I look forward to cold weather, curious to see how much cold my sleeping bag can resist. Considering the wind, it was about 10 degrees. Water froze in the canteens. But you feel ridiculously fat and comfortable, like a goose.
IjATE Friday night an
old coon hound circled the knoll for an hour or more, trailing and howling around .■ the mountain, once coming close enough so that 1 could hear him panting. Pratt moaned in his sleep. The wind howled, the dog howled.
Saturday was clear and warm. We crossed thefav
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