(The following story ran in the Daily Item on July 5, 1998)

TROUTVILLE, VA — Hiking the Appalchian Trail in Virginia, I’ve decided, is the pedestrian equivalent of driving across Texas.

You can drive and drive and drive and think, “Am I still in Texas?”

Likewise, on the trail, you can hike and hike and hike and think, “Am I still in Virginia?”

For some 530 miles — nearly one-quarter of its entire length — the Appalachian Trail winds its way through Virginia. It moves northeast from the small town of Damascus in the far southwest corner of the state and across the Blue Ridge before finally reaching West Virginia at Harpers Ferry.

One of the comments I’ve heard frequently from other hikers is, “I had no idea Virginia was so big!”

The Virginia portion of the trail has been referred to as “the long green tunnel,” since it is below treeline and often heavily shaded by the thick, summer canopy in the Blue Ridge.

There are exceptions, though.

In Grayson Highlands State Park in southwestern Virginia, the trail crosses broad, prarie-like grasslands that give a spectacular sense of vastness. Rugged rock outcroppings also punctuate the landscape, which has been described as “a little piece of Montana dropped on the roof of Virginia.”

Two of my hiking partners spotted a rare eastern mountain lion near here, and just a few miles south of that, I saw a herd of wild ponies grazing in the early-morning mist.

To watch those ponies gallop, their long manes flowing in the breeze, was to watch natural poetry in motion.

My own motion through the long green tunnel has been, admittedly, a little less poetic.

The tunnel, I’ve learned, is lined with potholes in the form of rocks, roots and thick underbrush. Getting into a smooth hiking rhythm is almost impossible. Compounding that, small branches frequently hang across the trail, so while I’m trying to watch where to place my feet, I also have to watch right in front of me. At times I have to dodge my head to the left, then to the right, much like a boxer on the ropes, to prevent branches from raking across my face.

More recently, I’ve also had to contend with another adversary: intense heat.

For the last several days, temperatures have hovered near 100 degrees, with stifling humidity. At times, the trail descends from the ridgeline and into low-lying meadows, and as I crossed one meadow yesterday, I could literally feel the waves of heat rising from the sun-scorched earth.

The midsummer heat left me drained at times, and I figure it is a major reason many thru-hikers suffer through a sort of depression known as “the Virginia blues.”

After six weeks or two months on the trail, the initial enthusiasm of the adventure has long since worn off and has been replaced by tedium and mental strain. And with no state line crossings for over 500 miles, it can be tough to gauge progress.

I had heard plenty about the Virginia blues before I started my hike, and now that I’m halfway through Virginia, I have my own theory: The trail here is a lot tougher than people anticipate. I think many hikers figure that after battling through the Smoky Mountains and the rugged terrain of North Carolina and Tennessee, they will earn a breather in Virginia, where the mountains don’t rise quite as high. The Appalachian Trail, though, isn’t much for offering a breather, and that can be demoralizing.

I learned that the hard way.

I don’t think I respected the mountains of Virginia as much as I should have, and as a result, they bit me.

“Virginia was supposed to be easy!” I told myself more than once as I sat exhausted, frustrated, hot and sore at the end of a 15- or 18-mile day. I consider it a lesson learned; get complacent about these mountains and you will pay.

Still, I told myself, I’m making progress. Yes, I’ve had tough days, and I’ve been wilted by the heat at times, but I’ve now covered more than 700 miles overall, including nearly 300 in the long green tunnel.

In fact, if I look hard enough, I think I see a light at the other end. Maybe, just maybe, that light is a welcome sign at Harpers Ferry.