Kevin Myatt | The Roanoke Times

McAfee Knob just past dawn.

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• Map of McAfee Knob
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Appalachian Trail, U.S. 11 to U.S. 220

• Trailheads: Ample parking is available on Va. 311, reached by taking 311 north from its intersection with Virginia 419, just north of Interstate 81 exit 141. The endpoint is at a parking lot beside southbound 220, on the right just before the ramp for southbound I-81. The hike can be shortened by using the Andy Layne Trail, which connects the Appalachian Trail at Scorched Earth Gap to Catawba Road (Virginia 779) northeast of Catawba.
• Distance: 19.4 miles.
• Shelters: Boy Scout Shelter at mile 1, Catawba Mountain Shelter at mile 2, Campbell Shelter at mile 4.2, and Lamberts Meadow Shelter at mile 10.2. There is also Pig Farm campsite shortly before (south of) Campbell Shelter and Lamberts Meadow campsite just beyond (north of) Lamberts Meadow Shelter.
• Water: There is water at Catawba Mountain Shelter, Pig Farm campsite and at Sawmill Branch, near the Lamberts Meadow Shelter.
• Elevation difference: From just under 2,000 feet at Va. 311 to about 3,200 feet at McAfee Knob, to nearly 3,000 feet at Tinker Cliff and ending at about 1,250 feet at U.S. 220.
• Highlights: McAfee Knob and Tinker Cliffs

The last time I did this hike my knee popped like bubble wrap for a week afterward.

That time, my wife and I had taken two days and heavy frame packs to cover the nearly 20 miles between Virginia 311 and U.S. 220. Probably the most famous section of the Appalachian Trail near Roanoke, this stretch includes the much-photographed McAfee Knob, Tinker Cliffs and commanding views of Carvins Cove, the Catawba Valley and North Mountain.

This time, I aimed to replicate the one-day adventure that four women at the newspaper undertook in 2000. One of the hardy hikers, Kathy Lu, keeps a photo of the four of them at the end of their hike. I had often looked at that photo, at the mix of satisfaction, delirium and fatigue on their faces and wanted to try the trip myself.

Now complete, I can report that the hike delivered in full - on great views, on the adventure and solitude of a winter outing and especially on the delirium and fatigue.

It was nearly the shortest day of the year, the day after the winter solstice. And it would be chilly, with a few patches of snow still hanging around. I needed all of the precious sunlight I could get, so I got up at 4:30 a.m., had some coffee and leftover frozen pizza and left the house at 5:09, determined to be on the trail by 6 o'clock.

When I started walking a few minutes before 6 a.m., it was still very much nighttime. But the light of the moon, just past full, was so strong that I didn't use my flashlight.

After half an hour, I noticed the first glow of the sun against the clouds in the east. It was the prettiest moment of the hike, walking with a rosy sunset spreading slowly on my right, but with the blue half-light of the moon still strong on my left.

When I arrived at McAfee Knob, the sun had still not broken free of the clouds. I ate a banana in the thickets behind the knob, trying to find shelter from the stiff morning wind. I pulled my ski mask over my face as my sweat cooled on the trip downhill from the overlook.

A pileated woodpecker led me along the ridge toward Tinker Cliffs, which looked awfully far off for the halfway point. But much of the walk is a fairly level ridge that makes the miles easy.

I reached the intersection with the shortcut around Tinker Cliffs, one that skips the steep climb and the views at the cliffs, and reconnects with the AT near the Lamberts Meadow Shelter.

It was then that I noticed what looked like gathering storm clouds in the west. As it happened the clouds signaled lots of bluster, the kind of mountain wind that swells and crashes like surf, but there was no rain.

I began the steep climb toward Tinker Cliffs and lunch. I rustled up two does, which were probably happily hunkered down against the wind. Then I was stopped in my tracks at a steep meadow by the explosion of bird life -- juncos, chickadees, bluebirds, some I couldn't identify, all making a wonderful racket.

I arrived at the cliffs, happy to have covered so much ground by mid-morning. The wind ripped unadulterated across the icy cliffs, and I passed two other hikers -- in shorts!

Lunch, and a 15-minute nap on a rock. I headed out for chapter two, the next 10 miles. Near Sawmill Branch, I noticed some hemlocks, which, alas, showed signs of the woolly adelgid, an exotic pest killing whole stands of hemlock across the East. Later I passed a stand of bare, dead hemlocks.

For the next two hours I rolled through stretches of rolling ridge line, punctuated by short, steep pitches. Each one took a bigger toll than the last, and I began to wonder whether I should have chosen a day with more sunlight. Though it was great to begin the hike by moonlight, I hadn't planned to finish at night as welI.

I refused myself breaks at every bench-high rock, determined to keep moving. I felt very close to familiar civilization, to Carvins Cove, Daleville and the Interstate. I also felt properly alone, within sight of highway traffic but wrapped up in the rocks, the winds and my solitary adventure.

When I followed the switchbacks from Tinker Mountain down to Tinker Creek, I knew success wasn't far off. My wife and daughter met me a quarter-mile from the finish and together we reached the parking lot at U.S. 220 just before 5 p.m. I had been hiking for about 11 hours.

I looked back up at the long, winding ridge and felt the satisfaction and the fatigue. My knees were tender but didn't sound like they were disintegrating.

As my wife drove me back to my truck, I realized I had squeezed every drop of sunlight from this brief winter day. I also realized I lived in a city where you could hike through the mountains all day long, without once crossing a road, with woodpeckers and nuthatches your most constant companions, all within an easy commute from town.

That's good stuff.