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National Geographic : 1977 Apr
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tree-canopied Appalachian Trail. We followed both for a while, drinking in the tremendous pastel panoramas of Virginia's Shenandoah Valley. Then, near Bluefield, West Virginia, came the first real blizzard. We would be spending our first night out in deep snow. I was scared. But for Cooper, the snow-drifted countryside became a white paradise. He plunged in and out of the drifts, romping and jumping and hurtling his body straight up into the air in sheer joyousness. We pitched camp that first night between two thickets beside a hypnotic stream. When I opened my eyes next morning, my tent was sagging under 12 inches of pure white snow. Cooper initiated a wild winter wake-up and warm-up routine. As I tried to take down the tent, he bounded up and down around me, knocking me to the ground. I guess A Walk Across America 477
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