Backpacking #4 - SNP, Overall Run/Beecher Ridge

So it seems the trail gods are angry. Joe and my last adventure in the outdoors turned into a battle royale against Mother Nature who pulled out all the stops; freezing temperatures, soggy trails, violent winds, sleet, rain, and a partridge in a pear tree... and the partridge was pissed. Well I kind of felt we were due for some awesome weather, and we got it, to a degree.

Heather, Joe and I took a quick little overnight backpacking trip this past weekend to Shenandoah National Park. The route was one of those suggested by the park in the backcountry section of the site. The weather on the morning of departure included no chance of blizzards but it was gonna be hot (near 90F). This would be my first experience packing in warm weather so I wasn't sure what to expect.

The beginning of the trail was kind to us.

I was sweating by the time I got out of my truck. Never-the-less, undaunted we started off at a great pace through some hills where the foliage was starting to grow out a bit. These fresh green leaves, as small as they were did provide some shady areas which were not available as we moved higher.

This was about the point where I started questioning this whole backpacking thing.

I think the person who designed this trail got about a mile into it before someone brutally murdered their family. I say this because following the initial mile or so the trail started an intense series of switchbacks that was surely created with the intent of causing bodily harm to those that attempted it. The fact that we were backpacking only added to the brutal uphill. Oh yeah, it was also almost 90 degrees. Did I already mention that?

Despite the heat and the climb we were still making good time all the way up to the first (and only) major geographical feature on this hike. At 93 feet, Overall Run Falls is the tallest in the park. We snapped a few pictures and kept moving.

I contemplated scaring her but thought better of it.

We made it! No wait, another 4 miles to go.

The heat was really starting to get oppressive so after another mile or so we stopped along Overall Run above the falls and gave our systems a shock by dunking our feet in the freezing cold water. A bite to eat and a few liters of water guzzled and we were back on the trail.

I disgusted Heather and Joe with my nasty callused and blistered feet.

It's lucky we filled up on water wherever we could cause after an exhausting and blazing hot hike across Beecher Ridge we ran into a poor dayhiker who looked like he was about to face plant at any minute. Apparently he had two friends farther back on the trail that were in even worse shape and they were out of water. So we siphoned off a couple liters for him to take back to his friends and we headed down to a small hollow where we planned to get more water and make camp for the night. When we got there the water was all but dried up, but Joe's Katydyn filter was up to the task and we were able to dig out a hole, let it fill with water and get restocked. However, there was no level ground in sight so we hiked back up to the trail and continued, keeping an eye out for a good spot to pass out.

Finally, after hiking 7 or 8 miles we found a sweet spot near the creek and even though we were technically too close to the water, we set up camp.

One of the nicest things about backpacking is the seclusion. You plan ahead, take everything you need and get away from people... except when you accidentally set up your camp 20 feet from a trail you didn't know about until a few dusty backpackers come tromping through unexpectedly. Despite that little distraction the camp site was awesome.

From this angle it looks like Joe's tent is set up under a huge deadfall trap, scary.


Now that's just sweet ain't it?

Morning at camp is one of my favorite times.

Since we overshot our intended camp spot we set ourselves up for a short hike out the next morning. After breakfast we broke down camp and headed up the trail. Along the way we came upon this fantastic swimming hole. I think I must have been channeling the heat from the previous day cause before I knew it I'd stripped to my shorts and jumped in. It's a funny thing about water; a couple days of warm weather don't seem to outweigh the previous 6 months of cold weather and when I hit the surface it was like I went from the Sahara to the Antarctic in an instant. I'm not sure but I think I sort of skipped off the surface of the water and back onto the rocks it was so cold (there's a video of this floating around somewhere). After I got out Heather got bold and went for a skinny dip while I pretended to be fascinated by some moss growing on a rock in the opposite direction.

This looked so refreshing but must have been about 33 degrees.

After our refreshing dip it was a short hike back to the truck and then on to our now traditional after-hike breakfast. We didn't come across any corpses of dried up dayhikers so I suppose the folks we gave our precious H2O to survived to hike another day. Success!

A few blisters, bug bites and sun burns, but otherwise un-scathed.

P.S. - If you're going to get changed behind your truck, it's not a good idea to tell your friends about it first, especially if they have access to a camera...

If anyone was walking up behind me at this moment I apologize.

Backpacking #3 - Dolly Sods, WV

Dolly Sods is located in the Monongahela National Forest in West Virginia. It is known for its high elevation plains and bogs which are more similar to Canadian ecology than that of the lower 48.

"Dolly Sods can be very challenging"

"The weather changes fast up in the Sods"

"Don't underestimate Dolly Sods"

These were the kinds of things Joe and I read before embarking on our trip this past weekend. In our defense I think we paid attention and did a good bit of planning. We poured over topo maps, weather forecasts and gear lists in preparation. The forecast wasn't perfect, but not trip prohibitive (rain/drizzle the first day, clearing early the second, and mostly sunny the rest of the trip). Temperatures were estimated to be down to just above freezing on the coldest night.

The public road leading up into the Dolly Sods North area was closed for the winter (as we expected) so the first leg of the hike was about a mile in length and a little over 600 feet in elevation. We ran across an ultralight guy from Britain who looked like he had a bookbag strapped to his back. He apparently had spent the night up in the Sods and was surprised when he had to cross the Red Creek. This made me feel even better about our planning since we knew about the crossing and had our strategy all planned out. Plus the guy had awful teeth and I knew that most of his high-tech, expensive ultralight gear was better than mine, but my toothbrush trumped his.

When we got to the trail the first thing we noticed was everything was soaked and boggy. If you stepped on the trail itself your boot would sink 6-10 inches into the mud and muck. We ended up bushwhacking beside the trails for probably about 80% of the trip. I wouldn't have been surprised to come across a backpacker up to his/her waist in the mud screaming for help.

With my pack I weighed about 180 lbs and could see myself sinking up to my chest in that mess.

Obviously we were blown away by the stunning overlooks...

Mud, it was everywhere... literally.

After a couple miles we came to the Red Creek and put our fording plan into action.

1. Take off boots and socks
2. Put on water shoes
3. Walk across as fast as possible
4. Dry off feet
5. Put socks and boots back on

That strategy worked pretty well but I dont know that I've ever felt that kind of pain before. The frigid water made your heart start racing the second your foot dipped in. Before I'd taken my second step my feet were pounding. However, as soon as we got across and got back into dry(ish) socks we warmed up quickly. In the spring or summer this little creek wouldn't be a concern at all.

"Red Creek Cold" - Our new term for extreme pain.

There is a well documented shortcut trail that we'd planned on using as part of our route. The trail is so widely used that it appears on many maps of the area. We found it easily and started following it towards our next official trail intersection. Well, before we got to another trail, the shortcut dead ended at a small stream and a thick tangle of red spruce. At this point we were getting tired from trudging through the bogs for hours and dealing with the thick fog and cold. I was having weird flashbacks to a scene from The Neverending Story I think. We decided to head back up to the last trail and make camp at the first good spot we found.

We brought along a tarp with the idea that we could rig it to provide a little extra shelter from the rain on that first day. Initially we set it up like a lean-to, then tried an A-frame. It worked pretty well until the wind really started picking up.

We found this cool little hollow back in the spruce that protected us from a bit of the wind.

After a hot meal we hung our bear bag far away from camp and called it a night, looking forward to good weather the next morning. When we woke up it looked like the forecast was correct. The sky was clearing, birds were chirping and we were feeling refreshed.

However, Dolly Sods decided it'd like to mess with us. Just as the sun was about to peak over the trees and shine down on us, more clouds and fog rolled in. Within minutes it was raining again. We waited it out in our tents and a few hours later it let up to the point that the rain was more of a heavy mist in the air.

By now we were tired but stir crazy so we decided to leave camp where it was and day-hike up to a rocky ridge a couple miles away, even though we realized there wouldn't be much in the way of a view. When we got there the fog had really set in and the wind was roaring across the top.

You can see the wind making waves in this little pool of water.

I think Joe was actually contemplating punching Dolly Sods.

We spent a few minutes taking some pictures and videos and trying not to be blown off the mountain and then headed back for camp. It was getting significantly colder as we hiked back. By the time we got some water boiling for food it was down right cold (my thermometer read 34 degrees at that point). Just after our early dinner at around 4PM, it started to sleet/snow. So again we hunkered down in our tents trying to stay warm and wait for it to blow over. After a while the temperature had dropped even further and I found that I couldn't warm up my feet no matter what I did. I looked at my thermometer again and it read 30 degrees, at around 5PM. Then the wind picked up and really started ripping at our tents and it was just plain miserable.

It started to get serious when I began shivering, even when zipped up tight in my down mummy bag with two insulating layers on. We decided to try to conserve some heat so I quickly moved over to Joe's tent. Joe was starting to feel a little warm and was getting tired so I lay down for a few minutes to see if I'd warm up as well. My mind was racing with thoughts about how to identify hypothermia, Into the Wild, how terrible the night was going to be, how much colder it might get, etc. As the conditions worsened I could tell each of us was getting more and more concerned. Snow was starting to be blown in under the rain fly on the tent and the wind outside sounded like it was going to blow us away. I think our speech was a little slurred at that point and thinking clearly was becoming more and more difficult. After a bit more time I mentioned that I thought it might be a good idea to get out of there for the night. If I was already cold before the sun went down, I could only imagine it getting much worse. We were both probably slightly dehydrated and exhausted and looking back suffering from mild hypothermia at that point. We debated for a bit and then finally decided to ditch camp and roll out as fast as possible. We estimated, based on our previous hiking speeds, that we had just enough time to make it back to the public road before dark.

One of the last pictures I took before we decided to high tail it back to the truck.

The trek back that night was awful, even though it warmed us up. The wind was furious and would literally push us around as we tried to navigate the soggy and now sleet-dusted trails. Any exposed skin was almost instantly chapped from the ice being raked against it by the winds. We later found out that the valley below had a wind advisory stating sustained wind speeds of 45-50mph with gusts up to 60. Up on the Sods it had to be closer to 60 sustained and up to 70mph gusts which meant the windchill was pretty darn bad! When the sun set we broke out headlamps and quickly found them useless while strapped to our heads as they just made a halo of light reflected off the driving snow and ice. Holding the headlamps down by our sides we found our way back to the road and eventually my truck. We spent the night in a nice warm hotel near Petersburg.

In the morning we got up feeling much better and decided to mount a daring rescue of our gear. Overnight the storms had been blown off and it was chilly, but gorgeous outside. We quickly hiked back to our camp and broke everything down.

Turns out you can break down camp pretty fast if you dont bother with stuff sacks.

Although we couldnt have told you from our experiences the two days before, Dolly Sods is a really beautiful area. It was unfortunate that the first time we were able to see it was while we were reclaiming our abandoned camping gear and heading home.

Typical view along the ridge trail leading out to our camp (to the left).

Looking over the edge of the plains area, down toward Petersburg, WV.

All told Joe and I hiked over 21 miles and crossed the Red Creek 4 times on this two night trip. The decision to leave camp was a tough one but looking back I think it was the right thing to do. Had we stayed there we would probably have had to resist the urge to fall asleep, which would have been nearly impossible as tired as we already were. Hiking out in the morning after staying up all night through a raging storm would have been a daunting task as well. Our wet boots would have been frozen solid, canister stoves would have barely worked, etc. In the end we got to leave more-or-less healthy, with all our gear intact and were eventually able to see the great scenery.

We learned a few good lessons as well.

-Dave