It had been a crazy week of work. I just wanted to sit down, relax a little, and get some good food. I sat down at one of my favorite restaurants. “I’ll take the lunch special” I said to the waitress.
The local news was babbling about some invasive plant species that was causing rash and allergic reactions. Whatever, I thought. Not my problem. I just wanted to eat.
The food arrived. I looked down at my plate, dumbfounded. I didn’t ask for a salad. I wanted real food. Steak, potatoes, eggs, ice cream… the good stuff.
“Excuse me ma’am, I think you mixed up my order with someone else ” I said.
“You ordered the lunch special, didn’t you hun? the waitress asked.
“Yes but…”
“The lunch special today is our popular Stinging Nettle Salad. You should try it, everyone loves it. Don’t they always say to eat your vegetables?” she walked away laughing and began looking after her other customers.
I didn’t even know what to say. I had never seen that on the menu before despite coming here many times. Stinging Nettle Salad? It didn’t sound or look very good but I figured I’d try it. I cautiously took a bite. I was pretty hungry after all. It tasted like acid and I spit it out. Wait a second. Was I losing my mind? I grabbed a menu and started browsing:
..Spaghetti and Nettle
..Bacon, Lettuce, and Nettle Burger
..Macaroni and Nettle
..Peanut Butter and Nettle Sandwich
I started feeling itchy. It started on my legs and worked its way up. It felt like thousands of ants and bees were simultaneously stinging me. I began to claw at myself but it didn’t help. I ran to the bathroom and tore off my clothes in desperation and clawed more. My throat began to itch and breathing became difficult. My head began to spin. I looked in the mirror. Roots began sprouting out of my arms and legs…my face.
Nettles…Nettles everywhere.
I screamed.
***********
When Mark V (Brightside) posted his third annual “Tour de Sods” trip in early June, the trip filled up within 30 minutes. That is super fast. I remember the waitlist being 15 strong and feeling lucky to have gotten on…and feeling a little sorry for those last on the list. Ultimately, only 6 would toe the starting line: Me (David), Mark, Ryan, Wesal, Vera, and Adrian. It was a little disappointing to see so many people drop/not show up, but smaller groups are still great, and this one was no exception.
Me, Mark, Wesal, and Adrian all met up at Vienna and started our roughly 3.5 hour drive. Oddly enough, this was the same shuttle group back in May when we were almost consumed by the Pennsylvania rocks. Except that time I was driving. This time Mark would drive. Ryan and Vera would drive from Philadelphia and Cleveland respectively, roughly 5.5 hours of driving…now that is some serious commitment! Along the way we made our mandatory stop at Sheetz. I got a mozzarella stick/chicken tender sub that didn’t taste good, but since I have no standards I ate it anyways. Wesal got a waffle chicken sandwich (nashville hot style), and Mark got some spicy chicken sandwiches. Adrian unfortunately couldn’t find his curly fries. We got to the Flatrock Run parking lot around 6:45 and began our adventure.
The hike up to our campsite seemed simple enough: 2200′ of elevation gain over 6 miles. I was ready. After being baked like a potato in the Virginia heat on my last trip, I was convinced that something light and breathable was the right choice, so I opted for my typical attire of running shorts. Pants didn’t even cross my mind. It was a terrible mistake. The first mile was easy enough but after that the real torture began…..stinging nettle. Miles of them. The sensation was similar to a stinging ant or bee. Sometimes it felt more like being shocked. I mostly suffered silently but let out a few sorry sounds of misery when it became unbearable. Wesal had also worn shorts but I didn’t hear a peep out of her. I wanted to insult Mark and tell him that his new backpack didn’t look cool and that brown sugar cinnamon poptarts taste bad and that he was a terrible organizer for making us suffer through this, but on the map was clearly marked “‘Stinging Nettle”. I just hadn’t prepared well. The funny thing is, I always bring a pair of hiking pants just in case. And of course the one time I don’t bring them is when I regret it the most. Vera would later say that she got stung through her pants. Still, pants would’ve lessened the pain considerably. Finally, after suffering for what felt like an eternity, the stinging nettle faded and the green overgrown trail slowly turned into a hardwood forest. We got to camp around 9pm, met up with Ryan and Vera, and went to sleep.
We were all up and going by 7am. Mark had mapped out quite the adventure for us in the Roaring Plain Wilderness: a “trail” that barely existed on most maps. And for good reason. Because it wasn’t really a trail at all but rather a bunch of bushwhacking. If Dmitri had come he probably would’ve complained that it wasn’t a true bushwhack, but it was close enough and made for one heck of a morning. Rock cairns partially guided the way but we heavily relied on hiking instinct. Most of the time we just had to choose a path and figure it out. It felt very primitive and I had a lot of fun.
We were actually forecasted to have perfect weather, and perfect weather we had. Low 70’s and not a drop of rain all weekend. From what I understand we were very, very lucky because the weather is rarely so nice. The trail was very narrow and overgrown most of the day. When the trail wasn’t overgrown it was rocky. When it wasn’t rocky it was muddy. I felt that trekking poles were mostly useless. But then one moment you would need them and so I felt compelled to carry them in my hands most of the day, waiting for the moment when I would need them again. I rarely did. If I could do it again I probably would’ve stowed them away.
I had never met Ryan before and enjoyed getting to know him. He does facility work for a college in Pennsylvania but has also worked a ton of odd jobs throughout his life, everything from being a butcher to generator installations to delicately weighing and buying cheese. I found his experiences of having to weigh hundreds of frozen turkeys for Thanksgiving very interesting. Not a job that sounds like fun, and something I hadn’t thought about before. Adrian and Ryan nerded out about carpentry and various other blue collar skills, as well as differences between the various systems of measurement and how to convert one to the other. It was mostly too complicated for my brain. I hope to see to you on future trips Ryan! We stopped and took a break at Rohrbaugh cliffs that offered quite a nice view.
We crossed Red creek a few miles later and took a late lunch break at “The Forks”. I rarely miss an opportunity to refresh at a watering hole, and I quickly submerged myself in the cold water. Vera and Wesal bravely got their feet wet and Mark even took a sponge bath, but once again I was left all alone to represent DCUL. Wesal made some tea with some “fresh” mint she had delicately pulled from a Walmart dumpster the night prior. At some point we eventually transitioned to the more popular Dolly Sods section of our hike. It was very similar to what we had already experienced but we began to get more open meadows, less trees, and a lot more mud. Everyone tried to dodge the mud at first, myself included, but eventually I just accepted it. Anyone who has ever fully embraced the mud or rain knows that it actually is a very freeing feeling…and a lot of fun. And just faster. I tried to convince my fellow backpackers to join me and embrace the mud, but few of them were having it. I got filthy and I have no regrets.
We eventually got to Camp around 6:30pm after a long day of hiking. We had hiked 22 miles that day with about 2350′ of elevation gain and 3000′ of loss, which really isn’t that much but we were all dead tired. Maybe it was all the bushwhacking. For dinner Vera had a Russian delicacy: homemade salted breadsticks. Adrian was impressed with his Pork Jambalaya meal. Wesal had ramen. Mark prepared macaroni with his new alcohol cooking setup. Ryan had stuffed a 5 pound wheel of cheese he purchased from the Siberian tundra. I surprised everyone when I whipped out my Sheetz “The Big Mozz” sandwich. It had been festering in my backpack for over 24 hours. It was a chicken sandwich topped with marinara sauce and mozzarella sticks. I unanimously declared myself the winner of the dinner competition. We had gathered firewood for a fire but by the time we finished eating we all realized we just wanted to sleep instead. So we did.
Sunday morning came and we began the final 8ish miles of our journey. We looked over Canaan Valley, the way we had driven to get here, and were treated to a pretty fog filled valley. At some point I finally realized I was still holding my trekking poles in my hand. I had barely used them because of the muddy and narrow trail, so I locked them up. But I didn’t properly lock the bottom shaft on my right trekking pole and somehow it had slid out without me even realizing it. I won the dinner competition the night prior, but I also won the dummy competition.
We finished up our remaining miles for the day and said goodbye to Ryan and Vera. Mark suggested we take a quick bath in Red Creek before leaving and I’m glad he did. A long drive home is always better feeling clean. We stopped by Milo’s Cafe and Restaurant in the town of Davis on the way out and started the long drive home. And that was about it!
This trip had a little bit of everything and I thoroughly enjoyed it: high meadows, above tree-line hiking, hardwood forests, muddy bogs, bushwhacking, great views, boulder-hopping, wild blueberries, and so much more. And at times, it even felt like a little piece of Maine.
******
*Big Thank you to Mark V (Brightside) for hosting this event and driving us all around. It was greatly appreciated.
*Photo Credit to Wesal, Ryan, and Mark
DC UL Backpacking 
This is GREAT! Please tell me this is a ChatGPT story done in the style of David O (“Spider-Man”). That would make me very happy.
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