Three backpackers stumbled off the Wild Oak Trail onto the giant mountain top campsite of Hiner Spring. One held a bloody rag to her face as her companions hovered around her with deep concern on their faces. They dropped packs and rushed to the spring. A few moments prior, a windy squall whipped in from nowhere. The partly cloudy skies immediately darkened, the winds stabbed in gusts, and a shower commenced with no warm up. A tree branch succumbed to this sudden wind and fell on the hikers. Hearing the crack of wood, they looked up. One caught the falling branch on her face, breaking her nose. Then, as if Mother Nature was just giving everyone the finger, the weather passed. It could not have lasted more than two minutes. However, those two minutes certainly caused a lot of pain and havoc.
One hundred yards from the spring sat our crew from DCUL. Karan (“BA”) had created a terrific fire from wood collected by prior campers. We all sat around the fire in various stages of dinner preparation, after having hiked a respectable 17.5 mile day. When we saw the injured hiker and her companions amble off the trail to the spring, BA, holding a bundle of kindling he had been carefully placing into the fire, threw them all into flames to clear his hands and shouted “DCUL! Activate!”
First, Wassal (“WB”) stood up and did four backflips toward the spring, landing on her feet with her head high, her arms on her hips, and one leg in front of the other. If she had worn a cape, it would have been flowing in the receding breeze. I (“Spider-Man”) jumped up and landed in a classic Spider-Man crouching pose below her, my arm in the air. Matt L rushed over and stood next to me with his arms crossed across his chest with his eyes narrowed, ready for action. David twirled a small branch like nun-chucks behind me and then struck a pose.
Of course, this was only the reaction I imagined. In reality, I had scampered from the fire to my tent at the first hint of rain, hoping to think of a way to explain away the rain I guaranteed would not fall. I did not even see the three unfortunate hikers arrive at camp. Everyone else either sat or stood by our fire, mouths gaping at the bloody victim passing by, unsure of what to do. Since everyone carefully reads the disclaimers on our liability waivers, it is common knowledge that we “co-participants” on DCUL trips have no idea what to do in an emergency—other than call for help. So, Aneesh, with a Garmin Inreach in hand, volunteered to call for help. The injured hiker, Eileen (“BB” for “Bludgeoned Backpacker”) thanked him for the offer but declined, claiming she had her own Inreach and that this was not the first time a branch fell on her breaking her nose. Aneesh immediately looked up nervously and jumped a tree branch distance from her. BB’s initial plan was to stuff her bleeding nose nostrils with gauze, load up on ibuprofen, and hike off the mountain in the morning.
Justus (“T-JAW” for “Truth, Justice, and the American Way”) stood up with a better plan. Suddenly, generic upbeat suspense music started playing like it does on all the doctor/hospital television shows. After the “walk-on” tune subsided, he stated the obvious in the serious tone the moment required: “I’m a doctor.”
BB looked up hopeful. I started laughing. Earlier on the hike, T-JAW told me that he was a doctor from Germany doing medical research in the US. His speciality? He told me he does “pediatric cataract surgery.” Wow, I thought. That is highly specialized. I did not know that children even got cataracts—the cloudy eye malady. I thought that only old people got them. At least, I doubted there could have been enough kids with that eye condition to justify a pediatric subspecialty. I asked him what he planned to do about our new friend’s broken nose, fit her for glasses?
T-JAW brushed me away and let me know that I misheard him due to his German accent. He told me he was a pediatric “CARDIAC” surgeon, not a “CATARACT” surgeon. He rolled his eyes and said simply, “kids don’t get cataracts.” He immediately ordered “an MRI, an EKG, a BMW, and an XYZPDQ. STAT!” He held up his hands waiting for a nurse to fit him with surgical gloves. He whispered to Lisa, who was standing next to him, “this woman needs a hospital.” “What is it, doctor?” she asked. He replied, “It’s a big building with patients, but that is not important right now.” (Apologies to Airplane!)
Ok. That didn’t happen, either. He used hand sanitizer and then started feeling BB’s face, probing for any obvious breaks. He told her that his hands lacked X-rays and that, if she were in the ER, he would order that. He asked if she could taste blood, concerned that she was bleeding from the nose down her throat. She wasn’t. Satisfied, he said she did not need cataract surgery (or cardiac surgery) but should descend the mountain immediately. If she spent the night, the blood could settle giving her a lot of pain, and he lacked sufficient pain meds.
We concocted a plan to evacuate BB. She’d hike 3 miles off the mountain to a nearby fire road without a pack and with one of her friends. Her other friend would trail-run the 9 miles downhill, without her pack, to their parked car to pick them up. They only needed two people to carry the packs of BB and the trail-runner down the mountain and hike back up—all in the dark. Now THIS was something DCUL could do to help! However, when we regarded the decidedly non-“ultra-light” backpacks of our new friends, the task was less inviting.
I was feeling good. The hike on Saturday was easier than many DCUL trips, and I was up for another 6 miles and 2,000 feet of elevation gain. They don’t call me “Spider-Man” for nothing. I even offered to carry both packs—one on my back and the other on my chest. We’ve done this before. T-JAW instantly and insistently volunteered to join me and carry one of the packs. I did not want to stress him, though. This was only his second or third DCUL trip and I knew that the late night trek was going to be hard. I knew he could do it, but I thought I’d just go faster alone. Besides, I told him, I wanted the book deal on this rescue mission all to myself.
“Wait. What? Book deal?” Aneesh said to me as he hefted the largest of the two packs. “I want in on this.” We quickly negotiated a complex contract where I would get 95% of the royalties—I’m a lawyer—and we hiked down the mountain.
The hike down and up was not as bad as I feared. It was tiring, but the temperature was nice and Aneesh is good company. We had safely deposited BB and her friend’s packs at the fire road and marveled at how much easier it is to hike without a backpack—especially without those over-heavy packs we had been carrying. We arrived back at camp before 10:00 p.m. and minutes before the skies opened up to a violent lighting storm. Mother Nature, angered by our mettling in saving the life of BB, was flashing some of the brightest bolts I’ve seen followed by booms that shook the ground. It rained hard all night long.
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We weren’t supposed to be at Hiner Spring on this rescue mission—the second time we performed a rescue at this famous spring. BA posted a trip to the southern part of the Massanutten Mountain. However, a forest fire nearby frustrated that plan and he substituted the Ramsey’s Draft Wilderness. I thought this was an upgrade. I really like the Wilderness.
A sold-out crew of DCULers met at the Vienna Metro for carpools to the trailhead. We started hiking to our Friday night campground at twilight. With forecasted rain and cool weather, some looked demoralized. I came to the rescue with my “Spider-Man Guarantee”: there would be no rain this weekend. BA raised an eyebrow at that. “You know there is a 60% chance of rain,” he said. “No problem,” I replied, I’m counting on the 40% chance of no rain!”
We started hiking and, after hiking only a few blocks, we had to cross Ramsey’s Draft, a small river that was running high. T-JAW and Matt started hiking upstream, looking for a rock hopping opportunity. The rest of us removed our shoes and crossed the icy water barefoot, careful not to fall because of the very slippery rocks.
We arrived at the mountain top campground after dark. After pitching tents in the growing breeze, we marveled at the stars and how much brighter they were when one looked out toward West Virginia and away from Staunton with its bright ambient city lights. BA considered starting a fire, but most of us just wanted to turn in early.
It rained all night. It was the long, sustained rain that made sleeping difficult. Sometimes the rain would fall harder than others. The change in tempo kept waking me up. I would awake hourly, which is unusual. Fortunately, it stopped prior to sunrise. I hate waking in the rain.
As we packed up and enjoyed the sunrise over the valley, Beks asked me about that “Spider-Man Guarantee.” I pointed out the obvious. It doesn’t really count as “rain” if it happens when you are already in your tent. She replied, “I see . . .”
The hike on Saturday morning was delightful. We had a gently graded downhill to Braley Pond in the valley. There, we ate snacks in the sun along the bank of the pond, watching fishermen not catch fish. Watching other people fish is not as much fun as one would imagine, so we saddled up and continued hiking.
We hiked in a group with anyone in the lead pausing at any trail junction so that no one missed a turn. It was fun talking with everyone. David recently returned from a two-year posting in Russia. He arrived shortly before the Ukraine war and got to briefly experience Moscow pre-war. He did not feel in danger due to his diplomatic status, but the war changed the mood. He discovered, though, that the culinary scene was remarkable—the best in the world, he said. From someone who travels as much as he, that is quite an endorsement. Maddie was describing a recent backpacking trip to Big Bend. She did not rave about the food.
Haigang was following with his sidekick, Mocha, a cute dachshund. I doubted this tiny dog could hike this trail with such tiny legs and Mocha did slow him down. When we broke for lunch on the trail, Haigang straggled up the hill to our spot carrying a tired Mocha in his arms. At least Haigang’s dog was “ultra light!” It is a good thing he did not bring a tired St. Bernard.
BA enjoyed for lunch the huge burrito he bought in Harrisonburg on the drive to the trailhead. He reported that it tasted even better than it did on Friday. His pack weight instantly dropped 5 pounds.
At the end of the day we had a very steep climb out of Johnson Draft. At the top, near a tiny pond, we dropped packs and rested. We discussed the DCUL classification system. I mentioned that I feared the “Applicant,” “Member,” and “Veteran Member” titles could be off-putting to newcomers to our club. I suggested ranking trips as “Tough,” “Challenging,” and “Insane.” BA said he’d think about it, but his expression clearly shouted “no!” We hiked on. We still had a climb, but it was much easier than the one we just finished. Ahead of us was Hiner Spring for water, dinner, and drama.
Did I mention the lightning storm and all night rain that kept me up most of the night?
When we woke Sunday morning, Beks again questioned me about my “Spider-Man Guarantee” of no rain. She pointed out the obvious: it rained all night both nights of our trip. It also rained during those two minutes when the branch fell on BB. Fortunately for me, I had those two restless nights to think up a justification for my guarantee. I confidently pointed out how we had ZERO rain at any time while we were hiking—just as I guaranteed! She sighed and said that my guarantee seemed a bit like gaslighting. Aneesh, still smarting from his measly 5% cut from our book deal contract split, complained that he must have missed that “no rain only when actually hiking” clause in the guarantee. I said it was in the small print. Lesson of this trip: always read the small print.
Our hike off Hiner Spring down the Shenandoah Mountain Trail to our cars was terrific. Predominately downhill, we hiked a long ridge overlooking Highland County, Virginia. With no leaves yet on the trees, we had an extended view of the nearby mountain range. T-JAW, who had told me he frequently backpacks in the Swiss Alps, was unimpressed when I told him that Highland County has the nickname, “Little Switzerland.” He said he could see it if he disregarded all the Virginia trees, the lack of any really big mountains, and the emphasis on “little.” However, he admitted the view was very nice.
We proceeded down the trail at record speed—3.2 miles per hour. Lisa, who had previously hiked the PCT, complained that she felt a bit out of shape. However, we were moving much faster than on most DCUL trips. So, using this trip as a fitness scale was deceptive. We arrived at the cars, changed to travel clothes, and drove to Cosset’s Cafe in Staunton for our second breakfast. Thankfully, it was open that Easter morning. A small restaurant, we almost completely took it over and enjoyed its European-themed food, such as crepes and a Finnish pancake called a “pannukkau.” We piled back into our cars for the drive back to DC, reveling in the satisfaction that we completed a second Hiner Spring rescue mission.
For future planning purposes, here was our route on CalTopo: https://caltopo.com/m/40FV2
- Spider-Man (David O)
DC UL Backpacking 