“Suckers!” I thought. Two groups of DCUL backpackers were gathering at the Vienna Metro station for two different trips near each other in West Virginia. I signed on to the now-annual “Tour de Sods” expedition of the Dolly Sods and Roaring Plains wildernesses. The other group was heading to Spruce Knob and Seneca Creek just an hour north. The total mileage for the Tour was 37 miles of hiking versus 27 for the Spruce trip. Already, I was winning. (Mark “Brightside,” the Tour organizer, often reminds me that “these are backpacking trips; not races or competitions.” So, I didn’t say anything to the losing Spruce Knob/Seneca Creek crew). Also, it was wild blueberry season. Our trip featured an all-you-can-eat buffet!
Not only would the Tour consist of more miles and free blueberries, but it would also be a more pleasant hike. I hiked the Tour almost exactly a year prior. I knew it was an exhilarating, bone dry plateau hike. In contrast, every time I hiked Spruce Knob/Seneca Creek, it was wet and muddy. For our trip, I only packed one pair of extra socks and considered lending it to David U “Baseball” who had organized the Spruce Knob trip. He’d need them more than me! In addition to the usual wet conditions at Spruce Knob, the east coast had been saturated by never-ending rain for the prior month or so. Yes, it would be a wet one for them.
Soon, six backpackers left for Dolly Sods; and eight backpackers left for Spruce Knob.
When we last ran the Tour de Sods, Brightside ran it like the Tour de France bicycle race, complete with competitive “stages,” yellow jerseys, and that annoying sportscaster with a British accent to narrate us as we hiked, complete with on-trail interviews. Here is the Trip Report from that year—one of my best!
This year, Brightside wanted a toned down, Spider-Man-free trip. (My trail name is “Spider-Man”). He deliberately posted the trip while he knew I was in the Alps with DCUL, hiking the Tour du Mont Blanc—a trail that circumnavigates the highest mountain in Europe. (Here is that Trip Report). By the time I saw Brightside’s trip posting, his trip was oversubscribed with 8 people on the waiting list. Since last year no one who signed up for Brightside’s signature trip dropped, it looked like Brightside would have the Spider-Man-free weekend he craved. Fortunately for this story, the weather forecast for constant rain in West Virginia scared off the creampuffs. I made it on the trip!
We arrived in daylight and started hiking in the hot humid valley below the Roaring Plains plateau. This part of the hike was challenging because it is a steep, steady climb to the plateau—2,500 miles over only 6.5 miles. My legs were still strong from the Alps trip, so this did not phase me a bit. In Europe, we had days of 7,000+ foot climbs on steeper grades. When I mentioned this to Beth (“Girl with Big Backpack”) and Aneesh (“Medivac”) they smiled at me knowingly. They were on the Alps trip, too, and knew how strong the three of us were as a result.
We climbed in a single file line. At the beginning we were dodging small puddles of muddy water. “Those weren’t there last year,” I thought. Then, we reached a long patch of stinging nettles. “I don’t remember those, I mused.” Wearing short pants, I walked gingerly through them. I was successful with most steps. However, one needs only to brush up against one of those Plants from Hell a few times to know why they are so unpopular.
Our pack line spread out on the climb as some of us joined me tiptoeing through the nettles. Others took the climb slower, and others, such as Jonathan (“Shenanigans”) and Girl with a Big Backpack, went up at full speed, as if this were a race. At a spring near the top, everyone but Girl with a Big Backpack stopped to tank up. There would be no drinking water at our campsite. Girl with a Big Backpack filled her pack with tons of water before we started, so she did not need more. She hiked on to the top. I asked Brightside, “Is this a race like last year?” He confirmed that, no, it was not. Relieved, I refilled my water bottles.
The temperature improved pleasantly just after the spring. A couple thousand feet of elevation gain and the set sun cooled things down nicely. We hiked in a pine forest by headlamp up to the open ground of the plateau. A giant meadow, we hiked through waist-high grass on a barely discernable trail. No longer climbing, the hiking was easier on the lungs. It was very nice. However, the ground was wet like an oversaturated sponge. There was no way to avoid the puddles. Getting feet wet on the first night, soon before making camp, is not my favorite. However, that was our fate. I patted myself on the back for my wisdom in not mentioning my spare socks to Baseball earlier that day.
The puddles got more annoying. Not only were they wet, but they were also muddy. There was no place to walk but through them. Worse, there was no way to know how deep each puddle was until stepping in them. Some puddles were shallow with water splashing the ankles. Others were quicksand-like muddy bogs where one’s leg would descend up to the knee. We had to be careful not to let the mud suck off our trail runners.
Eventually, we arrived at the campsite. Girl with a Big Backpack was there already setting up her hammock. I told her “you know, this is not a race.” She just smiled with that “yea . . . but I beat you” grin.
Everyone was pitching their tents or hammocks. Our other tree-dweller on this trip was Laxman. In addition to setting up camp, we had to deal with the thick mud covering our feet.
I was pitching my tent next to Brightside. I confirmed again that this was not a race. “No! Stop asking me that,” he said. I looked over at and pointed to Girl with a Big Backpack. “I’ll tell her.” I mentioned the wet, muddy trail and commented at how I remembered that section being dry last year. He replied, “Last year was an unusual year, Spider-Man. We’ve just begun to get wet and muddy. People refer to Dolly Sods as “Dolly Sogs” for a reason . . .”
We all went directly to sleep, with plenty of time before heavy rain started.
We woke early, ready to hike at 6:30 a.m. Now that the initial climb to the plateau was behind us, the remainder of the trip was mostly without sustained climbs. We would still have significant elevation gain—2,000 feet. However, it would be imperceptible but for a few short climbs. Hikers here get tired on this section but cannot exactly pinpoint why. The plan was to circumnavigate the Roaring Plains and the adjacent Dolly Sods Wildernesses.
The Roaring Plains trek was along the edge of the plateau through the brush—a combination of rhododendron, mountain laurel, and annoying overgrown weeds. It was a bushwacking-like experience. There were cairns (small rock piles) to follow for wayfinding. However, we had to be careful to follow the trail and not get too cut up from the brush.
There was a rock scramble section that, last year, was easy because it was so dry then. I remember lightly jogging through the scree. My trail runners were very grippy. This year, most of the rocks were easy to traverse. Unfortunately, because of the wet weather, some of the rocks were slippery as ice. There was no way to know in advance which rocks were slippery or not. So, we had to treat all the rocks as if they were. This slowed us down considerably.
We reached a long section of meadow lined by blueberry bushes. This slowed us down more than the slippery rocks! We could not stop ourselves from picking and eating them. They were perfectly ripe and plentiful. In some areas, one could brush one’s hand across the bushes and scoop up a handful of the fruit ready to eat. It is for this experience that Brightside posts this annual trip at this time of year.
Eventually, we stopped at the border of Dolly Sods to rest and have lunch. Rain started though, so our break was shorter than we’d have liked. After a time, we reached some dramatic cliffs with rock outcroppings. We stopped for a long second lunch. The rain stopped and the hot sun invited us to dry out our wet tents. After a long rest we hiked onward.
Along the way we stopped to fill our water bottles with all the water we’d need for the remainder of the day and through the night. I hate carrying extra water. However, the streams north of the upcoming Red Creek are all polluted by beavers. Sure, good water filters should keep us from getting sick. But, yuck! Most of us chose to carry heavy amounts of water rather than drink beaver droppings. This would make the afternoon hike more challenging, of course.
Eventually we reached the rain swollen Red Creek after descending steeply down a shortcut. Last year, we rock-hopped across the creek without getting a drop of water on our feet. What a difference a year makes—this year the water was up to our knees. We all collected on the banks of the creek to watch each other cross. We had been regularly fording streams since we entered Dolly Sods that day, so we were used to the water. Our feet were constantly wet. Fortunately, the weather was so pleasant, and the water cool, that it felt nice.
From this point onward we faced most of the elevation gain for the day. On paper, this part of the trail looks easy. However, Shenanigans tells me often that “Dolly Sods miles are different than normal miles.” He is right. We hiked together for a time, sloshing regularly through streams. This was his first big DCUL backpacking trip since he had a new bionic hip installed. He needed a hip replacement and, logically, felt that if he was to have that surgery he might as well get the upgrade. His motorized hip helped him ascend hills as if they were flat. My Alps-trained legs struggled to keep up. Unfortunately, some water must have gotten into his hip and he started slowing. I passed him and didn’t see him again until camp.
I hiked alone for the afternoon with everyone else behind me. I put on my headphones and listened to a good audio book and enjoyed the nature. However, I’m not going to lie to you. I was getting tired of the trail. Sure, it was beautiful hiking on the high elevation plateau across verdant meadows that reminded me of the Alps. However, I was done with the mud puddles. They were everywhere. I long ago stopped trying to avoid them—there were too many and my feet were soaked anyway. However, they were tiresome to walk through. Also, the sun was out and, without tree cover, it was uncomfortable in direct sunlight. I deployed my trekking umbrella, which gave me some relief. However, I was tired. I took to occasionally checking my position on the gps, only to find that my progress between each check was much less than I hoped. I tried to lose myself in my book.
After passing by some dramatic rock outcroppings on the open, exposed sods, I eventually reached our camping site. Another backpacker had already claimed it, but he agreed to share. It was a nice pine grove on top of the sods with a soft carpet of pine needles. Then it hit me. I was the first of our group to arrive. Stated differently, I won! Technically, this was not a race. But, if it was . . . Let’s just say I did that dance that the Peanuts/Snoopy cartoon characters do. The other hiker who so generously agreed to share his campsite looked at me as if he was reconsidering his offer.
I stopped dancing and went to set up my tent. As my friends arrived, they each asked if I had been waiting long. My lips said the obligatory, “no, I just got here.” However, my mind said, “I’ve been here exactly 23 minutes and 10 seconds,” or “I’ve been here for 1 hour, 6 minutes, and 32 seconds.”
Laxman and Alyssa were the last to arrive, primarily because Alyssa kept taking wrong turns. She is so tough that 23 “Dolly Sods miles” are too little for her. She added bonus miles, and Laxman fell for her excursions.
We gathered around an unlit fire pit and made our dinners. Everything was drenched and we were all so drained that no one wanted to futz with gathering wood to start a high maintenance fire for just a few hours. Most of us went to bed—except Medivac. Medivac’s adventure for that evening was just beginning.
After everyone settled into their tents, Medivac went to relieve himself and take a short stroll. I told him on a prior trip that, counterintuitively, a short walk before bed aids a good night sleep in the wilderness. I had heard that on a podcast, so it must be true. Unfortunately, he strolled without his gps or headlamp—and got lost. For hours he was wandering in the night. He was just about to give up and sleep in the mud when he saw a game trail that led him back to our campsite. Exhausted, frustrated, and scratched from brush, he collapsed in his tent. For the rest of the night he slept very well—just as the podcast promised.
On Sunday we again woke early to start hiking at 6:30 a.m. in a thick fog. Early mornings on the northern part of Dolly Sods in a heavy fog is magical. It looks like one is hiking on the moon. Shenanigans had repaired his bionic hip overnight and was now flying down the trail. Medivac, Brightside, and I struggled to keep up as Medivac told us of his prior night misadventures.
After a time, Brightside made an executive decision at a key trail junction. Instead of hiking his planned route further along the plateau, he knew of a different nearby trail that would be considerably less muddy. Because it was a trail I had never hiked in Dolly Sods, I eagerly embraced the plan along with Shenanigans and Medivac. Brightside stayed at the junction to make sure everyone else knew of this change of plans.
When Girl with the Big Backpack reached Brightside, she rejected his deviation. As I learned from hiking with her in the Alps, to her the original plan is the plan. Out of 14 hikers on the Tour du Mont Blanc, she was the only one to hike the entire route as originally charted for us. In her mind deviations from the original plan make the trip incomplete. Brightside explained that the planned route just continued a short distance along the plateau to see a view. However, since the view was obscured by the thick fog, there was no point in suffering the muddier descent just to see fog. Girl with the Big Backpack asked plainly, “was the plan to hike along the plateau?” When Brightside confirmed that, she began hiking the original route. I know why we call her “Girl with the Big Backpack.” Her trail name is so descriptive it needs no explanation. However, may I suggest she take the trail name “As Advertised?” Her penchant for hiking the planned route would certainly justify that tag.
Our descent from the plateau was a blur we were going so fast. Shenanigans was really fast! Medivac and I had to jog at times to keep up. For most of the time we hiked steeply down a wooded trail along a beautiful stream. Eventually, we reached the parking lot, which ended our trip. I’m not sure who was down first, but it doesn’t matter. It was not a race or anything. We reversed the shuttle and waited for everyone to descend. As Advertised—er, I mean Girl with the Big Backpack—was down quickly despite her having hiked two extra miles, as originally advertised. Alyssa, true to form, was last having taken yet another wrong turn on the descent. Watch it, Alyssa! Do you want the trail name, “Wrong Turn?”
We piled into our cars and had lunch at the Blackwater Falls State Park’s restaurant before driving back to DC (or, in Laxman’s case, Ohio). We left the wet trail and mud in the rear-view mirrors of our cars, dreaming of our next trek through the Tour du Sods next year. Sure, it was a tough trail. But, you never know. Maybe it won’t be so wet and muddy next year. It’s amazing the difference a year can make.
Postscript: I read Baseball’s excellent Trip Report of his group’s trek to Spruce Knob. The report is linked here. He bemoaned the wet trail and heavy mud conditions there. I commented, “Wow! You all picked the wrong trail. On Dolly Sods that same weekend we didn’t have any mud. I don’t think I even got my feet wet. Stinging nettles, what’s that?” Shhh. Don’t tell them!
— David O (“Spider-Man”)
DC UL Backpacking 
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