I was looking forward to this trip for months. Andrew (“Camel”) posted a point-to-point hike on the Appalachian Trail (“AT”) from Dragon’s Tooth to Pearisburg, all just west of Roanoke, Virginia. This is one of my only two missing pieces of the AT in Virginia. It also filled a four-day weekend in the Fall since Veteran’s Day fell on a Tuesday. Camel is fun to hike with, as are Logan, Haigang (“Two Gangs”), and Chet.
As the trip neared, Two Gangs asked if anyone minded if he brought Mocha (“Sam”). Happily, no one objected. Sam is a delightful long-haired dachshund. Despite his diminutive stature and “stuffed animal-like” cuteness, that dog can hunt! He’s the only DC UL dog to have earned a trail name. I’ve been on previous trips with Two Gangs and Sam. I was impressed to see the little guy hike over 20 miles in a day, jump over knee-high deadfalls as if they were not even there, and swim across streams. The dog impressed me, too! (Just kidding, Two Gangs!) I knew this would be fun.
Unfortunately, the weather forecast took a foreboding turn. It predicted a picture-perfect Saturday and Sunday, with highs at elevation in the mid to high 50s. However, on Sunday night a polar vortex would strike, dropping wind chill temperatures to -7 Fahrenheit. At that point, we’d be hiking on a long ridge at elevation. It would be well below freezing Sunday night, all day Monday, Monday night, and Tuesday morning. Most of my body handles such cold temperatures well. However, my toes no longer do. It’s a real problem. It really puts me at extra risk of frostbite.
My first instinct was to join another DC UL trip that weekend. Mark (“Brightside”) posted a fun-looking trip to a good section of the Tuscarora Trail I had never hiked. I jumped on the waiting list. Unfortunately for me, no one dropped and adding a 6th person would have complicated the planned campsite and shuttle plans. Brightside texted me to inquire why I wasn’t just going on the AT trip near Roanoke. When I replied the cold weather was worrying me, he quoted me back to me. “Hey, Spider-Man,” he wrote, “don’t you always say: ‘there is no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothing?’” I do often say that. It is not original to me, however. My Scandinavian relatives, of which I have none, always said that.
I moved to Plan B and texted the other hopefuls on Brightside’s trip who were even lower on the waitlist than me. I suggested we go to the Shenandoah. Beth (“Girl with a Big Backpack”) held out hope of getting on Brightside’s trip and promptly declined. GBB’s unofficial and unauthorized trail name is “As Advertised,” because she craves completing trips as planned instead of making field adjustments. Because my Shenandoah trip was just conceptual and not advertised anywhere, it clearly did not interest her. Wesal (“WB”) replied next, asking about my reluctance to go on the AT trip near Roanoke. When I expressed my concern about the cold, she recommended handwarmers. She also said she planned to hike in Tennessee that weekend.
I reconsidered doing AT trip near Roanoke after all. WB was right—handwarmers do work. Brightside was right, too—with the right clothing anything is possible. What put me over the edge was Sam. If an adorable long-haired dachshund could do it, a guy with the trail name “Spider-Man” could. I packed.
And I packed. And I packed. As Brightside would say, “I packed my fears.” Handwarmers? Of course. Electric socks with heavy batteries? It would be awful to want them and not have them. Extra socks? It seemed prudent. I added extra wool socks for layering and, worried about wet feet due to predicted rain or snow, I included neoprene socks. Insulated pants? They would likely be welcome at camp. I also threw in redundant clothing: an extra hat, mittens, and shirt. I also made a special trip to REI to buy a thermos. From past sub-freezing trips, I learned the hard way that liquid water doesn’t stay that way for long in the cold. As a coup-de-grace, I tossed in micro spikes and four days of food.
When I hefted my pack, I took a couple steps backwards. My prior trip was the 5-State-Challenge in great weather where my total pack weight was less than 10 pounds. The pack now on my back was—ahem—a lot heavier. “It’s ok; I’m in good shape,” I told myself. “Anyway, if Sam can do it . . .” I spent the next hours before falling asleep habitually checking the forecast hoping for a “just kidding” notation that never appeared.
I woke very early on Saturday to rendezvous with my friends at Steve’s (“Baconator’s”) house in Fairfax. When I entered my car my mantra was “If Sam can do it . . .” However, on the drive to Baconator’s home, I decided to bail out.
When I reached our rendezvous point, I met Baconator, Logan, and Chet and told them my decision. They spontaneously, and in perfect unison, wailed, “Noooooooooooo! The trip will not be the same without you!” Actually, that didn’t happen. Logan just shrugged his shoulders, said “ok, that’s too bad,” and commented on his wish that he brought a warmer quilt than his 40 degree one. Baconator and Chet started talking about the gear they had for the trip. I asked, hopefully, if Two Gangs reconsidered bringing Sam. Baconator told me that he expected the dog to join them. I skulked back alone to my car.
As Brightside says, “when life gives you bad weather, go backpacking!” So, I drove to the Shenandoah National Park for my solo adventure.
My new plan was to hike a loop north of Thornton Gap with overnights in Gravel Springs Hut Saturday night and Pass Mountain Hut Sunday night. Because the polar vortex would still hit this section of the AT, and because I already had everything packed, I merely took out a couple days of food and the micro spikes. When I emerged from my car, I shivered in the brisk breeze blowing through the gap. The temperature was in the low 40s, so I was glad I was not then emerging into the colder section of the trail.
I set off on the trail with my winter-heavy pack. I figured this would be a good shakedown of sorts. I’d experience the vortex Sunday night, but I’d be only a couple miles from my car. So, I could test my foot systems.
I hiked the AT up out of the pass to the Neighbor Mountain Trail, and up and over the eponymous mountain. I returned to the AT via the Jeremy’s Run Trail, making a big loop. Mostly a ridge trail, it descended sharply to Jeremy’s Run. Then, the Jeremy’s Run Trail took a long well-graded climb to the AT along a stream, which continued the climb. It didn’t feel that difficult, but I gained 2,350 feet. When I arrived at the Gravel Springs Hut, I was tired. I had hiked 22 miles with my heavy winter pack.
At that point I hadn’t needed my winter gear. The temperatures were in the 70s and I was hiking in my sun shirt. I should have taken off my long pants but didn’t for some reason. It was a beautiful day. The bright fallen autumn leaves carpeted the trail like an oriental rug.
I hadn’t backpacked solo in a long time. Sure, on my DC UL trips I have stretches of hiking alone, which is nice and meditative. However, those moments alone are interspersed with times hiking with others in periods of conversation and in silence. Just knowing others are out on the trail, doing the same thing as me, feels good. Of course, it is nice taking breaks with others. For some reason scenic views are enhanced with the presence of others. It is one thing to see a setting sun and think to oneself, “that’s beautiful.” However, it feels much nicer to be in the same spot with another who points it out and says, “Wow! Do you see that?” Shared experiences just feel different. It is just like the “observer effect” in quantum mechanics. (Measuring or observing a quantum system inevitably disturbs the system, so the act of observing a quantum particle changes it). Nonetheless, it was a fun day.
I arrived at the Gravel Springs Hut just after dark and chatted briefly with an old-looking man from Montana as I made dinner. He recently started hiking half the AT from Harper’s Ferry to Georgia. A mother-daughter team out for an overnight soon joined us. None of us stayed up for long. I warned the Montana man about the predicted polar vortex. He reminded me he was from Montana and was unconcerned.
Sunday morning, I awoke at 5:15 a.m., as I always do. However, this not being a DC UL trip, I lingered in my tent. I had only 13 miles to hike and all day to do it. So, I didn’t feel rushed. I just lay there listening to the sounds of nature. The birds. The breeze through the trees. The occasional leaf falling gently on my tent. A small animal scurrying through the brush.
My hike was like the prior day. I hiked the AT south to Keyers Run/Pole Link Bridge/Piney Branch trails. I came down off the top of the Shenandoahs to a stream valley only to reclimb. Over 13 miles I had 2,400 feet of elevation gain and loss. Despite the relatively short mileage and elevation gain, I was getting tired at the end. I started taking multiple breaks on the final push up to the AT. As with the prior day, the temperature was warm.
I arrived at the Pass Mountain Hut well before sunset. I could have easily hiked on to my car. However, I wanted to test my cold weather gear and was looking forward to a second night in the woods. I pitched my tent far from the shelter so I would not be disturbed by any camper noise. I needn’t have bothered. I was alone at the shelter the entire time.
I went to bed very early, just as the sun was setting. I was so hot in my quilt that I stripped down to just my shorts.
The polar vortex woke me in the small hours of the evening. The wind picked up and was slamming against the mountain from the west. Since I was camped on the east side of the ridge, I was well sheltered. However, the wind came in powerful gusts that sounded like cannon fire. The treetops caught the bursts and swayed noisily. After each gust I felt an influx of cold air in my tent from the bottom vents. The temperature dropped and I scrambled to put on my shirt, wool pants, fleece, and hat. Under my quilt, properly dressed, I felt fine.
A nearby tree started squeaking, as if it would fall. Knowing the vortex was approaching that night, I had spent considerable time selecting the site for my tent. The trees around me looked solid and there were no concerning branches over me. However, that squeaking was unnerving. I got out of my quilt, put on my puffer, and went out into the tempest to see if I could spot the offending tree. Because some trees are just bastards, this tree stopped squeaking just because I was watching it. (See my discussion of quantum mechanics, above). I stood next to my tent for several minutes with my headlamp shooting a laser-like beam up into the trees. I could see the trees swaying violently. However, I didn’t hear anything concerning. You know what happened next. I returned to my tent—and to the squeaking.
I drifted back to sleep only to be awakened by a bear. I could hear the bear’s heavy steps not far from my tent. I also heard its hard, heavy breathing. I had all my food safely in the shelter’s locker, so I was not worried about the bear disturbing me in my tent. I didn’t make a big federal case out of this by trying to chase the bear away with yells and waived arms. I just lay quietly. However, I also didn’t feel relaxed enough to go back to sleep. I lay and listened to the bear doing whatever bears do until it ambled away. I don’t remember falling asleep again, but I must have done so. My alarm woke me up at 5:15 a.m.
My plan was to hike up to St. Mary’s Rock and test out my cold weather system. However, when I got to my car just a mile and a half from my campsite, I remembered that the Apple House restaurant in Front Royal opened at 7:00 a.m. and the prospect of hot coffee and apple cider donuts was more enticing than a steep climb in subfreezing weather. So, I ended my trip.
The next day I reached out to my friends who went on the AT trip near Roanoke. I was hoping, out of pride, that Two Gangs changed his mind about bringing Sam. It would have been awful to have a little sissy dog upstage Spider-Man! I learned that Sam hiked the hike like a champ, complete with wagging tail! The others did fine, too, despite the cold. Sure, they had individual challenges, but at any low point each one kept thinking, “if Sam can do it . . .”
Epilogue: When I unpacked my pack, I made a pile of stuff I carried but did not use. The “fears” I packed weighed in at 7 pounds.
—- David O (“Spider-Man”)
Featured Photo Credit: Two Gangs
DC UL Backpacking 
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