AT - Weverton to Ed Garvey (out and back, with cliff detour)

Once you fall off a horse, it's imperative to get back on as soon as possible. 



I love ferns.  They're delicious primitive fractals.



I spent Sunday and much of Monday recouperating.  A real "hike" with elevation and rocks and terrain difficulty seemed absolutely out of the question.  But we planned for Tuesday to go, hit at least 750 feet of elevation gain, and a minimum of 6 miles.  I had to re-build the confidence I had and remind myself that I am strong and awesome and won't make the same stupid mistakes again.

So we headed out to Leesburg and then cut into Maryland to park at the Weverton lot.  It's a great place to park - it's near enough to Washington Monument State Park, it's got Ed Garvey on the other side. 



Friendly white blaze!



It'd been raining the night before, with light rain in the forecast, but we figured hey, what's some rain?  We dressed appropriately, and we brought plenty of water.  The hike itself is challenging to normal folks - I believe for thru hikers it'd just be a nice climb - but for those of us who have not yet reached that near-immortal state, it's a slough.  There's an adorable kids hike, which is about 2/3 of the climbing, called the Weverton Challenge that's embedded in this route.  It's actually going to be awesome to take my kids to - it will challenge them but be something completely attainable. 

The way up contains a series of 15 switchbacks over the course of a mile which climbs the bulk of the hill.  At the top of this mile is a junction - you go right for gorgeous cliffs and some fun climbing about, and you go left to continue on the Appalachian Trail.  We decided to do the trail first, and hit the cliffs on the way back.  I'm fairly sure Aaron's thinking was that if I was exhausted and the climbing had been too much, we can skip the steep but short descent and ascent from the cliff. so best to do it second and not first. 

The terrain is the sort that is a combination of medium to large rocks you need to hop between, for about a mile, once you get past the cliff off-shoot.  This gets tiring on your knees after a while, and I sat down and thought, "Is it really worth it?  How much longer is it going to be before good solid ground?"  The breeze was great on the ridge we waited for a bit on, and we continued on.  Then we hit the ideal trail - giving ground, few rocks or roots.  Okay.  It was muddy as hell.  We came back completely spattered in filth. 

We passed by a few weekend section hikers, and a father-son team in Minnesota matching sweatshirts.  We stopped at Ed Garvey shelter for lunch.  It was hilarious - on the floor, dead center, was a graphic novel.  The title:  "I knocked up Satan's Daughter."  I can't really put into words how much that tickled me.  The log book was full of people who'd written their destination, their life philosophy, their attack of the munchies, their warnings of rattlesnakes in the privvy (!!!).  You could tell general ages based on the type of writing "Maine or Bust! Bring the Weed!"  Yes.  That was likely an 18 year old who's taking a break before college.  "Celebrating our fifth anniversary by hiking the trail!" young couple.  There's a feeling that the majority of AT hikers are either very young or just post-retirement.  The evidence matches this, but there are anomalies.  We're not the only 30ish year old hiking couple out there.

The hike back was easier, and the cliff view was spectacular, mostly because the cliff itself looked like it wanted to dive forward, to leap into the air before coming to crash into the Potomac below.  It was a good formation.  The rocks everywhere else were wet and therefore looked black crossed with the brilliant green that signifies new spring growth, but the cliffs were pale grey and gleamed with white quartz streaks in the newly-broken through sunlight. 

We got back to the car and headed for tacos.  Because tacos. 

Time spent on trail:  4 hours 20 minutes, including lunch.

Difficulty:  Medium-hard.  Medium if you're experienced.  Hard if you're novice.

Bonuses:  The Ed Garvey shelter is awesome!  The log book is exceptionally entertaining. 

View:  The cliffs are gorgeous.  The AT itself is a nice walk in the woods.

Kid-friendly:  Slow and steady wins the race.  If your kids are physically active, the 7 miles should be doable but it's going to be tough.  Prepare to carry them at points.

Dehydration + 50 degrees = hypothermia and other assorted ills

The subtitle of this post:
AT - Pen Mar heading north

This post is actually really hard for me to write.  Aaron and I were setting out on a four day backpacking trip and there were several critical error points.

Critical Error Point #1:  We met our shuttle from Pine Grove Furnace to Pen Mar and went and had lunch.  After lunch, I realized we forgot our trekking poles. I'm blind in one eye.  I do not hike without trekking poles.  I said, you know what, it's only 40ish miles.  We'll be fine. We couldn't turn around - at that point, we would not have made it to a shelter in time to pitch the tent and make dinner before dark.

Aaron brought us each two big bottles of Gatorade.  We also have a good water filter.  The intent here is to drink the Gatorade bottles, then fill with water, minimizing the stuff we have to cart around.  Have I ever mentioned that I don't tolerate processed foods well?  Gatorade is intensely processed food and I started coughing, fairly regularly.

Critical Error Point #2:  I decided to lay off on drinking and catch up when we made it to a water source.

 Our day started with a climb of about 1,100 feet.  Total elevation gain was approximately 1,500 feet for the day. My lungs, with the Gatorade, were unhappy.  I was wheezing, and my chest was very tight.  I had to hit my inhaler several times.

Critical Error Point #3:  I hit my inhaler a few too many times, but I needed to to breathe.  This causes dry mouth and dry throat.  Muscle cramps.  Insomnia.  It's not going to kill you - but it's not awesome.

Now, the bonuses.  The hike was gorgeous.  I felt very awesome about myself after the climb, and even as my legs trembled towards the end of it, I felt like hey.  I'm going to be able to do this.  The stream at Antiem Shelter is beautiful, really lovely, and criss crossed by this network of tiny bridges to get from place to place.  There's a freshwater spring about 3 miles back on the trail from Antiem which has a nice place to sit and rest.  The ferns are amazing. 

But back to my tale of errors.

When we got to camp, Aaron set up the tent while I boiled water to make rice for dinner, and dehydrated pea soup.  I put on a layer of clothes as it was about 58 degrees, nice fleece warm pants, a long sleeved shirt.  I was dizzy, and very tired.  I made food and my teeth were chattering as I worked over the small fire camp stove.   Hot food would warm me up, I said.  I still didn't drink much.  I did, some, but not enough to replace all the coughing water lost, the sweating, etc.  I ate my soup - all 150 calories of it - and didn't feel like eating more.  I forced down a few bites of nutella and crackers, and brown rice.  I knew 150 calories was not enough and I would wake up utterly miserable.  But I was cold.  I climbed in the tent and put on two sleeping bags. 

Critical Error Point #4:  I began to cry.  I was cold, and I was scared, irrationally.  I should have recognized this as a Sign Of Trouble, but I didn't.  I don't cry.  I'm not a crier.  But here I was, crying away.  What the hell - and I didn't flag it at this point.

So I put socks on my hands, nice thick wool ones, and I wrapped scarves around my head to prevent heat loss.  I added more shirts.  I had on pretty much every article of clothing we brought with.  Aaron was in his hiking shirt and his lightweight shorts.  He was warm enough, no problems.  I felt like it was 20 degrees - in reality, it was just over 50. 

My teeth chattered and there was no hope for it.  Aaron called the shuttle driver who gave us a lift earlier, after we spent two hours in the tent trying to sleep and warm me up.  I was chattering non-stop.  I tried to take a benadryl to help me rest, even, and maybe tamp down my cough a bit.  Nope.

He agreed to pick us up - he's amazing, named Mike, and he's a hiker-rescuer.  He came, and it took about an hour because the high concentration of deer on the backroads requires slow, deliberate driving. 

I felt like a damn failure at this point, but I still didn't know why I was so cold.

I got into the car and slowly warmed enough that I fell into a confused sleep.  Aaron transferred me to our car and I slept fitfully, screaming every couple of minutes to "watch out!"  One conversation went, "Slow down!" "Why?"  "I don't know!"  And I was asleep the whole time - I have no memory of babbling.

We got home at 3 AM and I was so sick.  So sick, and dogged miserable, our housemate took me to the ER where they re-hydrated me and my body learned to control its own internal temperature once more.

So here I am on day 2 of my AT hike.  In my pajamas, on my couch, sipping coffee, having napped most of the day.

Tomorrow we're going out again.  Tuesday we're going out again.  Lessons learned are important and we don't grow without making mistakes - but man.  Newbie mistakes almost caused huge health problems.

The trail was gorgeous and peaceful.  The other distance hikers we chatted with were friendly, and two had dogs carrying water packs with them.  Despite all the critical error points, I call the day a success.  It afforded the opportunity to show that I can recover even from really dumb mistakes, I can survive even when making really dumb mistakes, and I can do better next time by not making the same mistake twice.

Packing List and Gluten Free Hiking Meals

Aaron and I find ourselves without children for Memorial Day weekend.  We've decided to make a 4 day hike out of it, backpacking along 50ish miles of the Appalachian Trail.  This is going to be a huge event for me, but what amazes me most is the idea of a packing list.  I ask myself, what will I need when setting away from technology for 4 days?  I'll have my iphone but I will only be using it for photos, and a call home at night. 

Eventually we nailed it down to this list.  I keep staring at it and thinking I'm forgetting something!  The food was a difficult bit - I eat no chemicals and I'm gluten free, and as we'll be burning about 6,000 calories per day, I'd kind of like to consume at least 3,000 - which is hard for me, who is used to about 1700.  But I think we've got a plan in place that should feed us.

** Food
Breakfasts:
Oatmeal packets
Pecans & Craisins
Folgers coffee singles

Lunches:
Perky turkey jerky
Trail mix with 72% dark chocolate, cashews, almonds, raisins
Dried apricots
Dried pineapple

Snacks:
Snickers bars
Glutino cereal bars
Sunflower seeds, already shelled

Dinner:
Dehydrated peas
Dehydrated potato buds
Organic split pea soup mix
Chicken bullion cubes, also organic
Crunchmaster crackers
Nutella

** For Sleeping
Tent Body   
Tent Poles/Stakes
Winter Bag  
Summer Bag
Underquilt  
Tiny pillow  
Nightlight  

** Clothing-related (1 stuff sack per person)
Shoes   
2 pair hiking socks
2 pair Ex Officio 
4 pair microfiber 
Hiking shorts/capris
Hiking top  
Sleeping top 
Comfy bra  
Sleeping socks  
Orange fleece   
Long sleeve shirt 
Flip flops for Jen 

** Food-related (in a bear bag and other)
Stove   
Fuel and spare
Aluminum Pot
Spoon   
Small container dish soap
Cup   
Lighter and spare
Water Filter  
Water bottles
Food  
Paracord (for bear bag) 

** Toiletries Bag
Toothbrushes   
Toothpaste  
Purel   
Small bottle lotion 
Body Glide  
Baby Powder
Bug Spray
Sunscreen
Floss   
Needle  

** Medicine Bag
Neosporin  
Band aids  
Alcohol Wipes
Vitamins   
Ibuprofen 
Benadryl  
Immodium  
Breatheright strips 
Tums   
Inhaler
   
** Miscellaney
Packs   
Pack Liners (2 ea trash bags)
Beltloop watch   
Camera/Cell  
Headlamps 
Cash/credit cards  
Trekking poles  
Duct Tape (on pole) 
Camp Towel  
Baby Wipes   
Knife    
Maps and guide   
Pen and paper  
TP and trowel
Plastic baggies 
Deck of cards  
Iota   

Hiking By Night?

Last night I was restless and wanted to go hiking.  I didn't terribly care that it was 8 PM and already the evening blanket was beginning to settle.  Aaron, says I, put on your shoes.  If we don't go now,  I'm just going to go to bed.  When I go to bed at 8 PM, I am awake by 4.  There's just no arguing with my body - 7 hours of sleep is my preferred and I just can't sleep any longer no matter how hard I try.  Not being a fan of waking up with me at 4 AM, Aaron put on his shoes and we set out in our neighborhood.

I'm not certain I've spoken much about my neighborhood.  It's a big, friendly place full of families and dogs and well-manicured lawns.  Townhouses are set like teeth into the lanscape that surrounds the pipeline that runs through Northern Virginia.  The pipeline has nothing built over it anywhere, and the trees are cleared from it.  It is simply a giant swath of prairie grass framed by trees and houses, over which airplanes fly.

Think of airplanes as white noise.  When the comings and goings are constant, it's like the ebb and the pull of the ocean.  The sound becomes comforting and settled - they are not so close as to be a disturbance but more as to be a friend. So with this white noise and the settling night, we set out. 

At first it was wonderful.  We passed one jogger and three dogs being walked.  It was very quiet, for our neighborhood.  It felt luxurious and a bit irresponsible - as though we, too, should be settling. 

We decided to take a long loop that should take approximately one hour.  Nevermind that this loop goes through forest at night!  It'll be fine!

As the sun sunk lower and lower, I eyed the gaping black forest we were about to go into.  Any of you who live in urban areas know there is no real darkness here, but somehow in contrast to the safely lit streets, those paths seem darker than an alley in a ghost town. 

I'm afraid of the dark.  It's okay.  I said it.  I'm fine with this weakness, really.  The tiny town I come from in Northern Wisconsin experiences darkness, true darkness.  The stars are alive there - the milky way and the aurora borealis are visible at times, and the moons light is enough to see deer and bear dart and lumber through the yard, respectively.  Here there are few stars, and fewer lumbering things.

But the darkness scares me.  I was reading about two hikers, women, who were murdered on the Appalachian Trail in 1996, and I was none too sure that there weren't things that go more than bump in the night.  There have been eleven murders on the trail since 1974.  I'm none too keen to become the twelfth. 

Aaron said all was fine, and he took my hand and we walked down into the dark trees.  We came to a stream crossing.  Under the bridge, a bubbling blackness was seeping through the cracked boards.  Gollums lurk in the darkness, gollums and conniving snake dens and unknown things with fangs and fingers and fur.

And so our leisurely walk turned into a jog, and a flat out run.   I was overcome by my imagination, I fear, and had I been able to fly, I would have flown over the bridge.  Hearken back to when you were six, and things could reach out from under your bed and grab your ankles and pull you under, forever and ever.  But your blankets protected you!

Well hell.  My blanket was nowhere nearby.

Aaron, the fine husband he is, chased after me so as not to leave me alone.  After racing down the path faster than I thought my legs could carry me, we came to terrain that was bordering houses.  These houses had their lights on,  behind drawn shades, and the ambient light was enough for me to feel invincible once again.  So we meandered over another stream.... okay.  I say meandered.  He meandered.  I took a running leap over it.  Same difference.

And then we came to the clear swath again.  Only now the darkness was more firmly entrenched.  There was a bare fringe of fuschia around the horizon, fading up to rose and then blending with tones of green grey and smoky darkness until the sky above was a deep shade of slate that bordered on navy blue.  Polaris was visible, and the crescent moon could clearly be seen to be nestling the rest of the moon, in deep relief, in its palm.

And the airplanes.  Oh, the airplanes.  I was stunned by the beauty of these moving stars, not shooting starts but crawling.  I could see so many all at once, following their varied paths across the sky.  One looked to be going straight up, until the light grew bigger and it passed overhead, the twinkling on the wings visible it was so close.  Others seemed to be falling into the houses on the horizon, getting caught in the blackened leafy branches of trees.  Some arced through the sky, west-bound.  One by one, more stars appeared in the sky and the rosy shades disappeared from the horizon entirely.

As we stood there in dumb silence watching for what felt like an hour, I realized that hiking by night might not be for me.  But pausing to focus, really feeling that internal stillness, contrasted with the cross-country movement of so many in the skies above? 

Yep.  That's for me.

(No photos.  They would look like a big blotch of blueblack.)

Claude Moore Farm Trails

Life interfered with hiking for the past three weeks.  Aaron and I were able to walk about our small neck of the woodlessness, but we were not able to get out and do any hiking.  Aaron got laid off, he's been job hunting aggressively, I've started a new job with hours that do not lend themselves to exploring the world at night, and so it goes.  Best laid plans, and all. 

So for Mother's Day Weekend, I wanted to hike.  We had Sky Meadows planned for Saturday, and were looking forward to it.

Saturday dawned with a grey dampness that can only be described as being inside a wet pelican.  Saturday, then, was a yard sale and a bit at a park, just playing, until the undue sticky could no longer be tolerated, and we fled for the safety of air-conditioning. 

Sunday I teach in the morning, and afterwards, it was time.  We decided on a nice, flat, nearby place.  We choose Claude Moore in Sterling, which is, I must say, really adorable.  The hiking trail we were on was 2.6 miles, nothing fancy.  The trails are interesting - some are like roads, but our choice was this trail which wasn't so much a trail as a slight break in the trees and a path entirely of knee-high grass.  It was lush and green with the new green of early spring - not a Kermit fuzzy green but a caterpillar eye.

And oh, was it muddy.  And snakey.  And tadpoley.  Millions of living things are beginning to wake from winter slumbers and each and every one of them wanted to say hello.  The tapoles in the streams and pond water striders skittering across the surface, were excited to be a part of this crisp and cool day.  Squirrels without number, chipmunks and even what I suspect was a young clutch of birds watching us nestled in a stump were abundant, and yes, even snakes were out with their whippy tails and their glass skin.

It was a gorgeous day! 

The nature center had this wonderful little scavenger hunt of the living world.  The only thing we did not find was a blue heron - I suspect we would have, had the mud not driven us away from certain areas.  The mud was the slick sort and not the sticky sort, so that knees and legs were spattered just as evenly across all people.  Julia, Kate and I all slid but nobody fully fell - Julia came closest.

And then there was a farm museum, which was tiny and adorable and had tractors for exploring outside, windmills to teach about responsible energy, and a bathroom to chase away Julia's hives.

Happy mother's day to me!

Time Spent on Trail:  90 minutes.  Too wet to explore most places.

Difficulty:  None.

Bonuses:  It's ALIVE!

View:  Beautiful if you want trees and greenery and swampy wetland things.  Not so much if you want mountains and expansive view - it's the micro and not the macro here, but the micro is just as lovable.

Kid-friendly:  Yes.  It's designed for children and has "hikes" as short as 1/2 mile.