As I made my plans for 2022, I decided that I would need to increase the number of National Parks I go to each year if I were going to complete the full 63 parks in the system before I die. I’m sure I have many years of hiking ahead of me, but 63 is still a lot to do. For 2022, the parks I picked are Shenandoah in Virginia, Congaree in South Carolina, and Voyageurs in Minnesota (yes, it’s true, even though I was born and raised in Minnesota, I’ve never actually been to Voyageurs. The infamous ‘baby on a canoe trip’ adventure was in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area, which while adjacent to the National Park, is not technically a part of it).
When I moved to the Philly area, I joined a MeetUp group called Philly Trail Wanderers. There are two guides who set up various hikes, mostly around the Delaware Water Gap and Appalachian Trail. Both are well versed on hiking everywhere and I took to sharing stores of my various adventures in hiking. I asked one of the guides what trails he felt were ‘must do’ in Shenandoah, and he said ‘Old Rag’ was one not to miss. So, naturally, I checked it out on AllTrails (my trusty hiking App). A few things I noticed: 1) You must have a day pass to hike Old Rag, in addition to the National Parks pass – check, easy enough to get online and book one for the day after my arrival (I don’t like the pressure of having to be somewhere on a travel day). 2) Some of the reviews mentioned a ‘rock scramble’ – check, we used to take the kids hiking at Mount Monadnock in southwestern New Hampshire; there was a rock scramble at the finish there. The reviewers also said to do the scramble on the way up the mountain – duly noted, bear left on the trail at the start point. 3) The trail was marked as ‘strenuous’ – cool, I love a challenge! And, thus it was decided. I downloaded the off-line map (no cell signal in most NPs); bought my day pass and started to gather the gear for my trip. Since Ava is a bit fussy about long drives, especially when they include driving in rough, rocky, or mountainous areas, I booked a rental car – better to get a traditional ICE vehicle than listen to her whinging the whole time. By May 1, I was as prepared as I usually am for a hiking trip – I’d scoped out the first day hike (Old Rag) and another longer, moderate hike for day two, and I’d make up the rest of it as I went along.
My work schedule was such that after planning a short weekend in New Hampshire for the end of April, I ended up getting booked for a two-week stint in the UK at the beginning of May. It would mean flying off for a weekend and leaving from Boston airport for two weeks away. I’d have two weeks home before heading off for an extended Memorial Day weekend. Of course, those kinds of plans are always at risk when one works for a global company, or there’s a pandemic going on. And, so it was that I picked up COVID and got stuck in quarantine at Heathrow airport for ten days, instead of going home when I planned. Looking at the calendar, I could see the window for getting home in time to pick up the rental car and drive to Virginia was going to be tight. Since the day you receive diagnosis is ‘day 0,’ it effectively meant I couldn’t fly until 11 days later. The additional fact that I’d gone to hike Mount Monadnock and left my hiking poles and NP parking pass in Boston with a friend added the need for an extra stop on the way home. While I have two pairs of hiking boots I wear in rotation, at the time, I didn’t have extra poles and the parking pass wasn’t something I could download a copy of (it’s a physical card that has to be presented when you enter the Park). I finally ended up departing the UK on the Tuesday before the holiday, doing a short stop in Boston on Wednesday, followed by being home exactly one night before I left on Thursday to drive part of the way to Shenandoah. On top of worrying about getting home in time, there was also the reality that I had done no physical activity for 5 straight days. COVID knocked me out, and by the time I could leave my hotel room and do some workouts, I was limited to the hotel gym. I did some Peloton hikes on the treadmill (which is basically playing with the incline to simulate going up a mountain). My boss and I did a 10k walk in a park, but that wasn’t anything like hiking, so not a good test of whether I was recovered enough to do strenuous hikes. I wondered if I’d be in shape to do these hikes after being sick and stopping my training. In the end, I decided to go for it since I had already paid for the AirBnB and the deposit for the rental car. I figured worst case scenario, I’d just drive through the Park and do some easy walks in the woods.
I spent a few hours at my half-way point in the drive and had a great catch-up with a high school classmate on Thursday night. As the night went on, I watched as alerts for major thunderstorms and potential tornadoes lit up my phone. Friday morning, I headed to the park as the storm picked up steam and dumped torrential rains, with lots of thunder to boot. Thankfully, there were no tornadoes near me and lightening was far off. Check-in at my Air BnB wasn’t until 4pm, so I decided to drive along Skyline Drive in the Park. This is a beautiful feature in the Park designed by landscape architects and cut into the side of the mountains when the park was being upgraded to allow for automobiles in 1939. Normally, it’s a main attraction, when it isn’t foggy, pissing down rain and windy. At some points, I had to pull into the overlooks to wait until the rains slowed down enough that I could see the road in front of me – forget seeing any of the views. I was so grateful that I had decided to do my main hike the next day (which was forecast to be clear and sunny). I expect that they closed the trails that day since it really was raining hard with fog making visibility even worse.
Eventually, the rain stopped and cleared off, so I decided to do a little hike to stretch my legs. Sporting one of my cute skorts from Title IX (i.e. supposedly designed to do something sporty, but really just shorts with a skirt over the top), I pulled on my hiking boots and did 2 miles. It felt good and while I wasn’t sure whether I was breathing too hard, and couldn’t really tell if my heart rate was too high, I decided that I was good to go for my Saturday on Old Rag. When I informed my host of my plan, he looked at me like I had a hole my head and said, ‘You sure about that?’ I shrugged, of course, it’s what I do when I’m on vacation. I settled into the cabin and prepped my gear for the next morning. As with other hikes, my plan was to be up early and get out ahead of the hot weather and crowds.
The next morning, I headed over to the trailhead. It was crowded, and after showing my day pass and Park Pass, I set off following the trail to the rock scramble peak. The Park rep made a point of telling me I had to carry my day pass with me (odd, usually it’s your parking pass), but I shoved it in my pocket and rechecked I had everything I needed. I saw some trail runners and wondered whether they did the whole thing or just did an out and back for a few miles. The first part of the trail was moderately difficult. I decided to take my time, recognizing that a 9-mile hike just two weeks after being diagnosed with COVID could be physically challenging. Fortunately, the weather was fine and not too humid. The trail made a gradual ascent over four miles before I began to see granite boulders. Most of them were just big round obstacles that the trail wound around, while a few involved a big step up. The real scramble began with a huge boulder split down the middle with a gap of about 2-feet that required you to scoot sideways. My pack was pretty full, so I held it out to the side and made my way through the split. It was about this time that I noticed little painted circles on some of the boulders with numbers in them. My thought was, ‘oh, they number the rocks, how cute. I wonder how many rocks there are. . .’
The trail grew increasingly difficult over the next mile as the obstacle course became more challenging. At one point, I had to slide down a rock but also go through a narrow gap. A young couple were there about the same time, and the man asked me to toss my pack down so I could get better footing. I thanked them once I got through, and suggested they go on ahead of me since I was taking it slow. They wished me well and carried on. The next one required a jump across a gap, it was narrow enough for me to reach across and set my pack down on the other side, before I jumped. Getting through these led to an area that was sheer rock and slightly tilted, so it didn’t feel safe to just walk across it – instead, I got down on my hands and knees and crawled to the next boulder. I started to wonder whether I should ‘bag’ it and go back the way I came, but then I started to think about all the obstacles I’d done already and what it would be like doing them in reverse. There were also more people coming up behind me, so going back would mean having to navigate through the flow of those doing it in the recommended direction. I took a deep breath and kept going.
Towards the end, there was a much bigger gap between two boulders. It was definitely too far for me to reach across, so it meant a proper jump of about 2 or 3 feet. I worried that the weight of my pack would throw me backwards down the gap, which looked to be about 6 feet to the bottom and quite dangerous if me or my pack were to end up down there. I set my sights on the next rock and hefted my pack across, praying that it wouldn’t tumble backwards with the momentum that I threw it. I watched it intently as it stuck to where I threw it, and took another deep breath before jumping. Incredibly, I made it. I didn’t waste time congratulating myself, but I’m sure my heart rate was spiking as I pulled my pack on and wondered just how much longer this was going to go on. Behind me, I heard a group of young women who had clearly just made the same leap. I heard them calling to their fried, ‘Just look at me, don’t look down – now, jump!’ Then a burst of cheers and applause. This wasn’t the last challenge. The next one involved a sheer rock wall where I could just barely reach the top. I set my handhold and tried to scramble up. My boots couldn’t get a steady hold and I’d get part way up before sliding back down. I heard people behind me and tried to think how to do it. It occurred to me that I could do a pull-up. Of course, it was too high to toss my pack up that distance and there was no one just ahead of me that I could call to, so it was not just pulling up my body weight, it was me plus a full pack. Would my upper body weight workouts from last month help me? Historically, my upper body strength has not been great, so I wondered if I could really do it. Rather than think too much about it, I reached up, took a deep breath and used my arms and shoulders to slowly drag me up the rock. I couldn’t use my feet for leverage, since that would have made it harder, so it was all arms and upper back strength getting me up that rock face. From there, the rest of the obstacles felt easier. The trail wasn’t over, but the rest went by in a blur. I was already aching from the varying means by which I had to get up, over, down the granite, and felt exhausted, but couldn’t quit. After another difficult obstacle course, when I was consulting the AllTrails App to figure out what the heck I had to do to summit, I finally made it.
If it wasn’t for the incredibly high winds, I probably would have collapsed on the summit and just stayed there for a few hours. As it was, the winds kept picking up and buffeting me against the rocks. I saw the young couple who helped me earlier, and the woman said she’d been worried about me. I laughed and said, ‘I just got over COVID, so I had to take it slow.’ She seemed as shocked as I was, and smiled, wishing me well on the descent. Going down was naturally much easier – no rock scramble and a much easier trail. That said, I was totally shot by that point and hoping that it would end soon. I came to a sign that said some landmark was 2 miles away, and I thought there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Unfortunately, the landmark was a fire road that was 3 miles from the actual end of the trail. There was a National Park employee at the fire road asking to see day passes. She asked me if I’d already checked in and then checked her flip chart – I was there, so she marked me off. I figured that between her and the two electronic counters I’d seen on the trail, they were keeping track of hikers. Even though I had my satellite phone with me, it made me feel better that there was some system in place to ensure that those who went up, actually came down.
I kept going and eventually came to another trail that was more like a dirt road. It ran near a rushing stream, so I figured I’d take my traditional ice bath for my feet in the cold water. Once again, it wasn’t as close to the finish as I expected. I was so tired, every mile felt like it was about 5 miles, so I’m sure I was underestimating the distances between these points. In any event, when I finally saw the parking lot, I was more than ready to be done.
Once I returned to the cabin, I took a long shower, grabbed a beer and sat on the lovely porch. I had bruises on my legs, and had scraped both elbows. I checked out YouTube to see if anyone had posted a video of the rock scramble and found a tourism overview of the trail I had just done. In it, they explained that the numbering on the rocks was for search and rescue – if a hiker went down, they used the numbers to find them. I laughed, that wasn’t what I expected. I shot the video over to my sisters and when one asked if I had watched before the hike, I said, ‘Of course not!’ Indeed, if I had watched it, or had any idea of what I was going to be doing, I wouldn’t have done it.
Needless to say, I decided against the next day’s planned challenging hike and did a moderate one instead. My entire body ached from Old Rag, but what an accomplishment. Sometimes I do surprise myself. . .
