Algy in the woods

The Girl recently attended an Event in Shenandoah National Park which necessitated us camping overnight.  Darn.  I hate camping, and hiking, and playing in the woods.  Despite my strident objections, I joined for the trip, if not for the Event.  While she did her Thing, I did mine.

We arrived early Saturday morning, and after setting up our tent, I wandered off to hike Old Rag, a local mountain comprised by (and topped with) billion-year-old granite.  Old, indeed.  When I reached the summit at about 10 AM, clouds still blocked most of the view, but I could hear other people who had also reached the summit, their voices calling out through the foggy morning.

Just below the summit, on the Ridge Trail, is a larger area collectively referred to as the Boulder Scramble.  The trail is marked with blue blazes, but an awful lot of people just wander around on the granite, taking in the views, trying to climb things they're really not prepared to climb, and having lunch among the boulders.

It is not a trail for dogs, or strollers, or small children, and several signs at the parking lots serve as reminders, but that doesn't stop many people from forging through, mistakenly believing that any trail in a park is suitable for all visitors.  This trail is often narrow and steep, to the point where it only allows one-way traffic, and I had to wait several times for groups travelling in the opposite direction.  I helped about half of one group down over a boulder while the other half slipped blithely by, ignoring their compatriots.  It is not a trail to be taken lightly.

There are a couple passages that are just barely wide enough for one person to slip through, their pack scraping both walls along the way.  One passage requires a short down-climb into the rocks; another has a stairway cut into the stone between two enormous boulders only shoulder-width apart.

When I reached the northern terminus of the Ridge Trail, I stopped for a bagel and, deciding that the ridge was more fun than the fire road, turned around and went back the way I came.  I'm glad I did, because I got my best shot yet of bees on a flower, met four trapeze instructors doing handstands on top of the mountain, and although I didn't get a picture of it, I SAW A BEAR, and that was really exciting.

That night, we feasted.  Someone had brought a pile of inch-thick steaks, there were two different pasta salads, raspberry dessert bars, homemade salsa, and some healthy stuff, too, if you're into that sort of thing.  Whoever tells you that they don't camp because of the food doesn't know how to camp.