A Hike to Raven Rocks

Quarantine can make you a little stir crazy. In particular, I knew that I’d be absolutely stuck at home for the next two days while we have a minor home improvement job done, so I felt a strong urge to get out of my usual haunts and go somewhere different today. The problem is it was a really hot and sticky day. I didn’t feel like roasting myself out on the water, and I didn’t necessarily want to commit to a long bike ride. For a while I’ve been itching to go for a hike – an itch that only intensified recently when I came across the Japanese concept of “forest bathing”, which is sort of mindfully immersing yourself in the woods. Some friends of mine were performing at B Chord Brewery out in Bluemont (about 15 miles past Leesburg), so I decided to head out that way, figuring that if the timing worked out I would stop by and see their performance after my hike. I chose the Raven Rocks hike on the Appalachian Trail: about 5.5 miles round trip of very steep, rocky terrain, but with a reward of an excellent view at the destination.

Reading about the hike online, the first thing I noted was that there was limited parking at the trailhead but plentiful parking at a lot less than ¼ mile up the road. Don’t park along the roadside, the writeup warned, or you’ll be towed. I knew I had reached the trailhead when I saw a small parking lot and a whole bunch of signs saying Don’t Park Here or You’ll Be Towed. Well, I could see one such sign – there were cars parked in front of the rest of them. I guess people aren’t willing to add a short walk to their hike? I didn’t like having to worry about my car all day and so parked at the spacious lot up the road and walked back along the shoulder to the trailhead.

The hike is part of what’s known as the “rollercoaster” section of the AT – continuous ups and downs, ups and downs. This hike was a series of steep ascents and descents: a descent from 1,100 to 1,000 feet, back up to 1,100 then down to 800, then back up to 1,200 to get to the summit. According to the listing for this hike on HikingUpward the total elevation gain for the hike is 1,530 ft. For the sake of comparison, the Empire State Building, including spire and antenna, is 1,454 ft tall. So this hike was like walking to the top of the Empire State Building, climbing the spire and antenna like King Kong, then walking up another eight flights of stairs in 90 degree, humid weather on very rocky terrain.

Stupidly rocky terrain (note trail blaze on the tree dead center)

Crossing the state line

My kayaking friend Randi has a bumpersticker that reads, “My dream vacation is your worst nightmare”, and in a similar vein, I’m sure some readers of the last sentence thought, as they were reading it, “this is what you do for fun?” Actually it was quite a nice hike. Yes, I was sweating like a pig, and yes, I was concerned enough about the rigor of doing steep and rugged climbs in the heat that I was monitoring my pulse throughout. But the forest was shady and beautiful, and when I crossed the state line into West Virginia and made the final climb to the summit I was rewarded with a stunning view of the valley below. I settled into a quiet spot to take a break and have a snack. I soon noticed two small lizards moving about nearby. Eastern fence lizards, it turns out (I looked it up later). They weren’t skittish and let me get fairly close to take pictures. Well, let me tell you, nothing beats sitting on a rock ledge looking out over a beautiful view on a sunny day in the company of two adorable little lizards.

Vista at the top

Lizards!

Striking a pose

Can one have too many lizard pix? I think not.

The hike back seemed shorter and maybe a little cooler. At the top I had checked my water supply and realized I had consumed maybe a third of my water and so drank more generously on the way down. A little too generously, since I wound up running out of water before the end – but only ½ hour or so before I reached the trailhead, so not a big problem. As on the way up, I passed by a fairly steady stream of hikers going in the other direction. Everyone was careful about giving each other lots of “social distancing” space. My favorite was a young backpacker who was blasting Jerry Garcia’s “They Love Each Other” as he hiked. I guess a little Jerry helps you get through the day.

When I reached the trailhead I used the remote start feature on my car so by the time I reached the car it was cooled off inside. Getting into the car was a machayah (a Yiddish word meaning something refreshing – literally, something that revives the life in you).

I changed into a fresh shirt and headed over to B Chord, but when I got there I could see that the show was already over so I turned around and instead went to Dirt Farm Brewing, about 2 miles away. I had heard Dirt Farm has a beautiful setting and indeed it’s true – they’re up on a hillside and you can sit out on their patio (at socially distanced picnic tables) and enjoy a great panorama of the valley below. I ordered their Bumpah IPA, a glass of water, and indulged in a bag of potato chips because I was really hungry (I had brought only snacks – not lunch) – but I limited myself to only half the bag, because, y’know, salt and fat. The beer reminded me of Sweetwater 420, which is brewed to have a smell and taste reminiscent of the skunkiness of marijuana (“420” is some sort of reference to marijuana – look it up). I’m not a fan of the skunky experience and so 420 has never been my favorite beer – I also associate it with my stressful year running the DARPA TRAPS project, since it’s the beer available in the Delta Airlines lounge at Atlanta airport where I’d always change planes, but that’s a story for another time.

The view from the Dirt Farm patio - no hiking required

Skunky beer aside, it was still pleasant to have a cold beer in such a scenic setting after a strenuous hike. Since I was by myself I didn’t linger long and soon headed home. The combination of the heat, exertion, and alcohol delivered a knockout punch and as soon as I got home I crawled into bed and passed out for an hour or so, waking to find the electricity in my house in a weird, browned out state where some things worked while others didn’t, but that as well is a story for another time.

Geocaching trip with Ted

I just looked at when I joined Geocaching.com: Christmas Eve of 2006. That seems about right - I started doing it as a way to get outside with Teddy and David way back when. I've been away from it for a while; other than picking up one or two while traveling, I haven't really cached since 2015. Ted has persisted more with it, including finding some really ingenious geocaches out in West Virginia. He's been saying for a long time that he'd like to show me some of these clever caches, and we finally found the time to make a trip out to West Virginia.

I picked Ted up at around 7 AM. I figured I should drive - riding as a passenger with Ted on Friday the 13th would have been tempting fate a little too much! It was one of those anomalously warm 80 degree days in April, and the sun was shining as we headed for Martinsburg, where our first stop was the Visitor's Center, located in the historic home of famed Confederate femme fatale and spy Belle Boyd. The center wasn't open yet and so we walked through the town to find some other nearby geocaches. Let me tell you, the people walking around downtown Martinsburg are the ones who had no place else to go - the kind of folks who would have been rejected from "People of Walmart" for being to odd and rednecky. This was a good thing, actually, since it meant that the things we did as we searched for geocaches - crawling around on all fours, rummaging through bushes, and sticking our fingers inside birdhouses - didn't stand out as odd in any way. As an example of the people we ran into, while walking down the main street we saw a guy - maybe late 20's, with shoulder-length bright pink hair, walking with an elementary school-aged girl. His daughter? His child bride? His abductee? All of the above? We weren't sure.

I mentioned birdhouses; let me explain. Most of the caches we found were created by a geocacher named "WVTim". Usually, the challenge is just in finding the geocache - they're often very cleverly hidden in odd places. In contrast, many of Tim's caches are out in the open, often disguised as birdhouses. The fun of his geocaches is that you have to interact with them in some way to solve them. Heck, he's got his own Youtube channel about his geocaches. There were electronic caches - like the one where flipping up the false front of the birdhouse revealed a custom electronic trivia game - computer screen and all. Only once you answered all ten questions correctly would the logbook pop out of the cache. There was one that was a game like Simon, one where you had to stick a balloon into a hole on the side and inflate it to release the latch, and so on. All very cool and extremely clever. Apparently, geocaching is a form of tourism the area encourages - many of these caches are located at local businesses rather than the usual in-the-woods sorts of locales. I have to admit, as a form of economic boost for the local area, it works - we ate lunch at a local restaurant, and spent money at two of the local farm markets the caches took us to.

Of course, along the way we saw the evidence of all sorts of redneck West Virginia stereotypes. The "gentlemen's club" advertising midget tossing. The young woman heading into the quick mart open carrying a pistol in a cute pink holster. A pickup truck with the license plate "RDNKLIFE". The Confederate flags - which, incidentally, make no sense, since West Virginia was part of the Union. In fact, West Virginia was a part of Virginia that broke off to stay in the Union when the rest of Virginia seceded.

However, let me interrupt my snooty comments about about West Virginia to admit that in Virginia - even NOVA - we're not that distant from our "cousins" in West Virginia. The day after this trip, Valerie and I were drinking coffee outside our local Starbucks, right in downtown Falls Church. While Valerie talked to me about how nice a day it was - the warm sun, the breeze, the birds chirping - behind her I watched a guy, pistol protruding from the waistband of his shorts - cross the parking lot and go into the Starbucks. I bet he and the pink holster girl would have gotten along just fine.

Hanging with Ted

Anyway, Ted and I had a good day. Most impressive was how well he had organized the whole outing. Ted can be a little bit of a space cadet, but he says nursing has really taught him how to prioritize and be efficient - and it really showed in how he had planned out this outing. A good day!

Henry and Harpers Ferry

My brother came for an all too rare visit this past week. Thursday was a nice crisp fall day and so we headed out to Harpers Ferry, WV. I figured I'd give the Brooklyn boy a drive in the country, a glimpse at some early fall foliage, and a taste of the Civil War history that is so pervasive in our area.

Our first stop in town was the historic confectionery shop. It's not just a candy store; it's a candy museum! The place has candy arranged by historic era and was staffed by a VERY enthusiastic woman who was happy to (couldn't have been prevented from?) tell us the history of candy as class struggle, international trade force, etc. Henry bought some bourbon chocolates. I like a museum where you can eat the exhibits.

From there we wandered up through town, continuing uphill towards Bolivar. Beyond the historic park area it's a pretty little town with some nice old houses. But hilly. When we had had enough of strolling uphill we started back down, stopping at an overlook with a commanding view of the town and the confluence of the rivers. The overlook sits between two shuttered hotels, a decaying grand building and well maintained motel-like structure. I can understand that there isn't much business for such places (I think these days people would rather stay at the nearby chain hotels) but they sure would make cool destination hotels - a yoga retreat center overlooking the Potomac, or something like that. Another idea to file away for when I win the lottery ...

It was close to lunch time when we made it back into the commercial part of town, but we decided to soldier on with our hiking. We crossed the bridge over to Maryland and started up the C&O Canal towpath with the intention of hiking at least part of the Maryland Heights trail. As we hiked the towpath we saw a number of groundhogs scurrying about - they're kind of cute, and didn't seem to mind seeing their shadows.

We made up to the base of the Maryland Heights climb but decided that, having already hiked up and down some hills on the other side of the river, we were more in the mood for lunch than climbing another trail. I came up with the idea that to make up for not hiking, when we left we'd walk back to the car rather than taking the shuttle bus. Heh.

Back in town we had a nice lunch outside at a restaurant, then went a few doors up and had some amazing caramel pretzel ice cream. Then we began the walk back to the car. And we walked. And we walked. The trail back to the car was almost two miles, ending with a long climb up stone stairs. Coming on top of the walking we had already done it seemed like a very long trek, and we were happy to settle into the car for the drive home.

The Virginian Canaan, 2012

Canaan Valley is a place of mixed signals. On the one hand, it gives off a feeling that its best times, the boom times of coal extraction and timber harvesting, are behind it. Driving along one sees tumbledown shacks and dilapidated mobile homes, and many of the storefronts in the towns of Thomas and Davis stand empty. The area’s amazing natural beauty has, however, given it a second wind as a mountain resort town, though when bad luck hits – like this year’s snowless winter – that wind dies down to an asthmatic breeze. Still, the towns offer an enticing mix of mountain bike shops, art galleries, small inns, antiques, and funky restaurants. The proprietors tend to be outdoorsy types themselves, more friendly to visitors than mountain-folk stereotypes would lead you to expect. It was this post-coal mountain paradise that served, as usual, as the destination for my kayaking friends’ annual ski trip.

Except this year the ski trip wasn’t a ski trip. It’s been an almost snowless winter up in Canaan, and so the days leading up to the trip were filled with a flurry of emails about alternate activities – all involving the outdoors, food, alcohol, and relaxation. No one was concerned that the lack of snow would hinder our good time.


Thursday night: I arrive after the long drive out from Tysons Corner, including a few death-defying moments on the twisties of the West Virginia roads. We’ve rented a bunch of rooms at the Bright Morning Inn, plus Doc’s Guest House behind it. I drop off my bags in my room and head across to Doc’s. Nelson & Caroline, Dave & Cyndi, Rob and Peter 1 are already there. They give me grief because I’m still dressed for work (hey, I took off the tie). I retreat to my room to change, pick up a veggie burrito from Hellbender Burritos across the street, then return to hang out.

Friday: The day’s plan is to hike the Canyon Rim trail. But first there’s a kind of leisurely breakfast at the inn. I remember the waitress from last year. She’s a college student who works there on the weekends. She’s majoring in nutrition – a funny major for someone who spends her weekends serving huge plates of bacon and eggs, French toast, and breakfast burritos.

By morning our group had grown by two people: we added Mike & Allison. I had met Allison at kayaking rolling sessions but hadn’t met Mike before. The group did the Canyon Rim Trail as a loop hike, covering maybe eight miles on a mix of trails and forest roads. The weather was amazing for February – crisp, but warm enough that we all had our jackets off. The trail was squishy and muddy in spots with melted precipitation, but not too bad. As we hiked the edges of the trail I passed along Teddy’s admonition about Leave No Trace Hiking – that you really should stick to the trail, no matter how gloppy, to avoid mucking up and widening the edges (thereby leaving a trace, or not leaving no trace - whatever). In response I got a lot of shrugs.



Lunch along the Canyon Rim Trail

The trail had some nice features: a tall observation tower to climb, a couple of nice canyon views. We paused for a lunch break at one of the canyon views. At my instigation we paused to try and find a geocache, but despite climbing up higher on the rocks than I really felt comfortable with, we were not successful in finding it. At the end of our hike we stopped off to gawk up close at the gigantic wind turbines of a local wind farm.

Friday night brought the arrival of the rest of the group: Jen and Suzanne, Leslie and Mark (kayak racer friends of Cyndi’s), Peter 2 and Gina. Friday also brought our great group feast. First, at Cyndi’s direction, lots of people had brought cheese for a cheese tasting. We had so, so much cheese: gouda, goat, buffalo mozzarella, manchego, cheddar, and more. The quantity of cheese became something of a running joke for the rest of the weekend. After a more than ample wine and cheese course we moved onto the main dinner – Gina’s much anticipated quinoa loaf, with chicken for the carnivores. And more wine. And salad. And cheese. Desserts included a hazelnut torte I had brought from the Heidelberg bakery, cookies, and pie. Sated, we all just hung out. Conversation turned, as always, to trips taken, trips planned, and outdoor gear. I’m generally a little bit on the sidelines of these conversations; I simply don’t take as many trips as many of these childless or empty nester folks. However, the array of scotches on hand, both single malt and blends, gave me an opportunity to describe Teddy & my Scotland trip from this past summer.



I was the only one without a roommate (this was by choice) and as the evening wound down I was happy to retire to the warmth and privacy of my little inn room.
 

Jen, Suzanne, Peter and me at Lindy Point



Saturday: Saturday we split up into sub-groups; you just can't get 15 people to agree on any one activity, and no one really expected that we would. Frankly, the amorphous splitting and re-joining of subsets of people over the weekend is part of the fun. Some folks wanted to downhill ski (possible, barely, at Timberline, where they make snow). Some wanted to go to Timberline to use its gym and pool. Others, including me, wanted to do more hiking. Those of us staying on the inn side started the day with another generous breakfast served to us by our nutritionist waitress. Peter 1, as always, had a fully worked out nutritional plan – he was ordering a breakfast with a mix of proteins and carbs to give him sustained energy, but planned to go for the French Toast the following day when he wouldn’t need as deep an energy store. As we all set out there was a vague plan for everyone to meet up at the Timberline ice skating rink at 2 PM, subject to whatever else was going on. My sub-group did not make it to the rink.





Along the Dobbin House Trail



As is their wont, Peter 2 and Gina and Allison and Mike went their separate ways. The weather forecast threatened cold rain and snow, so Suzanne, Jen, the well-nourished Peter 1 and I headed for Blackwater Falls State Park – a place where we could get in a good hike, but which wasn;t very remote and so was an easy place from which to retreat if the weather turned bad. We set out to hike the Dobbin House Trail and wound up taking some side trails which took us out of the park into the national forest land. A very pretty area, with wild rhododendrons and mountain laurels, and the characteristic high meadows. A lot of this land was clear cut a century ago; the amazing beauty we see today is actually relatively new forest. We hiked down to some small falls along the Blackwater River. After we finished our Dobbin House loop we also did the short Gentle Trail, and walked to Lindy Point to see the awesome view of Blackwater Canyon there. The Lindy Point trail is 0.4 miles each way. The bushes on either side of the trail are thick enough that it would be pretty much impossible to wander off the trail. Still, it was incredibly heavily blazed – Peter counted fifty two blazes along the trail. That’s a blaze every forty two feet, perhaps little bit of overkill. Finally, we drove back to the lodge with the intention of walking down to Blackwater Falls overlook but it had started snowing and the park rangers had closed the long wooden stairway which leads down to the falls. Peter went down anyway while the more law-abiding members of the group checked out the falls from up top and read about how a 19th century travel writer, under the pseudonym Porte Crayon, had been the first to write about this area as a “Virginian Canaan”.

By the time we left the falls it was snowing fairly heavily and so we decided it was time to head back to town. We figured we’d stop in Thomas to get a warm drink. Along Thomas’ single thriving block we detoured into a couple of stores before finally making into the Purple Fiddle for our beverages. First, an accordion in the window of an antique store caught my eye. I went in and played it. There was lots of other cool stuff in the store too – Jen wound up buying a decorative glass window. Then we went into the Mountain Crafts gallery. Finally, made it to the Purple Fiddle, a local live music venue and hangout joint. At 3:30 in the afternoon it had a mellow vibe, though things almost immediately picked up with the arrival of a wedding party – a couple was getting married at the Fiddle! Bride and Groom, guests, cake, minister, musicians (the opening act for the evening’s performance). We decided to finish our drinks and high-tail it out before the ceremony got under way, since we figured it would be rude to walk out during the wedding and we didn’t want to get trapped there. We got back to Doc’s to find Gina and Peter 2 had already gotten home and laid out the day’s cheese supply. More cheese consumption and hanging out ensued while the various sub-groups gradually trickled back home.

Dinner Saturday night led to another splintering into sub-groups. Some folks ate in, buying groceries at the nearby “Stop and Shave” (really the “Shop and Save”) market. Jen, Peter 1, Suzanne, Allison, Mike and I went to the Italian place up the street. Having had my fill of cheese, I skipped the pizza and went instead for the pasta putanesca. According to the menu, the recipe was graciously provided by Manganaro’s in New York City, a place I know well, as it was one near my father’s office and was among his favorite lunch spots.

After dinner we regrouped again. Some people went to the Purple Fiddle to catch the show. Others caught some different music: I had brought my accordion, and the Bright Morning Inn had a piano (in tune!) in the common room. Jen had brought her guitar and some music books. The two of us proceeded to make earnest attempts to play a number of songs, sounding good on some while completely butchering the rest. Fortunately someone had thought to bring over one of the bottles of scotch from Doc’s, which improved the audience’s enjoyment of our quasi-music-making.

Sunday: We awoke to a change in seasons: overnight the snowfall hadn’t been heavy, but a couple of inches and a drop of temperature had taken us from fall into winter. After an early breakfast at the inn (Peter 1 indeed ordered the banana French toast; still full from the previous day, I downshifted to yogurt parfait and wheat toast) the day’s hiking sub-group (Nelson & Caroline, Peter 1, Jen, Suzanne, Leslie and me) headed for a trail just outside of town (past the Stop and Shave) which had been recommended by our innkeeper Susan and which had been hiked by Gina and Peter 2 the previous day. We had originally planned to do a short out-and-back hike but we enjoyed being in the woods in the snow so much we carried on and made a loop out of it for a total of about five miles. By the time we made it back it was the tail end of lunchtime and we were hungry!

Trees and snow

In addition, some of us were missing Whitegrass – the local cross-country ski area and home of an endearingly shabby ski lodge, an endearingly shabby staff, and some of the world’s greatest soup, so after loading up our stuff we said some goodbyes (some people were staying into Monday, others of us were getting on the road) and headed over there to eat lunch and browse the ski shop. Whitegrass looked strange in its almost snowless state; like a recently shorn sheep. The parking lot was nearly empty and more of their business was coming from the restaurant than from skiers. They weren’t serving their mind-boggling curried lentil soup, but the Mediterranean chickpea was a happy substitute.

Finally, a cup of coffee in hand, I hit the road, taking the southern route through Seneca rocks and heading home. Yes, there had been very little snow, but that didn’t detract one bit from a marvelous weekend.

More pictures here