blue ridge mountains

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From my 2007 through-hike of the Appalachian Trail, I have only two memories of Shenandoah National Park: that it was easy hiking, and that it was fairly boring. This time through, I wasn’t so excited for hiking this section of the AT, but I did learn that my old memories weren’t entirely accurate.

Morning miles are the best miles.

Morning miles are the best miles.

Coming out of Waynesboro, I had lost all of my previous week’s hiking partners. A few had gone into the park earlier in the morning (I chose to take a half day on the first day in the park), but most I had just lost track of in the large town. So for the first three days in Shenandoah I saw no other hikers I’d met before there. With the easier hiking on mellow grades in the park, I was moving faster without trying, wandering through many grassy meadows and crossing Skyline Drive almost a dozen times each day. There were more day-hikers out now– I mostly ran into other backpackers at the few campsites at the end of each day.

Setting sun on Stony Man summit.

Setting sun on Stony Man summit.

My memory of Shenandoah being fairly boring, with all the views concentrated on the road, turned out to be just plain wrong. There were several jagged peaks and cliffs with wonderful views down into the valleys below. The humidity this week was just as bad as ever, so I would try to hike early in the morning and late at night, as the haze and stickiness in the air was settled in the valleys. This turned out to be a good plan. Some of the best views came when the sun was low in the sky, there were fewer people crowding the trails then, and I was able to move faster by hiking long hours. On my third and fourth days in the park, I covered 60 miles of trail, the highest mileage I’ve hiked since the PCT.

Later sunset from Skyline Drive.

Later sunset from Skyline Drive.

Then there was the food. Since Shenandoah is primarily a park devoted to motorists, there are several Waysides and camp stores near the trail. I was able to eat town food almost every day in the park, which turned out to be good and bad. I ended up spending a lot more money on this trip than I’d expected, and probably lost a lot of time that I could have been hiking while I lay on the lawn of the Waysides, incapacitated after gorging myself on pancakes, burgers, ice cream, and soda. Not exactly a healthy diet, but burning 4000 or more calories per day, I finally let my inhibitions go.

More humidity is on the way, but early in the morning I could rise above it.

More humidity is on the way, but early in the morning I could rise above it.

That was the good part of hiking through Shenandoah. Unfortunately, being crowded in with a new crowd of through-hikers at cramped campsites in the evenings began to take its toll on me. As I’d feared before this trip, I was smack dab in the middle of the partying, obnoxious, entitled crowd of mostly early-twenties hikers, and I did not care for them. I started to lecture one hiker after he’d complained that the trail maintainers didn’t do enough for through-hikers, which is utter bullshit, but I realized I was essentially talking to a brick wall. In the past few weeks I’ve seen more than two dozen coolers left at road crossings, and countless instances of people going out of their way for through-hikers, but none of those people or the hikers have ever done any trail maintenance themselves, or even joined their local trail club. I’m so sick of the attitude that the hikers matter more than the trail itself, but it seems to be the prevailing mentality.

Leaving the Shenandoah, this was all I could see.

Leaving the Shenandoah, this was all I could see.

The last night in the park summed up my feelings pretty well. After having lunch at the last of the Waysides, I stopped at the next campsite, which was already overrun by backpackers at 4 PM. The site was a reasonable size for a campsite, with a shelter and half a dozen tent spots, but by evening there were more than thirty hikers crammed into the dense woods around the site. Without any space for tents, most of us ended up camping on trails around the site, wedged in next to the spring, next to the shelter, and all around. That’s when the mother of all thunderstorms hit, flooded every tent in the area, and left everyone grumpy and soaked. With the ground so heavily compacted by overuse, water had nowhere to go but into pools under each tent. I was up at 4 in the morning, headed out of the park and into the town of Front Royal to dry out in a hotel room with a few of my new hiking friends (including Duff, whom I’d hiked with in Washington on the PCT).

I had a lot of time to think in the night about the overcrowding at the campsite, and in the National Park and Appalachian Trail in general. There’s been a lot of talk about this on the trail this year, since the numbers of hikers continue to grow. I don’t fault anyone for the overcrowding, since the trend has always been that the numbers are growing, but the problems of overuse can’t be fixed by complaining about trail conditions and not doing anything to help the trail maintainers. That’s the only behavior I saw in Shenandoah, and it left a nasty taste in my mouth about the state of through-hiking. At least I was able to sleep well on a hotel bed the next night to raise my spirits.

After a day off in Roanoke, I was doing much better than when I’d arrived. My aching and blistered feet were well rested. I had a new pair of sneakers, purchased at the wonderful Walkabout Outfitters (whose manager had driven all the way to Harrisonburg to fetch the right sized sneakers for me, which is pretty amazing). I’d filled myself up with good southern food, loaded my pack with six days worth of trail food, and hit the trail once again. The humidity and awful heat of the previous days was now down to a very manageable level, and I was feeling good.


I was now in the section of the Appalachian Trail that runs along the Blue Ridge Parkway, with a few long climbs up to the ridge before walking easily alongside the road. This is a funny section of trail, since many of the best views are roadside pullouts on the parkway, but I’ve also found plenty of gorgeous mountaintops when the trail wanders away from the road. The first few days, though, I could safely tune out while in the woods, then get the views when I got near the road. That’s kind of unusual for the AT, but it’s a nice that this section has some kind of local flavor.


With my new feet and my new plan to cut my hike short at Harper’s Ferry, I was back to enjoying the trail and just relaxing, even as I averaged about 22 miles a day. I would get up early each morning, walk all day, and arrive in camp around 7 with plenty of daylight hours to rest before bed. I mostly met new groups of hikers each day, since many of the through-hikers seem to be going a little slower at this point. This surprised me a bit, but it has allowed me to meet a lot of new people, most of whom are pretty awesome. Halfway through this stretch of trail I met No Plan B and Torch, a father and son duo who were hiking together until NPB injured his foot, so now he’s driving up the trail providing road support for Torch. They’ve both been using the AT Hiker app extensively, and made me really happy when they told me how useful it has been for them. Check out their website sometime– they’re raising money to build a veterans’ rehab center, and they’re super dedicated to the cause as well as the hike.


My plan for this 150 mile stretch of trail was to stay in the woods for six days and have the full wilderness experience. Things didn’t quite work out that way, though. After three days, I realized I wasn’t feeling very connected to the trail, partly because of the number of people I was running into. Last year, while mapping much of the northern section of the AT, I was alone most of the time and really enjoying it. This time, it wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy being out there, but the connection to the trail wasn’t so strong. I decided I might as well head into town on the fourth night for some burgers and extra snacks. The decision was made a little easier since my food bag was looking just a tiny bit light for the next few days. I made a last minute decision to go into the town of Buena Vista, and arrived at the road to town after all of the day’s traffic had stopped heading over the pass. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, I thought. After half an hour at the road with almost no traffic for hitching, though, the trail provided. A carload of hikers arrived from town to start hiking out at night, and there was my ride into town. It was too late to get a spot at the hostel, but No Plan B and Torch had a campsite at the town park with extra space, so everything worked out just fine. I got my burgers, then a big breakfast in the morning, and an earlier than expected ride back to the trail, and all was well. The only real backfire of the plan was that with all the town food now in my belly, my food bag had a little too much food. I’d been hoping to walk into Waynesboro with an empty pack. Oh well. Sometimes when things don’t go according to plan, they work out better than anticipated anyway.


The last few days to Waynesboro were smooth sailing over some of the last big climbs in the south. The Priest, Cold Mountain, and Three Ridges seemed daunting to everyone out here, but a little time and a lot of sweat were rewarded with much nicer views than I remembered from my last time here. The temperatures fell steadily as well, making the hiking more pleasant. In the last few miles to the town of Waynesboro, the foliage and undergrowth got thicker and thicker, cutting down on the views, but the surroundings still overwhelmed my senses– the sounds of songbirds singing were louder than ever, and the smell of flowering plants was so thick it seemed like walking through a bouquet.


The final leg of this trip will take me through Shenandoah National Park, and then to the town of Harper’s Ferry, home of the Appalachian Trail Conservancy. The terrain is supposedly much easier in the park than elsewhere in Virginia, and with my feet feeling better than ever I could probably be done in less than a week. I’m planning a few extra days, though, just in case I find some interesting side trails or people to spend the last few hiking days with. As eager as I am to get home, I can always spend a day or two more on the trail.


In May, I’ll join fellow Gossamer Gear Trail Ambassador Joe Jacaruso for a speedy hike of the Appalachian Trail in Virginia. I had planned on hiking the 600 miles of the state in order to bring the mid-states data set in my AT Hiker app up to par with the northern and southern states, but when I learned that Joe was also planning to hike through Virginia, we decided to join forces.

My last trip to Virginia-- A younger, hairier me on McAfee Knob.

My last trip to Virginia– A younger, hairier me on McAfee Knob.

Joe has thirty days to hike, which means an average of twenty miles per day from the get go. I’ve never quite accomplished that pace in an early-season hike, even on the flatter grades of the Pacific Crest. But we might as well add some more insanity to the plan. Since I like to add side trails into my app data sets, I’ve found approximately 100 extra miles of side trails for us to hike as well, bringing the average up to 24 miles per day for thirty days.

To add to the discomfort, we’ll be starting with a visit to the Trail Days Festival in Damascus. I’m no fan of big crowds, and Trail Days is the epitome of big crowds in the hiking world. It’s going to be an interesting start to the trip.

But I wouldn’t do any of this if I wasn’t really excited about it. The challenge of hiking as hard as I can for a month or more (I’ll actually continue through Pennsylvania if all goes according to plan) and dealing with the huge crowds on the trail may be uncomfortable and in some ways unpleasant, but those are the kinds of challenges that make life interesting. Not to mention the gorgeous Virginia mountains. I think it’s going to be an exciting hike.