Last week a small band of hearty Virginians, in the spirit and tradition of other great explorers like Lewis and Clark, piled into a Honda Odyssey minivan in search of adventure. After taking on provisions at McDonald’s, the group headed west on US 33 bound for the Skyline Drive.
The day was clear but cool in the Piedmont and the road dry. An air of uneasiness filled the back seats as the minivan climbed the curving mountainside and ears began to pop. “How high are we going?” one anxious explorer asked, “I’m afraid of heights.”
Upon reaching the park entrance, a friendly ranger greeted them and provided some suggestions and good hiking trails. Thanking him for his kindness, the van headed north in search of clear trails and a bolder or two to climb on.
Impressed by the expansive vistas, the explorers remarked to each other about the beauty of it all. One of the boys, the youngest of the group, was still fearful of the elevation until his trusted older companion explained he was looking down, he was looking across. After mulling on that for a moment he exclaimed, “I’ve overcome my fears!” to which the older members of the expedition quietly chuckled.
As they drove up the trail, one of the leaders of the group noticed that the temperature was dropping. “It’s 35!” she exclaimed. They knew it would be cooler on the the mountaintop and had brought along extra sweatshirts and jackets but this was a bit colder than expected. “Is that snow?” asked the driver.
“It’s not snow.” declared a veteran explorer from the back seat. “It’s probably just pollen.”
“It looks like snow.” the driver asserted, not giving an inch.
Soon, a camping area appeared on the right. The boys were antsy from riding and in need of stretching their legs so they pulled over for a short while to look around. It was a quaint camping area dotted with rustic duplex cabins. It was very cold; much colder than they had expected. The extra sweatshirts provided little protection from the strong wind and blowing snow. The decision was made to cut this walk short so they all piled back into the warm van to see what other adventures were in store for them. As they drove further north, there was no denying that the white bits floating into the windshield were indeed snowflakes and not pollen. The temperature began to drop below freezing and fearing for icy roads and poor visibility, the decision was made to turn around and head south. The road into the icy north..
Heading south of the park entrance at Swifts Run Gap, the weather improved. The sun shined warmly on the road and the temperature shot into the high 40’s. Finding a promising spot to pull over, the group again piled out of the van and this time headed into the back country in search of adventure.
Unfortunately, not long after hitting the trail, one of the boys tripped and fell hitting his knee on a large rock. After taking a moment to assess the extent of his injury, he took a deep breath and let out a blood curdling scream that was sure to protect the group from any and all wildlife that may have been lurking in the woods. Once he was steady on his feet, the explorers decided to return to the van and drive on to a less rocky .
The second back country path was a steep climb up a mountainside. Having survived the snow of the north and the dangers of the rocky path, the seasoned hikers climber higher and higher up the twisting trail all the while noting the signs of the wildlife along the way. There were several piles of skat* (poop) and trees that looked as though they’d been used as scratching posts with tufts of black fur nearby. The leaders of the group grew worried that they were wondering into dangerous bear territory and called a halt to the hike just before reaching a pile of boulders. Again, the hearty troop headed back to the minivan.
*Although previously thought to be bear skat, further research on the Internet revealed that it was coyote skat which, according to the experts, is often found on trails marking territory. So while indeed bears do poop in the woods, it was not bear poop observed on this trip.