AT Shakedown lesson

Knowns

Good judgment comes from experience, and a lot of that comes from bad judgment. – Will Rogers

The Blue ridge mountains stretch out invitingly not far to the east of my home. The graciously rolling hills and mountains cradles the Shenandoah Valley between themselves and the Allegheny’s green and gray limestone peaks to the west. I never get tired of looking at them. The history of the place leaks out of these parts like the many limestone springs that populate the Appalachian Trail itself. History rings and echoes off these mountains, inhabiting these low-lying gaps.

When hiking the AT through the Shenandoahs, and really all throughout Virginia, it is not unusual to see the stone foundations of homesteads long abandoned. Or field stone fences or weathered stone grave markers of folks long passed. Or stand on a vista overlooking a small town like Woodstock whose town charter in 1761 was submitted to the Virginia House of Burgesses by no less a personage than George Washington. Stonewall Jackson marched up and down this Valley tying up union troops much needed elsewhere. Even today his Valley Campaign is cited as the text book example of maneuver warfare. Further south is the small town of Bedford Va, home to the National D-Day Memorial. It is the hometown of the “Bedford boys” who were the first to hit Omaha beach and where nineteen of those boys out of a small town of three thousand lost their lives in the first few ghastly minutes of the invasion of Europe. This poor town proportionately suffered the worse losses on D-Day.

On Brush Mountain near New Castle Va is a memorial to Audie Murphy, the most decorated soldier in WW2 on whose slopes in 1971 his plane crashed. Presidents trout fished here, and it is not at all unusual to be hiking along and meet folks from other countries, and other states.

This is what I know: It is that beautiful. It is my home. What better venue to do a “walk-about” and work out the kinks as I prepare in a few months to NOBO the AT?

Unknowns

That first night of my shakedown was not simply dark, but the cold inhospitable dark that winter evenings habitually usher in on the heels of an early, wintery setting sun. The temperature falls fast in these hollow gaps where the AT shelters and hilly spring waters generally nest. The cold impatiently races the fading light as the sun quickly disappears behind the hills and trees surrounding these low spots. It got cold early on that inaugural, early wintery first shakedown night for me. I had tried coaxing a fire out of some wood left over from some previous folks at the shelter I was staying near. It was only five pm, but far from lifting my spirits that smoldering excuse of a fire served only to highlight my aloneness. My past experience taught me that fires were shared things. Even among relative strangers. The intimacy of a shared fire will grease the skids of self disclosure, unprompted personal reflection and spark meaningful conversation. Now as I tried looking beyond the small flickering light I saw only a curtain of dark.

The sounds in the dark would come later that night. Noises unidentifiable and unknown to me (hello barred owl!). Each hour seemed to bring some disturbing noises belonging to some unknown critters looming and lurking out there. The pack of coyotes celebrating a kill going off around me as I lay alone in my hammock. Been a long time since I had felt something like that. Not what I was anticipating when happily planning this in the warm confines of my happy little farm house. 

That first night was a bit of a disaster. I got no sleep. Parts of me froze. My first night in a hammock, and me peeing on my shoes.  My first night sleeping outside in many, many years and the cold.  I briefly got lost. The unidentifiable sounds of the night. These combined, unknown, unexpected challenges left the insides of my hammock that morning looking like the aftermath of a gear grenade going off.

But with the light brought hope that the coming day would be better than the last. The cheerful, chirpy patter of the birds seem to echo this sentiment. I would think about how to have a better “hang” and once fully recharged by a couple cups of coffee I headed down the approach trail to find the next white blaze, wearing my polar fleece vest a mouse had over the course of the evening had chewed a large hole in.

It is hungry country out there.

 

 

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Comments 6

  • Jess : Jan 31st

    James, loved this blog! The history you included was detailed, and very informative. In my opinion, one of the most interesing parts of the AT is hiking through the historic battle fields. Really transports you to a different time and place. Thanks for sharing!

    Would have loved to see some photos from your shakedown hike. Hope the next overnight is smoother (and you’re able to patch your poor polar fleece!)

    Reply
  • Jenn D : Jan 31st

    Beautiful descriptions in your blog! I really loved this too
    …. The intimacy of a shared fire will grease the skids of self disclosure, unprompted personal reflection and spark meaningful conversation….

    Great job getting out there and figuring things out before really getting started. Sorry your fleece got a little more “holy”!

    Reply
  • Fun Size : Feb 1st

    James, thank you for this beautiful description of my beloved home state. I’ll be starting at Grayson Highlands in April NOBO. Hope to see you on the trail!

    Reply
  • Lumpyhead : Feb 1st

    “The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness.” Dig your prose and looking forward to following your journey this year.

    Reply
  • Rick "Quiet Man" : Feb 5th

    James, like you, I always wonder about those stone walls and old remnants of human habitation in the Appalachians.

    And seems like you learned a valuable lesson on your shake down… Don’t pee where you sleep…best way to avoid your shoes! Of course, last time I was out on the AT, I chose to not use my headlamp as I wandered away from my tent to pee and had a rude meeting with a boulder. On the other hand, I now have an AT – GA to ME – shaped scar on my shin!

    Reply
  • The Growlin' B'ar : Feb 8th

    It was great all those bad things happened to you PRIOR to traveling all the way to Georgia then having to scramble to recover and adjust after a first night disaster on the Trail.

    I live near the Trail at Big Meadows. I feel like in my cabin I’m on a rowboat on an ocean of mice. If the cats kill five there are ten out in the woods waiting to rush in and take their places.

    It was very humorous and informing to hear about your struggles. I took four overnight backpacking trips to test myself and my gear. Seems like each trip resulted in a revolution of knowledge and experience that fundamentally prepared me for the actual AT hike.

    Hope all goes well with your plans!

    The B’ar.

    Reply

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