They say that hiking and nature are healing.
I’ve always believed that, but until recently I don’t think I’ve really experienced it first hand.
Sparing you many of the details (some of which can be found in previous posts here and here), last week my best friend and doggie companion Sadie left this world. This has of course made me super sad and emotional. In the first few days without her, I couldn’t really bear to be in my silent condo, so escaping to the mountains for a camping, hiking and Perseid meteor shower-viewing weekend seemed like the best idea ever.
It’s worth noting that I wouldn’t have been able to take such a trip if Sadie were still alive, which is just…weird. But she’s not, and so I could go. And go I did.
It was a pretty bold move, to be honest. I shared a campsite with total strangers, and the two people I knew who were supposed to go on the trip decided not to, so I’d be hiking with total strangers as well. It could have been a disaster. But someone was looking out for me (gee, I wonder who?) and it turned out to be just the sort of hard, emotional, challenging Type 2 fun that I needed.
On the drive out to Loft Mountain Campground, it felt good to be heading west, listening to music, not thinking too much about Sadie unless it was in passing. I started to wonder if being in motion of some kind is an antidote to sadness. That would be a recurring theme throughout the weekend.
At the campsite, I met my campmates and was glad to see that, on first glance, they seemed fun and normal. Conversation was pretty easy, and we enjoyed an evening around the fire, eyes trained above us to see if we could spot any meteors. I was able to tell them about Sadie without dissolving into tears, which was progress indeed. We made plans with the rest of the group to meet at 8:30 am for an 8 mile loop hike of Doyles River Falls, which would finish on the Appalachian Trail (AT).
The next morning, we headed out directly from our campground, which was cool (hey, that’s the AT right there!) but also added several miles to our round trip, which we wouldn’t really clue in to until later. It started out downhill, and we were all being polite and gauging each others paces, taking it slow for the first few miles. Conversation flowed more than the waterfalls did, but eventually we found some pretty cool ones and enjoyed scrabbling around and taking pictures.
As we reached the bottom of the valley, I started to dread that most Shenandoah of hiking things - the inevitable uphill. So much uphill, and it was getting hot down there, plus we had 80% humidity. I wanted to believe that the uphill wouldn’t be as steep as the downhill, and I’d be ok.
I was wrong.
Before we started going up in earnest, we had a bit of a scare when a rattlesnake of significant girth appeared on the trail to our right. This is when being in the back of the pack is a plus; I was able to hang back and let the others provide play-by-play (Um, I think it’s pissed. Ooh, it’s coiling!) and though I could hear it rattle, I never saw more than a glance of it as I gave it wide berth and did some off-roading on the creek bed to our left. So that was fun.
After a lunch stop, where I prayed fervently that my food would give me the power to conquer the uphill, we started up. On the easier grades I was ok, but once the grade got more intense I was in a bad way. It was hot and humid and no matter what I did, I couldn’t get my breathing or heart rate to slow down without stopping way more than I wanted to. I tried everything, every technique I’ve developed over the years, and nothing worked. Thankfully, the group stopped at Jones Run Falls, which was lovely although I didn’t look at it much because I was flopped on the rock trying not to broil in my skin. This was “supposedly” well past the halfway point, but because of those extra miles at the beginning, we were now facing nearly a 6 mile return hike rather than 4. I felt a bit like I did while backpacking in Arizona, and at least was self-aware enough to know that I would be alright eventually.
As the group set off again, I made my choice; I told them to move on without me, that I would be moving slow and they shouldn’t worry about or wait for me.* This relieved the stress of knowing they were all waiting for me at each intersection, and also gave me the space to wrestle with whatever demons decided to rear their heads as I slogged up. And rear they did, everything from “what a failure I was because I was so slow” to “maybe the heart doctors were wrong and I have some horrible heart problem” to “dammit, I miss my dog.”
Oddly, the last one didn’t really hit until I was about halfway up the steepest part. Not oddly, I was so busy trying to breathe and not die that I didn’t really have space for tears. And this is where things started to happen.
I rounded a turn and beheld an older couple heading down. The man wore both a Bucky Badger hat AND a Green Bay Packers t-shirt. Of course we had to stop and chat about Wisconsin and share our wishes for a better football season ahead. I had a bit more spring to my step after that.
It wore off quickly though. Eventually, after much swearing and gasping, I made it to the Jones Falls parking lot, where I had a bit of cell signal and could check my progress. It was there that I realized I had between 4-5 miles to go, and it almost sent me packing. There was a nice family in the parking lot that offered me water and I almost asked for a ride. But I felt the hope that only easy terrain for the next mile could offer. I set off.
It was pleasant and easy for about a mile, but then I hit Jones Run parking lot. Looking back, I think what happened next was simply the result of me being tired, pure and simple. We often don’t make good decisions when we’re tired. I could head north, uphill on the AT, or northeast, downhill on Brown Gap Fire Road. I got confused, conflating a review I’d read of a different loop with the one I was supposed to follow, and set off downhill…going the wrong way.
Another one of those things happened here; I suddenly found myself in tears, hit with a wave of Sadie-related sadness. But almost immediately, I was swarmed by butterflies flitting frantically about the trailside flowers, and couldn’t help but be distracted by their antics.
That was the first moment if I wondered if Sadie was keeping an eye on me. It was a comforting thought even as my rational brain scoffed. And it gave me enough of my senses back to wonder if I’d made a mistake by turning this way. Something felt off.
About a mile down this road, I checked my map and sure enough…I’d screwed up. I was heading away from where I wanted to be. I could have gotten back eventually, but it would have required a steeper uphill than I wanted, so I decided to turn around and rejoin the AT. The uphill was gentle here and I was moving pretty well when I was passed by a solo man who gave me a friendly smile. When I reached the parking lot where I’d made my ill-fated choice, he was there, standing in the middle of the lot, staring at his phone. I knew that stance. I asked if he was ok.
Turns out we were both lost, but I had my bearings now, and was able to point him on his way. He was trying to see Doyles Falls, which I’d passed by earlier. We said our good lucks and headed off in opposite directions. I sent a note to my hiking mates that I’d gotten lost and was on my way, but wouldn’t object to someone picking me up at an overlook if they wanted to. This was only sort of in jest; I was obsessed with the idea that maybe I could hitch a ride back to the campground. After all, I was already well past my planned mileage for the day and had nothing that I wanted to prove to anyone on this hike…but at each place where I encountered people with cars I didn’t have the nerve.
The uphills on this section were not that bad, but I was so weary by this point that they seemed endless. I did more slogging and swearing. I kept my head down, keeping an eye out for potential ankle-busting rocks and poison ivy, so I didn’t see the trio of deer ahead of me until they moved, and then I gasped and watched two of them flit away into the woods. The third, though, stopped and just looked at me. I told her she was beautiful and that I wasn’t going to hurt her, and then I kept walking, this time smiling a little and thinking “Thanks, Sadie.”
My legs and feet were hurting at this point. All I wanted was to keep moving and be done, but my body needed fuel; it wasn’t even really a conscious thought to sit and force down a snack. On I went, and moments after my snack, a cheerful thru-hiker came bouncing down the trail, southbound on the AT, coming all the way from Maine. I love AT thru-hikers; they always seem to be in a good mood. This one was in great spirits and was so kind; he asked my mileage and seemed impressed when I said it was somewhere around 10-ish miles. I asked him his trail name and to my delight it was “Sea Turtle.” :) He asked mine which was nice even though we lowly day hikers don’t get those. I offered him congratulations, and he offered me a Jolly Rancher (70 calories, you know! It’s a little bit of fuel!) and I set off with sugar on my tongue and a smile, thinking maybe I’d actually make it to camp in one piece.
It wasn’t long before I reached the end of the loop that should have been the end of the hike, except for those extra miles that I mentioned earlier. It was the trailhead of Doyles River Falls, at the intersection with the AT, and as I (on the AT) popped up the last little hill, I heard someone coming up the Doyles trail. I thought “Wouldn’t that be something if it was the guy I saw in the parking lot on his way up?” and I kid you not, people…it was him. We both exclaimed in delight and shared our exhaustion with the accursed uphill, and he asked me if I was done. I told him I had a couple more miles back to camp and he said “My car is here…do you want a ride?”
OMG. It was like choirs of angels singing. The best moment of kismet I’d ever experienced on a trail. I accepted immediately, and we became instant friends. His name was Adam and he was a retired professor from San Francisco who loved the arts, and as he drove me back, we discovered that he actually listens to WETA, my organization’s classical radio station. The world is indeed very small sometimes.
Not having to hike those last miles was such a gift. Having the timing be so perfect…there was no way Sadie didn’t have a hand…er…paw in that. Just no way.
Then it was back to camp** for rest, food and a plan to wake up at 1:30 am to watch the meteor shower. We saw lots of meteors and enjoyed a nice morning before my new friends headed home. And I was left alone in my campsite to think about all of this and to think about if I actually wanted to go back to my Sadie-less condo. And to my surprise…I did. And not just because of the shower and my comfy bed. I wanted to go home, even with all the Sadie memories that would greet me there.
Despite a drained car battery (Hot tip 1: all national and state park vehicles have one of those portable jump systems; and Hot tip 2: AAA appears to be useless for Shenandoah locations) I made it back to the area in time for a concert at Wolf Trap with friends, and then home. Falling into my bed was just…ahh. There’s nothing like it.
And today, I worked almost the whole day in my condo without succumbing to sadness. I’m still looking for Sadie around every corner and missing how she always popped her head up when I pushed back my chair from the table. But it’s not debilitating sadness like it was last week. My legs are really sore, and I can’t help but think that hers were too in those final months, and that maybe she’s amused to watch me struggle up and down the stairs.
Whatever it was that gave me all the little moments of magic this weekend… whether it was Sadie as my trail angel or just a bit of luck and good timing…it’ll take it.
*I’m aware that some folks may say we shouldn’t have done this, that a group should never split up. But I don’t believe this. This was an experienced group of hikers of different paces, and I’m an experienced solo hiker. This was a populated trail with intermittent cell service and I had plenty of water and food, along with my entire arsenal of safety gear, including a satellite device for emergencies.
**My campmates deserve a shout out. They actually got in their car, after hiking 11 miles of their own, and tried to come pick me up at the overlooks on the last few miles of the hike. That was incredibly kind of them and I’m so grateful. They also made me delicious blueberry pancakes that I might have to learn how to make for myself because…yum.
I’m so sorry to hear about Sadie. I absolutely think she was checking in on you.