Riprap Loop

or...the comeback continues

When I hike Virginia’s mountains, I often find myself among the clouds.

I’ve never actually thought about it before, but it seems true. Summer of 2020, when I escaped to Shenandoah National Park for a mid-pandemic solo camping trip, I got absolutely drenched as a surprise rain storm caught me on my way out of a 9-mile trek. When I tried to show my friends Adella and Jared Shenandoah that same fall, there was nothing to see but fog. When my friend Shawn and I hiked McAfee Knob last year, we did it in 100% mist.

So, it felt oddly familiar to be trekking through the rain and fog this past weekend. This time, I was hiking the Riprap loop, or the Riprap Hollow loop, depending on which website you ask.

I shouldn’t have been on this hike. It was with a group based out of Virginia Beach that has kindly let me stay involved since they come up this way often. I’d planned to go, then a work trip had come up, so I’d cancelled, and then that trip got cancelled, so I jumped back in.

It’s been harder than I’ve imagined to get myself into hiking groups up here in Northern Virginia. Mostly, it’s because I’m a weekend warrior. I have serious jealousy of all you people who can just hike on random weekdays. And, having a senior dog makes it harder to just take off for a full day’s adventure. Also, I like sleeping in on weekends.

So, I was really glad to be able to join this hike. Dog care worked out easily, and it would be good to see some familiar acquaintances from my VA Beach days. I’m planning a trip to Yosemite this fall, so I need to get some elevation under my legs…a few hundred feet in local parks won’t cut it. I’d always wanted to do the Riprap trail. And, there’s a swimming hole? Sign me up.

Then we heard about rain. I started checking weather and fretting a bit about thunderstorms. It sprinkled on us in the parking lot as we arrived, much later than we’d planned, to the trailhead. Our group photo smiles were a little forced. But off we went.

Riprap loop, being a loop, can be done any number of ways. AllTrails will direct you to go counterclockwise, which I think is misguided. Some websites will tell you start at the Riprap parking lot, others at Wildcat Ridge parking. We started at Riprap and went clockwise. I would have preferred to start at Wildcat, for reasons I’ll explain later, but clockwise definitely seems to be the better option.

When you start at Riprap parking and decide to go clockwise, it’s a gentle beginning. Hop on the trail, turn left, and off you go. This is a fairly easy, up-and-down walk through the woods, with not a lot to see. You’ll be on the Appalachian Trail for about 2.7 miles…and hey, if you’re like me, that’s enough. I love being on the AT and thinking of all people who walk more than 2000 miles on those narrow paths. We got rained on, but I didn’t mind. It was blindingly, brilliantly green and lush, and each humidity-filled breath also came with a big dose of brain-clearing oxygen.

This was the portion of the hike where we all discover each others paces. The fast folks go first…and soon they are out of sight. The slowest folks generally self-identify and linger at the back. And the middle folks gently jockey around each other to see if our paces match. Sometimes this is easy, other times stressful. If the people you are with aren’t good hiking companions, it can suck. I was glad it was easy this time. Everyone seemed kind and supportive whatever pace they were at. I hung in the middle for the first leg.

When we reached our first trail junction, I enjoyed the lack of complaining about the rain. Everyone seemed nicely warmed up and ready to go. Our next leg would take us down Wildcat Ridge about 2.5 miles. This was just a steady downhill, with the occasional slightly more downish of down. It was a bit sketchy with the rain, but I do love me some downhill.

At the bottom of the Ridge, we had a couple of creek crossings (fun! I love those! No really!), and on the second-to-last one, the whole group met up there to balance, or in my case, slog across. I’d carried my water shoes and was determined to use them. Then we had a half mile up to a gorgeous swimming hole on the Riprap trail.

This was a lovely, lovely place to stop for lunch. The temperatures were almost too cool for swimming, but after the first guy dove in, I knew I couldn’t resist, and pulled out my swimming gear.

A side note for those who have followed my body image journey; changing clothes in the woods, when you are sweaty and shy and there are no doors to close behind you, is challenging. I was very proud of myself for bringing along swimming gear and jumping into the water with a bunch of strangers/casual acquaintances looking on. I was even more proud that I decided to change out of my swim shirt back into my hiking shirt without hiding behind a tree; I turned my back and decided people would just have to deal with seeing my swim-sports-bra from behind. I’ve never really done that in public, not since college. I couldn’t quite bring myself to drop trou though…so I climbed back up to my tree and changed back into my pants up there. :)

Anyway, it was coooold in that pool, but oh-so-refreshing. I’d hoped my dip, plus lunch, would give me enough fuel to get through the final 3-4 miles of the hike, which were mostly uphill. And they did…sorta.

As we started uphill, 4 of us women quietly and peacefully hiked about a mile together. Then as the trail got a little steeper, we started to spread out. I found myself alone at one point, and it was wonderful. There is something that happens when you’re with a group of good fellow hikers…you just kind of slide into and out of groups without a lot of fanfare. If there’s a fast person behind you, you step aside and let them pass. Sometimes, a person wants to hike alone, and no one comments. Sometimes, we want to stick together, and we do. But there’s an unspoken rule that you’ll keep an eye out for each other.

On this trail, the vegetation and trees were so thick that, once someone got out of sight around a bend, they were gone; no sound, no moving branches to give them away. So, even if I wasn’t that far away from the group, I felt alone. I loved it.

We were supposed to have beautiful views to ease the uphill on this portion of the hike, to Chimney and Canary Rocks, but we were surrounded by fog. There was nothing to see. So, everyone really just wanted to get up and over the final hill and be done. The fast people turned on the jets.

And I, well, I ran out of gas on the last hill, when we were so close to the end. I’d kept up a steady, albeit slow, pace for more than 8 miles, but now had to stop occasionally to catch my breath. I also, interestingly, started to get cramps in my right quad muscle, which had happened to me many years before on another rainy hike in Maine. It's safe to say that I was dehydrated, because being in the rain makes you feel like you don’t need to drink as much, which is false. I popped an energy chew and forced myself to guzzle some electrolytes, and thankfully the cramp subsided. Anyway, that final hill was when I started to question myself, my sanity (why do I like this?) and fret that I would be a miserable failure when trying to hike Yosemite, where the elevation will be twice what I was doing. But happily, this self-doubt didn’t linger for long, because I was near the top. Plus, it was raining and I was literally in a cloud, so I can also blame 100% humidity. Totally.

Back at the Riprap parking lot, after a nice little downhill, we all jumped in our cars, because, well, rain. Plus, we wanted to get to Blue Mountain Brewery for beers and food, STAT.

A final note, though about this loop. I would have preferred to start at Wildcat Ridge, because then we would have had a gentle downhill to the creek crossings, the swimming hole would have been at the 3 mile mark. After we’d have hiked uphill to Chimney and Canary Rocks, we’d have had a nice, relatively easy 2.7 miles back to our car. Our legs would have been a little fresher for the “serious” uphill. Just something to consider if you are planning to do this loop.

So today, as I nurse some sore muscles and chuckle at my attempts to go up and down my stairs, I’ve been thinking about those almost-10 miles of rainy trail. I still get a kick out of seeing a moderate/difficult rating on a hike, and feeling no qualms about doing it. About the only lingering negativity is that I saw some pictures of myself, and if I’m honest, feel a bit disappointed in how I looked, physically. But I also feel quite good about how my legs and lungs held up, despite that last mile. I felt the benefits of my steady strength training, which I’ve been able to continue even as I’ve dropped into and out of hiking and running. I haven’t let myself get too down about my less-than-trim midsection; instead I’ve decided I’m going to go hunting for a hiking shirt that makes me look more like I feel. Retail therapy for the win.

I see this unexpected hike as a positive step along my fitness comeback. I remember the heady days of 2019, pre-COVID, when I felt more comfortable in my skin than I ever have. I feel like I’m working my way back to that, while also acknowledging that my body is going to make that harder on me as I get older (see: perimenopause). I’ve got goals again – a few 10Ks and Yosemite – and I am going to do my best to be ready for them. It’s a nice feeling.

Mostly, I just feel like my whole body and mind got to take a big, cleansing breath. That is why I like to hike and be in the woods. Doing it with good people makes it even better. So, Riprap, check. Where to next?