The Grand Finale--Part 2: Big Rocky Row (VA)

Number 60!  Big Rocky Row:  So it was a year ago, in honor of one of those milestone birthday things, that I promised to treat myself to sixty new summits, as in hiking up them all before my next birthday. I would post the details and photos in this blog. My burgeoning throng of readers, now having burgeoned to about two or three family members, the occasional friend and Fuji the Cat, all of whom, except the Fooj, have been gripping the undersides of their seats for weeks now, in total anticipation of the climactic blog entry documenting the Sixty Summit finale. I could hear the murmuring from three thousand miles away. Is he going to make it? Gasp. Has anyone ever done this before? Gasp. Is he out of his mind? Gasp.

James River and A.T. bridge (right).

It was with that trembling sense of mass, unmitigated anticipation and a deep desire to not disappoint my devoted fans, especially the cat, that I parked the car on February 1st at the Big Rocky Row trailhead just above the frozen James River, filled my lungs with fresh mountain air and yodeled. Okay, I didn’t yodel, but maybe I should have. The mountains were brightly lit up, they even smelled mountainly, and the day was warming up nicely. Plus I’d already summited Tar Jacket Ridge that morning (see below). Was I in the mood or what. It was a fantastic day and I was pretty much giddy the whole time. A raft of cars at the trailhead hinted that I would have some company on the trail, perhaps even someone to boast to about my big adventure and the finality of my finale. I slung on my pack, grabbed the trekking sticks and marched past the A.T. sign.

Easy climbing led to a minor ridge, then a creek crossing and a trailside shelter and campsite, before the well maintained path began to climb more deliberately into the higher ground of the George Washington National Forest. Higher up, a couple of dozen switchbacks almost gave me a sense of hiking in the Cascades back in Washington State. The mountains here also feel more like mountains than does the Blue Ridge farther north and east. Shenandoah, as pretty as it is, is mostly comprised of long ridges with relatively even tops, interrupted by rocky highpoints and wooded knobs, and interspersed with interesting drainages that often hide waterfalls. Nice. But in the more southwesterly parts of Virginia, and beyond in western North Carolina, the mountains indeed feel more like mountains and are not so linear. The forest is a little different there as well, with more pine and spruce to green things up in the winter. But I know little about these parts. I’ve yet to even make it over to the Great Smokies, an eastern mountain mecca I’ve been dying to visit.

I passed a few other hikers as the trail led up to the base of cliffs (Fuller Rocks) and zig-zagged up stone steps to the ridge crest, also called Little Rocky Row. This is the scenic climax of the hike and I took a few minutes to soak it in. The James River laid a sinuous course far below with the sun reflecting brightly off the ice. To the northeast, the true summit, my #60, rose another 500 feet. I continued on to the top, then ceremoniously slowed for the final few steps. Two guys were there ahead of me and were kind enough to take my picture as I straddled two rocks that formed the highest terra firma I could see. They agreed that the rocks under my boots contained the mountain’s most altitudinous molecules, whereupon we conjointly certified the completion of my quest. They congratulated me and seemed even a little impressed with the thin-haired guy humping up the trail with sticks.

Miles (RT):  8.4 miles; elevation gain: 2,200 feet
Cumulative mileage and gain:  286.4 miles / 71,650 feet

Summit in the distance. Almost there.

The last 50 yards.

Done.

 

Epilogue

What a great feeling. To set a goal, in this case a reasonably achievable one, and then, well, achieve it. But in the end, all it was was me out doing what I like to do. Hiking. A lot. Seeing new places. Moving upward in boots and looking back down. Meeting other trailsters. Though I would have enjoyed more company on the trail (it was great having Kris along when she could join me), the lonelier hikes were always satisfyingly self-indulging. Scenic and scintillating. Oxygenating. Life-enriching. I think I’ll do more of it.

In the end, there were about 286 miles walked, 71,650 feet climbed, logged over a period of 252 days, or one summit every 4.2 days. When you average it all out, it ain’t that much—under five miles per summit and about 1,200 feet gained. So I’d have to rate it someplace between a sub-Olympian speedwalk and a drunken stroll around the neighborhood, probably more toward the latter.

That said, it was kinda special stepping up on those last two rocks at Big Rocky Row—a great hike to end on. I’ll have to go back again with Kris so we can linger longer. The only downside of this particular trip to the mountain was that we already had tickets to the Banff Mountain Film Festival at 6 pm that night at the National Geographic auditorium in DC, which meant I nearly had to trot down the mountain and drive like a maniac to get back in time. Happily, Kris held a seat for me and I slunk into my chair a couple minutes into the first film. I had to smile when one of the later films was about a guy who did 35 rock climbs to celebrate his 35^th birthday. Now, how silly is that?

The Grand Finale--Part 1: Tar Jacket Ridge (VA)

Tar Jacket high point in the distance.

February 1^st was the last day to complete my quest for Sixty Summits. I still needed two more, so I knew at least one would have to be a shorty. I looked for the meatier one first, which had to be special and more substantial, preferably with a couple thousand feet of gain. It also had to be enjoyable and have a great view. (The forecast was for a clear, 60-degree spring day—an anomaly amidst all the cold weather we’ve had.) It also had to be within reasonable driving distance of DC so I wouldn’t have to get out of bed at three in the morning. And it had to be new to me, since the deal I’d made with myself was that a summit didn’t count if I’d already been up it—Old Rag and Stony Man, for example.

I originally wanted my last hike to be Mount Rogers, the highest mountain in Virginia, as part of a multi-day race to the finish. But with only one day to do it and a five and a half-hour drive to get there, the tedium would zero out the fun factor. It would clearly be more sensible to save Rogers for actual springtime when Kris and I could make a long weekend of it and see a few other cool places along the way. So I looked for a summit farther to the north and east, preferably within three hours of home, and found several intriguing possibilities: Big and Little House Mountains, Elliott Knob and Big Rocky Row. I then began scanning the map for an easier summit nearby so I could bag my two-fer for the day. Big Rocky Row had popped up some time ago as a regional favorite, making somebody’s top-ten list of the best hikes in Virginia, right up there with Rogers. A little to the north, I spotted Tar Jacket Ridge, its highpoint not quite a mile up the trail. The trail departed from the same trailhead as Cold Mountain, which we had hiked back in September (summit #20). Ah-ha. Trumpets tooted and drums rolled. I had a plan. I would do the easier hike first.

59. Tar Jacket Ridge: I rolled out of bed at 5 am on February 1^st and was quickly on the road. A gas and coffee stop eventually woke me up and I continued down the I-81 to Buena Vista, with the CD player pumping out old R&R favorites. I followed my nose toward the familiar trailhead, although the side road heading into the forest was still snow-covered. It was well tracked and grades were gentle, however, so I made it to within a half-mile of the trailhead, before chickening out on a steeper hill. I got the Corolla turned around and parked at a wide spot, then walked up to the abandoned trailhead. Only 100 yards up the trail, I was on sunny, grassy, south-facing slopes where the snow had mostly disappeared. There were still broad patches in the copses and it was fun looking at all the different animal tracks in the snow: birds, rabbits, deer and presumably bobcat, since the prints were clawless and not too big. No sign of humans, though. The morning seemed unusually still and quiet. I was soon at the lonely highpoint looking across at Cold Mountain. I snapped a selfie and quickly retreated. On the way down, I met two young guys heading up and we talked briefly about some of the other great hikes in the area. They assured me that my next objective, Big Rocky Row, was a good one.

Miles (RT):  1.8 miles; elevation gain: 500 feet
Cumulative mileage and gain:  278.0 miles / 69,450 feet



Looking over at Cold Mountain.



The summit. Leave only footprints.

Bull Run Mountain (VA)

I only recently discovered that the trails at the Bull Run Mountains Conservancy, an hour west of DC, happen to include a hike up a ridge to a high point with a view. Perfect! I had two days to go and three summits to scale to avoid a midnight self-pumpkinization on February 1^st. So, Kris and I headed out on January 31^st, a sunny and almost spring-like winter day, for summit #58.

58. Bull Run Mountain: We parked at the Mountain House and rambled along the Fern Hollow Trail past the striking remains of an old grist mill, ice well and family cemetery. The creek below us, Broad Run, was flowing, but largely capped in thick ice from an unusually cold January. We soon met the Chestnut Ridge Trail and followed that to the rocky crest and multiple overlooks with excellent views west-ish toward Winchester, Front Royal and Shenandoah. I scooted up the highest rocks to be sure I’d tagged the proper one, while Kris tried to discern what kind of critter was making all that rustling noise among the giant rocks below. Nearby, a perfect bedrock couch in full sun invited a generous lunch break. I think I’d rate this as one of the best easy dayhikes near DC. It’ll be fun to go back in the spring and fall when the forest has some clothes on.

Miles (RT):  4.0 miles; elevation gain: 1,000 feet
Cumulative mileage and gain:  276.2 miles / 68,950 feet

Old Grist Mill residence.

Ice pit.

Grist mill.

Vulture.

Seems like the top.

Or is it this one?

Little Schloss (VA)

Despite a week of snow on the ground in DC, not a lot had accumulated and I guessed that six inches or so might be blanketing the nearest clines of the Blue Ridge. A short hike with 1,100 feet of gain had caught my eye weeks ago, so off I went to give it a try on January 26^th. The main roads were generally dry, but the last couple of miles into the George Washington National Forest were packed snow, with enough in the center to make me worry about dragging bottom in Kris’s car. I parked about ¾ mile below the trailhead and walked the rest.

57. Little Schloss: A single line of day-old boot tracks led up the snowy trail, with dog tracks crisscrossing excitedly every 50 yards or so. The tracks only went upward, so I wondered if this hiker might have done the longer loop option that I was not planning to do. Afterall, I was in peak-bagging mode at this point and didn’t need no more stinkin’ miles than necessary. Actually, it was a lovely hike and I was at the ridge in no time, looking up at the steep scramble to the summit. The snow-covered talus was no problem at all and I quickly ascended it for a splendiferous view above. The descent was uneventful and I was back home in plenty of time for a jumbalaya dinner party with Kris’s boss and their extended family of friends.

Miles (RT):  4.0 miles; elevation gain: 1,200 feet
Cumulative mileage and gain:  272.2 miles / 67,950 feet

Descending.

Minor’s Hill (VA)

This one was a peak of baby steps, 10.5 miles worth, from our front step in Glover Park to the highest hill in Arlington, Virginia—rising 459 magnificent feet above sea level. Actually, because of the snow and the cold and the fact that I still needed five summits to complete my Sixty with only a week left to accomplish the feat, I was getting desperate. So by my reasoning, if I walked ten miles to get up a hill, then that darn hill counts. And I wouldn’t have to drive anywhere to do it.

56. Minor’s Hill: On January 25^th, I walked down through Georgetown, out along three pleasant miles of the Potomac Heritage Trail past frozen waterfalls, then west up Donaldson Run and into the burbs for my final assault on the Minor massif.

It turns out that Minor’s is an interesting hill in history. The Minor family settled it and one of them was friends with President James Madison who briefly took refuge there in 1814 when British forces set fire to the White House and Capitol during the War of 1812. Madison was our fourth president, the father (i.e., wordsmith) of the Constitution and Bill of Rights, and hubby of Dolley. The Hill was later occupied variously by both Union and Confederate troops jostling for territory during the Civil War. Today, the old stories are buried beneath asphalt streets and a suburban neighborhood. I walked up to the highest bit of dirt I could find and snapped a photo. The East Falls Church Metro station, just a mile or so down the hill, made for an easy return home.

Miles (RT):  12.0 miles; elevation gain: 400 feet
Cumulative mileage and gain:  268.2 miles / 66,750 feet

Frozen Potomac from Key Bridge.

Looking back at Georgetown University.

Minor's Hill summit, harder than it looks.