It's hot already and it's not even past the solstice. What does that mean for me? It means I'm getting outside. It means we're upping the elevation. I've been trying to think of the vertical equivalent of Jimmy Buffet's famous "changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes" lyric, but I can't crack it. After months of deliberation, Cole, John, and I went backpacking in Virginia's Grayson Highlands, spurred on by a TikTok that Cole saw and a mutual desire to see some ponies.
Our trip spanned three days, two nights, and 20 miles, following a popular AllTrails route which forms a loop with smaller park trails and a large section of the AT. This was my third time backpacking, and my first multi-night trip. I spent a lot of time prior ironing out my setup.
It brings me great pain to admit that I'm an ultralight guy, albeit in the classical cheap & hacky sense. The critical parts of my gear came courtesy of my dad, who had some steezy mid-2000s North Face kit that would come with us when we would go camping with my Cub Scout troop. The sleeping bag, a 20-degree syntethic one dubbed the Cat's Meow, is light, great, and completely adequate. This came with me. The tent I got from him, on the other hand, is a three-person freestanding unit, which is incredibly well built and, by association, incredibly heavy. It's fine for one-night trips, but had to stay at home for this journey. The solution for me was the Lanshan 2, a Chinese trekking pole tent with an unbeatable price that clocks in around two pounds. I sold a pair of Japanese jeans to cover the purchase. I set it up in my parent's backyard as a trial run and was blown away by how easy it was to pitch.
I eschewed some other habits of mine when prepping for this trip as well, nearly all in the realm of food. Clif Bar breakfast was subbed for instant oats, specifically the Whole Foods cinnamon roll packets. Instead of packing a whole loaf of bread turned into PB&Js, I opted for a block of aged gouda and dry salami for snacking, and a freeze-dried beef stroganoff for night #2's dinner. Half of a Sheetz italian and a bag of chips was packed in to eat the first night, a non-ultralight decision which I do not regret in the slightest. I did not bring extra clothes outside of sleeping thermals, changes of underwear, and my raincoat. The elastic waist of my 90s ACG pants has seen better days, addressed with a DIY minimal belt made of shock cord and an S-Biner. On the Nikon was my plastic, Ken Rockwell approved, 50mm Series E. My only regrets were not bringing a fleece, some chocolates, and camp shoes.
Day One involved us beelining down to the park in John's Prius, with a stop at the final Sheetz complete with the jarring sensation of hearing southern accents as soon as we got out of the car. One final detour was added so I could shamefully take some toilet paper from a Hunt Brothers' bathroom. We parked, registered, readied our bags, and were off. Out the gate it had felt like we had been transported onto a movie set, something akin to Middle Earth. Herds of ponies, blue mountains, a strong and persistent breeze, thin air. It was very difficult to believe this was in America, let alone 6 hours from Pittsburgh.
The park also has a herd of longhorn steer, which we came across. Nobody thought to take a picture. You'll just have to trust me. This was the only time I feared for my life on this trip - we were on our way to fill up on water, the herd was blocking the trail, and when a gap formed, I went to walk through, only to look to my left and see the clear leader of the group coming right for me. I am no match for a one-and-a-half ton creature with horns. I took some steps back and we let them cross. The calves were sprinting, playful and heartwarming to watch.
Our day was originally meant to be 4 miles, with us camping near the first AT shelter area on the route. Despite going in the week, we found the site a bit crowded, and chose to continue on to an alternate further down. This was the correct decision. We set up shop in a forested section a little off the trail, with a windswept meadow a few steps out. Pitching my Lanshan for the first time in the field was a breeze. We attempted to have a fire, but some light rain earlier in the day wet the nearby wood and stunted these efforts. I made the mistake of sleeping on a downward slope and was woken up frequently to reposition myself uphill. The total mileage for the day was 5.5.
Day 2 started, of course, with coffee and my exotic instant oatmeal, the former we enjoyed atop a boulder in said meadow. We packed up and set off. 11 miles was the plan, daunting, but, you know, where else did we have to be? The first half of the day was taken at a leisurely pace, with us stopping at every water feature we came across. The views were gone and we were now in dense forest. We kept going downhill. The air got noticably thicker. We saw one other group over 4 hours.
Lunch was at the second AT shelter we passed, about halfway through the overall route. We had coffee after eating. Cole & John set up their hammocks while I laid on a bench in the sun. We continued on with haste after an hour of lounging. The second half of the day was nearly entirely uphill, marked by a return to the highlands. It felt like we had traversed through several different countries. I finally reached a flow state towards the end and began to feel like a machine. That's what I do this for.
We camped in a thicket of blooming mountain laurel next to a stream. This night's fire was a roaring success, and I made sure to put my tent on level ground. I found a second use for my foam sleeping pad as a roller for my quads. I was gassed, the rehydrated stronganoff was heavenly.
Day 3 was a light, breezy 3 miles to get back to the car. A fisherman complimented Cole and John's mustaches. A pack of ponies approached us, the stench of them ruining, or making, depending on who you ask, the moment. I've never smelled anything like it, words can't describe, etc.
Back at the car, we took our packs off, changed our clothes, and returned to society. We ate at Bojangles and got blind boxes at the same Sheetz we had stopped at before to commerate the expereince. I held the door open for a lady who thanked me by calling me a sweetie. We finished a podcast we had started driving down, S-Town. Home at 6, I hung my gear out to dry, showered, and went out for a burger. I didn't even stink that much.
It's fun to do hard shit with your friends. I'll never forget having done this (I hope). If I hadn't before, I've definitely caught the backpacking bug, partially motivated by the Gear Guy urge to use my shiny new tent. It's such a unique way to experience this world. I feel like Henry David Thoreau.