After a short, ten mile day, I found myself in the yard of a chicken farmer. I had gotten a later start to the day because Lawrence drove me to visit the Nancy Hank’s Memorial before he dropped me off. The memorial was a simple log cabin that was a replica of the cabin Nancy Hanks, Abraham Lincoln’s mother, grew up in and a plaque of where the original cabin once stood. It was a nice little adventure before I was once again dropped off in the middle of nowhere. Time went by slowly as I walked but I enjoyed it. The weather was beautiful and the unusual warmth lead me to look quite spunky. I had my winter boots paired with my 3/4 length pants, short sleeves, and mountaineering sunglasses. Onlookers seemed to be confused but I paid them no mind. The little entertainment for the day came from playing “red light, green light” with the cows. As I walked passed them they would begin to follow me but when I’d look back they’d freeze in place. They’d stand there staring at me, waiting. Night was approaching and that meant I needed to find shelter for the night. By “shelter” I mean I needed a lawn for my tent. I could try to stealth camp but the idea of possibly waking up in the middle.of the night to an angry property owner is displeasing, so I try to avoid that. I came across a trailer home at the top of a hill next to a chicken farm. This would be my first official “random knocking on the door to set up my tent” moment. A woman opened the door and stared at me. I had my three sentences ready to go. “Hello, my name is Amanda. I’m walking across the country. Can I set up my tent in your yard for the night?” I barely got the words out of my mouth before she said a quick, “yeah,” with a slightly confused look. I was caught off guard by how easy that was. I walked to the side of the house and set up my tent. It was one of the few warm days I’ve actually slept outside and I enjoyed the country air drying out my feet after a long day of walking and a sunset over the rolling hills. In the midst of all this, I noticed that in the window was a baby monitoring camera that wasn’t there before. I was being watched. I found it more humorous than anything but it brought to the forfront of my attention how little trust there was despite their kindness. On the other end of the spectrum though, I now was the star of my own reality TV show. What was I going to do next?? Stare at the sunset or make dinner? Find out on the next episode of “Walking.” I also wanted to make strange shadows in my tent and odd noises but I decided against those due to a rainy night. I didn’t want to risk getting kicked off the lawn. Interesting enough though, while looking at me directions for the next day it came to my attention that I was indeed not on the trail. I walked straight instead of turning right because I thought the straight was the right… anyways, I was only about a mile off trail and I would decide in the morning if I needed to backtrack or reroute. If I was able to get water from the house, I would reroute. However, if not, I would need to backtrack to a stream and fill up water before continuing my day.
What a glorious morning it was! I didn’t have to fight the cold to put my tent away. The numbness in my hands was nonexistent. I ate an unheated mixture of oatmeal, granola, and cookie mix because I could. There was no need to warm my body this morning with a hot meal. The irony of this warm morning was that I was heading towards the summit of the Dolly Sods where a snowstorm was predicted to hit that night. I was basking in the small comforts of warmth while it lasted. The woman who allowed me to stay in her yard came out to talk to me and gave me a bag of granola bars and hot chocolate. She asked me if I needed anything so with gratitude I handed her my water bottles to be refilled and there I got my answer for the morning. I would reroute to get back on trail. As I walked along my reroute, it became fairly obvious to me that I took the route of steepest terrain. I went up and down the steep road grades but I was happy. Breathing came uneasy but my muscles never burned. When my feet would start to hurt I would hit another hill and my focus would shift. Today was an uphill battle. As I turned onto the road that would lead me to the top of the Dolly Sods, a car stopped next to me. There were two guys and on first impression they seemed to be concerned about me going up the mountain with all the snow but then the one in the passenger seat asked me, “Where’s your man?” I found that question to be annoying for several different reasons but mainly because of the questions that frequently ensue. First off, I get defensive and begin to question motives when I am asked that. Second, it is then implied that I need a man to be able to do anything adventurous. Third, that question usually puts me in a situation where I have to dance along a thin line of politely declining any advances while maintaining an atmosphere of lightheartedness. In this case specifically, these guys lived at the bottom of the mountain and they would be my first point of contact if I got into trouble on the mountain in the coming snowstorm. So, while I tried to talk to the driver about the weather conditions, the guy in the passenger seat tried to entice me with a romantic ride into the sunset on a four-wheeler. I want to make it clear that although I found the interaction annoying I never felt threatened. After all was said and done, I continued my way up the mountain. The sky became more blue the higher in elevation I got and I wondered how the weather could shift so violently after a beautiful day. I hoped that the unpredictable nature of the Dolly Sods would work in my favor and the storm would postpone a day. That was my hope. I reached the top and the view was breathtaking. It reminded me of some of the backpacking I’d done in Yosemite and I was flooded with fond memories and warm feelings. With that, I eventually made it into Red Creek Campsite. I was painfully aware that I was solo on top of the mountain. No one in their right mind would be there with the coming storm let alone try to camp but there I was. My most exciting moment came when I discovered the pit toilets were unlocked. Having any type of sheltered toilet, flushable or nonflushable, adds a sense of civility and I thought it was the greatest thing on earth. Until, I had an idea. “It is going to rain and the snow tonight, I can shelter in the pit toilet!” Ah, what a grand idea it was. I could be protected from the rain, wind, snow, and be warm (methane gas from the poop). What a good day it was to be alive! Now, I know what you’re thinking, “gross!” and my counter argument will always be, “but warmth!” I regret nothing.
I woke up the next morning with one thing on my mind. “I need to get off the mountain before conditions get worse.” The question was how? The ADT follows a wilderness trail or there was a bike alternate that added roughly 6 miles. I wanted to take the wilderness trail to experience the beauty and shorter route. However, it would be easier to get lost and off trail there were unexploded ordinances that could blow up if disturbed. So, when I need to stay on trail but can’t find the trail, big problems are created. I meandered down the path to explore my options and almost immediately I knew that between whiteout conditions and a poorly marked trail, I could defintely get lost. I decided that I’d rather be safe than sorry and took the alternate, which was the road. Before I could go down the mountain, I had to first go up. I battled my way upwards and onwards as I tried not to get blown away by the wind. I thought about the story every parent tells about walking to school uphill in a snowstorm every day. To my parents, I have now whole-heartedly experienced this sensation but I would arguably say a more intense version. All of my water froze. In order to get any water, I had to bust through the chunk of ice at the mouth hole and embrace the few water droplets I could persuade to exit the bottle. However, I did have a light at the end of the tunnel. A friend of a friend was suppose to host me that night in Canaan Valley. I just had to get there. This hope fueled my decisions as I continued dehydrated with my eye lashes now freezing together. Do not be mislead, I was not having a terrible time. Conditions were harsh but as long as I kept moving I was able to stay warm. On the downhill I felt like I was skiing with my trekking poles and zigzagging down the mountain. I eventually hit the bottom but soon realized that I had to go right back up another mountain. On the open stretches with farms, the snow blew so viciously it created whiteout conditions. There wasn’t a soul out until I decided I had to pee and almost immediately a truck pulled up next to me as I’d just dropped my pack on the side of the road. He said he’d been tracking my tracks for a while and wondered what anyone was doing walking in this weather. With that, he gave me a ride a few miles up the road so I would be able to bypass a dangerous section. I then walked the last few miles to the Canaan Valley State Park Lodge where I was able to dethaw and wait for my friend to come get me. It was suppose to drop into the single digits at night. I was more grateful than ever to have a warm bed sleep in.
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