Weedeaters on the Appalachian Trail.

Ah, the irony of it. Back in July, after my many, many activities, I got a reminder from my trail supervisor that the section of the AT that I maintain was, to put it bluntly, not being maintained. Yep, the last time I had been there, the trail was buried under snow. So, after I hurriedly shot an apologetic reply back, I planned to head to Shenandoah N.P. and weed my section of trail.

Now for the irony: The Appalachian Trail is generally considered a "Wilderness Experience". Much of the trail is designated wilderness, and as such, motorized vehicles and power tools are strictly forbidden (except in cases such as wildfires). Not so my section. My 1.1 miles are mostly flat, straight, and Not at all Wilderness. . . (well, not designated as such, that is)

So, four days later, Saturday morning (July 14th) at about 8:30, I'm at the Big Meadows tool shed, checking out the biggest, heaviest-duty weed eater the Club has stocked. (I believe it's a Stihl 110 or 130 [a 36cc engine])Yep. I'm going to weed-whack the Appalachian Trail.

I packed an entire extra container of gas and extra string, grabbed the trimmer, and the harness, and threw it all in the back of the Matrix and headed to the trailhead. I waited until a Ranger-led hike got underway and out of sight, then I really fired it up and went to town-- running a weed eater on the AT.


7 hours later, the section, just over a mile long, was cleared to a point where I was satisfied with it. My safety glasses, face, arms, clothes, shirt, pants and boots were covered in bits of grass, ferns, and various bits of ground cover, my ears were ringing from the motor revving, my hands were tingling, my arms were tired, and my allergies were on full alert. I cleaned the gear, returned it to the shed, and went home, a tired, but satisfied man.

I'm sure that by now, a month later, it's grown back to cover a lot of what I've trimmed. I need to get back out soon. Maybe this time, I can actually hike instead of just weed.

Old Rag Mountain

Memorial Day Saturday we hiked Old Rag Mountain. Along with us came every youth from our church who wanted to come, and a few who were probably just pressured into it by their peers.



It was a hot, hazy day, typical of Virginia summers. The good side was no worries about needing to bring a jacket in case of rain or cold, the downside was the sweat. I brought a gallon of water in the form of two nalgene bottles and a 2 liter hydration system in my pack, which also included the first aid kit, (which we thankfully didn't need, except for a blister), lunch, and some snacks ( another nalgene of gorp, some jerky, red vines [red licorice], and a box of Good and Plenty). When we reached the summit, I had half a nalgene of water left. (I had given almost a liter out to others who didn't bring enough, like Tracy.)

The signature part of Old Rag is the fact that the summit is mainly bare rocks. The trail goes around, between, over, and underneath boulders and slabs. Most of the other mountains out here have limited views because they're just the top of a tree. Old Rag doesn't do that; it pumps out huge views the entire last mile before the summit. The payment for that, however, is the work getting over the rocks. The pictures won't show the hardest parts because, well, we needed both hands to get through them.