Flexible Frame - Slow travel & hiking in Virginia
Back in July, we had planned to revisit one of my favorite parks I’ve been introduced to in the last few years: Grayson Highlands State Park in Virginia. But if you’ll recall, those plans were stymied several different times. This month, I put my foot down - one way or the other, I needed to go to what I lovingly refer to as “the Pone Zone,” the magical highland landscape with wild ponies and longhorn cattle.
Last time, scheduling and reservations on a holiday weekend tripped us up. So I planned ahead and grabbed a spot in the backpacker’s lot in the middle of the week. Once again, my best-laid plans were foiled by forces outside of my control, in this case Hurricane/Tropical Storm Isaias that dumped buckets of rain all across the mid-Atlantic. I’m not a delicate flower, but I’m also not interested in camping in 90% chance of torrential downpour.
So we pushed our plans back to Saturday-Sunday. The dreaded weekend. Naturally, the backpacker lot was already full, so we made plans to enter the heart of the Lewis Fork Wilderness from the other direction, parking at Elk Gardens and coming up the Appalachian Trail past Mount Rogers to Rhododendron Gap. (About 5 miles, the same as Massie Gap - Rhododendron Gap if you start from the Grayson Highlands park entrance.)
When we arrived at the Elk Gardens trailhead, my partner made some disgruntled noises about how busy it was. But we plunged ahead, and many of the cars in the lot ended up being day hikers. The AT wove through some gorgeous forest that kept us in the shade, thank goodness. We arrived at Rhododendron Gap as one of the first few groups to start to set up for the night, which was a huge boon because we secured a spot that was perfect for both my partner’s tarp tent and my hammock, the fair-weather sleeping arrangement.
This is really my ideal hiking situation: wake up at a reasonable hour (no alpine starts), drive to trailhead some hours away, hike in a reasonable distance (especially if you know you need to get on the road at a particular time the next day), get your pick of the campsites, pull out a book and read until sunset over a magnificent landscape. As the sun set, it was chilly enough to be grateful I opted for leggings and brought a sweatshirt. I ended up being VERY grateful for my chunky sleeping socks and annoyed that I hadn’t put my Thermarest in my hammock with me. (I think the overnight lows were in the mid-50s! A very welcome reprieve from the topical heat of Nashville summer.)
The next morning we were up and back at the trailhead by 10a, just as planned. I love it when a plan works out.
This trip helped remind me of all the different ways slow travel can manifest. Usually, I’m Team “Plan It All Out Way In Advance” with the logic that if you’re not making the big decisions on the fly, you can be more open to the small opportunities that present themselves. But this time, the big decisions were constantly in flux, which meant that we had to be 100% present and in communication with each other to be able to make choices that met our needs. I’m not on Team “Seat of Your Pants” yet, but I am grateful for this reminder that the heart of slow travel is a flexible framework that is mindful, present, and adaptable.
