Furious Winds in Front Royal

And once again, the weather was horrendous for the weekend. After getting 5" of snow on Wednesday and then rain afterwards, Skyline Drive was still closed, making most hikes inaccessible, and those that were open were extremely muddy. So Saturday was spent catching up with family on the phone and running errands.
Sunday was sunny but high winds were due in the afternoon. Carmen and I went to our first ever Yoga class which I actually enjoyed. Some of the positions made me feel like a contortionist but I persevered and finished the class in one piece with no injuries. I was so stoked that after we'd had lunch in town I was determined to go out on my bike. We'd sat at the restaurant watching as blue skies were shoved off the horizon by dark grey clouds and then the winds arrived, blasting down the streets and thrusting the door to the restaurant open, throwing in some old winter leaves for good measure. But despite the gales it was still quite warm so upon arriving at The Blue House I hurriedly pumped up my tires and set off on my first ride around town.
I wasn't able to do the Greenway, which is a new 5 mile loop around town, as part of it that ran along the Shenandoah River which was flooded so I decided to stay downtown and explore some of the streets. I felt quite jaunty as I pedaled along, feeling the sunshine on my face and trying to ignore the increasing wind speeds. I zoomed along the back streets, noting small businesses that I'd not previously been aware of and peering onto people's porches.

 I found the Bing Crosby Stadium, a point of pride in the town. Bing was the first contributor of the building fund, donating $1000 to a new stadium, and then after his concert in 1950 (see link) he donated another $3.595 bringing the fund total to $15,000. It's a great stadium with tennis courts out the back for the community also. Nobody was about today though, all hiding from the winds...

 I love the old houses in town. Many have flat turrets on top of their roofs, something I hadn't noticed before. Maybe a French influence? Note the little dog staring down at me from the window in the top photo. My favorite house so far is the beautifully maintained house with the intricate woodwork and detailed paintwork. I sat on my bike admiring this for some time. The paint had been fastidiously applied, it must have taken days or even weeks to do this and I wondered if, when it needed to be redone, whether they'd change the color scheme or use the same palette.

 There's a few abandoned properties in the town but these two caught my eye. The garage appeared to still be in use although it was run down but the old Elks Grill has obviously been closed for some time. Some of the old houses are being restored throughout the town. Front Royal used to look a lot more battered than it does today, so it's lovely to see these old buildings coming back to life again. I hope the old grill has a makeover too.
I continued pedaling around although sometimes it was hard going. Some of the gales were fast and powerful, blowing me over to one side or pushing me back making my legs work even harder to prevent me from coming to a standstill. Piles of brown leaves which half an hour ago had simply swirled about in front of me were now lifted up high and battered me, sometimes making me close my eyes and turn my head away; they stung when they hit my face. But I persisted on on my ride, getting a few strange looks from the locals, as I battled my way along the roads.

 Up on one of the busier streets, this hideous structure is being built. It's going to be a Dunkin' Donuts but construction has been slow, which has surprised me since it's only a few sheets of chipboard with some large plate glass windows. The chipboard walls have already endured some intense soakings and I wonder how the walls still stand. Despite them being treated I really thought, and secretly hoped, that some disintegration would have begun by now. I was equally amazed when I drove past the next morning and saw it still stubbornly standing, thinking for sure that the winds would have dragged it away.
I had doggedly ridden my bike up and down the streets but the winds were winning the battle. I was finding it harder to remain upright and a couple of times I had to put my feet down as I failed to push forward against the raging gales. Luckily, home wasn't far away and with my ears and face stinging from the rapidly dropping temperatures and debris I plodded onward. I was glad to enter a warm quiet house but that night neither I or the cats got any sleep. The winds picked up intensely, slamming debris against the side of the house, lights flickered and as the squalls whipped around the corners, they shrieked in high pitched wails. I lay in bed constantly alert and waiting for a window to be blown in, which thankfully never happened. The tempest continued through the morning on my drive to work where I found my colleagues equally bleary eyed and tired. It was going to be a long Monday.

Lake Leaping in Luray

On Saturday morning I drove down to Arrowhead Park in Luray to witness their first ever Polar Plunge. They were raising funds for Page County's Alliance for Community Action whose mission is to promote the drug-free, healthy and positive development of youth and families through community collaboration and prevention based initiatives, and announced that 93 persons with no aversions to cold water had registered. The weather forecast had just a couple of days ago promised temperatures in the low 30's with snow flurries, but today that had improved to no snow, but with a breeze keeping the digits at below 35. I wrapped up in a scarf and jacket, shivering at the thought of these folks voluntarily splashing into the lake. The sky was heavy with dark clouds making me wonder that the promised snow might make an appearance after all but the sun battled its way through the gloom, occasionally flinging some warm rays on the sand.

 There was only a small crowd when I arrived and I promptly made for one of the oil drums that were spouting welcoming warm flames. A couple of gas heaters stood on the sand but their feeble heat could barely be felt. Little groups clustered together as they helped each other get changed, keeping warm layers on top of their skimpy costumes. The 'plungers' were given an embroidered fleece to wrap around their shoulders, and all were used. A few hardy folks wandered about in scant outfits; I marveled at their hardiness, especially as they showed no gooseflesh at all. I would have been a quivering mess in their position.

As the plunge time neared more people arrived, who had likely been sitting in their warm homes or cars as long as possible before braving the inevitable moment. Out of the 93 registered, 88 had turned up and were now posing for photos along the shoreline. I chatted with a young couple who I assumed were brother and sister, quiet and really well mannered. I took to them immediately. She was dressed in a Neptune-esque dress while he was part of a penguin group. They sat quietly on a bench, shivering in their porous clothing. Another lady was here who took part in the polar plunge at Virginia Beach every year, so this was her second of the season. Wearing a tutu and bunny ears she was all smiles while her husband shivered patiently by one of the oil drums.

The announcer told everyone to get ready and the plungers turned towards the water, every face etched with anxiety and dread. But their agony was prolonged when there was suddenly an almighty splash and one of the kayakers tipped out of his boat. There had been 2 gentlemen in kayaks holding a position that the plungers shouldn't pass, and supposedly offering help if needed. I'd watched them earlier getting into their boats, wondering if they had wet suits on under their jeans and jackets, they didn't look that well prepared for kayaking in freezing water. and now one of them had fallen out. A huge cheer went up from everyone on the shore, including me, as we watched him splash about trying to gain a foothold. It wasn't deep so nobody was really concerned but a life guard swan out to help in just in case. They both pulled the kayak back to shore and once again the crowd on the shore readied itself for plunging. The whistle blew and they were off. I was impressed that not one single person faltered or decided to keep their toes in the sand. Everyone lunged and plunged into that numbingly glacial and arctic water.

With their arms held high, as though trying to keep some of their bodies out of the water, they rushed and screamed, battling against their initial shock. It seemed only a couple of minutes had passed after wading out to the iceberg they then lunged their way back to shore. Their resolve to get back on the beach was so strong that they caused a wave of water to rush up onto the sand as they passed me, my boots and jeans getting soaked in the process. Here's the young lad making his way back, one of only a few that managed a smile. Many were wincing and grimacing, faces contorted with the effort of pushing through the frigid lake, struggling and battling to get back onto the warmer land where towels and fleeces could be snatched to wrap about them. Many were holding prizes, held aloft like trophies. These had been attached to the blue and white iceberg that had floated in the water at the beginning of the plunge and was now simply a flattened soggy mess floating sadly on the surface of the water after having been pulled apart by the crowd.

The poor little Neptune girl was obviously struggling with the freezing water, but she did it. She managed to drag herself onto the beach a short time after her brother, gasping with the cold. I asked her if she'd do it again next year and without any hesitation she yelled, "NO!!"

The plungers' hardiness was very apparent,it seemed almost immediately that their faces, pinched in pain and shock just a few minutes before,  were now beaming with triumph and joy. They had faced that icy demon and won, raising money for their local community. It was now a time of celebration, excited chatter while drinking hot chocolate and cider while chewing on home made cookies. A few rushed straight to their cars but most remained on the sand,enjoying their well deserved attention and accolades. I didn't stay long myself. My feet were wet and I was feeling the cold. I too headed for my warm car, wondering how many of the brave souls from today would return next year.

A Windy Peak above a Golden Valley

We've had some ghastly weather at the weekends this year and this one was promising more of the same. An ice storm with a small amount of snow was supposed to be moving in on Sunday afternoon and evening. But even though it was cold the strong winds from Saturday had abated a little and so I decided to get a short hike on Sunday. I found it difficult to leave my warm cozy bed where Rosie Lee and Tricksie Treat were snuggling with me. I'd been sipping a huge mug of tea while engrossed in my book and could quite happily have stayed there all day but the mountains and fresh air were calling out to me and so wrapping up well, with hand warmers stuffed into my pockets, I made for Luray.
I'd read about Kennedy Peak just that morning on a Meetup hiking group announcement, but they'd be starting their hike a good 90 minutes before me so I'd likely meet them on their way out. But when I arrived at the small parking area mine was the only vehicle to take a space. Maybe they canceled their event in case the ice came in earlier. I stood and chewed my fingers while pondering on this. Maybe I shouldn't chance my luck either, the air did have a 'snow feel' about it and the wind was biting. But I realized that I was simply trying to find an excuse to jump back into the warm car, and I'd regret it later if I didn't do the hike. Plus, seeing the summit in the distance was tempting, it was a peak that needed to be climbed.

 I set off at a brisk pace to warm up. I was striding along a wide trail, an old forestry road, on top of a ridge. The wind buffeted me and I pulled my hat down over my ears. The path was rocky so I was constantly looking down to avoid tripping but every now and then I looked up at the summit standing proud ahead of me. With the trees bare on either side of the track I could see down into the valleys, brown fields, narrow roads weaving back and forth, and quietness, apart from the gales. It felt like I was the only person up here. Which I was...

 The path was rocky but the trail was a relatively easy climb. As I passed around the sheltered back of the mountain, the winds dropped and the silence of the forest was deafening. There were no sounds apart from my boots crunching the frozen earth or kicking small stones. No bird cries, no rustling of undergrowth from small critters, everyone was sheltering, likely sleeping. As I reached the final turn I came across a sign indicating that the fire tower was immediately ahead.

 After a short uphill climb over a rocky ridge I arrived at Kennedy's Peak. It was freezing cold, the wind whipped at my jacket and hat as I kept my hands deep in my pockets clutching the hand warmers. But I was amazed to see that the fire shelter had a deep enclosed area under its viewing deck, a fire pit at the front and even a small stack of fire wood ready to use. If I hadn't been concerned about the bad weather coming in I would have loved to sit up there, warming my hands in front of hot flames. Definitely worth considering for the future, especially if I remember a pack of sausages, biscuits and flask of tea!

 The ridge line that I'd hiked along before climbing up the mountain.

Despite the cold I had to sit and relish the experience of having this impressive panorama all to myself. I tucked myself into the shelter but even though I couldn't escape the winds completely I wasn't so exposed. It felt as though I was the only person on earth. I couldn't detect barely any movements down below and no sounds traveled up to my perch, no voices from humans or animals, or growls of engines. Either the wind was blowing all noise away from me or folks were huddled in their warm homes. I don't know, but it felt strangely eerie as though I was the lone survivor of a major catastrophe. There were spectacular views of Luray Valley and the South Fork of the Shenandoah River to the east and the Massanutten Range, including Duncan Knob and Kerns Mountain to the southwest. The Bermuda grass in the fields below was sandy colored; come the spring they'll change to a lush green. It was an astounding view, and one that I'll definitely be back to admire again. My hands were frozen after just the few minutes I'd had them out of my pockets to use my camera, so very reluctantly I began my return journey down the mountain.

On the way back down I took my time. I had been concerned about being caught in a snow storm while on my way up. The clouds were hanging lower and there was a smell of snow in the air. I stopped to observe smaller details, marveling at how even though most of the trail was colored in earth tones, vivid splashes of color lit up the browns and greys. There were neon yellow patches of moss hiding under a ledge and some of the rocks I studied were veined with scarlet and orange or flecked with quartz that glittered in the changing light as I passed. Teal lichens and green mosses clothed the boulders and sides of the path. I heard one solitary crow as I sauntered down, his constant cawing either a warning of the incoming bad weather or a call to his family.
When I reached the bottom my car was still the only one parked by the ledge, used in the summer time by para gliders, but vacant today. Driving down the steep mountainside a turkey vulture swooped low across the road in front of me as I peered up at the houses balancing on tall brick or stone pillars to maintain their position on the precipitous gradients. I'd once viewed these homes as gorgeous but after having looked into the purchase of one, no longer do I see their advantages, only the downfalls of mountain life.
While up on Kennedy's Peak I'd spotted the yellow roofs of a farm I'd discovered a few years ago. It had clearly been vacated some time ago and was up for sale when I'd last driven up to it. I really wanted to explore all the buildings but after my trespassing demeanor a few years ago, exploring in this county makes me nervous.

But I drove down there anyway, just to peer over the fence and see if it was now lived in. Unfortunately the grounds remain deserted. the buildings looking shoddier and a few wooden structures falling down. Yet despite its tumbledown appearance, the bright yellow roofs managed to convey plenty of cheerful appeal and I longed to walk in and explore. I was itching to see if the buildings were open to photograph but the 'No Trespassing' sign held me at bay, still exuding authority over me despite its worn appearance. I took some photos and then drove away before my presence was reported. Better to be safe than sorry!