The Alluring Magnificence of Dolly Sods

I took a day off on Friday and with Margie, Emily and Rob drove out to West Virginia to spend a weekend hiking Dolly Sods Wilderness, a huge 17,000 acre preserve renowned for its beautiful terrain, and especially its wild blueberries. With 47 miles of trails weaving throughout a variety of landscapes it's often regarded as a piece of Canada gone astray with weather systems similar to that northern territory and its tundra appearance. It was this wild untamed image that I had in my head and desperately wanted to see firsthand, stubby laurel and blueberry bushes with windswept spruce trees, huge grey bare boulders strewn across a landscape once ravaged by loggers. It was a picture I'd long held in my mind and was excited to finally see.
The others set up tents at Spruce Knob campsite while I arranged my sleeping gear in the back of Stanley. I was glamping this weekend, wanting to try this out for possible future adventures when I couldn't be bothered with a tent or didn't want to spend money on a hotel room. There was plenty of room in the back with the seats folded down and it surely couldn't be any harder than the ground. We had arrived at 7:15pm, every other campsite had settled in for the evening, quiet chatter could be heard and flames flickered through the tree leaves from camp fires which wafted wonderful scents of smoke and food across to us. Rob decided to announce our arrival by starting up his chainsaw, which he'd spent most of the previous day cruising around Maryland in search of, and soon he was lugging dead branches across to our site. We got the fire going and were soon tucking into skewered kebobs of beef, onions, mushrooms, peppers, squash and tomatoes, with baked potatoes that had cooking in foil. A few beers to accompany our sumptuous feast and we were in heaven. It was complete bliss to sit in silence, feeling a slight cool breeze stroke my skin, watch the odd shooting star above with the waxing moon and just relax. An incredible bonus which I noticed continued throughout the weekend was the total lack of mosquitoes. There were none, not when we sat in front of the fire or when we were hiking. That was gold.
After our breakfast of oatmeal and blueberries on Saturday morning we drove up the loose quartz gravel road to the top of the Dolly Sods plateau, kicking up a dust cloud behind us as we bobbed and weaved in between the many potholes. We were beginning our hike along a wildlife trail and expected to see a variety of landscapes along our way.

It began as a muddy trail and before we'd gone 1/4 mile I'd sunk into mud that was just about to spill inside my boot at the ankle before Margie tugged me out. I was then walking with one red boot and one brown one. The terrain was very like the Shenandoah trails and I have to admit to being a little disappointed. There were many rocks to step over, hop across and wobble on as we trekked through a cool green canopy, ascending and descending dips and dales and negotiating creeks. I was constantly watching where my feet would go and didn't see any wildlife at all. I stood still, looking and listening, but not a sound could be heard, not even a bird. So not really sure why it was called the wildlife trail, but regardless, there were some prettily marked boulders, and feathery ferns covered the forest floors with small wildflowers tucked under tree roots.

We walked along a narrow path on the side of a steep ridge where Rob declared that we needed to climb down the slope to the bottom before we would then climb back up an equally steep mountain on the other side of the gully, this one looking like it was peaking at about 2000ft. I hadn't wanted to take part in any high climbs so was mortified at this thought, but after a little huffy puffy rant I teetered on the edge and attempted to make my way down assisted by Rob. But I made it only a few feet down before I realized that this wasn't going to happen. My feet were slipping on the loose earth and once I'd passed Rob there was nothing to hold on to. I wasn't going down, end of story, and I clambered back up. Rob and Emily took out the maps to determine an alternative route and I walked along the trail to a wider spot where I felt safe. But suddenly my boot skidded on a loose rock at the edge and I fell down sideways, my heart lurching as I lunged downhill. I managed to grab a root or branch as I fell and held on with all my might to stop myself tumbling to the bottom. Rob took my camera and I hoisted myself back onto the trail, but I was shaken. All at once, in the space of a few seconds, I had felt the vulnerability of my age and mourned the lost confidence of my youth. My knees were trembling and I had to sit down. My thigh must have hit a rock as I fell, it was sore, and I could feel that I'd wrenched my back. I sat sullen and waited for the others to make a decision, and also wished my English friends were with me with to make light of the moment and give me a hug. I had not one word of encouragement or sympathy from these present and felt ostracized, but also understanding that this is how many Americans are, unable or unwilling to indulge in close contact with others. I see it time and time again, it's sad.
I bolstered myself and stood up, wanting to get moving before I stiffened, and the others realized that the planned route could not have been completed before dark anyway, so we turned back to retrace our steps.

Margie seemed to sense my discomfort and I was grateful for her constantly pointing out nature's wonders to me to take my mind off of my pains as we hiked . The lighting was amazing, casting deep contrasting shadows on the rocks and trees, the sunlight almost white as it blazed bright spots and cast patterns or illuminated textures. We even spotted sphagnum moss for the first time, bending to touch it and see if it felt like the stuff found in Michael's or AC Moore's craft shops. It wasn't, it was softer.

We got back to the dusty road and had to walk a ways back to Stanley. Each side of the narrow road was edged with milkweed and the swallowtails were abundant. We even spotted a few monarchs which warmed my heart. A last hike of the day was a 1/2 mile stroll which arched back on to the road. I started but had to admit defeat. I was aching terribly, we'd hiked over 8 miles, so I drove the car to where the others would finish. Getting out to take some photos of the scenery, I'd taken about 5 steps before I heard 2 pings and looking around saw Stanley had a flat front tire.
The rest of the evening was a pain in the neck as we tried and failed to get a replacement tire; there was nothing local or anything open. We had put the donut tire on and eventually, because donuts have to be driven slowly, and after some wrong turns up rural dead end roads, we made it to a brewery. Oh joy! We relaxed with cheese and bread that we had brought in the car washed down with splendid beers before the long careful drive back to camp, where at midnight, we started a fire and cooked huge burgers.
After a few hours sleep I was ready to get up. I hadn't slept well and my back was in agony. But breakfast, (this time a mash of eggs, bacon and mushrooms mopped up with bread), was calling, and we had to pack up camp. I was very glad I didn't have a tent to break down. Some time later we were back up on the Dolly Sods again, this time in Emily's car. Stanley had been left at the bottom of the mountain with his dodgy donut tire. Today we were doing a 5 mile hike at the Bear Rocks Preserve, and this time it would be through the scenery I'd been yearning to see. I was apprehensive as we set off, my back and hips screaming that a horizontal position would be much more therapeutic.

 But I loosened up as we marched across the stony land, endorphines no doubt blocking the pain as I gazed in blissful wonder at the spectacular scenery. It was breathtaking and I would have liked to simply stand, or sit, and stare to take it all in and just simply enjoy it but the others kept moving. The grasslands were filled with so many varieties of plants, grasses, wild flowers, lichens, mosses and shrubs. The blueberry bushes were abundant, a few of their leaves already flaming scarlet ahead of autumn. Margie and I stopped to pick some. They were about a third of the size of the ones found in the stores, but once I'd picked a few in my palm and then tipped them into my mouth in one fell swoop the sweetness and flavor were better than any blueberry I'd tasted before. Divine.

We passed a field of ferns after hopping over a creek and then at the top of a hill stood an old tree with soft cool grass shaded below it. My spine felt it had been compressed and since this was an in and out hike, I suggested the others go to the end and then return while I rested under the tree. They were only gone about 30 minutes but it was enough time for me to collapse and stretch out my poor back. And not once did I get bitten by bugs as I rested, the refreshing breeze wafting over me with an aroma of cut grass.

On the way back I felt heaps better, almost as if I had a second wind. The sun was beginning its descent towards the horizon but we still had one more view to take in. The Bear Rocks jut out over the forest below, huge white sandstone boulders pitted with white quartz.

We followed a path through gorse bushes to the top where the views were spectacular. A neverending spread of spruces stretched out below us, while in the distance was a long gash of granite, as though the mountains were splitting open. Margie had brought wine which went well with the rest of last night's burger and chicken. We sat on the plateau and watched the sun slowly sink. I could have gone to sleep on that ledge, feeling warm and relaxed with a light breeze brushing against my arms.

I will return to this wondrous wilderness again. There are mountain laurels and rhododendron blooms in the spring and during the fall the blueberry bushes appear to be on fire, their flame leaves low on the landscape like a rolling inferno. Even the stark winter would be beautiful with the emerald spruces standing majestically on a barren expanse. But for this weekend, we were done, we couldn't fit any more activities in, and as the darkness fell, we drove east towards our homes, and soft beds.
A great write up on the wilderness area is here.