Signs

Want to know how you know when you're too tired?

When you send an e-mail to someone that's about them.

Whoops.

Fortunately, there was no smack talk in the e-mail, just expressing some confusion and a little frustration. But not in a nasty way.

I did, however, immediately close Outlook to prevent myself from doing anything else that could potentially get me fired.

Ahhh...Nature

Special K and I had long-standing plans to go hiking with friends on Saturday. Work has become even more intense recently, and I was glad to have the break, and to be forced to relax (dammit) and forget about work pressures, even if it was only for a day. We decided to hike Old Rag Mountain. I have no idea how it got its name, but it’s considered to be one of the more difficult climbs around here. Yes, I realize that doesn’t mean much if you live near the Rockies or something, but for us East Coast-types, climbing from sea level to 3,200+ feet and back down in a day is a pretty good workout. I already had good hiking boots and a daypack, both of which I’ve used many a time, and often with these particular friends who are among a small group I know who really like outdoors-y stuff. Special K had worn regular shoes and no backpack the last few times we’d been hiking, and his feet were sore from improper footwear every time. (Plus, I had to carry his stuff for him. I’m not your pack mule, Dude!!) (Just kidding.) We went out and got him some good boots, and a daypack as well. We also decided to get one other essential – the thing for which I was most grateful to have spent $30 on for the entire hike. We each got a 3L Camelbak hydration bladder (heh…) to fit in our packs. It’s a virtually indestructible water sack that fits in your pack, with a little tube that attaches to your shoulder straps (kind of like the beer can hat. But not.) By the time I got home after the hike and unloaded and cleaned out my pack, I saw that I had consumed every last ounce of water in that thing. No small feat – but I’m getting ahead of myself.

We arrived at P & S’s house later than we wanted to, but since they were running behind, too, it actually worked out okay. We hopped in the car and headed out to the Shenandoahs, which are beautiful, even if you do have to take I-66 to get there (grr…evil, hateful road). The drive was lovely, and it took us out past D & K’s farm; we waved as we passed by on our way to the mountain. We arrived and the parking lot was full, so we had a feeling that meant it wouldn’t be a solitary day on the trails, but nonetheless, we strapped on our gear and headed up to the trailhead.

It was not a great sign that three out of four of us (one of whom was me) were breathing a little heavily by the time we got to the trailhead. We still had another 8 miles to go, almost all of it vertical. We started out, zigzagging up the side of the mountain through the woods. The leaves were starting to turn and the scenery was beautiful. It was steep in parts, but a lot of it was a gentle slope (in the beginning) and it was great to just focus on being there and moving. I wanted to make a point of looking up enough to appreciate what we were passing through, but looking down enough so that I didn’t trip over something and sprain my knee before we’d even made it halfway up.

As the climb became steeper and steeper, I became aware of muscles that I had allowed to slack off in recent months. (They’re on notice…) It was definitely getting harder. At one point, we saw a break in the trees and could appreciate how far we’d climbed already. Fortunately, we couldn’t see how far we had to go – that might have been depressing. Before I knew it, we were above 2,800 feet (you can’t camp at Old Rag above 2,800 feet, so they have signs telling you no camping permitted beyond that point). S & P had told us about a rocky plateau of sorts that was a good lunch spot, so we knew we weren’t stopping until we got to that part. After that, it’s a 1-mile rock scramble to the top, so it’s good to save your energy.

We finally came to the lunch spot, and the view was breathtaking. You know you’re high up when you see hawks and eagles soaring below you. We stretched out on the rocks and ate lunch, then we put our packs under our heads and took a quick nap. (Well, mine wasn’t as quick, but Special K did wake me up after about 20 minutes or so.) It was definitely crowded on those rocks, making it clear just how many people were attacking the mountain that day. After I woke up, we started the toughest and coolest part – the rock scramble. It’s very vertical at that point, and you’re essentially clambering over and under and around massive rocks the whole way – hence the name. At one point, there were so many people that there was actually a line to get through a particularly challenging part. I was glad for my long arms and legs, but there were still a few places where I needed someone to either give me a boost (thanks, Special K) or give me a hand up (thanks S. And Special K.)

We were thrilled to reach the summit. Until we found out that it wasn’t the summit, it was the first of three false summits. Bastard mountain. Special K wisely remarked that he had figured out why mountains were named after just one person. Because sooner or later, everyone else would say “screw this, I’m going home! You’re on your own. Sucka.”

By the time we reached the real summit, it was amazing and breathtaking and we were totally exhausted. We could see for miles, and it was the most incredible sense of accomplishment. Having really done it, not having wimped out, it was amazing. I was so ridiculously proud of Special K, it was great.

But then we had to go back down.

Samanabastich.

You would think it would be easier, and in some ways it is. It’s definitely less taxing in a cardiovascular sense, but you’re making a rapid descent, and your muscles have to work overtime to stop you from tumbling down the path. My legs were shaking most of the time, and I was starting to feel a little dizzy, but I figured that we’d already made it that far, the rest was cake in comparison. And it was, because I would rather do the second half than do the first half all over again! We finally made it down the trails and had a 3.5-mile walk back on the fire road to get to the car. I had thought it would feel as though it was taking forever, but it really wasn’t that bad. I was starting to catch a chill at that point, though, and was looking forward to getting back to the car.

We arrived back at the car, and dropped our packs into the trunk. We kind of stared at each other, bleary-eyed, and we all congratulated each other on a job well done. It was one of the most physically challenging things I’ve ever done so far, all 8.8 miles of it, but it was a truly awesome experience. (And we did it in 6.5 hours, including our lunch break – not too shabby.) On the way back, we stopped at a place that sells mead – real mead, as in “Fetch me a flagon of mead, bar wench!” S & P had stayed at a B&B run by the people who own the meadery and loved it, so S stopped in to pick up a couple bottles of this traditional honey wine.

I don’t actually remember much of the drive home, because I was passed out in the back of the car, wondering just how sore I would be the next day. We did, however, talk about wanting to do it again, and would like to go a couple times a year, if possible. As hard as it was, it was a lot of fun, and an amazing challenge.

Special K and I stopped for a tub of Epsom salt on the way home, because I figured a nice, long, hot soak might help stave off some muscle soreness. Since I managed to wake up and move this morning without swearing, I’m guessing it helped. Stairs are definitely work, as my joints were also not super excited about my foray into amateur mountaineering, but it hasn’t been as bad as I’d feared it might be.

I spent the morning and early afternoon in my office, and then took my computer and retired for the afternoon. I invited Special K over for dinner and some Amazing Race as a work break for me. We had a lovely dinner and afterwards were cleaning up, when I found a snake in the house.

Yes, a snake.

It was probably a baby one, and it was probably scared witless since I found it in a staring contest with one of the cats (it would have been a toss-up had it actually come to blows, but neither side knew that). I yelped slightly and had a total chick moment, as I informed Special K that there was a snake in the house.

Yes, a snake.

I went and got a shovel and a broom, and Special K gently scooped the snake into the shovel, and deposited it outside. I didn’t want to kill it, because it wasn’t being aggressive and wasn’t likely to be – it just wanted to be somewhere warm. I realize, however, that putting a reptile outside on a night like this may well have killed it anyway. While I didn’t feel good about that, I didn’t feel bad enough to let it chill in the house with us. So, I hope it nestled down into a pile of leaves and was able to stay warm enough to live.

I've since been informed that it's a juvenille black rat snake, not poisonous or anything, and quite common in these parts. So there you have it.

So now it’s back to work for me. The weekend wasn’t long enough, as usual, but I know this week is going to be very difficult, including a lot of late working nights. Not thrilled about that, but Special K and I have a road trip planned to Charleston, SC, so it will be a nice long weekend. (I’m hoping I don’t need to take my laptop to work on the ride…) A very much needed long weekend. The impromptu long weekend last weekend wasn’t quite the same – mostly because it was the result of vandalism.

Since I’m so tired that my eyes are starting to droop, I s’pose it’s time to wrap this up.

So…bye for now.