Nestled at 2981 feet above sea level and about 5280 feet (one mile) from the Appalachian Trail lies the peak of Mt. Turk. This short jot from the Turk Mountain parking lot provides one of the best views of the surrounding landscape that I could find. Thanks to some beneficent fortune the other week, I was "forced" to make camp in Shenandoah National Park after a long day of "mapping your world." I gathered what I deemed necessary for a one night adventure in the back country.
My shopping list goes as follows:
1 - far too large and heavy internal frame pack (Lowe Alpine 90 liter)
1 - cook kit, including, a power bar, 1 liter H2O, Backpacker's Pantry meal, titanium bowl, spork, etc.
1 - jet boil stove with all the fixins' ( great for the morons who leave all fire making devices back at the parking lot)
1 - soft cloth sunglasses case, sunglasses, and all the essentials, papers, and "additives and preservatives"
1 - cotton sweatshirt which turned out to invaluable in the cold spring winds on top of the peak
1 - sleeping bag ( zero degree is preferable, but worthless without a proper camping pad)
1- red fleece blanket (retrieved from Fla years after misplacement), great in lieu of camping pad
1 - parachute fabric hammock ( my only way to enjoy the outdoor nights as of late)
1 - Siddhartha [Hermann Hesse] to give you that added metaphysical dimension to this wonderful UNIverse
With these objects combined I was ready to brave the elements. The hike up was a bitch, as I am totally out of shape for this nonsense. I huffed and puffed and sweated until I had to take my long sleeve field-camo shirt (purchased in nearby Blacksburg for $5) off. I set up camp, ate my power bar, said "fuck it" to making a ridiculous Backpacker's Pantry mess. I opted instead for some instant Miso soup [2 servings.] I tended to the papers and preservatives. Thank God the Jetboil has a self starting feature or my ass would not have been grass.
I set up the hammock between a large rock and a small tree in the only open space I could find on the peak. I attempted to setup between two rocks but found this nearly impossible. I used all the cordage I had and created a remarkably redundant (somewhat safe too) sleeping operation. If I had slept on the ground ( my original "lazy man" intent) I am sure the millipedes would have eaten me alive. Each desk sized rock became crawling with at least 10 millipedes as the sun set. This created a virtual minefield of creepy-crawlies. They were very fun to play with. If you piss them off enough they roll into a beautiful spiral that Fibonacci (I'm sure) had marveled at. They also shit all over themselves (Self defense? I'll have to try that one.)
As I jovially settled in for the evening pondering the tale of Siddhartha, so eloquently scribed, I began to lull to sleep. I was promptly alerted to a single CLANG! coming from the direction of my "bear proof" cooking package that I had so neatly draped over a rock with 5 mil cordage. I threw on my headlamp and (yelling and creaming the entire time) ran barefoot across the millipedic minefield the 25 yards or so to where I had last seen my portable kitchen. To my surprise the mess was still there. The 5 mil cord had been severed and the only thing keeping the kit from disappearing into the thick underbrush was good fortune. The cord had wedged between a narrow crevice in the rock. This rope, capable of hauling nearly half a ton statically, was mangled.
I never heard nor saw anything. This leads me to believe that it was not a bear that had come in contact with my kit. Bears are not known as the stealthiest of creatures. To this day I have no idea what tried to make a meal of my meal. I am just glad it did not try to make a meal of me.
After truly animal proofing my mess kit with what was left of my cord and a large tree I was back to the hammock.
I survived the night comfortably only thanks to my red fleece blanket. It also saved me on a cold overnight bus ride in India. I woke up the next morning to the voice of a kind Virginia professor begging my forgiveness for the rude awakening. I was happy to have a human alarm clock, as I probably would have been late to work that morning otherwise. She took some nice photos of my camp setup and was gracious enough to send one to me.
After packing up and chugging my remaining water I tightened my shoelaces and ran back down the mountain to the parking lot where Sienna3 lay in wait. I would highly recommend Mt. Turk to any AT hiker passing through southern Shenandoah. Thanks again Doc for the photo contribution to this blog posting.
note: Pissing while still in your hammock is tricky business. (Sorry ladies, I'm deeming this one a no-go for y'all.)
View from the top:
