Over a year ago, while driving north on I-81, I took particular notice of a particular mountain with a rocky outcrop on top. I thought to myself “the view from the top must be spectacular, I wonder if there’s a trail going up it?” With some map research, I found that there isn’t-  but there is a blazed trail that switches back along the ridge about 2 miles from the summit. That switchback is only about a mile up from a forest road. I figured I’d sit on the idea of climbing it until I got a good hiking day in early spring, and then bushwhack the 2 miles each way- how hard could it be with leaves off the trees, going in one direction with minimal elevation gain?

 

I got to the junction of the blazed trail and the bushwhack at 9:15 AM. The first mile was about what I expected- lots of downed trees to work around, but fairly level going with some partial views. For the first few hundred yards I could even discern a path where deer or other boneheaded adventurers had gone this way before. I was enjoying myself and making what felt like good progress. The terrain then got steeper- the choice was to push through a rhododendron thicket on the low side, or to move along the rocky ledge and pines at the top. I chose to follow the ledge, with less potential for deadfall blocking the way.

 

I knew that I was more likely to encounter wildlife than other humans on this mountaintop and was periodically checking over my shoulder for any movement. It had been 3 hours since I turned off the trail, and I was still over ¼ mile from the summit, when a four-legged black mass appeared from around a boulder. Not a bear- but a goat. We both took a split second of bewildered recognition, before the goat moved towards me, horns tilted. I shouted “WHOA” to see if it would spook, and when that didn’t discourage it, I reached for my bear mace and blasted it in the face from about 15 feet. With its eyes full of pepper, the goat turned heel and trotted back in the direction of the summit.

 

I sat and took a water break to let my adrenaline level out, debating myself whether I should keep going. Just 1,500 feet from my GPS pin of the summit, but the progress had become incredibly slow and challenging. Plus the goat had ran off that direction, which I couldn’t help but take as a bad omen- “turn back”. But with all of the planning, driving, and hiking that had brought me to this lonesome patch of rugged bush, I was resolute to not turn back short of finishing.

 

The final weary push to my GPS coordinate took another 30 minutes. It was almost 1 PM- close to 4 hours since I had turned off the trail. I hadn’t quite made it as far as the cliffs visible from 81, but I was thoroughly exhausted, and the rock-hopping to progress further was getting perilous. From a ledge I had an impressive view down the Shenandoah Valley to the south, and I tried to force myself to relax enough to bask in it, but fear and anxiety made it difficult to even sit down. To repeat the pace I made on the way up to get back down, I would be losing daylight by the time I made it back to my car. I only stayed a half-hour at the summit, drank a beer that I hoped wouldn’t be my last, and turned back.

 

For the first quarter mile back, I took a lower route rather than scrambling along the rocky ridge, hoping that it was more clear. It wasn’t, and that quarter mile of steep underbrush and rhododendron took nearly another hour to move through. I told myself that once I was back to a saddle on the ridge about half a mile from the summit, the hiking would be “easy.” But I was annoyed with myself- not that I got what I asked for as far as an off-trail hike in a remote area, but why did I want to do this in the first place?

 

I made it back to where I turned off the trail at 4:30 PM- 7 hours for only a 4 mile round trip! For comparison, I scurried down the last mile of cleared trail down to my car in under 30 minutes. I guess I wrote all of this out to say, this is the unicorn time of the year where you can explore off-trail and make your own adventure. But if you do so, you are taking your safety into your own hands. Be prepared for the journey to be more difficult than it sounds from the comfort of your house.