Up in Them There Woods

"In Randolph County, Virginia, is a tract of country containing from seven to nine hundred square miles, entirely uninhabited, and so savage and inaccessible that it has rarely been penetrated even by the most adventurous. The settlers on its borders speak of it with a sort of dread, and regard it as an ill-omened region, filled with bears, panthers, impassable laurel-brakes, and dangerous precipices. Stories are told of hunters having ventured too far, becoming entangled, and perishing in its intricate labyrinths. The desire of daring the unknown dangers of this mysterious region, stimulated a party of gentlemen . . . to undertake it in June, 1851. They did actually penetrate the country as far as the Falls of the Blackwater, and returned with marvelous accounts of its savage grandeur, and the quantities of game and fish to be found there." - From a 19th Century account of Dolly Sods.

I try to go camping every fall and every spring. I round up as many hard cores as I can and try to get all of them to commit to a date for camping sometime in September or October. It never happens and our trek always gets postponed to November. Last year we went a bit too late (see report HERE) and damn near froze to death. This year would be different…at least we hoped.

The roster included, yours truly, The Red Fox, Towpath (the innocent looking schoolboy prone to weaponry and mischief) BAIN and his lady Shannon, SNOW (always ready for adventure, especially if it includes tomfoolery) and Alexi (an Anglophile friend of Petey Towpath).



After a 5 hour drive to Somewhere, West Virginia, SNOW, Towpath, Alexi and I set out to find a camp spot. The first spot we saw was taken. Darkness comes early in “them there woods” so we nervously began to glean the forest for a place to pitch our tents. We fanned out in the dense wood and scanned the landscape. I came across a desolate “Rock Valley” and scrambled up a wall and discovered a wooden picnic table next to a fire ring. Perfect. I shouted down to the others and one by one, they came up and noted how “slam dunk” the spot was. Additionally, Towpath noted how it looked like the Ardennes. I sighed. Darkness comes early in “them there woods” so we set about getting our gear and setting out to build “Fort Dunk”. Like a bloodhound chasing partridge I sniffed acres of forest for every dead and dying tree I could find. We would have a fire tonight and we would be warm. Just as darkness crept into our campground and a match was struck for the fire, Bain and Shannon arrived (how convenient!).


Flames licked the dead white wood while we passed around flasks of Schnapps, Bourbon and Irish Whiskey. Soon we all began to glow like the fire.

Before turning in, Towpath lined our tents with a “bear wire” complete with a bell that never worked.

I awoke before dawn and watched the sun rise over the eastern horizon. We boiled some coffee and ate some oatmeal dotted with cashews and raisins. In fact, Towpath brought enough raisins to keep Hulk Holgan regular. After breakfast, we struck our tents then began a march down into the Sods of Dolly. I was pleasantly surprised with the hike. We crisscrossed gorgeous landscapes and waded through both mucky trails and knee deep rivers. Some of the vistas were reminiscent of Wyoming much less West Virginia. We rarely saw other souls.


Shannonjawea kept our pace honest and the unseasonably warm weather kept our sweat flowing. Towpath, wearing long underwear under thick camo pants and a fleece lined cap, melted. The rest of us shed our clothing and sighed in relief when we crossed cool mountain streams.

PART 2 to come SOON...