Old Bag on Old Rag

I started hiking last year to do some weight bearing exercise. I’d only done one hike before. It was when I was in college. We hiked several peaks in a day in the Adirondacks. I had a blast but then dropped hiking in favor of running, then bicycling.

When I started running I had to goal of working up to a marathon. I didn’t tell anybody but I ended up running seven over the course of four or five years. I set a more modest goal with hiking, to do Old Rag.

Old Rag is one of the most popular hikes in the eastern United States. It has a reputation for being challenging, for having tremedous 360 degree views at the summit, and for being incredibly crowded.

I left home at 5:30 and was hoofing it by 7:45. The first 0.8 miles is a walk along a narrow country lane from the parking lot to the trailhead. Along the way I passed a temporary shelter that had Tibetan prayer flags hanging from the edges of its canvas roof. I also passed a dilapidated shack and some hunting and fishing clubs.

The last bit of the road goes steadily uphill and the uphill continues on the trail. It took a while for me to get warmed up. I had ridden over 260 miles in the previous week and my legs were not exactly springy.

Lucky for me, the trail was deserted for the first half hour. There was plenty of room between all the small rocks for me to make decent walking speed. Soon I was hitting switchback after switchback. A couple came down the trail from above. Once they were gone, more desolation in the woods. I looked over to the right and saw a man puttering around his tent. His tent was on a giant rock reachable by walking along a huge felled tree. Very cool.

Soon I heard loud voices from below. Five kids went by me. I thought I was making a fast pace but these teenagers made me feel my age.

A young man and woman passed me. Then another group of teenagers. Among the teenagers were what appeared to be a husband and wife and a single woman. I later learned that one of the three was a high school cross country coach and these kids were the team doing a training exercise.

Soon they were far ahead.

Up and up. Switchback after switchback on the densely wooded mountain. This was reasonably hard work but after about an hour I was cruising along just fine. Every so often I would get a view of the nearby mountains then it was back into the tree cover.

Then a big boulder. This must be the rock scramble I’ve heard so much about. So I scrambled. A few more of these and then it was back to the trail as usual. I thought, “That rock scramble was much easier than I expected.”

Wrong.

The real rock scramble was just ahead. Boulder after boulder. Many requiring me to use my arms to yank myself to a foot hold. Some gave no option but for a good old fashioned butt slide. At one point the trail came to the meeting of two immense boulders with a two foot gap between. How the hell was I going to get past this? A hiker in front of me showed me two narrow footholds, one on the rock I was on, the other below on the other rock. Miss the footholds and it would be a very bad day. I dropped my right foot onto the first one, then dropped my left on to the second. Not fun.

It was just a warm up. In several parts of the rock scramble (which seemed to go on for an hour) there was nowhere to put your feet. I figured out that the way up involved propping my back against a boulder and pushing my feet onto an opposing boulder. Then I would push my back up the one boulder and walk my feet up the other. I the middle of this one of my water bottles paid the ultimate price, bursting open and soaking me and the rocks. Oh, joy.

A father in a Navy t-shirt came down through one of these scrambles with his teenage daughters in tow. Message to the boys at their schools. These girls are badass. Don’t go messing with them.

There were two or 20501084569_edba35c98f_z three of these shimmy scrambles. All I could think of was my friend who used to rock climb impossibly high rock faces. She looked like a spider dressed in black and with a rope dangling near her. She liked this?

More scrambling. Some of the big boulders gave beautiful views of the mountains and valleys neighby. Of course, if you looked to long you might go right over the edge and die. Eek. Did I mention that I have a fear of heights? Did I also mention that I have balancing issues?

More and more scrambling. I noticed that assertive moves were much less likely to lead to slipping or falling so I copied some of the hikers around me. Hop across the gaps in the boulders. Use your hands to pull on the crags in the rocks. Turn around and move backwards if you can’t make progress walking. Get creative.

Had I not been soaked in sweat and water from my broken bottle I’d have been having a blast. Now all I wanted to do was get to the top. Soon a few of the cross country runners and I had made it. Look at the views!!! Then we heard voices down below. “You’re off the trail. The summit is over there.” We looked in the direction of the pointing hands and saw more of the runners standing on a much higher bunch of rocks.

We heard the roar of an engine and a red World War I era biplane flew past. Just somebody with a super cool hobby out for a spin, I suppose.

So we had to climb down and make a few more boulder crossings before we were at the summit. The entire mountain is strewn with huge boulders, many perched precariously on each other. This is what the top looks like. On top of the toppermost of the boulders were the cross country kids seemingly oblivious to the certain doom one false step would make.

Oh, and they were swatting at the bugs. The peak, and only the peak, was aswarm with some really annoying bugs. I took a pass on the glory of the top of the rock and walked around admiring the magnificent views all around.

Unfortunately the skies were cloudy. And, more importantly, I could see rain scattered about. I decided not to reverse course for about three miles and go back down the rock scramble. The other option was a six mile hike down a steep-ish trail. This trail had steps made from logs. The steps were arranged for the comfort of Andre the Giant.

Thud. Thud. Thud. My quads were not having a whole lot of fun. The dense forest was beautiful though. Every so often my solutude would be interrupted by a cluster of indefatigable cross country kids. Boing. Boing. Boing.

Then I heard what I first thought was a stream. No. The wind was blowing the leaves in the trees? No. Rain. Gentle,cooling rain. The trees were letting just the right amount through to keep me comfortable. Very nicely done, Old Rag.

Switchbacks and steps and switchbacks and steps finally gave way to an unpaved road. Then next four miles were steady downhill on this road to the trailhead. At a turning point four of the cross country kids were sitting waiting for the others. They told me that they were carrying 20 pounds in their knapsacks and would run the final three or so miles to the parking lot.

As for me, my quadriceps were toast. I was just going to plod away. After about five minutes of plodding, the cross country kids came bounding past. Among them were the adults. I was alone trudging along when suddenly I had company. Two tiger swallowtails flitted about me as I plodded along. They were joined by a pipevine swallowtail. My companions stayed with me for about a mile, letting me to forget that my quads felt like bricks.

About an hour later I was approaching the car on the country lane. I noticed that one house had a separate garage with a PUB sign hanging from the side. I’ll bet these folks make a nice buck selling cold beer to hot, tired hikers. Too bad it was closed.

And so I spent my 60th birthday with a bunch of high school cross country runners on a mountain. Their energy was inspiring but I have to admit the bounce in their step made me an Old Bag on Old Rag.

I took a bunch of pictures. They are on my Flickr page.

What Goes Up – Hiking in Shenandoah National Park

Hiking may be my new thing. If I recover from yesterday’s excursion in Shenandoah National Park.

Usually Kirstin and I ride bikes together. when we ride, I’m usually riding much slower than usual. Her name online is Ultrarunnergirl for a reason: she does long runs usually offroad. I think of this as high speed, long distance hiking. So yesterday, the hiking shoe was on the other foot as she took me to White Oak Canyon in Shenandoah National Park for a day of hiking.

We left her place at 6:30 and drove 2 hours to the trail head. The last few miles were some of the most scenic rural roadways I’ve ever driven. (One house we drove by was named Chateau Debris by its owner. It was actually quite nice.)

We decided to hike based on how we were feeling. We headed up White Oak Canyon trail. which begins around 1,000 feet above sea level. Basically, the trail follows a stream up hill past one waterfall after the next. It’s a moderately difficult hike (for me anyway) so it took about 20 minutes for me to get into a rhythm. Kirstin took mercy on me and went at my speed. She had hiked this trail before so she knew the best places to stop and check out the scenery. And there was a lot of scenery. It’s impossible to capture this using a camera. The sounds of the water, the sun streaming through the canopy, the quiet of the woods.

Bliss.

We made it to the top of the trail and made the decision to hike the fire road up to Skyline Drive. Somehow the trail maps we had made everything look shorter and easier than it was. The fire road was long but, unlike sections of the trail, was not at all technical.

And it went up. And up.

When we reached the road we stopped to consider our options. Just the first of what would turn out to be several ultrarunning friends and acquaintences of Kirstin came bounding by. She described where she had been running/hiking and where she was about to go. Clearly she was not human.

After she left, we decided to hike the Lower Hawksbill Trail to Hawksbill overlook, the highest point in the park at nearly 4,051 feet. (As a point of reference, Old Rag is 3,268 feet.)

It went up. It was relentlessly steep. We were soaked in sweat from the muggy air. And we made it. The overlook provided spectacular views to the north and northwest. Farmland. trees, mountains and towns for miles and miles. A cloud bank was drifting in from the northeast adding dramatic contrast to the view.

We stayed at the summit for twenty minutes or so then started down.

Did I say down?

And down.

My legs had grown accustomed to the uphill which allowed me to use my bicycle quads and butt. Going down was all about beating the crap out of my legs to essentially stop me from careening and tumbling to a rocky face plant. Speaking of rocky, except for the fire road, these trails can make for difficult footing so you have to be mindul of not turning an ankle.

Once we made it to Skyline Drive we quickly decided to use the Cedar Run trial to hike back to the car. Kirstin remembered this as a relatively boring, non-technical trail. As it turned out, after about 1/2 mile of easy going it tuned into quite a difficult trail, mostly because it was really rocky.

As the humidity climbed, the rocks became slippery, much more slippery than they appeared to be. My feet slipped from time to time. Once requirng and awkward twisting of my torse to recover my footing. This is not good for someone with a history of back problems. Fortunately my back didn’t seem to mind.

Later I stepped on some slippery rocks than made both my feet slide out. I caught my backwards fall with one hand before my butt hit the ground. Graceful am I.

The rest of the hike down took much longer than either of us expected. As our legs tired, the constant pounding and carefull foot placement made for rough going. We stopped to admire an owl in a tree. I couldn’t get a decent picture of it. Kirstin might have but at our next stop her iPhone fell into a swiming hole. After retrieving it she went in for a soak. I took my shoes off and walked in a foot or two. The water was so cold my feet went numb.

We trucked on, somewhat surprised that in order to go down we DSCN4011_1128 occassionally had to climb some pretty steep short bits.

We came to the waterslide. Some of Kirstin’s untrapeeps were having a blast sliding down the big rock face in the creek into a pool of frigid water. I had done this on the Ausable River in the Adirondacks and hurt my tail bone so I took a pass. Kirstin gave it a go. She tried to wave and her body twisted awkwardly. No worries she splashed down without a problem.

As we hiked the last 1/2 mile or so, visions of ice cold beer danced in our heads. Kirstin kept laughing because the distances seemed so much farther than the map indicated. When it was all said and done, we had hike 12 1/2 miles and done the equivalent of 322 flights of stairs (so said her Fitbit).

On the way home we stopped at the Griffin Tavern in Flint Hill. It’s a cool old house with a wrap around porch. We chose to sit in the barroom because that’s where the beer was. The beer was ice cold. The burgers were yummy. We were chuffed.

Some more pix of the hike are on my Flickr page.

Many thanks to Kirstin for taking me on my first bigtime day hike in the Shenandoah National Forest. What a beautiful place.

Aftermath: I was pretty sore after the hike, mostly because of all the downhills. I woke up this morning feeling as if I had run a marathon. Walking downstairs was very difficult. My quads and calf muscles are super tight. Lucky for me, Mrs. Rootchopper got me a sports massage for Father’s Day. I am going to wait a while before using it. My recovery will be an easy bike ride to the bike shop and to Old Town, followed by RICE: Rest, Ice (cold beer), Couch and Espinosa.

Cheers.

Fritterman Triathlon

I had no plan for the day. It started as most Saturdays. I ran the deck on the crossword puzzles in the paper. I screwed up the Sudoku. I drank all the coffee. With the important business of the day behind me, I decided to do a triathlon.

No, not the Ironman or even the Tinman. I did the Fritterman. It’s the suburban version.

First, event is the Hollin Hall Errandonnee. I rode my bike to the drug store. Then got a haircut. Then picked up ten pounds of birdseed. Then I rode home, stopping along the way to chat with Nancy Duley (on her awesome 1993 Hollands bike) and her friend Stephanie (on her blue bike of a sort I can’t recall). We stood in the road on a sidestreet and gabbed for ten or 15 minutes. (I do hope the folks driving by in SUVs could see that adults in suburbia can indeed function on a Saturday morning without 3,000 pounds of steel.) Then I rode home. Total mileage: 2 1/2 miles.

Back at home I snarfed an apple and went out for round two: the lawn mowing event. I actually like mowing the lawn. Like running and hiking (see below) it has a meditative aspect to it. And I refuse to pay people to do something I learned how to do during the Kennedy administration. I finished this event in 45 minutes.

After the lawn mowing (I came in first), I headed indoors for some nuked left overs. I watched the last three innings of the Nats game on the tube. (The Nats lost. Boo.)

It was 3:30 with plenty of daylight remaining so I drove to Rock Creek Park and hiked ten miles. I hiked the Valley Trail toward Maryland and the Western Ridge Trail back to my start at Pierce Mill. It was hilly. It was muggy. It was my first hike of the year. My legs were hurting at 4 miles. Rather than make it an 8-mile hike, I pushed on. This was a pretty good decision until I missed a turn and hiked down a muddy hill and then back up. And I was doing fine until the last 200 yards back down to Rock Creek. It was pretty much straight down and my legs felt like lead. And I was still hanging in there until I stepped off a curb awkwardly about 100 feet from my car and my back seized.

I made it to the finish.

It is not true that you are given fritters at the end of the Fritterman Triathlon. That’s because I was alone and there were no fritters in sight.

When I got home I looked like Mike Myers’ Middle Aged Man. I may not be able to walk tomorrow.

So it goes.

Hiking from the Hips in Great Falls Park

The prospect of going for a bike ride the day after my back went into spasm didn’t seem very inviting. Lying around and feeling sorry for myself wasn’t doing my back or my head a whole lot of good so I decided to drive up to Great Falls Park in Maryland for an easy hike. I’d also get to test out my new hiking shoes on some uneven terrain.

It was in the 40s when I arrived at the park. This passes for a cold day here in the DC area so there were plenty of empty spaces in the dirt lot. I headed out on the Berma Road Trail and, after turning onto the Valley Trail, walked into solitude. The winds were calm so all I could hear was the sound of my shoes swishing through the fallen leaves. It’s a sound that rivals rushing water for soothing the soul.

I quickly discovered that following a trail after the leaves have fallen can be tricky. Everything pretty much looks the same. Every so often I stopped and did a scan for a blaze just to make sure I was on the trail. At one of these stops a white tailed buck ran across the trail. He seemed to be following a trail of his own but there were no markings.

Soon I came upon the Gold Mine loop which I had hiked previously. It’s a pretty enough circuit. I would use it to make my way to the Great Falls Tavern at the C&O canal. Along the way, I took a wrong turn and ended up at the park access road. The trail that I took was crisscrossed with large fallen trees so it my little diversion had an adventurous aspect to it. I walked back to the loop trail and notice that the trees all about me looked like spires without their leafy coats.

I took a spur trail from the loop down to the tavern. Then after a quarter mile walk through the concrete I made my way onto the Ford Mine Trail. It turns out that gold was discovered in this general area over 100 years ago. So prospectors invaded the area in search of riches. There are few traces of their activity today save for the names of the trails.

The Ford Mine trail is an out and back oval. I chose to hike it counterclockwise. This meant that I would be taking on the hilly half of the loop first. Following this trail was difficult. It has many twists and turns, often to get across small brooks. I went off trail several times. In the process I figured out some more clues to where the trail might be. One clue is to look for man made improvements such as cutaway sections of fallen trees. Another clue is to think in terms of switchbacks which cause the trail to twist and turn on hillsides.

Even with a gimpy back, I was hiking much faster than I ever have before. My new hiking shoes are closer to running shoes than proper hiking boots and the soles are grippy so there was no slipping and sliding as I had been doing in my old boots. I took hills with a speed skater gait swaying my arms from side to side. This somehow seemed to engage my cycling legs and get me up the hills with much less effort.

The Ford trail turned around after about a mile. The return trip along the side of the canal was much flatter and faster. Back at the Tavern I decided to hike the towpath for a bit to hear the rushing water in the river. The river did not disappoint, but the towpath was populated with loud kids so I decided to cross the canal and take the flat Berma Road Trail back to the car. This trail gives a birds eye view of the Widewater section of the canal. For my money this is the prettiest section of the entire 180+ mile canal.

The entire hike took about three hours. I think I walked around seven miles in all. I felt great the entire time. During the hike my left hip ached occasionally, probably the consequence of a bulging disk in my back. Other than that I had no trouble whatsoever during the hike. My body seems to be adapting to hiking. In fact, for most of the hike it felt like it did back in my running days. I used to say that I was in shape when I “ran from the hips.” It’s hard to describe but there is a point where your legs no longer seem to be making an effort; they seem to be swinging like pendulums from the hips. There were several points in the hike, particularly at the end, when I felt like just running for a bit. I think I owe my comfort during the hike to the new shoes that seem to be exactly what the hiking doctor ordered.

I took a bunch of pictures and put them on my Flickr page here.

October 2014 by the Numbers

I didn’t do half bad in October considering the disruptions. I missed three days of riding due to a business trip. Then another day for a memorial service. And then two days for a wake and funeral. So I ended up riding only 22 days. 16 of those rides were commutes. One of the commutes was a whopping 3 ½ miles to and from a car mechanic instead of home.

My total mileage was 644.5. Commuting miles were 472.5. The rest of the rides were for errands, coffeeneuring, and the Great Pumpkin Ride.

Bike of the month was Little Nellie, my Bike Friday New World Tourist. I rode it 309 miles. Big Nellie came in second place at 250.5 miles. And The Mule got some action at 85 miles.

So far this year I’ve ridden to work 143 times. 62/51/30 for Little Nellie/Big Nellie/The Mule. I’ve ridden 6,641 miles so far. With 2989 on Little Nellie.

Highlights of the month were the Great Pumpkin Ride with Lisa, and Reba and Robert which had splendid weather and amazing food. And yet another hike, this time with Florencia and Sundance, who made for excellent companions on Sugarloaf Mountain.

The lowlights of the month, at least wth regard to cycling, were the theft of a bike (not mine) and a pump (mine) from the bike parking area at work. I learned a few days ago that another bike commuter had his bike tampered with last week.

I hope to get in one or two more hikes and another ride event in the final two months of the year. Onward.

Sugarloaf with Ninja Lady and Dog

The day dawned crisp with a blustery wind. The leaves had begun to turn. And I was itching to go for a day hike. Lucky for me, my friend Florencia and I had planned exactly that. Florencia is always full of surprises so today would be no different: we were bringing a dog.

I picked up Flor and Sundance, a golden retriever guide dog, at Flor’s place in McLean and headed out to Sugarloaf Mountain in Maryland. We took our time to allow for conversation and maximum leaf peeping. Once we were off the interstate, we drove down country roads through farmer’s fields stripped of their summer bounty.

We parked on the uphill on the road up Sugarloaf. I didn’t realize how far from the top we were but it barely mattered. Walking up the road was a good warm up. After listening to a family bitching and kvetching at an overlook near the road, we headed for the nearest trail to escape. We chose the blue trail in what we later learned was a counter clockwise direction. Flor, dressed in ninja black, and Sundance led the way. Sundance was a pretty methodical hiker dog. Since he is a guide dog, he tended to stay very close to Flor and got tangled up in his leash quite a bit. Other than that quibble, he was a mighty fine companion making friends with people and other dogs throughout the day.

The trail goes up and down the sides of the mountain, with occassional overlooks of the surrounding countryside. The clear air made for great views of the valley below and the foliage all around. At one overlook we were treated to the aerial acrobatics of two hawks riding the updrafts. Top of the food chain, Ma!

The hiking trail itself was a bit rocky. I had to keep my eyes on the ground so as not to turn an ankle, trip, or slide down and land on my posterior assets. (I seriously need to get some proper footwear for these hikes.) Whenever I looked up it seemed that the woods around us seem to go on forever. Just as she does in cycling and rock climbing, Flor moved uphill without the slightest regard for gravity. I, being somewhat more Newtonian, had to put my butt in gear to keep up.

The blue trail ended with a steep section straight up to where we started. I have to say the length of the hike was just right for me. I was plenty tired but not really wanting more. We hoofed it downhill to the car which seemed suspiciously farther down than where I recalled parking it.

We drove home, stopping for some munchies and a pumpkin at a country store. Once back on the road, Sundance fell sound alseep. It was a good thing Flor and I had each other to talk to because I am pretty sure that the both of us could have used a good snooze as well.

Many thanks to Flor’s American mom Tracie for lending us Sundance and the use of her car, a little Subaru station wagon that I really enjoyed driving.

And, of course, thanks to the ninja lady, Florencia, for another excellent day moving through the outdoors. Who knows what surprise our next adventure will hold.

To see some pix from our outing today, check out this set on my Flickr page.

Another Hike in Great Falls Park

It’s been a depressing weekend. The weather has been amazing so I decided to spend my Sunday going for a hike and clearing my head.. I headed over to Great Falls Park in Maryland. (Note: if you drive to Great Falls Park in MD there is not much parking. Parking in the No Parking area along MacArthur Boulevard will cost you $60 if you get a ticket. I know. I got one today.)

I took a map and improvised a route. The Berma Road to the Overlook Trail to the towpath and the River Trail. At the far end of the River Trail, I turned around taking the towpath back to the Gold Mine Spur to the Gold Mine Trail to the Anglers Spur and back along the Berma Road. 5 miles plus. I took a wrong turn and it cost me the $60 parking ticket.

This route was much smoother than the other trails in the park. It was mostly a walk in the woods. I would have prefered more solitude but most park users are pretty respectful, whiny little kids notwithstanding.

I really enjoyed the River Trail, smooth and flat with excellent views of the river. The Gold Mine was mostly smoooth and somewhat hilly, but it passes through dense woods. I twice heard large animals moving about unseen off the trail. At one point, I came upon three deer eating. They weren’t at all bothered by me until my camera made an annoying sound. Then they bolted.

Back in the car, I drove home, turning on the radio for the first pitch of the Nationals last regular season game. It turned out to be the first no hitter I’ve seen. I think the boys are ready for the playoffs. Some more pix on my Flickr page.

View from the River Trail. Water like glass.

Rock Creek Park on My Own Two Feet

My bikes were tired. I was sick. So I took yesterday off. Today was another story, And this is it.

I’ve lived in DC for 30 years, not including spending the summer here in 1980. And I have never hiked in Rock Creek Park. I’ve biked it. I’ve run it. I’ve even run a 10 mile race in it, but I’ve never taken to the wooded trails that run through the park like blood vessels.

Today, I rectified this in a big way. Starting from Pierce Mill I hiked the Western Ridge Trail to the Maryland line and then crossed the park and hike all the way back on the Valley Trail. I just checked a website that sad that the Valley Trail is 5.5 miles. That means I hoofed it over 11 miles. No wonder I’m tired.

For those of you unfamiliar with Rock Creek, it’s a wooded urban canyon that cleaves the Northwest quadrant of DC. I have stayed on the paved bike trail and roads of the park until today. The trails are mostly hard packed dirt. Hilly sections have timbers (and sometimes stairs) across the trails to make it easier to go up and down the sometimes steep hills. The Western Ridge Trail started out steep and a bit rocky but ended up being smooth for the most part. I was moving along pretty well when I spooked a deer (I hope it was a deer) in the bushes next to the trail.

As the name implies, the Western Ridge Trail runs along the ridges on the western edge of the park. This means you have to hike up to the ridge. This was a decent work out. Once to the top the trail rolls up and down, ocassionally popping out on to a street here and there. At one point, in a wooded section, I was surprised to see three horses and their riders coming my way.

The Western Ridge Trail comes back down to the canyon floor at the Maryland/DC line. I cross Beach Drive, the road that runs through the park, and hit the Valley Trail. The Valley Trail was hit or miss. Sometimes it was an unpaved road, sometimes a dirt path through lush greenery. Sometimes it went straight up the side of the canyon. (Hey, where’s my stinking valley?). It also had an annoying amount of tree routes to negotiate.

Thankfully, the Valley Trail hung a right just at the end of this bridge

I’m not complaining though. It’s a damned nice way to spend a summer Sunday morning. Even a little rain didn’t spoil my day. That’s mostly because the tree canopy is so dense that the raindrops rarely made it through.

I’m ready to get back on the bike now.

There are a few more pix over on my Flickr page.

July by the Numbers

After my 1000-mile June, I backed off a bit in July. I rode to work 18 times. The only times I didn’t ride to work were days I took off or worked from home. My parking space at work must have cobwebs on it.

Other than a half-mile spin on The Mule to check out its new drivetrain, all my riding was on Little Nellie, my Bike Friday New World Tourist, and Big Nellie, my Easy Racers Tour Easy recumbent. I rode Little Nellie for 16 commutes (including one where I rode from work to Nationals Park). Big Nellie picked up the other two rides to work.

My long ride for the month was Big Nellie’s 111 mile ride to Purcelville and back.

Total mileage for the month was 746 miles. About 2/3rds of which was on Little Nellie which pretty much tells me that my back will tolerate big miles on its little tires.

Off the bike I finally started doing some hiking. The Billy Goat A trail is only about 3.5 miles but it proved to be brutally hard on an oppressively hot and humid day. I did the Billy Goat B and C trails, a total of at least six miles. It was a much more enjoyable hike. I really like doing these hikes as a thing unto itself and as a break from all the biking I do. I need to further investigate the trails in the woods of Great Falls as well as the Rock Creek Park trails which I am ashamed to admit I’ve never hiked.

For the year I have racked up 91 commutes, 41 on Little Nellie, 24 on Big Nellie and 27 on The Mule. I’ve ridden 4,544 miles, a little under 650 miles per month.

Billy Goating (Again)

A couple of weeks ago I went on a short hike in Great Falls Park near the C&O Canal. It nearly killed me. So, of course, I decided to give hiking another go.

The near fatal hike was on the Billy Goat A Trail. The A trail is an continuous nasty rock scramble interrupted by a couple of minutes of walking in the woods. It was not one of my better outings in nature.

When I was a kid, I used to hang out in the woods near my house all summer. When I wasn’t in the woods I was usually at home painting myself with calamine lotion. So Help Me Hanna! Putting calamine lotion on a poison ivy rash is like treating the leather on my saddle: it gives you something to do when you are bored but it doesn’t actually accomplish anything.

Today’s hike was along the B and C Billy Goat Trails. These trails and the walk along the C&O Canal towpath that connects them are much more my style. There was beaucoup walking on dirt trails and some fun rock scrambles here and there. I only had to slide down one on my butt. My only complaint about these trails is that there are lots of tree roots and jagged little rocks to negotiate. This meant that I spent a whole bunch of time looking at the ground and not enjoying the scenery. And there’s plenty of scenery, bubbling water, turtles, huge jagged rock faces, rock climbers, and vultures. (At one point I inadvertantly startled a vulture in a tree along the river bank. After seeing him launch, I am glad he eats carrion and not hikers.)

To do both trails in one go, you have to walk over two miles on the C&O Canal towpath. This is a very pretty walk, completely flat. I am so used to riding it that my subconscious wanted me to run. Running would have ruined the laid back vibe, not to mention my aging knees. The repetitiveness of the unvarying flat surface was much harder on my legs than the rock scrambles and tree roots along the trails.

All in all, the hike was a success. I hoofed it about 6 1/2 miles in 2:30. In my running days I could have easily done the whole thing in under an hour. Those days and the cartilage in my knees are long gone.

Here’s hoping that I didn’t brush up against any poison ivy. Some more pix are on my Flickr page.

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