BEUHLER? BEUHLER??

My job took me to Durham last week. One evening I went looking for a place to run. I headed towards the trails of Duke Forest. Duke Forest is a wooded preserve owned by Duke University. I stopped at a light near campus, and leaned out the window to ask an athletic college girl if there was anywhere good to run nearby. She laughed and pointed towards the woods on my right. I pulled up through the intersection, and discovered that I had stopped at the verge of a large parking area for the Al Beuhler Trail.

The Al Beuhler trail is a wide path through the woods that serves as the Duke University cross country course. I enjoyed my run there, though it was much more difficult than I anticipated. Rolling hills, some of which were fairly steep, made for a challenging run. The high point of the run came when I caught up to a college kid on a killer uphill. He must’ve been embarrassed about being passed by a gray-haired man, because he took off in a sprint down the far side of the hill. I wasn’t interested in a race, but thought about telling him not to feel bad. After all, nobody would expect a Duke student to be able to run uphill.

I heard on the radio the other day that a record number of Americans drove out of town over the Fourth of July weekend. What they didn’t mention is that most of them did so poorly. Christy and I joined the melee, as we headed to West Virginia to backpack in the Dolly Sods Wilderness. We love it up there, but a 7 hour drive is ridiculous for a 3-day backpacking trip. Along the way, we encountered several of our least favorite drivers. See if you recognize any of these people*:

• “Left Lane Larry” – Larry stays religiously in the left lane, regardless of his speed or the speed of the traffic around him. The only thing that can remove Larry from the left lane is his exit, where he typically swerves wildly across multiple lanes of traffic at the last second to reach the ramp.

• “Random Speed Robin” – Robin has no clue how to maintain a constant speed, and if her car is equipped with cruise control, she doesn’t know how to operate it. Typically you’ll pass Robin on an uphill, only to have her fly by you going down the other side. Then she’ll merge in front of you, just in time to slow down for the next uphill.

• “Constant Speed Charlie” – Robin’s alter ego, Charlie goes exactly the same speed at all times, regardless of conditions. Whether Charlie’s in a school zone or on the highway, on a dirt road or in a parking lot, Charlie sets the same pace. Charlie always uses the cruise control, even when he’s only moving from one end of the mall parking lot to the other.

• “Road Rage Rick” – When the left lane is backed up behind Larry, Rick likes to zip ahead and cut someone off so he can improve his position in line. Also, when a lane is ending, Rick will wait until the absolute last second to merge. In doing so, Rick and those like him have the amazing ability to turn what should be a minor slowdown into a pointless traffic jam.

• “Rubberneck Rhonda” – Rhonda has never seen a parked car she didn’t find fascinating. Any sort of disabled vehicle is cause to slow down and look. God forbid there’s an actual accident, with emergency personnel, or mangled bodies, or – and here’s the pinnacle of rubbernecking – a car fire. Don’t you love sitting in a traffic jam, only to discover that the sole cause of the delay is people rubbernecking?

I could go on all day with this, but that’s probably enough. You’d probably rather read about the hike.

Christy and I left early on Saturday, and made it to Laneville, WV a bit before 2pm. We snagged the last parking spot at the Red Creek Trailhead, gathered our gear, and hit the trail. Although we were at a relatively low elevation at the bottom of the canyon, it was still noticeably cooler than it had been in Charlotte.

We hiked upstream on the Red Creek Trail. The hike started out very easy, as the path stayed in the floodplain of Red Creek. After ½ mile, we reached a vague, unmarked junction in a small grassy clearing. I wasn’t sure, but thought it might be the Little Stonecoal Trail. We followed the path past some campsites, and reached the bank of Red Creek. The creek bed is very wide at the bottom of the canyon, but the water was very low. When we reached it, the creek appeared to be mostly boulders. We scrambled across the rocks, and crossed the stream easily. At normal water levels, Red Creek is a difficult rock hop, or a ford.

Once across, we angled downstream across more boulders. At the far bank, we found an old sign confirming that we were on the Little Stonecoal Trail. We picked up the new path, and began a steady climb out of the valley. We quickly crossed Little Stonecoal Run, but after that the hike was an uphill trudge. After climbing 1000’, we reached a signed junction with the Dunkenbarger Trail.

I had been looking forward to hiking the Dunkenbarger, and not just because it sounds like some sort of German beer. I was expecting bogs and meadows, but was disappointed. The trail wound its way through endless thickets of mountain laurel, and the path was a mud hole. When I say it was muddy, I don’t mean we were worried about getting our boots dirty. This mud was easily knee deep. One misplaced step could easily mean loosing a boot, or worse. We spent an hour hopping across rocks and roots in an effort to avoid the worst of the mud. This was exceptionally tedious, and it was a huge relief when the slog was interrupted by Dunkenbarger Run.

Dunkenbarger Run is a small but unusually pretty stream. It runs through small meadows and bogs, bordered by spruce trees and mountain laurel. We stopped at the creek for a break before resuming our hike.

After crossing the stream, we continued out to join the Big Stonecoal Trail. We followed this path upstream, through stands of spruce and red pine, as well as scattered meadows. This is lovely country, and it heralded our arrival in the scenic Dolly Sods high plains. We saw a few groups camping, but found one excellent site under red pines at the edge of a huge meadow. It was a five-star campsite, but we had to continue on. We were heading for Harmon Knob, where the surprise I had promised Christy waited.

We reached a major junction, and continued ahead on the Blackbird Knob Trail. After a short distance, we turned left onto the Rocky Ridge Trail. This junction, along with many others in the northern part of the Sods, is now marked with a new sign. Previously, unmarked trails and junctions combined with inaccurate maps had made hiking the Sods a navigational challenge. I imagine fewer people are getting lost these days, thanks to the new signs.

We followed the new trail on a gentle climb up Harmon Knob. Harmon Knob is almost completely bald, as only the occasional stand of spruce interrupts the grassy meadows. Harmon is located on the western edge of the plateau, and the views are fantastic. We reached the summit at 6:30, after hiking some 7 or 8 miles. During the course of the hike, we had journeyed from the bottom of the heavily wooded canyon, to the top of a grassy, windswept bald. It felt like we were in a different country.

There’s no water source on Harmon Knob, but we had carried plenty from Dunkenbarger Run. I spent the next 30 minutes looking for a suitable campsite. For Christy to fully enjoy her surprise, we’d have to camp near the summit. I found one possible spot a little below it, but the site was poor. Nothing else materialized. In the end, we decided to tent in a meadow just below the summit. The ground was very uneven, but I thought the grass would help smooth things out. I was wrong. A hole under the lower end of the tent had us sliding backwards all night. Harmon Knob was one of the most scenic campsites I’ve ever enjoyed, but it was also the least comfortable.

That evening, we sat on the rocky summit and had homemade pizzas and fresh salad for dinner. Dark finally came, and it was time for Christy’s surprise. A few minutes later, the fireworks started. Great blooms of color started to appear, as the explosions just barely cleared the next ridge to our west. We relaxed and watched the fireworks, but barely lasted until the end. The display went on for a full hour, and we were exhausted from the drive and the hike. By the time they got around to the finale, we were ready for bed.

We slept poorly that night, and had trouble getting up the next morning. By the time we finished our hot chocolate and oatmeal, we were out of water. We headed down the trail towards Rocky Knob in search of the spring.

We had camped in a meadow between the Left Fork of Red Creek and the western ridge 3 years ago. On that trip, I didn’t have any trouble finding a spring. This year though, the area was much drier. We reached a gap on the ridge, and I followed the Dobbins Grade Trail down towards the Left Fork of Red Creek. Not far below the ridge, I passed a couple of tiny spring fed pools in the trail. I dismissed them, thinking that I could find a better source. I hiked on through a garden of blooming mountain laurel, but had no luck finding our campsite from 3 years earlier, nor the spring. Eventually I gave up and returned to the tiny pools. I filtered the water, and was relieved to find the water clear.

I rejoined Christy and we began the climb to Rocky Knob. The south side of the peak is a grassy bald, and the views were intense despite a cloudy day. Near the summit, we encountered the first of many boulders that are scattered over the mountain. We wound our way through rocks, shrubs, and spruce stands as we negotiated the primitive trail across the mountain. More gardens of mountain laurel, ripening blueberries, and acres of grass blowing in the breeze added to the scene. As I hiked, I was filled with a powerful sense of freedom in that open expanse. I guess that was only appropriate, considering it was Independence Day weekend.

The northern Dolly Sods reminds me of the Mount Rogers area, with a touch of Yellowstone thrown in. The entire area is wide open, with grassy ridges separating green valleys. Only the occasional stand of spruce or aspen blocks the views. Wildlife is plentiful, but crowds are not. We saw a few groups of hikers, but it was hardly crowded considering it was the July 4^th weekend.

We continued our stroll and climbed one last knoll. We reached an unmarked junction with an old road that my map identified as Raven Ridge. We followed Raven Ridge back to the south. The road eventually disappeared, but a faint path continued through the grass. The views along Raven Ridge equaled those on Harmon Knob and Rocky Knob. By the time we reached Dobbins Grade near Red Creek, I was satisfied with our weekend hike. However, we still had another day to go.

We got more water at Red Creek, and picked up the oddly named Upper Red Creek Trail to connect with the Blackbird Knob Trail. The Upper Red Creek Trail roughly parallels Red Creek, but stays a considerable distance away from the stream. This trail lead through more meadows, and thick stands of young aspen.

We joined the Blackbird Knob Trail briefly, following it to the northern end of the Red Creek Trail. We picked up the new trail, and quickly headed back down into the canyon. We reached the Three Forks area, where the Left Fork, Right Fork, and Upper Red Creek join to form Red Creek proper. We found dozens of people camping in the area, but still stumbled across a pleasant, vacant campsite away from everyone else. Our site was just above the creek, where the stream tumbled over a natural waterslide into a swimming hole.

The area was deserted when we arrived, but that didn’t last long. While we were setting up camp, all kinds of people wandered by. Some came down from the trail, while others walked down along the creek. Pretty soon, there were kids, people, and dogs sliding down the waterslide and playing in the swimming hole. Christy even got a free show, as she witnessed a young woman changing into her bikini. Apparently she thought that the fallen tree blocking her view of us meant that we couldn’t see her. Of course I was setting up the tent and missed the whole thing.

Rumbles of thunder interrupted the party. The swimming area cleared out as quickly as it had filled up. After everyone left, Christy and I explored the swimming hole. Christy took a dip, while I satisfied myself with wading. It wasn’t long though before the approaching storm chased us back to camp. Soon we were huddling in the tent enduring a downpour. Despite the lightning, rain, and thunder, we drifted off to sleep.

Christy woke me at 8pm. The rain had finally stopped, so we went out to make dinner. Rain gear was necessary, thanks to the dripping from the trees, but that didn’t stop us from enjoying a dinner of pasta and salmon cakes. It was hardly dark when we finished up and headed back to the tent to resume our naps.

We were up early the next morning. We still had a fair hike out, followed by a long drive home. We swallowed some oatmeal, packed up, and were on the trail by 8:15. For the first 2 miles, the trail stayed high above Red Creek. We reached a junction marked only with a cairn, and turned off the railroad grade that continued ahead. We began a steady descent, and soon found ourselves down by the creek. We found more campsites here, and a dubious creek crossing. We continued downstream as far as we could, and crossed where the stream was braided into 3 or 4 channels. Because the stream was braided, it was shallower, making for an easier rock hop. We reached the far bank, and climbed a side trail up to the main route. We had actually crossed a fair distance downstream from the official ford.

We paused briefly at a signed junction for the Fisher Spring Trail. A couple came by, decked out in jeans and tennis shoes. Their packs had all kinds of things tied to the outside, including bedrolls. They kind of reminded me of myself in my college days. As they passed by, the guy slipped on a wet rock and wiped out. I imagine it was a long hike out for them.

We were expecting an easy, flat hike downstream on the way out. Instead, the trail constantly rose away from the creek only to turn and drop back down to the water. There weren’t any big climbs, but there were lots of small, annoying ones.

We stopped just before a tributary stream, where a waterfall tumbles into the gorge. I scrambled down a steep, muddy path to get to the base. The waterfall is only about 30’ high, but is quite scenic. It spills over a rock bluff, and is decorated with some interesting hanging moss. The path to the base is a bit exciting, but is easier to climb than to descend.

The rest of the hike was largely uneventful. We passed the signed junction with the Big Stonecoal Trail on the bank of the creek. From there, it wasn’t far to the meeting with the Little Stonecoal Trail. From that point, we only had to backtrack the last ½ mile to the car. The hike out was a pleasant, if uneventful hike along Red Creek.

Despite the drive, we’ll definitely return to Dolly Sods. The area is too unique to ignore. However, future trips will focus on the scenic open meadows and ridges north of the official wilderness area. Red Creek Canyon looks like many places in North Carolina, but the high plains to the north are completely different. If you’re planning a trip to West Virginia, I highly recommend checking this area out.

• Not their actual names

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