Last May, Church Mouse and I were planning on doing a 10-day backpacking trip. At the time, it would’ve been the longest trip either of us had been on. It was supposed to be a test of sorts, a can we actually do this hike.
I wanted to do a section of the AT, but not a section we’d already done. Then I heard about the ponies in Grayson Highlands.
Ponies? Heck yes.
We made our plans, scheduled our PTO time, arranged the shuttles, packed our backpacks. Everything was ready to go.
Then, the day before we were supposed to leave, Church Mouse’s appendix ruptured.
I remain eternally grateful it ruptured before we left and not while we were on trail. Plus, there were still some really great adventures that were still able to happen that summer too: Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Vermont.
The Grayson Highlands trip, however, did not end up being a thing.
Damascus, VA: Home of Trail Days
We entered Damascus, VA, by slipping off of the mountain and into town between two people’s backyards. The trail joined a road and led us through the town park (complete with a playground that you bet we played on) and then into downtown Damascus.
Since we’d taken an easier recovery week last week, we only planned on staying one night in town. We did a quick restock, enjoyed a warm shower, and of course, visited the local diner for some delicious sandwiches. Our restock also included warm chicken, fresh veggies, and apple turnovers, which we promptly carried to the town park, spread out on the picnic table, and feasted on for lunch before we left town.
Our first two nights out of Damascus, we stayed at stealth spots instead of shelters. As it’s been getting warmer, we’ve enjoyed spending our time in unique spaces, without the hustle and bustle of a shelter. The weather was perfect too. We were able to camp without a rain fly.
Have you watched stars before? Laid out on the ground and stared and dreamed? Traced out the shapes of them and wondered how it was, quite exactly, that you existed in such a place that surrounded you with a universe like that? Existed, just yourself and your thoughts, below the light of a million worlds, and watched them through heavy eyelids until you fell asleep?
If so, you know what it’s like to stealth camp on a ridge in Virginia with the rain fly off and the stars shimmering above you as you sleep.
The Grayson Highlands
The Grayson Highlands were originally used for cattle and other livestock. The valleys below were well suited for towns and farming but the mountains were too steep and rocky for planting. The tops of these balds were deforested and maintained as pastureland.
When the park system took the balds over, they learned that the balds would reforest without something there to keep eating down the trees and maintaining the bald.
What should we do? They wondered.
Somehow, the idea of ponies came up.
Not only were ponies well suited for the harsh winters and maintaining a grassy bald, but they would also be a good attraction for people visiting this park. The Smokies has its elk and bears, the Roan Highlands has its never-ending views, and the Grayson Highlands has its ponies.
And it’s worked well!
The park service maintains the ponies, rounding them up one a year to check health and do maintenance, and occasionally they sell some to manage size. The balds are naturally kept clear. And who doesn’t love hiking up to a ridgeline to see a grazing herd of wild ponies?
Well, wild-ish.
Grayson Highlands gets so many visitors that the ponies stopped caring about the humans who visit them. The first herd we saw, when we got too close, the stallion stepped in and started moving them away. The herds after that, as we started getting closer to where the day hikers would go, ignored the fact that we existed. In fact, one herd was sleeping basically on the trail. They didn’t care to move… Make the hikers move instead.
The ponies were not the only hit of the day. There were also boulders. Y’all know me. I love boulders.
As we climbed up past Thomas Knob shelter, the landscape changed. The bushes started to thin out and disappeared into pine trees. When we emerged into the balds, it looked like a different world.
It felt arrid, almost. The grass was brown, boulders jutted out across the uneven landscape, small shrubs formed little wind breaks, and the wind swirled through it all.
The trail led us through this strange new world, over the boulders, and across pony-grazed ridges.
Even though it was a Thursday, it was busy. There’s a couple different places for day hikers or overnight backpackers to visit and visit they did. We saw only two thru-hikers, but several large groups of section hikers and day hikers were scattered everywhere.
Perhaps it wasn’t nearly as many people as it felt like. Maybe we’re just getting used to the quietness of the trail, the solitude of a stealth spot. Perhaps we’ve gotten used to having the beauty of nature to ourselves, without a hustle and bustle and scampering around people.
I’m happy that people were able to take this time and explore. I loved how many kids I saw, parents helping them fall in love with the outdoors at a young age. I’m happy that when these people thought, what should I do today?, they decided to go outside.
But I also sighed in relief when the AT shrunk back down to a one-person footpath, when the day hikers became more and more infrequent, when I finally felt like it was just us, wandering through the woods.
Five hundred miles on the Appalachian Trail
“You look like you’re on a mission!” A day hiker called. We’d finished lunch and were hiking off of the energy of fresh nutrients and resting in the sun. Plus, with the popularity of this section and all the day hikers, the trail was wide and easy… It felt like a highway.
I felt a burst of pride inside. I’d been passed by thru-hikers before, as they blasted by on muscles hardened by daily use and an easy stride I’d never been able to replicate on mountain paths. I’d always been jealous of them: where did you come from, where are you going, what have you seen? Now I was the one doing the blasting, with the muscles and the stride, with the mysterious aura of a gypsy passing through.
I can honestly say, though, I’ve worked hard for this magical ability. We just passed 500 miles. Next week we’ll be at one quarter of the way though.
And then there were none
After the strange influx of day hikers through the highlands, the trail got really, really quiet. Stealth, Church Mouse, and I didn’t see any other hikers except for Sunkist and Geo.
The quiet was good after the bustle of the highlands. It’d been a little disconcerting to suddenly have that many people wandering around us, groups of backpackers and hikers and dogs, a path wide enough for three people to walk side-by-side.
We had a quiet lunch with Sunkist at a waterfall and when we got to Trimpi Shelter for the night, we had the entire place to ourselves.
Today, my family is coming to pick us up. We’ll get to spend Sunday with them, then we’ll restock and be back on trail. We’re going to be hiking in Virginia’s green tunnel for a while, but that’s okay. The trail is starting to feel familiar again. It feels like home.
Leave a Reply