8/10/23-8/14/23
The skies were gray this morning as we got ready to leave and indeed it spit rain for most of the way up to Spruce Knob Lake Campground in West Virginia. We were an hour from the nearest town and the last few miles were on a pock-marked gravel road that had Elvis shake, rattle, and rolling more than ever. Regardless, we were excited to be able to stay in one place for several days, and with temperatures at home reaching 100°, here we were donning our jackets in the chilly air with smiles on our faces!
I chatted for a while with the campground host, a 20ish girl named Lela who kept referring to her camping buddy May. I finally realized that May was her dog, Lilly May. Lela was on a solo adventure, living out of her A-frame camper and making a living by working as a campground host all around the country. As it turned out, she was from Swansea, S.C., about 45 minutes from our home. Small world!
To get our bearings, we put on our rain gear and took a walk. We were amazed that this isolated campground with no electricity, vault toilets, no cell service, and water with a boil advisory was soon to be filled to capacity. A woman sat hunched under an umbrella at her picnic table, the front of her Road Trek camp van pointed toward the sky with the back end sunk in a ditch. We offered her the comfort of our camper, but she replied that this was all part of the adventure. As it turned out, her insurance had sent a wreaker, but it went to her house in Florida instead of her current location! Lela lent her a tent for the night, but it was a day and a half before her van was pulled out of the ditch.
The rain finally stopped and the sky cleared. We walked down the road to Spruce Knob Lake, which at 3,840 feet was the highest lake in West Virginia. We hiked the one-mile loop around the lake, arriving at the dam just in time for the sunset.
The next day we subjected Elvis to the 6.5 miles of bone-jarring road up to the top of Spruce Knob, the highest point in West Virginia at 4,863 feet above sea level. When I had planned this trip, I had assumed that there would be hiking trails from the campground. Well, no. It seemed that we had to drive to get to any of the trailheads. The Knob itself was nice, with the Whispering Spruce Trail meandering around the top with different vistas, including an observation tower. I explored the Huckleberry Trail for a mile or so, passing many dispersed campsites with interesting seating arrangements. A father and his three young sons ran past, careening down the rock-strewn path as the boys laughed and the father shouted, “Focus on your footwork, sons!” Youth.
With no cell service to research hiking options, that night Brian borrowed a trail guide from a neighbor and mapped out a trail for me. Again, Elvis complained at each pothole before we arrived at the trailhead. The first two-thirds of this trail was miserable. This section of the Allegheny Mountain Trail was a sodden mess, deeply rutted with tractor tracks filled with water. I found myself constantly sloshing from one muddy side to another. To make matters worse, when I stepped off the path to relieve myself, my cell phone slipped out of my back pocket. All I’m going to say is that, while not recommended, urea makes a great glass cleaner. Chin up.
When I reached my turn off at Bear Hunter Trail, three horseback riders were resting. They proclaimed this a great trail, at which I grumbled that things must look different atop a horse. I had hopes that Bear Hunter would be better, but again my hopes were dashed. Heading steeply downhill on a single-wide path, it quickly became evident that horses had continued the work of tractors, churning up thick mud and making the footing treacherous.
I finally reached the bottom of the slope and turned onto Seneca Creek Trail. All of a sudden, birds were singing, the creek babbled a happy little tune, and the clouds gathered around my head lifted. Backpackers were scouting out prime sites along the creek and cheerful families were chatting as they walked. A deer sprang across the trail in front of me, then stopped to graze unafraid. Up ahead, a man and two dogs transformed into my ever-loving husband with wagging pooches coming to meet me and walk the last mile or so together. All was right with the world.
Next time I plan a trip, I’ll buy a trail guide for the area or at the very least, do a better job of researching trails ahead of time.
The following day we broke camp and headed to Gheny Nook Campground, an RV park I had selected since it had full hook-ups including wifi and sewer, an amenity we sorely needed after three days of boondocking. The camp host was both friendly and generous, giving us more than enough free firewood. The afternoon was warm with pesky gnats swarming and causing us to stay inside with our air conditioning on for the first and only time of our trip.
I scouted out nearby attractions online and settled on Beartown State Park. Although an hour away, it did not disappoint. Known for its unusual rock formations, a boardwalk meanders for half a mile through this small park.
We had the park to ourselves as we explored the crevices, cliffs, and boulders of sandstone formed on the shores of an ancient ocean. Gnotty and Gneiss, my two gnomey friends, were on cloud gnine as they tried out various gnooks and crannies that pitted the enormous stones.
On the way back to Gheny Nook, we stopped at the Greenbrier River, billed as the longest untamed river in the Eastern US. How does one tame a river, you ask? Dammed if I know!
We took a short hike on the Greenbrier River Trail, a rails-to-trails path running parallel to the river for some 80 miles. Of course, I had to wade out into the river, following the example of our pup Pip.
I would have liked to lollygag here all afternoon, but a storm was looming and we needed to get back on the road before it hit.
Tomorrow would be a travel day as we headed to our last stop, Grayson Highlands State Park in Virginia, where I would fall hopelessly in love.
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