We’ve begun to see a pattern. The worse the roads are heading to our hike, plus the sketchier the locals seem, the b
etter the hike turns out to be. In accordance with this rule, our trip was destined to be an awesome one… Dolly Sods wilderness is located in West Virginia, surrounded by the Monongahela National Forrest. It was named after a German Pioneer family (spelled Dahle) who had livestock that grazed on the open, grassy hills, called sods. The area suffered from early logging and forest fires, but has recovered to form an interesting landscape. Hiking this area, you will discover that there are bogs on top of these mountains- very unusual. In World War 2, this are
a was used for testing artillery and airborne bombings. Many signs in this forest indicate precautions to take when finding live rounds. We were interested in a trail winding around Blackbird Knob. We reached the road that led to the trailhead, but it was closed. We took a long detour in an effort to enter the area from another route. That too was gated off. A few other people nearby noted that it was typical to see the road closed during winter, but it’s always been open by March. We studied a map and realized that it would be an extra five miles of hiking, each way, to reach the original start we had expected. We had driven too far to turn back. We got our packs out and set out down the old access road following the ridgeline. After an hour or so, we saw a small sign indicating a vista ahead. For some reason, I decided to check it out, even though we
were in a hurry to make good distance. We trekked up an outcrop and immediately I noticed a tent. It was below us, in the shrubs below the bluff. I climbed down, and was surprised to be in waist-deep snow. The tent was mostly covered in snow as well, and took a few minutes to dig out. Inside, I found a backpack, sleeping bag, clothes, maps, food, a scented candle and tea lights (romantic night, eh?), and most surprisingly- a clip of 9mm ammunition. I searched everything for identification, but there was none. The strangeness of finding all these things began to set in. All the gear inside the tent would have kept in from blowing away. The maps inside indicated that the hiker’s car was
almost 2 days away, and no hiker would leave without all their gear at this distance. More strange will was that 9mm are not what a hunter/hiker would carry. I pulled out my cell phone but had no service. Calling 911 went through anyhow. I described what I found. The dispatcher said a team of state police would be on the way shortly. We needed to stay nearby, and aborted our hike altogether. We explored the nearby area and found an ideal campsite within sight of the access ro
ad. As we set up camp, made dinner, and hung out, the
sun had set. No policeman came. It made me angry to think that if it was my stuff lying on the side of that cliff, the officials wouldn’t be very interested. I already hold a low opinion of policeman-this didn’t help. We settled into our tent, making conversation and playing cards. It didn’t do much to stifle our thoughts from wandering. Was there a dead body under all that snow? Where was the 9mm the ammo belonged to? Still no policeman. That figures. Then in the middle of the night, we were further spooked. What sounded like fireworks were exploding nearby. I quickly tried to think who could be so stupid. After all, we were in the middle of an artillery testing field. There were no cars parked at either end of the access road. The only people we had seen left hours ago. The closest town was over an hour away. We decided we had no reason to stay. The state slogan “Wild and Wonderful” was a smirking understatement. It took all of five minutes for us to be packed up and on the path back to our car. We couldn’t find a reason to stay after everything so far. I’m sure we will give the state another chance, but for now, we’ve seen enough of West Virginia.
etter the hike turns out to be. In accordance with this rule, our trip was destined to be an awesome one… Dolly Sods wilderness is located in West Virginia, surrounded by the Monongahela National Forrest. It was named after a German Pioneer family (spelled Dahle) who had livestock that grazed on the open, grassy hills, called sods. The area suffered from early logging and forest fires, but has recovered to form an interesting landscape. Hiking this area, you will discover that there are bogs on top of these mountains- very unusual. In World War 2, this are
a was used for testing artillery and airborne bombings. Many signs in this forest indicate precautions to take when finding live rounds. We were interested in a trail winding around Blackbird Knob. We reached the road that led to the trailhead, but it was closed. We took a long detour in an effort to enter the area from another route. That too was gated off. A few other people nearby noted that it was typical to see the road closed during winter, but it’s always been open by March. We studied a map and realized that it would be an extra five miles of hiking, each way, to reach the original start we had expected. We had driven too far to turn back. We got our packs out and set out down the old access road following the ridgeline. After an hour or so, we saw a small sign indicating a vista ahead. For some reason, I decided to check it out, even though we 
were in a hurry to make good distance. We trekked up an outcrop and immediately I noticed a tent. It was below us, in the shrubs below the bluff. I climbed down, and was surprised to be in waist-deep snow. The tent was mostly covered in snow as well, and took a few minutes to dig out. Inside, I found a backpack, sleeping bag, clothes, maps, food, a scented candle and tea lights (romantic night, eh?), and most surprisingly- a clip of 9mm ammunition. I searched everything for identification, but there was none. The strangeness of finding all these things began to set in. All the gear inside the tent would have kept in from blowing away. The maps inside indicated that the hiker’s car was
almost 2 days away, and no hiker would leave without all their gear at this distance. More strange will was that 9mm are not what a hunter/hiker would carry. I pulled out my cell phone but had no service. Calling 911 went through anyhow. I described what I found. The dispatcher said a team of state police would be on the way shortly. We needed to stay nearby, and aborted our hike altogether. We explored the nearby area and found an ideal campsite within sight of the access road. As we set up camp, made dinner, and hung out, the
sun had set. No policeman came. It made me angry to think that if it was my stuff lying on the side of that cliff, the officials wouldn’t be very interested. I already hold a low opinion of policeman-this didn’t help. We settled into our tent, making conversation and playing cards. It didn’t do much to stifle our thoughts from wandering. Was there a dead body under all that snow? Where was the 9mm the ammo belonged to? Still no policeman. That figures. Then in the middle of the night, we were further spooked. What sounded like fireworks were exploding nearby. I quickly tried to think who could be so stupid. After all, we were in the middle of an artillery testing field. There were no cars parked at either end of the access road. The only people we had seen left hours ago. The closest town was over an hour away. We decided we had no reason to stay. The state slogan “Wild and Wonderful” was a smirking understatement. It took all of five minutes for us to be packed up and on the path back to our car. We couldn’t find a reason to stay after everything so far. I’m sure we will give the state another chance, but for now, we’ve seen enough of West Virginia.
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