Dillon’s Boy Scout Troop 761 planned a hike one weekend in March ’09. The plan was to hike the Grayson Highlands National Forest along the Appalachian Trail. The weather had been hot in Dillon, and the mountain forecast showed a low in the 40’s, which is about as comfortable as it can get.
I was packing my backpack when Dad walked in carrying thick jackets and gloves. “You’re gonna need these.” He warned, but I decided that the comfort was not worth the weight. I emptied the winter clothes and dad simply said, “Don’t be upset when I say I told you so.”
The troop departed from Dillon at lunchtime that Friday, headed for Virginia. As we drove, the temperature dropped from the upper 70’s down to 35 by the time we reached the trail at 4 p.m. I was wearing all of my layers and knew that Dad had been right. We started up the trail, Matt Jordan, John Corbett, and myself in the lead. Bucky warned everyone not to play in the snow because they won’t be able to warm their hands. In no time, someone had already fallen waist deep in a pocket of snow. We trudged on, working our way up the mountain to the top of the ridge. There, we met the wind which cut straight through our clothes. The pains of the cold were offset by the awe of our surroundings. We had actually climbed to a level above the clouds and the view helped us to focus on something besides the bitter cold.
The bushes were coated with a layer of ice and the trail was snowy. Matt, John, and I huddled up on a rock that shielded us from the wind while overlooking the ridge. Jim Carr, Jack Lynn, and Ellison Rourke were not far behind us and we were soon all together again.
We had almost reached the top but the last stretch was steep, and there were no trees to stall the wind which was howling against us. We hiked past several wild ponies which were grazing just off the trail, and the cold seemed to have little effect on them. Grayson Highlands is the only park along the AT where the DNR introduces these ponies to graze the balds.
Earl Dutton was hiking with us and said that Grayson Highlands was his favorite place to hike. The many bald ridges allow great views while on the trail and has a western Rocky Mountain feeling. We chose a campsite near the top, where a great boulder helped to ease the wind.
John and I dropped our packs to pitch the tent and I saw the empty sleeve where i had secured the tent to my pack. There was no way that we could make the night without a tent and so we raced back down the trail to retrace our steps.
The sun had set below the clouds, turning them to a dark shade of purple. Several other mountain tops protruded through the clouds looking like little islands around us. Sometimes, a cloud would roll over some of the smaller mountains like a blanket.
There on the rocks where we rested an hour before, was my tent. It was a small win and momentary relief before we ran back up the hill to the camp. The wind was howling and one person held the tent while the other secured the spikes in the ground. By the time camp was all set, Douglas Lynn and Carlton Carr had prepared jambalaya and everyone rushed in for their fill.
What a helpless sight we made, huddled around with socks over our hands which were cupped around hot bowls of steaming jambalaya. The hot food worked wonders for our spirits and we quickly turned to the tents.
I woke to our tent flapping in the wind, and John and I knew that we would be forced to brave the cold again. I heard Matt rustling outside and asked him about the weather. “I don’t know,” he replied. “What do you mean you don’t know?” I said, “what’s the weather like?” “I don’t know Lawrence, it’s just white” I unzipped the tent and sure enough, he was right. The ground, rocks, and bushes were covered with a snow/ice mix, and the low visibility meant we were in the clouds.
It was difficult to move but we had to pack in order to move and warm up. One of my fellow scouts was wrapped in his tent fabric and another was sick underneath a tree. By the time we started to move, the cold seemed to dissipate and we were shedding layers in no time. We were still above the clouds and there were rocky crevices with icy floors below and ice sickles hanging from the rocks above.
We finally came off of the mountain to a clearing in the trees. Since the snow blanketed the field, we could not determine which direction the trail led, so we walked the opposite tree line to find a path. It was a minor setback and we continued on our way.
Camping Saturday night was much more comfortable in the valley. We cooked supper and had 2 big fires for the night. After a Sunday morning devotion, the troop hit the final stretch of trail for the parking lot. We had wind and a mix of sleet and rain but it didn’t slow anyone as the hiked to the comfort of the cars. Matt, John, Jim, Jack, and I came across a bald peak and found a boulder to shelter us from the wind so we crammed together and waited for the troop. John unwrapped an energy bar and took a bite. The energy bar was frozen solid and he lost a tooth.
The whole troop was back at the cars about an hour later. Even though we were all unprepared for the weather, it is the one that we always seem to fall back on when telling our great survival stories. As Daniel Boone said it best, “I was happiest in the midst of danger and inconveniences.”
