So, there are two stories I could tell about this weekend: Both involve lots of rain and cold temperatures. One is miserable, the other full of beauty.

#1: What may have happened to some people: We went hiking in the Dolly Sods. We had bad traffic, and when we arrived late in the day, it was not just raining, but there were some wet snow flakes coming down, it rained quite a bit the whole weekend, the trails had turned into creeks, the stream we needed to cross went to my upper thighs, we had to make camp due to an uncrossable stream in the dark, there was no spot to camp, we didn't get to the cool spots, it was raining when we put up the tent, I had to sleep on top of roots and rocks, it was terribly cold, a mouse drowned itself in our water bucket, I had a close call with hypothermia, when it finally got sunny we had to leave, we were late for Vincent's soccer game, and he got hit in the face by a teammate and ended up with a serious nose bleed, dinner took forever. It was a miserable, wet and cold weekend.

#2: What really happened: So, we decided to see the fall colors and backpack the Dolly Sods. Trip there was delayed, by lots of factors, but nothing to get too worried about. When we finally hit the trail, it was already very late - oh well. It was foggy and rainy, and there must have been some seriously bad weather before - the trail had turned into a creek (not exaggerating here - in places, there was a gurgling creek at least a foot deep where the trail should have been). And, there was not just rain, it was semi-snow coming down. The hike in was amazing - the landscape was starkly beautiful - there were patches of deep red blueberry foilage in the middle of rain and cold and fog. It was incredibly gorgeous. Crossing the fairly benign Alder creek turned into quite the adventure - when I walked through it, it went to my thighs. Next, even though I am usually have a sense of finding trails, I totally lost it, and we had an episode of impromptu bushwhacking through a boggy area, which felt under the feet like a water-logged sponge, through the fog. When we finally managed to get back on track, we crossed yet another beautiful stretch of open high plains. That landscape goes right to my stomach and punches me out. I love it! And, in the fog and rain, it is almost outer-worldly.

But, it got dark quickly - and by the time we reached the next creek crossing, it was almost dark. I recalled the advice of my Unix- and outdoors-guru Dan, who told me that crossing a high-running creek is not to be taken lightly - never cross unless you know you can get back, and don't cross if in doubt. While Dan tends to be extremely cautious (some people probably would call him paranoid), I have always done well following his advice. Well, I saw that creek, which ran very fast, it looked deep, and it was too dark to see enough. So, I vetoed a crossing - we did not know the conditions, and it would have been foolish to try. Problem - no good camp spots close, and all we could find was a spot with big rocks and roots that could barely fit the tent. Pitching the tent went quite well, even though it was totally dark by the time we started. Did I mention it rained all the time? And, it was cold. Still, we were swift and efficient with the chores. I was quite glad that I had my Rolls-Royce sleeping bag, which kept me warm and cozy. As it turns out, all the roots and rocks under my mattress (and they were substantial!) were well located - at my waist, above my shoulders and below my head, and just above the ankles, where they didn't poke me. So, despite bad conditions - I slept happily. That was the theme of the weekend - happiness in adverse conditions.

Saturday morning, the creek was lower, which was good. Breakfast was a major bummer - my seemingly splendid idea to make pancakes ended in a burned pan and half-cooked dough. Not good. No more backcountry pancakes. One new breakfast invention on this trip - I used the measuring cup as coffee pot.

While we slowly got ready, several other hiking parties crossed, and we observed them and chose the best path through cold water with considerable current. And, I think I fully showed my strongest talent, convincing quite a few people that I am crazy. There was a party of a dozen or so guys, who just crossed without taking their shoes off at the same time as we did (which means lots of very cold water entering the boots). Next person crossing is Steffi (the only female around): under my rain jacket pantless, wearing my undies and Tevas. As planned, I ended up with dry socks and pants after the crossing, which was nice. But, I must have looked like I had a few screws loose ;-)

The hike was fun, again many beautiful open areas. I had a hard time, though - it cold, and whenever I found my stride, I had to stop and wait for Vincent. My body did not like that, not at all, and I am wondering whether I may have gotten into some pre-hypothermia state. When we came to the Forks of the Red Creek, I was shivering cold and felt dizzy and miserable. We crossed that creek, which ran quite high - what was a mellow swimming hole at our last visit was major white water this time. Even though I was not too good, Vincent wanted to continue - I took the lead and pushed on quite firmly w/o breaks, to get my body warm, which did the trick. We made it to Rocky Point, with some rainy and foggy views. I had the insight that our bodies are really quite badly constructed - as soon as we get out of our very narrow operating range, whether the body becomes too warm, too cold, has too little blood sugar, water or salt in the system, things pretty much shut down, and what is worst - it first shuts down the brain, the most important organ. Even when one realizes that rationally, there is no way to snap out of that by force of mind. (I have experienced that quite a few times now, and it is very odd.) Seriously, we are not finely tuned machines, rather finicky and fickle creatures who can't even count on their brains in crisis times.

On our way back, Vincent wanted to scramble down a steep hill to the creek, where it sounded like a major waterfall. It didn't look easy, with rhododendron thickets in the way. I made it down (and miraculously, back up), saw a breathtaking waterfall up close and had an incredible view up a steep and waterfall-strewn stretch of the creek. The scenery was wild and rather scary. A while before, we had seen 2 kayakers zip by - it boggles my mind how one can possibly go down that stretch in a kayak.

Sunday, when we got up - the sun was out. And, following the rule that it ain't no backpacking trip without skinny-dipping, it was time to check out the "swimming pool". Despite the water temperature (my Suunto registered 55F), I actually swam back and forth there - it was great fun, but incredibly cold.

The hike out was wonderful - the sun came out, and the fall colors had a real Velvia quality. But, I have to say - I like the fog and rain from the hike in better. The landscape was just more beautiful and strangely moving when it was wild and inhospitable. Anyways, it was beautiful and fall colors at their peak. It was an easy and very enjoyable hike, and we came across several other parties.

The drive home was beautiful - forget New England, the Monongahela NF is every bit as colorful and gorgeous! We had to be back in time for Vincent's soccer game - as it turns out, we were 20 minutes late, and the team had to start w/ 10 players. Towards the end of the 1st half, Vincent collided with a teammate, and had a serious nosebleed. (I was of no help - don't do well with blood.) He's still not feeling good, and a bit worried whether he may have a minor concussion from the impact. Next, their main offensive player had achilles tendon problems and could hardly walk. Then, yet another guy suffered a shoulder injury, which was apparently rather dramatic and painful, as well - he was on his way to the emergency room. Still, the team finished with 9 players and a victory. I was impressed.

On our way home, we called the Green Mango's Noodle Hut for takeout - when we arrived (dirty, tired, bloody nose, stinky, mud-crusted, and very happy), we met Durr and a former LRDCer. What a coincidence, everybody at that place! (Or convergence to the places that have good food.)

Anyways, I loved being outdoors, and actually enjoyed the rain and cold - it brings out the rough beauty of the landscape. With a positive attitude, that makes for a great trip.