• Location: Dolly Sods Wilderness, West Virginia (coordintes for parking at Bear Rocks Trailhead below)

• Duration: 2  days (GPX files below for download!)
• Activity: Day 1 – drive to Dolly Sods Wilderness.  Hike 8 miles to camp.  Day 2 – hike back to car and drive home
• Highlights: surviving a below-freezing night in a tent!
• Lessons learned: As you will no doubt ascertain before the end of reading this, I am far from an expert.  I am new to all of this, and the lessons I learned on this trip might be very useful to you, particularly if you are looking into winter backpacking for the very first time.  They are located at the bottom of this post.
• Link to hike: https://www.hikingupward.com/MNF/DollySodsNorth/

Stats, Day 1

Stats, Day 2

The Adventure

This is the toughest backpacking trip I have taken to date.  At night, the temperature reached just 5 degrees, well below freezing.  Combined with the wind chill, this put the overall temperature in the bone-chilling negatives.  Surviving a trip into the wild under such dire circumstances would not be for the faint of heart.  It is worthwhile to note that my motivation for this hike came purely from the physical and mental challenge it presented.  Gusto tends to fill my world when I’m faced with a particularly treacherous adventure.  In this case, sleeping overnight in the extreme cold without freezing to death looked like a suitable endeavor worthy of quenching my thirst for the extreme.  Needless to say, the Dolly Sods Wilderness is renowned for its beauty, but beauty is not the reason I went.  It will, however, be my reason for going again in the spring.

The Prep

Warmth and safety were of utmost importance on this backpacking trip.  I knew this going in.  I had checked the weather prior to making the trip out here, and although the forecast called for below-freezing temperatures, it would be dry.  The hand warmers, which I purchased on a whim, turned out to be lifesavers.  For food, we had packed a variety of snacks and meals:

Snacks:

• Larabars, protein bars, and peanut butter sandwiches

Meals:

• ground beef for dinner (to be cooked over an open fire)
• eggs for breakfast (again, to be cooked over a fire)
• rice

Getting There

The drive was not particularly long, and it is quite scenic.  Many roads twist and turn throughout the mountains, allowing for a rather spirited driving experience.  At one point, you are driving so high up alongside the windmills and are able to capture some magnificent views.  As we were driving early, this included witnessing how the shine of the sun transformed the landscape, minute by minute.

As we reached what appeared to be the top of the mountain, we pulled over.  According to my directions, we were still a mile or so from the trail, but this was the perfect opportunity to stretch our legs and get a preliminary look at the landscape.  It’s not often that you get to look admire the beauty of the trail, from inside of it and out.  We didn’t get to do much admiring, though.  As soon as we opened the car doors, the cold wind bit into us.  Even with several layers, a jacket, hat, and gloves, the cold was still too much to bear so we got back into the car.  I was startled but not completely disheartened by this – I had hand warmers and a thicker jacket which I intended on using for the hike

Similar to my previous hikes, I made the mistake of trusting Waze once again (or, more appropriately, of not learning from my mistakes) which put me smack-dab in the middle of another dirt road.  For those who are unaware, if you put the coordinates to the trailhead into Waze, it might lead you +/- a few hundred yards from the actual location (the maps/coordinates at the beginning of this post have been updated with the correct values!).  Without cell phone service or a sense of direction aside from “backwards” and “forwards,” I decide to drive on for a little while longer until I reached what appeared to be a trailhead and a parking spot.

The start of the hike was mesmerizing.  We were already at the top of the mountain, so we had plenty of energy to spend simply marveling at nature.  The overgrown moss blanketed the forest floor like green cotton candy.  The stream we encountered seemed to be directly adjacent to its spring.  Among all of this natural glory was an unexpected sight.  Here, we see a car in what is apparently its natural habitat:

The Wrong Hike

Although we had passed a campsite, we were sure that this was not the famous hike we had heard so much about.  Before long, what we thought was a trail quickly faded into nothingness.  Ordinarily, this is not much cause for concern.  The case is different, however, in Dolly Sods.  The area was an artillery training ground for the US military at some point or another, which means that parts of the forest contain live artillery.  You are not likely to come across anything on an actual trail – over the years, any remaining artillery would have been removed from the grounds – but if you are foraging on fresh ground like I was, you might not feel so confident in making this assessment.

Startled with the realization of being lost on a potential mindfield, I quickly retraced my steps back to the car.  It was an uncanny feeling.  Typically, I have to be mindful of my footing, lest I fall and injure myself, but here I had and entirely new and foreign motivation for it.  Retracing our steps took slightly over 2 hours, but it was a worthwhile 2 hours in nature.

We were content on finding any meaningful trail – meaningful in the sense that it would lead us through various terrain, with actual campsites sprinkled around.  Our disregard for beginning the trail we originally planned for was motivated by the fact that including the drive, over 6 hours had passed.  Once back at the car, we needed to unpack our packs and stow them before the search could commence.  The search didn’t bear any fruit, but the scenery was enough to keep us engaged.  It was so quiet and peaceful.  There was absolutely no noise whatsoever, not even of birds chirping or of water flowing.  The complete silence was comforting.

Eventually, we traveled backwards.  By this time, many more backpackers had made it to the top of the mountain, and what was previously an unblemished site was now covered in trucks and SUVs that stood like a bright neon “trail starts here” sign.  At least I knew where to start the hike: the Bear Rocks Trail (again, the coordinates/map at the beginning of this blog post have the updated/correct location!).

The Right Hike

Aside from the ferocious wind at the top, the hike itself was not terribly bad.  Moving with heavy packs provided plenty of body heat, and the car did most of the climbing on the way up to the trailhead so the trek was more or less flat with only slight variations in incline. The picturesque green from the trees contrasted nicely with the deep blue of the sky.  Views were, in a word, magnificent.

The first (and only) river we crossed had the familiar brown tinge characteristic of flowing water here in West Virginia.  The color comes from the high concentration of tannic acid.  This was quite a picturesque location to take a break, have a snack, and stock up on water.  This was probably the best lunch view I could ask for.

Getting Lost in Space

Once lunch was finished it was time to continue the trail.  Although we were above treeline, the bite of the cold wind was not enough to overtake the comfort of the scenery.  The miles racked up and perspiration came and went. We passed many a campsite, and were surprised by how our view of the landscape evolved with each step we took.  It is this evolution that kept us enamored.

It was quite an appropriate distraction from the various pains and persecutions of life which, undoubtedly, most backpackers long for.

Eventually, the wind cut down through to the perspiration, awakening me from my trance.  This was a startling but friendly reminder that the temperature was dropping.  The sun seemed to be going down a bit more deviously, becoming apparent only after too long.  My mood changed quickly, mirroring the rapid decay of light as the sun faded into the darkness.

At this point, we needed to find a viable campsite before time ran out.  Respecting the countdown until sundown, I started to panic.  As on previous hikes, we decided to drop our packs and split up.  Our objective was simple: we were looking for the nearest campsite so that we could set up shelter for the night.  Although we had passed many during the beginning of the trek, we were sure there was a closer one somewhere, we just had to find it.  Time was important because we had less than two hours before sunset.  Alas, all of the nearby turns we took ended up taking us onto private property.  Technically, we had wandered beyond the bounds of the Dolly Sods Wilderness, and the only way of getting back into Dolly Sods was to backtrack two miles.  For anyone reading this, I would encourage you to save yourself the headache by staying within Dolly Sods Wilderness – take a picture of the maps before starting your hike and make sure you don’t wander too far!

Struggling With Camp Chores

We reached a familiar area with less than an hour before the darkness of night filled the sky.  The sun had already set, and at this point we were relying on the last remnants of blue light in the atmosphere.  Our night vision was starting to kick in.  As we made our way through the shelter of trees, we spotted some fellow backpackers who already had a blaze going.  The comfort of nearby comradery is not something I expected to feel on this trip.  Nonetheless, it was a welcoming feeling.

There were plenty of campsites to choose from.  Luckily, we were able to pick one which already had a decent fire pit.  We quickly realized how difficult setting up camp would be – something we had the foresight to see but didn’t act upon quickly enough.  We were now battling more than just our fatigue and the elements.  It was now dark and our vision was gone.

The level of ease with which the lizard brain assumes absolute control over the body in a situation like this is absurd.  Perhaps more eerie is how noticeable the shift in one’s outlook is.  Realizing that you are alone, in nature, and in the dark, raises the tension in the body to a convulsive level.  We were now on high alert and surprisingly focused on completing the various camp tasks at hand.  This was a simple yet effective reminder that shelter was long overdue.

We needed to be able to process wood for fire and connect the tent poles to build the tent, but ran into some difficulty.  Finger dexterity is not something that is necessarily at the forefront of my trip-planning phases, but it should be.  Our fingers were hidden from use inside of the gloves, and were almost as useless outside of them.

Blood rushed into our fingers like water into a dam every time they were exposed to the outside air.  Collecting sticks and trying to make kindling was much more difficult than I had anticipated.  My sausage fingers were useless when trying to create feather sticks with my knife.

Setting up the tent had become nearly as arduous as the hike itself.  It would be well over an hour before the tent was up, although at least we were successful in this endeavor.

The entire ordeal took a few hours to complete, and by this point we were relying on two modern marvels of technology: headlamps and hand warmers (the headlamp I relied on is in my gear list here).  Again, I cannot stress the importance of both of these items.  Had we been missing either one, I don’t think we would have survived the night.

Since we were unable to start a lasting fire, we were also unable to cook dinner.  I was particularly famished at this point, and settled for eating my dinner raw.  For the record, I do not recommend that anyone, under any circumstance, eat raw meat, but this was a call I had to make.  I can go to sleep either hungry or cold, but not both, and it was freezing.  The rice was eaten in similarly primitive fashion: with my bare hands.

Adding to these chores, we still had to have dinner, pack up our bear bag, and get physically and mentally ready for the main objective of the quest: surviving through the night.  It may not seem like a big deal, but as the night progressed and our ability to produce body heat dwindled, the bite of the cold lasted longer and longer.

Even with my layers of thermals and a down jacket, I was shivering uncontrollably.  My strategic handwarmer placement was vital in combating this discomfort and aiding in my body’s heat retention.  I had one placed within each sock, one my by chest, and one on either side of me within the sleeping bag.  I would have been better served using a winter-proof sleeping bag: the one I was using was my summer sleeping bag which is rated only to 50 degrees.  The outside temperature before factoring in wind was 5 degrees.  I remember waking up in the middle of the night.  I had been shivering in my sleep.  As I laid on the cold ground, quivering, I knew that I would have to do things differently next time.

The Next Morning

Surviving through the night was the objective, so we got up at the first sign of daybreak.  This was particularly easy since the entire night was spent in an uncomfortable haze, rather than a deep sleep.  Nevertheless, it was a difficult morning.  It was either considerably colder, or we had simply just gotten spoiled by the insulation provided by the tent.  Either way, the winter air greeted us like an overly enthusiastic teacher on the first day of school, and I was not amused.  I wanted to get back to my car.  Experiencing the luxury of my heated seats was a tangible goal I could set for myself, a sort of treat for roughing it through the night.

As I opened the tent, I couldn’t help but laugh at the predicament we were in.  The first thing I saw was a blanket of ice all over the campsite.  Frost covered the tree branches and sheets of ice were covering all visible dirt.  As I reached for my boots, disbelief filled my eyes.  “I can’t believe it,” I said.  “My boots are frozen solid!”

Putting them on felt like fastening blocks of ice underneath and around my feet.  In hindsight, we would not have had this issue if we had placed our shoes inside the tent, but, again, live and learn.  Even without frozen shoes and cold feet, I’m sure the morning’s chores would have been just as laborious.

The rest of our gear had frozen as well.  The tent had ice all over it.  In fact, the roof was caving in from the weight of it all.  All of our water was frozen so we spent the entire morning thirsty.

The hard plastics in our gear were so brittle that they broke under even the slightest pressure, including a buckle we were using to secure the tent to the pack.  Even my contact lenses had frozen!  Good thing I brought my glasses with me.  Needless to say, packing up camp was a chore.  We made frequent stops to run in place to heat ourselves up.  The only thing keeping us going was the knowledge that the car was only a few short miles away.  Our discomfort would only be temporary.

It is amazing how quickly we heated up once we left camp.  The sun was out and rather welcoming.  Now that we were out of the forest, it seemed to provide so much warmth now that we began to sweat!  Our fears melted away and we knew that we had made it.  We would enjoy the 4-mile hike back to the car.

Lessons Learned

This trip was all about learning.  We went in with barely a clue, and left with a tome of ideas on what we needed to do a better job of next time around.  The salient points include:

1. Hand warmers are worth more than their weight in gold.  Without fingers that work, you can kiss your chance of starting a fire goodbye.  Even things as simple as grabbing onto hiking poles or trying to eat become nearly impossible.
2. Once water is frozen, you can’t drink it unless you have fire.  Make sure to drink as much water as possible before it freezes.  You might not be thirsty until after it is too late.
3. Learn how to build a fire and keep it going.
4. Learn how to hang your bear bag.
5. Take pictures of the map before starting the trail.
6. Carrying extra boots is not such a crazy idea.
7. Bring dry clothes and socks.  A huge part of staying warm involves staying dry.