I feel like I know the trails in the Old Rag & White Oak Canyon area like the back of my hand. Since I’m on the computer so much, I see the backs of my hands a lot so that really means something. Let’s stop the simile there and move on.

Having hiked in the same area all spring and summer, almost every weekend, and covering up to 20 miles in a day, it sometime seems there aren’t many new places to discover. I try to include one new segment each time, but some parts are common to all routes and many are to most.

The hiking is both a joy and a chore. The real goal is to train for EBC, so these are training hikes. (remember “Yuri the trainer who trains”) I push myself and often don’t stop for more than one 15 minute break the whole day to eat a sandwich and purify another couple of liters of water. Snacks and drinks are taken on the move. I try, and succeed, in overtaking almost everyone that I see. That is the chore part.

The joy part is that regardless, this is still Shenandoah National Park and the forests, mountains, and views are spectacular. The fungi are in all colors imaginable. It is a different world. There are very few hikers in most places. On some trails, I may have been the only person there all day owing to the fact that I am breaking spider webs late in the afternoon. Hiking as far as I do, instead of individual trails I see the park as an interconnected network of segments that can be pieced together and approached in many different orders. That is what keeps it interesting.

It will be sometime after I return from Nepal that Park will again become a place to wander through, at a normal place, with family and friends.

For me the word “shoeless” is always followed by “Joe Jackson”. Jackson, allegedly illiterate, was part of the Chicago Black Sox scandal, was banned from baseball, and also still holds the third highest career batting average in baseball history. In 1911 he hit .408 which is the sixth highest single season average ever.

What does this have to do with hiking? This pair of pink Crocs.

This was one of the few hikes I didn’t do alone. My friend Tom, an avid (and very fast) hiker, came with me and we returned by way of the summit of Robertson Mountain. Neither of us had been on that trail before. It was deserted, and wound its way up through a heavily forested area with many colors of lichens on large rocks and trees. There was a small area at the top with a great view of the valley. As it was cool and misting, we didn’t stay long at the top.

On the way back, along a fire road, we found these pink Crocs.  I know there’s a story. I want to believe it is something less mundane that falling off someone’s daypack. She lost them running from a bear. She left them as a clue of where to find her. He didn’t want his friends to know he wore pink Crocs. Maybe you have a better one.

We stopped at Gadino cellars on the way back for a tasting. A small group was playing great music on the back porch so we ordered another glass and enjoyed another fitting finish to a long hike.