We were unleashed, set free. A wide-open, carefree crew, apart from husbands and boyfriends, children, families for a weekend excursion into the wilderness of West Virginia. We climbed the Via Ferrata at Nelson Rocks. We mountain biked with the Canaan Valley Mountain Bike Festival and hiked in Dolly Sods Wilderness area. And none of us are the same for it. (that’s me, top left corner)
We began the weekend as strangers and ended friends, a group of twelve women linked together by an intricate web of mutual friendships and one amazing woman, Maureen. I’m still not sure how she did it, coordinating such a group of highly educated, fun-loving, adventurous, capable and entertaining women. At 43 I was the youngest. Imagine.
And so it started. I kissed the kids and my husband goodbye, loaded the bikes and too much stuff in my trunk and drove with Clair from Richmond 3 1/2 hours to a parking lot in WVA where our guides tried to tell us we were about to have a near death experience.
This little guy had a hard time getting us to listen, a bunch of cackling women free from responsibility for three days. He had no idea what he was in for.
And this dude asked if we were a chicks only group. Once he saw our mountain bikes and we fed him beer (afterward) he wanted in.
Maureen our fearless group leader led the way, coaxing all who needed it with words of encouragement.
Clair wasn’t so sure. In fact she was terrified and hadn’t slept much.
But we climbed and climbed. For over four hours.
Up a series of iron rungs and cables in which to clip in and out. Always two clips, never a free moment, a European style of climbing.
Without them the ordinary person couldn’t access such a sheer rock face and awesome height.
I was a little nervous at first, thinking it would be like the other climbing I’d done. Toes gripping, fingertips about to fall off, arms and thighs burning, lungs heaving, sweat pouring but it was none of these things. I quickly settled into a rhythm and realized I wasn’t afraid because of the clips. I felt very safe. It was fun, free-flowing and the steady pace kept my mind moving from one rung to the next, clipping in/out. Every so often I’d turn to check the crazy view and realize for a moment where I was, hanging onto the side of a mountain.
And then we walked across the highest suspension bridge in North America that swayed with wind and bodies.
A big drop should one miss…
Then more up, up, up. This poor girl had to climb behind me and got my lens in her face the whole way.
A good view of the bridge below.
And real climbers on the opposite rock face.
After dousing the guides in beer and gratitude for not losing any of us we made it back to a little ski chalet for the weekend at 20 bucks a head. The price was right, the location perfect. The oldest among us slept under the stars.
We rode with the Canaan Valley Mountain Bike Festival the next day but I don’t have a single picture! I left that up to Maureen because of my track record for falling. Having only ridden for 7 months I’m just happy I’m out there gettin’ up over baby-head-sized rocks and roots and holding my own on the single track.
It was eventful to say the least. Some had (foot, head) injuries, there were unsettled emotions, others cussed their shoes, one guy took a header into a mud pit and another broke some ribs.
Chippy Carefree (no, I’m not kidding) was our guide and quickly became a friend. He too asked if we were a “chicks only” group or if he could join. Maybe he liked the bike shorts, or the willingness to try anything. Maybe it was the constant laughing. I think it was that he’d never seen such a big group of girls informally strewn together tackling the wild.
The third day we hiked through the Dolly Sods Wilderness Area at the end of our road. Injured and non. A fearless crew.
(me!)
We’ll be back next year, perhaps with a few more who couldn’t make it this time. Maybe we’ll camp or try the rapids. Whatever the plan, I’m all in.
backyard runner 