Target: Mt. Rogers
Type: Highpoint
State: Virginia

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Mount Rogers is both the high point of the TJ NF and the state of Virginia. As such, it is a pretty common target and can be crowded. I figured by attempting it in winter I would avoid most other hikers. A friend expressed an interest in winter camping so this was a great opportunity to drag him along.

I had attempted this peak once before, in the summer, with the same friend, but he had a medical emergency that forced us to cancel. The first go round, we stopped on a Forest Service road just off the pavement. We aimed for the same place this time, but arriving at about one in the morning we found a gate closing the road. We spent about an hour exploring our options before finding a parking area that was shielded enough for us to feel confident setting up tents.

It’s worth noting at this point that a major ice storm had hit southern Virginia a couple of days before and temperatures were sitting below zero at night, rising to a peak of twelve during the day. I was not ready for this kind of weather and only brought a zero degree sleeping bag and twenty degree. Do your _current_ research folks! We survived a cold first night and woke early, shivering and miserable.

It was too cold to make anything resembling breakfast or coffee so we set out early hoping that movement would warm us up. About a mile in, my friend realized that he forgot to fill his water bottles. No problem, there was some strong water pushing through the ice so we stopped to fill up. Except our filters were frozen. We cleared the ice with main force, but as soon as the water hit them they froze again. I had nearly a gallon so we decided to proceed after filling his bottles with snow. He placed them inside his jacket to melt, the plan being to occasionally fill them as we walked.

The forest was stunning, every surface covered in ice and the ground under a thick layer of snow. We marveled at the morning sun diffracting through a thousand crystals to spread to evenly across the landscape. This was not the green hell of summer Virginia, it was a winter as stark and cold as anything in the north country and we were woefully unprepared. I was still suffering from a severely sprained ankle acquired in New Hampshire which caught me off guard from time to time. Considering the circumstances during a short break – insufficient water, poor gear for the conditions, an injury – I considered calling the attempt off. I knew, however, that just past the summit was an Appalachian Trail shelter that would make up for a lot. After a short discussion of the risks we carried on.

After a couple of miles we found ourselves ascending a frozen creek that covered the trail. The ice was treacherous and thin, but we managed to keep to moving up. This was the first of many icy sections. I had considered, and rejected, the idea of bringing microspikes. I regretted it now, but with some dexterity we powered through all the challenging sections. The ultimate price was paid in speed. We kept going, higher and further, but the day was growing long. The sunlight was long behind us, hidden by the thick evergreens which made for a deep winter gloom.

After several miles we came to the first real split in the trail. The main route continued to the left in the cold, wet, dark forest, but to the right we could see bright sunlight. It didn’t take us long to decide that we should make a detour. A short walk brought us to an amazing landscape of rolling hills covered with high grass and little snow. The wind was howling, dropping the temperatures even further, but the sun balanced everything out, warming our skin even as it burned with speeding ice crystals. We could see for what seemed an eternity after the narrow trail, and considered following the exposed ridge that seemed to go in the direction we wanted. After some conversation we decided that a nap was in order and decisions would wait on its outcome.

Many years ago I was in California, a preteen, but getting my first glimpses of adulthood. It was a chilly day when I climbed a water tower and found myself in the full force of a cold wind coming off the Pacific. I started shivering, pulling my meager clothing tight around me when my cousin remarked how wonderful the warm desert winds were. My mind adjusted in a flash and the the frigid breeze became a biting warmth on my cheeks. I used the same trick now and I found myself very comfortable in the warm sunshine despite the biting wind. I enjoyed a long respite with beautiful views. My friend napped and after waking up we decided to head back into the woods and the known trail. We quickly returned to ice, roots, and rocks, but with our renewed vigor we ate up the miles. Soon we came to a split in the trail, one way leading up to the summit, the other down to the shelter. Dropping our packs we headed up.

This last half mile seemed to take forever. We were tired from all the ice and snow struggle. The day was growing late. My ankle was hurting and threatening to give out. We persevered anyways and after what seemed a long time, but was probably thirty minutes or so, we came to the rocky summit with the USGS marker signifying the top of Virginia. We took the requisite photos and tried to muster some excitement for the event, but mostly we had already achieved our goals by reaching this point and didn’t care as much about the actual end.

After a few minutes we started back down, quickly regaining our packs and moving down towards the shelter. We hadn’t seen anyone all day, or even any sign of other hikers, so we were surprised to see a couple of tents alongside the trail. There are several ways up the mountain so our predecessors must have come via another route. We kept on until we found the wood and stone structure that is the Thomas Knob AT shelter. It was early, but given the winter sunsets we quickly made dinner and settled in as the only residents. After setting up our sleeping bags and preparing for the next morning we walked down to watch the sunset over the bald summits to the south, which was beautiful and sad.

As darkness settled in, we moved back to the shelter, climbing upstairs on a questionable ladder built into the side of the structure. The top rung was broken requiring an odd hopping sit to get into the upper floor. Once achieved, we set ourselves up to stay the night. Sleeping pads were filled, water bottles settled in to spend the night close to our body heat, and every item of clothing layered on. And yet, the night brought bitter cold that ate through our preparations like a chainsaw through soft pine.

As if the cold itself wasn’t enough, shortly after we settled the rats came out. Seeking food initially, they quickly settled for warmth and moved close to our sleeping bags. There are few things more uncomfortable than snuggling with a rat. They occasionally ran across the top of us, looking for better positioning, or food, or whatever drives rats to give up a comfortable place for a gamble.

Despite our bags, and even with our furry friends, we were cold. Since I was the dolt that didn’t plan properly I’d given my friend the warmer sleeping bag, which still wasn’t warm enough. When we weren’t awake from the rats, we were awake from the shivering, and we got little sleep that night. The morning found us parched, noses stuffed from the cold forced us to breath through our mouths, frigid air cracking our lips and tongues.

I pulled my water bottle out only find it frozen. My friend’s as well. The sleeping bags hadn’t been sufficient even to trap heat above zero. Desperately thirsty I pounded the ice into our stove and lit it, hoping it would melt into water before melting the container. It did and we gratefully made oatmeal and guzzled tepid water to get ready for our trip back down the mountain.

The return journey was easier as you would expect. The icy sections required caution, but passed quickly. When we came to a long stretch of switchbacks we took advantage of the snow to slide and leap down, skipping at least a couple of miles without damaging anything permanently. We reached the Jeep around noon, where we spent time discussing the high and low points of the journey before climbing in, cranking up the heater, and heading back south.