Trip Report: St. Mary's Wilderness, VA (Solo, 7-18 to 7-20-97)

Day 1 - After work I drove down to mid-Virginia to start the hike. I didn't actually arrive at the trailhead until 7pm. Fortunately it was a nice day and the terrain was flat so I was able to cover ground quickly by nightfall. As camping is not allowed on the first two miles of trail, I had to go at least that far before setting up camp. The St. Mary's Trail follows the river of the same name for about a mile and a half through a narrow valley with tallus slopes on either side and occasional minor rock outcroppings. As the trail itself is often on the old overflow channels of the river itself, it is usually lots of loose round streambed rocks which makes footing trecherous.
Eventually, the trail leaves the river and rises along the Sugartree Branch briefly before leaving the water altogether. On the way I spotted a perfect little swimming hole with a small waterfall and broad, deep pool amongst tall rocks, but, as it was late and I was hungry, I didn't stop. Thoughts of this pool, however, occupied my thoughts over the next day or two as I sweated through one hot, dusty trail after another.
The trail eventually comes out on top of a plateau which was heavily strip-mined many decades ago. I ended up camping on top of a heap of rubble with a nice view to the west. As the twilight was fading and finished dinner, I heard a thrashing around in the dense undergrowth. Sitting perfectly still and peering through the gloom, I could eventually spy a deer looking at me through the leaves. The whip-poor-wills started up their car-alarm cry soon after and I was kept awake for hours that night. At 12:30, there was a sudden screaming sound very close at hand from the general direction of my bear bag. It was the kind of sound no human could possibly create and I was in no great hurry to investigate what could be producing it. In the sane light of a new day, I figure it was probably a bobcat, but at the time it was pretty terrorizing.

Day 2 Arising at 6 after an eventful and tiring night, I cooked some breakfast and was on the trail by 7. The trail branched all over the place among the ruins of the various mining operations and in the new daylight I got a better look at the place. The general impression was that of a reforestation project of Mordor (Tolkien reference). Lots of large depressions and big heaps of slag and rubble. Occasional peices of rusty metal could be seen here and there poking through the scrub pines and dry grass.
The trail soon left this area and descended through lovely hardwoods with the ubiquitous rhododendron thickets everywhere. It must be quite something in June when all the shrubbery bursts into bloom. Passing the first stream, I filtered some water and washed up. A group of campers from UVA on the ridge behind the stream had barely begun to stir and peered at me with bleary eyes. Early starts are one advantage to solo hiking.
A mile or so further on it was clear that today was bound to be another hot day. The path continued to wind slowly upward through dense shrubbery crossing the occasional stream. I happened through a lovely sylvan glade with the remains of some buildings and possibly a dam sticking through the grass and ferns. A family of deer including a very young fawn bolted at my approach and were not seen again. Eventually the trail started to pick up the gradient and the woods opened up a bit. Blueberries were everywhere along the sides of the trail and I have to admit to taking time to browse along the way.
The trail left the wilderness and turned into a rough dirt road at the appropriately named Big Levels, a large plateau sporting Green Pond (though not particularly pond-like at the moment, really more of a marsh), a series of roads, and the Blue Ridge Parkway. I hiked for three or four miles down this dusty, dry thoroughfare passing occasional groups including one charming bunch of Menonites out picking huckleberries with their large pickup truck. Along the ridge, any potential view was blocked either by scrubby pines or dense haze. Much of this portion of the trip passed in a blur and I remember very little of it.
Eventually, the Bald Mountain trail left the road and descended into the woods once more. I dropped quickly into a very sharp valley full of large rocks and a small stream. I stopped and was splashing water on myself when, like the coming of some sort of avenging angle, the skies darkened and thunder boomed. A sheet of rain arrived moving from left to right directly over me being focussed by the local geography and pounding the vegetation with raindrops the size of marbles. I was soon so wet that puddles were collecting in the arms of my raincoat.
Fortunately, this deluge lasted only 20 minutes or so and the sun eventually reappeared on a world of glistening leaves and dripping branches. Much of the next two miles passed in a haze. I stopped periodically to suck moisture off rhododendron leaves in lieu of pulling the rain cover off the pack to access the nalgene-tasting water.
I reached the end of the trail and took the side detour over to the Blue Ridge Parkway at the Fork Mountain Overlook, a detour well worth taking as it afforded the only view of the entire trip. It was 4pm and I sat on the grass and dried out for a while. Then it was back into soaking boots and down the Mine Bank Trail for a mile to find a place to camp for the night.

Day 3 - I hiked down the rest of the Mine Bank Creek which was lovely; a steep-sided valley with lots of big chunks of feldspar tallus and tall evergreens strewn about. There is a noticable tallus slide across the stream on the right bank which leads up to a large boulder with a sort of limitted view. The trail eventually joined back up with the St. Mary's Trail of yesterday and I proceded quickly back along the route I'd take yesterday. Two miles later I stopped at the swimming hole found earlier and splashed around for in the lovely shaddowy pool.

Upon rejoining the main river, I dropped my pack and took a detour up the half mile of trail to the Falls. The river wound its way through the narrowing valley. This is a very popular day hike in the area and there were lots of bathers splashing in the numerous pools and sunning on big chunks of water-polished bedrock. I had one exciting episode of trying to climb a tallus slope composed of lots of loose, head-sized, sharp-edged chunks of feldspar residing at a 45degree angle. The whole mass started to shift under me. Leaping to the side, I saw the entire portion of the slope give way and slide down majestically into the river. Stupid stupid! I sheepishly made my careful way back to the river and continued on to the falls.
And the falls are well worth the detour! A lovely cascade comes charging over some rocks past a cliff and into a deep pool reportedly "deeper than the cliff divers could fathom" (at least fifteen feet). Everywhere was the transparent amber water only found in mountain streams, bubbling and frothing or still and lucid--and warmer than you might think!
Much refreshed, I hiked the short distance back to the car and drove contentedly home.
All in all, it was a lovely trip, though short on the scenery and vistas I had hoped for.

Trailhead Directions

The Wilderness Journal

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