Though the weather was chilly, cloudy and promised rain, the view from the cabin’s porch was still swoon-worthy. I imagine it would be extra breathtaking in the Fall with the foliage changing colors.
Before we got to the cabin’s porch, we hiked around, stopped to talk to someone at a cabin nearby, and enjoyed being out in the fresh air after the two-hour car ride.
On our second trip from the cars to the cabin, Hugh, Tim and PT decided to follow the sign to Argow Cabin which we ignored the first time around. I don’t think it was a success because they ended up back on the trail right behind the rest of us.
Hugh was called a few names while wearing his $5 outdoors-man hat and carrying a walking stick. Roy Rogers, Old Man Winter, Cowboy, the list goes on.
I spent a lot of time walking behind everyone because I kept stopping to take pictures.
I hadn’t seen a wood burning stove since visiting my Great-Grandma Embrey’s house growing up. Her house was a million degrees inside, even in the dead of summer. Burning a fire in the stove made me nostalgic for Sunday afternoons in her living room and stealing hard candies from her kitchen table.
On Sunday the rain came .
We spent a little while just piddling around the cabin, munching on breakfast (leftover pasta salad), drinking delicious coffee from Tuttle’s French press (out of Solo cups) and playing catchphrase. It was hard to get motivated to clean up and head out when it was so cozy inside and so cold and wet outside.
Eventually I begrudgingly packed up my sleeping bag and blankets and mentally prepared for the trek back to the cars.
There was no view left on Sunday, because an incredibly dense fog had settled over the valley. I wrote a very poetic entry in the cabin’s log book about it.
I’m so thankful everyone smiled for one last group photo, and I’m extra thankful for my self-timer.
After the group photo we launched into cover-everything-in-trash-bags mode in preparation for the rainy hike back. Everything pretty much stayed dry except for our legs and feet which were a muddy mess (at least mine were).
It was an adventure, and a great one at that. I am so glad I stopped waffling and decided to go — if nothing else, it was worth it for the s’mores.
On Saturday afternoon a bunch of us headed out to the Shenandoah Valley where Tuttle had rented a “primitive” cabin for the night. We hiked around a little bit, found our cabin, schlepped all of our rations and protective gear from the car to the cabin — about a mile — and set up camp.
I took a ton of pictures, but my camera was as tired as I was last night and didn’t feel like uploading anything. So in the meantime, here is a video tour I took of the cabin when we first got there.
I apologize for my sniffling, it was quite chilly outside. I’m also sorry, Babs, for the conversation I made you have on camera about the outhouse.
There may be a video on my computer waiting to be edited of Babs chopping wood. It seems Tim was serious when he came in and requested we get to chopping. I’m hoping that will surface tomorrow along with the pictures.