Night Hiking Our Way Through Shenandoah National Park
Nature’s Magic: Perfect Weather, Golden Hour, and a Dance of Leaves
Oh, the leaves—pure magic. As the sun sinks lower, the reds, oranges, and yellows ignite, setting the entire forest ablaze in fiery brilliance. The light seeps through each leaf as if they’re glowing from the inside out, twinkling like embers as they spiral down, carpeting the ground beneath us. Immersed in a vibrant tapestry of color, October in Shenandoah National Park is memorizing. It’s without a doubt one of the most beautiful and awe-inspiring sights I’ve witnessed in the forest.
Perched atop a rocky outcropping on a cliffs edge, the sun dips below a vast expanse of autumn trees, golden hues stretching endlessly before us. We watch the sun set over an enormous ocean of fall foliage, colors blazing in every direction. We smile, knowing we've hiked as far as the eye can see.
Each morning, the crisp scent of autumn fills the air, waking my senses before my eyes even open. I breathe it in deeply, trying to capture every molecule of the cool mountain air, but no breath is ever deep enough.
For me, fall unfolds like a two-act play. The first act is a dance, vibrant and full of life, while the second act descends into a somber tale of decay and quiet despair. The first few weeks of fall are intoxicating—a sense of renewal swirls around me, as if love itself is carried on the breeze. But as the last leaf falls and the once-vibrant forest stands bare, a quiet melancholy settles in. The world feels stripped, the emptiness stretching out like a silent pause after something beautiful has ended.
This stretch of trail has given us the best weather of our entire journey. We’re having an incredible time, covering great miles with ease. The trail, with its gentle ascents and minimal rocks, has been kind to us as we wind our way through this breathtaking wilderness.
Shenandoah National Park is approximately 105 miles long, running along the crest of the Blue Ridge Mountains in Virginia. It covers an area of about 200,000 acres and is traversed by Skyline Drive, a scenic road that runs the length of the park. For one hundred and one miles, the Appalachian Trail weaves back and forth across Skyline Drive offering countless scenic views. The plentiful trailhead access points make slackpacking the Shenandoah’s a breeze.
We’ve found ourselves night hiking every day but one so far, but we haven’t minded a bit because the weather has been so gorgeous. The climbs have been surprisingly manageable, and the trail is mostly free of rocks and roots, making for an easier trek even after dark. We've come across plenty of hikers camped along the trail, and it's been fun chatting with them by the glow of our headlamps. One group of three joked that we looked like a parade passing by with our lights shining through the night.
Upon entering the park, we took our chances with Mathew’s Arm Campground, a first-come, first-served campground of 165 sites, and managed to snag one of the last four available sites. In the fall, sightseers flock to Skyline Drive and the park’s 500 miles of trails to take in the beautiful foliage and enjoy the fine fall weather.
Our replacement tent is palatial. With seven poles, it takes two people to set up this massive six-person tent. After spending half a year in a much smaller tent, it feels odd to have enough space to stand up fully with headroom to spare. While some might appreciate the extra room, it’s not nearly as cozy for us. We all miss our old tent. Being such a tall tent, this one will likely be colder, but it will keep us dry, and that’s all we really need. On the plus side, no one will have to press against the walls when it rains, and we haven't had to deal with the condensation issues we faced in our smaller tent. We had 4 pockets in our last tent and we have 22 pockets in this tent. We’ve traded our tiny house for a mansion, yet we find ourselves missing the simplicity and charm of the tiny home.
It’s going to be 37 degrees tonight, but we’re ready with our new sleeping bags. We all have 20-degree sleeping bags, although the temperature rating simply means you can survive in this bag down to 20 degrees; however, you’re going to be cold and probably won’t get much sleep at that temperature. We’ll be plenty warm down to 32 degrees.
After dinner each night, we read the boys to sleep. We started a new book: the second book in the Wild Robot series is called The Wild Robot Escapes by Peter Brown.
So far, everyone seems warm and cozy in their new bags, but the boys all liked their old bags better. Right now, I’m warm, except for my fingers that I’m using to type. When it’s expected to get down below freezing, I’ll have extra layers and hand warmers for everyone ready to go.
It’s currently pushing midnight, and I have never before heard such commotion at a campground. It feels more like a college frat party on the edge of the woods. Since it’s the weekend, I suppose that explains the noise. Carloads of people have been rolling in since 10 p.m., searching for available campsites. Just half an hour ago, two people pulled into the handicapped site next to us and proceeded to inflate an air mattress with the screechiest fan blower I’ve ever heard—twenty minutes of shrill noise followed immediately by the loudest snoring imaginable. Nearby, two men are angrily swearing at each other, seemingly on the verge of a brawl, while valley girls shout over each other’s stories. Beside our tent, leaves and gravel crunch, dumpsters slam, car doors and trunks bang shut, bursts of laughter ring out, bathroom doors creak, toilets flush, and muffled voices drift through the night air. It’s a wild, full-blown ruckus out here.
As usual, I’m the only in our tent not sleeping. I really don’t mind the noise, it’s quite amusing, except for the snoring. The snoring will drive me mad.
The last I saw, the weather is supposed to be clear for the next week, so we’re excited to do some serious trekking through these beautiful mountains.
We were thrilled to run into our old trail buddy “Slide Rule” today, along with his friend “Slow Journer.” The last time we saw him was back at Upper Goose Pond in Massachusetts, and reuniting felt like a long-awaited homecoming. We knew he was resuming his hike close to where we were and had hoped our paths would cross again—and they did.
We also made a new friend, “Beer Nuts,” a retired geologist who shared our campsite one evening. His harmonica playing filled the night air, and around the campfire, he captivated us with stories of his travels. The boys were in for a treat, as he offered an impromptu lesson on glacial core sampling, complete with photos and tales that fascinated them.
The adventure continued with a night hike alongside “Roadie,” and we crossed paths with “Dr. Sriracha” for the second time, having met her at the very start of our hike. Now, she was wrapping up her flip-flop hike—a full-circle moment. During a brief encounter, “Yellow Hands” shared his trail philosophy with the boys:
Have fun.
No whining.
As long as you’re following rules one and two, nothing else matters.
The community of hikers out here is amazing. The actual existence of a 2,200 mile long walking path through the entire length of the Appalachian mountains is amazing. The trail community, trail towns, sunsets, views, pushing yourself to your limits, the wildlife, trees, flowers, all of it—amazing.
Here’s to our final push through the Appalachian mountains.
Happy hiking!
Sending love!!!!
Of it were ever able to hike again instead of existing in this wheelchair, I believe it would be in the Shenandoas. Those southern mountains are just gorgeous!