Strickler Knob

What a hidden gem this was.  I must say I'm glad I found it.  That said, Strickler Knob wasn't the original plan.  Rather, Casey and I were set to take ourselves on a 17 mile overnighter to test out our backpacks (and willpower), but the weather forecasters scared me away.  I am sure Casey would appreciate that I reiterate that the weather forecasters scared me away - not him.  He was merely intent on being a good boyfriend and not having the deal with the avalanche of "I told you so's" should I feel a drop of rain as we were hiking.  The sky was blue, the sun was shining, and weather.com and every other weather service that I could find seemed intent to inform me that I was planning my imminent demise should I choose to spend the night in a flimsy little tent.  "Scattered thunderstorms." "Wait, no, BIG thunderstorms!" "Tornado watch!!!" "Stay inside. Lock the doors. Hide out in a basement! Everybody panic!"  I'm a good rule follower.  I panicked.

And with that, I put together a menagerie of possible little day hikes that might fulfill Casey's need for "strenuous" and my need to be locked away under a real roof when the rain struck.  I laid my proposal out to Casey with care and we decided that Strickler Knob might just be an okay alternative.  Even more, a little hike called Bearfence Mountain was only an hours drive from Strickler, so if we were feeling it, we'd be able to do both in one day.  And so we departed, still with our backpacks, as if to salvage just a little bit of the original plan.  The new plan?  Hike Strickler Knob with the packs on, drive to Bearfence, return home, and call it a day.

The drive from Northern Virginia (I'm home for June!) wasn't bad, although I should admit that I sang along to music in the passenger seat while Casey did the driving.  The sky was still a bright bird's egg blue when we arrived at the trailhead and set off to our destination.  From what we had read, the trail to Strickler Knob was not an official trail and so might not be particularly well kept up or marked.  This had a bit of merit to it, but really - there was little to no fear of ever getting "lost."  The first (nearly) two miles of the trip were on a path that was more of a fire road - rocky at parts, but quite wide - and definitely official trails.  It isn't until you need to make the turn for the last leg of the hike (at which point you are less than a mile from the knob) that the going gets a bit more tricky.  Namely, the tricky part for us was actually finding the turn.  Once we found it, there were more than enough faded pinkish beige markers to keep us headed in the appropriate direction.  We missed the turn off for the unofficial trail the first time around and proceeded to hike another 3 tenths of a mile down the other side of the mountain before we decided that we had gone too far.  But hey, we saw some tadpoles in a little puddle, which was nice.  The sky?  Still cloudless and blue.  We turned around and did manage to find the trail branching off of the main Massanutten Trail right at the top of the ridge.  If you start going down the other side, you have gone too far.

For as uneventful as the first section of the hike was, this last leg was a lot of fun. 

The way was rocky, with some rock scrambling at the end and at least three or four beautiful overlooks before we even reached the main overlook point (from which there were 360 degree views).  Better than Old Rag, I'd say.  The rock scrambling wasn't quite as intense, but it was fun.  The only downside was that from the moment that we left the car until the moment we arrived back at the car, we were plagued by a wide variety of bugs.  The gnats were the first of our nemeses.  They seemed to subside a bit as we reached the ridge, but then came the flies and one very irritating, very persistent little bee.   

At the top, we had planned to eat our lunch, admire the views, and then head back.  The bee seemed to want to join us.  He buzzed around and proceeded to land on my arm.  I'm not afraid of bees, but I really didn't want to get stung and wasn't quite sure of the correct protocol when a bee decides to spend ten minutes feasting on the sweat on your arm.  He was totally content.  I was concerned.  Casey was laughing his head off, but refusing to get any closer than a good three feet from me and the bee.  I devised a plan.  Using my left arm, I snatched the bag of fruit and seed mix that we had brought.  I removed a single piece of dried pineapple and stuck it in front of the bee's face.  It took him a minute, but eventually he placed all (six I think?) feet onto the pineapple chunk.  Step one: check.  In a quick swoop, I chucked the pineapple off the side of the cliff.  Step two: check.  And then the bleak (re)realization of "oh shit, bees can fly" as the bee zoomed back off of the falling pineapple towards my face.  I brandished my bag of fruit and nut mix at him.  He divebombed me.  I flailed.  Casey fled the overlook rock.  I yelled at Casey.  The bee zoomed in again.  I swatted him. Again.  I made a lunge for the side of the rock from which we had gotten up.  I started to climb down.  And got stuck halfway.  The bee landed on my leg.  Well crap.

And there I was, clinging to the edge of the rock, a cliff on one side of me, not quite sure where the next rock was to place my foot, a bee on my leg, all whilst begging that Casey please come back and help me get down.  Casey took one look at the bee and decided to direct me from afar.  I continued to panic.  He finally came to my rescue and plucked me off of the rock wall and placed me onto the lower rock base.  Turns out I was about three inches away the whole time.  Oops.

Long story short, we survived our close encounter with the bumble bee (I know I sound like a real tough hiker here...) and successfully carried 20 pounds apiece up and down the trail.

As we were leaving, my mother called, having heard the weather reports, telling us that we'd best return home.  We went ahead and skipped the trip to Bearfence Mountain.  That massive storm?  Yeah, it still hasn't rained a drop.