More coming soon...

AdventureVA is coming back for a return trip across the state by the end of the month!

Forgive My Absence

Where have all the posts gone? Despite a trip to Humpback Rocks in Charlottesville and a breathtaking fall hike through the York River State Park, I have been hesitant to post here. I've run out of storage room in my Flickr account, which means I don't have anywhere to host my latest photos - which happen to be the narration to my entries. I figure, it just isn't the same without the pictures!

In the meantime, I have been authoring a new blog called "MLS Fan Central", which is dedicated to Major League Soccer rumors, news, and analysis. Despite the fact that I'm back home in Virginia and continuing to explore the wonderful creation of God in this beautiful state, the MLS has received most of my attention. I encourage you to take a look at it, but don't abandon me here quite yet either. I'm looking into finding some more hosting space to upload pictures, which means more narrations and trip reports to come!

Also, in the next week I plan on getting to Humpback Rocks and a few mountain bike trails around the Hampton Roads area. Fall is a beautiful season and I'll do my best to bring it home for you!

Photo Featured in Publication

For a while now, Adventure VA has been, well, Adventure MIA. School started and the party stopped, and my daily excursions took on a more urban affair. I'm back in downtown Chicago, but am still dreaming of treks through the Appalachians, bridge jumping, and historic encounters throughout Virginia. In the mornings I wake up and look at Virginia Beach web cams as religiously as my yuppie neighbor studies the New York Times, although to be honest I think I get a little more satisfaction out of my endeavor. I have made a few attempts to try the urban edition of the AdventureVA lifestyle, but most of the time plans fell through and I found myself sitting on my couch playing FIFA on the XBOX.

Today is a special occasion, however, because I have the opportunity to talk about the glory days that were this past summer. The other day I received an email saying that one of my pictures, which was featured on this blog, has been chosen for inclusion in the newly released third edition of the Schmap Richmond Guide.

I'm definitely honored to be in this publication, no matter how little my contribution may be. The fact that someone has noticed and appreciated my photography is certainly a blessing. And if nothing else, at least it gave me a reason to return to this blog! You can view the image in the guide at the following link, or you can also play around with the Widget that the Schmap Guide provided!

http://www.schmap.com/richmond/activities_guided/p=268507/i=268507_3.jpg

(Look for Pamplin Park & National Museum of the Civil War Soldier, # 13 of 19 in the widget. You will find my photo of the park forest there.)

Beckham Rant

America has discovered one of England's favorite pastimes in criticizing David Beckham, but this bashing is undeserved...Many people have tried very hard to dislike David Beckham. Few have succeeded in the long run.

Martin Rogers, Yahoo Sports

Finally, in an overwhelming world of sports journalism covering the controversial move of David Beckham, this perfect headline found its way to the front page of Yahoo! Sports. It has taken thousands of amateur and professional journalists alike to discover the perfect spin on one of the most hyped moves in sports history, but in this case, Martin Rogers has struck gold. Now it's my turn to share the gospel and rally behind an emerging American sports hero, David Beckham.

It has been an ugly summer for American sports to say the least, with controversy surrounding baseball and steroids, pro wrestling and steroids, Michael Vick and Pacman Jones, Tim Donaghy, and Kobe Bryant. This list could go on. Even the most dedicated sports fans are losing faith in the American sports industry, which has proven itself to be "dirtier" than ever. It has been difficult to find a positive spin on an embarrassing summer of stories that has dogged American's enthusiasm and depressed sports journalism, yet for some reason even the exciting story of David Beckham's arrival has been met with cruel criticism and unfair disrespect.

As Rogers' story on Yahoo! will point out, however, hating David Beckham is becoming harder and harder. Beckham has been patient with his ankle, resisting the temptation to risk further injury just to please fans. When he has stepped on the field, he has made an immediate and direct impact on his team. Hear that, Kobe? Off the field, Beckham has poured an extra mile of effort into helping others, leaving an unmatchable impact on American citizens while establishing a positive relationship with the public. Hear that, Barry? Furthermore, Beckham has behaved and done it all the right way, with proper motives and admirable integrity. Hear that, Michael and Pac?

So why all the criticism and outright hatred? David Beckham has proved to be a role model and an icon in an American sports industry that is plagued with atrocities. Journalists and fans cry foul and bloody murder when Kobe whines, Pac, Vick, and Donaghy become criminals, and Barry cheats, but they don't cheer when Beckham acts like they wished athletes would act. Not only do they refrain from praising the admirable acts of Beckham, but they go as far as to crucify his efforts and demean his attempt to strengthen Major League Soccer. Does anyone else notice an inconsistency?

The truth is, it isn't about Beckham. American bigots, fearful of soccer's potential, are doing everything they can to diminish his impact. Before Beckham even arrived, the MLS was being written off and ridiculed. For some reason, our society has created a mental block against soccer for absolutely no reason, declaring it an inferior and boring "foreign" game. The arrogance of these fans, which is championed by one-dimensional journalists and TV hosts, needs to stop.

And it will stop. This very arrogance is fading and failing against the unrelenting kindness and integrity of David Beckham, who is once again proving his critics wrong. In a sports world that is absolutely crumbling under controversy and corruption, soccer is standing tall and carrying the flame of sports integrity. For Beckham, it really is about the love of the game. Can you say that about Barry, Vick, Donaghy, and the host of criminals and selfish fools in professional American sports? So for the love of sports, show David Beckham some respect. Give soccer a chance, and shed your bitterness toward the advancement of the game. You can only knock David and the MLS for so much longer.

I encourage you to read Rogers' article posted at Yahoo! Sports, which can be found by clicking the following link: http://sports.yahoo.com/mls/news;_ylt=AkEiwp9wOBsl8MkD.BqW43Q5nYcB?slug=ro-beckham081707&prov=yhoo&type=lgns

Let's Go Fishing

One week later, the rush and enthusiasm generated from last week's adventures have yet to wear off. Just as I had expected, the fault of taking such a spectacular trip so early in the summer season has made any of my following adventures tame in comparison. Yet, as the days pass by, the southern heat slowly works to weather away my memory of that larger-than-life week, and the flatland of southeast Virginia has become the centerpiece of my latest adventures.

So after spending the first half of the week climbing mountains and jumping off bridges, Cain and I decided we were going to try our luck at fishing and crabbing, a promising adventure given our proximity to the Atlantic Ocean, James River, and the surrounding waterways of Hampton Roads. The new adventure presented the opportunity to catch species of fish never seen before by our Midwestern fishing gear, and the promise of reeling in a catch of saltwater descent that would be heavier than any fish we could have caught in Wisconsin.

Our first real shot at the saltwater prizes hosted in the Chesapeake Bay came on the grounds of First Landing State Park, in Virginia Beach. We were hardly equipped with the right saltwater gear and garb, but our anticipation of what was to come overwhelmed our pride, enabling us to walk into the on-site bait shop with our tails between our legs, seeking any available help. To our comfort, help happened to be waiting for a pair of rooks as ourselves before we even arrived...

Her name was Judy, "Miss Judy" as she insisted to be called. Miss Judy was an older woman, but lively, unbelievably kind, and eager to help. She told us stories of fishing trips on her husband's boat, pointed to fish she had caught and mounted on the walls in her shop, and spoke with us as if we had been friends for years. Certainly, not even southern sweet tea could be as sweet as Miss Judy. Miss Judy made us feel right at home, as if we weren't tourists with out a clue in the world. She informed us that we didn't need the heavy expensive stuff, and stepped out from behind her counter to pull some gear off the shelves for us. The gear included a bucket, crab trap, some saltwater leaders, hooks, squid, and chicken.

"That's it?"

That was it. About $20 worth of gear later, and we were ready to hit the beach and begin terrorizing the Chesapeake Bay with our mastery of fishing under Miss Judy's blessing. She tipped us off where to drop our lines and lay our trap, and we were off.

Let me begin first with the crabbing. We proudly waltzed out into the water maybe 40 yards with our newly purchased, chicken neck loaded crab trap, hoping to get as close as possible to the pile of old wooden posts Miss Judy had referred us to. We could only get so far because the water quickly ran up to our necks, so we dropped the trap where we could and wandered back to shore to wait the recommended 15 minutes for unsuspecting crabs to find their way to our bait.

In the meantime, we strung up some fishing poles again as Miss Judy had recommended, along with the squid she pulled out of her freezer, and thus began our first official saltwater fishing experience. We hadn't a clue what we were doing, but it felt good. There was a certain pride and joy to shore fishing like this, and with a satisfying tone I said to myself, "Man, I could get used to this."

But before I could get too used to the whole game, Cain was already running back into the water to track down our first victim of the day. Apparently, curiosity had won some sort of battle with patience in Cain, and he did what I was dying to do: check our crab trap. As I followed him into the water, he swam ahead and pulled our trap out of the water. VIC-TO-RY! He held up the trap, and sure enough, there was our first crab. That was a proud moment to say the least.

We walked back to shore, and struggled to find a way to get our new friend into the bucket that would later become his site of his unfortunate demise. After some poking and prodding, some unsuccessful attempts to strike our crab into obedience, I just dumped him out of the trap into the bucket, shaking it until he could hang on no more. And that was the mark of success, our first catch, and the birth of a new hobby.

Crabbing is an absolute blast, as it is extremely cheap, easy, and exciting. And although I have not eaten any of my catches, I'm told it is unbelievably sweet and quite a culinary reward to bring home some fresh crab. You can get everything you need for $12, trap and bait included, and begin dropping it anywhere you think you can find crab. It is a great way to pass the afternoon, spend time with family, or feel better about yourself when you can't catch any fish on your expensive fishing pole. Which reminds me...

We couldn't catch a darn thing. An older man just 20 yards down from us, had pulled a blue fish out of the water to our encouragement. "There are fish out here," we kept telling each other. "If he got one, we can get one." Apparently the man thought the same, as he came over to check on us. Apparently, despite feeling like pros already, we didn't look like it.

The man came over, and showed us how to better bait our hooks. We had basically packed squid guts on our hooks, which the man said the fish don't want. Makes sense, now that I think about it. I wouldn't want any guts, so why would they? He showed us how to cut strips out of the squid's exterior, leaving the guts and heads behind. With a newfound inspiration and encouragement, Cain and I cut away at our squid to prepare for the real domination to begin... Unfortunately, however, it never came.

We still never caught anything.

But when the day was all said and done, it was an outstanding finish to an exciting week. A new hobby was born in crabbing, and a renewed addiction to fishing surfaced. We would go out again the next day, this time to the Eastern Shore, where we would catch more crabs, and Cain managed to pull a very junior black drum out of the bay. Now that I am thoroughly addicted to these activities, you can expect some fishing reports, crabbing tips, and anything else I can think of that you might find helpful. Just be warned, you start crabbing and fishing, it'll take your life over. Humor me... before you know it, you'll be hooked too.

2 vs 1: The James River Foot Bridge

Indescribable as jumping 50 feet into water is, here goes my best shot. After completing the near four mile hike that morning, both Mike and I were exhausted. We stopped at a gas station and picked up our victory drink as soon as we could. We drank orange soda. We got on the road for our roughly two hour drive to the bridge. There was a certain air of excitement, and trust me there had to be because both of us were drained. So after an hour of driving, I gave the wheel to Mike because I could hardly keep focused on the road. He got us there safely and we geared up for the jump.

Here is a snapshot of my thought process: Wow, that's high. I want to jump. I hope I don't chicken out. Where's my shoes? I want more orange soda. Wow, that's high. I hope the water isn't cold. I've never done anything like this. I hope we get a sweet picture. Wow, that's high...

So after keeping it cool we approached the bridge with great courage. Think Apollo 13 when they're boarding the spaceship. As we approached the jump spot, we saw a group of younger kids jumping from the bridge. We stopped to take some pictures (featured below), and continued on. After taking off the shirt, shoes, and cowardice we were standing next to our 50 ft opponent.

I looked at Mike and he asked if I wanted to start on the lower level of the bridge like these kids were doing. I told him that we would end up jumping from the top, so we should just start there. We both mounted the top beam, and got ready to roll. Took a good long look at each other and then down at our landing zone. I told Mike to count it off. 3....2....1....

Here i would like to interject and apologize for the recent use of a journalistic cliche. The slow countdown in print never really works, and really seems to be overrated. The sports version of this is Christian Laettner, Ryan Leaf, Darko Milicic, or any body else that looks great on paper but never really pans out. The countdown just doesn't seem effective unless you're the one that uses it. Sorry for the interjection, but all that to say that, like the Grizzlies and Darko, given the right situation I still believe in that little number/ellipse combination.

... In the air is an incredible feeling. There is no control to be had over the next few moments of your life. You're hitting that water weather you like it or not, but there is no time to think about any of that. All you can think is wow, I'm in the air and I'm going fast. Then there is the water and you're in it. Really a fantastic feeling to surface. There is a feeling like you just beat something. Like you're bigger than that bridge and like the river owes you something.

We spent the rest of the afternoon jumping from the bridge about 5 or 6 times and playing with a really cool rope swing (also featured below). You would run forward on this cement block under the bridge and swing out over the river on the rope. It feels like a summer movie.

The experience was something I can never forget and has wet my appetite for something bigger and more extreme. If you're ever in West Virginia and you want to test your courage, take the jump.

McAfee's Knob 2007-07-15

McAfee's Knob Trail Report: Over the years, I have spent most of my breaks from school dreaming up camping trips to remote rivers and mountains, seeking out the most beautiful and sometimes challenging encounters with nature that I could find. Finally, I was able to realize my dream for an intense and breathtaking experience with nature at McAfee's Knob in Catawba, VA. The fact that the climb to the Knob, the most photographed spot on the Appalachian Trail, was so strenuous is what turns a breathtaking experience into a story. It is because I had never hiked with a pack before, to such high elevation even more, that I could have a story to narrate such unexplainable pictures that you see at the end of this post.

Upon arriving at the parking lot on VA-311, I could hardly wait to get on the trail. The drive along VA-311 into Catawba (near Roanoke) was like something out of a car commercial, as the road quite dramatically winds through the mountains. Intense grades and twists actually make it a daunting yet adolescently enjoyable task, certainly whetting one's appetite for the climb that is to come. Cain and I quickly packed our things (too quickly as we would later find out), strapped on our packs, and headed across the road to an immediately breathtaking stone staircase.

The hike did in fact start out as a breathtaking experience. Only thing is, it wasn't breathtaking because of its beauty. It was just down right exhausting, and just a hundred yards in, we were spent. Huffing and puffing, discussing how we were out of shape flat-landers, we reached the registration board and officially began our trip along the AT. We took a brief moment to read a few notes in the registration journal, signed our names, and moved along. The wonder of the view we were soon to achieve was so enticing that nothing was going to hold our attention for very long until we arrived at our final destination.

The hike continued to be quite strenuous, yet we walked at a very brisk pace. Each of us had about 30-40 pounds on our back, which very quickly became annoying up the steep trails that would eventually take us to 3200 ft elevation. Although, the weight was bearable and satisfying. There was something pure and authentic about carrying all our gear on our backs and spending the night on the mountain. I actually drew encouragement as we passed other people without packs; they looked at us with awe and they seemed impressed with our desire to hike with all that just to sleep up the mountain. In fact, most people gave us encouragement as we passed and commended us for our efforts. My pride swelled, and I felt like a true outdoorsman, a real mountain man and trail expert, when in reality I was just an exhausted flat-lander who was too stubborn to accept anything less than the most extreme way of experiencing McAfee's Knob.

Along the way, we encountered a variety of wildlife, including lizards, vultures, caterpillars, and deer. There were wild berries, deep forest, and intimidating rock slabs that were so dominant that footbridges had to be built over their steep grade to allow safe passing. We stopped a number of times for water and photos, but still managed to walk at a brisk pace. It only ended up taking us about 2 hours to get to the top, which in my mind is impressive for a few first-timers climbing 1200 ft over 3.5 miles with up to 40 pounds on our backs.

As we approached the highly anticipated moment of victory atop McAfee's Knob, the trail became extremely rocky and steep. Loose rock on the painfully steep trail made walking difficult, and we were entering a realm of exhaustion. Yet the drive to make it to the top was overpowering, and after a painful final few hundred feet, a clearing emerged. A sign confirmed our suspicion of accomplishment: McAfee Knob 3197 ft. We were there.

The view from the Knob was unbelievable to say the least. We threw off our packs (as we had been wishing to do for about the last 2 miles), finished off a water bottle, and dangled our feet over the cliffs we had just conquered. The view was unreal, and I couldn't believe what was before me. One thing was apparent: pictures were not going to tell the real story of what McAfee's Knob really looks like. We sat in silence, in awe of the spectacle. Vultures flew over the ridges ahead, and birds sang through the valley like nature's own orchestra. It was a sight to behold, to sit above the ridges, above the tress, and even above the birds' song. There was plenty of room along the overlook to pace up and down, catching a glimpse of the most spectacular view from every angle we could. In just a moment, all of the treacherous walking had suddenly become worth it.

After falling in love with the Catawba Valley below and the unbelievable view, we decided to press on and continue exploring our way to our campsite. We had plenty of time as the hike didn't take as long as expected, so we figured later in the afternoon would hold a return trip to the brilliance of the Knob. After our descent down through Devil's Kitchen, that idea quickly faded away. We had heard the .9 mi trek down the other side of the mountain was steep, but we had no idea it was this steep. The trail was extremely narrow, and thus required more precise passing than before. The path was loose, which meant one wrong step and you were sliding down a slippery slope of dry pine needles and similar forest carpeting that blanketed the mountainside. It was .9 miles of switchbacks, stepping over fallen trees, and clinging to tree branches around difficult turns.

Finally arriving at our campsite, we were pleased to see a picnic table, fire pit, and home for our tent for the night. Once again we eagerly threw off our packs and collapsed on the table. One thing was apparent before anything else: we weren't going back up that trail again tonight. Our feet were sore and our legs shot, we were hungry and thirsty. It was time to set up camp.

After scarfing down some water and energy bars, we elected to first set up our tent. This was a comical experience, not because it was a disaster trying to set it up, but because once it was up, we couldn't tell if it was the actual tent or one of those model tents they put on the store shelves to show you what a life-size version would look like. It was that small. We decided to deal with that issue later though, as it was now nap time. Cain found his way to the tent while I decided to leave my gear with him and hike back up to the Knob.

I couldn't resist. As I sat there and stared into the deep forest, I heard the Knob calling me out. It was such an enticing view that I had to ignore my blisters and sore legs in favor of one more glimpse of greatness. I fought my way back up through Devil's Kitchen, returning to the Knob with great satisfaction. This time, I had it all to myself. The sun was setting and the breeze was chilling. It was almost creepy being there alone, but it was a new experience in itself. I'm glad I trekked to the spot by myself, because it offered an intimacy with the experience that is quite memorable.

Later that night, after Cain's nap and my solitary excursion at the Knob, it was finally dinnertime. We cooked at our campsite as the risk of a bear visit was apparently slim, and we were too tired to go anywhere else anyway. We warmed up some food on the propane stove, and enjoyed some stew and barbecue sandwiches. Although, we had left our forks in the car when we rushed ourselves onto the trail upon arrival, so I had to cut the bottoms off some empty waterbottles to function as spoons. The meal was satisfying, and after cleaning our mess we lit a fire in the fire ring and waited for darkness to fall.

We couldn't see any stars as we were in thick woods, and for the most part it was pitch black outside. There were no bugs, which made it easy to sit around the fire and peer into the darkness of the woods. The wind was picking up, so we let the fire cool and headed off to bed, jamming ourselves in our miniature tent. The designated tent site happened to be on a slight hill, which made sleeping even harder, but I think we were so tired, we managed to get at least some rest.

The next morning, we were awakened by a deer walking through our campsite. It was searching for food apparently, and was comfortable enough with our presence that it wasn't startled when we woke up and poked out heads out to watch it. The deer looked back at us, then back down to the ground to mind his business. We sat for about 2-3 minutes watching the deer, before it finally walked off disappointed that we hadn't left any food for its taking.

Breakfast was quick, we cooked our remaining sausages (which we had hung in a bag off a tree 50 yards away from out campsite during the night) and ate an energy bar. Then, after cleaning up and making sure we left nothing behind, we once again hit the trail. The walk up through Devil's Kitchen was once again breath taking, in the most challenging sense once again. It was painful and unrewarding, offering just one small overlook of a nearby mountain where trees had been cleared for a powerline. However, we knew there was one reward at the end: McAfee's Knob, this time an early morning encounter.

The view in the morning was twice as nice. Fog rolled over the hills and elegantly highlighted their depth. The sun peaked over a ridge, and the birds once again played their tune, animating the valley. It was now that I realized this was something that everyone has to see, not matter how difficult they find the hike. We sat, dangling our legs over the cliff and savoring every second with sheer joy. There was a sense of completeness sitting there, a oneness with God and sense of accomplishment for our toils. Before leaving, we captured a few more photos of ourselves on the Knob and offered our final farewells to the most beautiful thing I've ever seen not named Laura Trotta.

As we began our hike down the mountain, we couldn't help but feel an incredible sense of victory in the air. We were the only ones on the mountain, the morning was cool, and we had just survived our first AT camping trip while getting to see one of Virginia's most beautiful sites. The hike down was hard, although not hard like it was coming up. The way up was a take your breath away, punch you in the stomach and stub your toe hard. This descent was brutal on our already tired legs, more just wearing than anything.

Within a mile of reaching VA-311, where our car was parked, we finally ran into someone else. A local man from the Appalachian Trail Conservancy was just hitting the trail, looking for fallen trees that may have covered the path during last night's wind. We sat and chatted for about 10 minutes, and his company was quite pleasant. He offered us each an apple, which at that point was much needed as we were out of water and hungry, and he also tipped us off on some lesser known views that we should check out along the trail next time. Sharing this conversation with this man added to the mystique of the trip, as we were able to experience the camaraderie of the AT while discussing our adventures on the trail.

After our conversation with the kind gentleman, we finally were able to finish our return trip. We signed out at the registration board, confirming our safe return and reporting our great night in the woods. It was here that every sentiment described above became official: I was now a successful outdoorsman and a trail aficionado, confirmed in the record book kept at the registration board. McAfees Knob was now my friend, and I was a part of the AT community.