I’m not a rock climber.
Be aware of your surroundings because what we did was stupid and dangerous.
I’ve made questionable life decisions to quench my thirst for adventure. One of them was a cross-country road trip with a guy I had barely known for more than a month. I should preface that I do not trust people easily but I trust him. Well, as much as one stranger can trust another stranger.
The plan was to explore multiple Appalachian hiking spots, including Seneca Rocks.
A mountainous stack of nature that stands 900 feet above the heart of Monongahela National Forest. Its narrow, steep ridgelines have become a popular destination for advanced rock-climbing enthusiasts. While hikers can enjoy a 1.3-mile trail involving steps and switchbacks that lead to a observatory deck.
The Seneca Rocks Hiking Trail, although heavily trafficked, was extremely well-maintained. After reaching the summit, we feasted on turkey and cheese sandwiches while admiring the greenery of West Virginia as far as our eyes could see. Hundreds of miles of volcanic rocks and ocean sediments remain leftover from the creation of Pangaea. It’s an incredible geographical view to experience in this lifetime, especially on a perfect Autumn day.
Neither of us had broken a sweat. So I expected the descent to be just as easy.
My significant other scoped behind us to find the next footpath. It looked intimidating but not impossible. Some paths have more obstacles than others.
I spent the first portion going down, actively ensuring 3/4 limbs was always using something for leverage. We clamored over boulders and shimmed past thin trees, holding onto their trunks and hoping it wouldn’t be followed with a snap. A preventative from tumbling headfirst towards an inevitable broken bones scenario.
I started getting nervous and said, “I don’t think this is a trail. There’s no one else here either!”
“Yes it is!” he responded.
He’s cute, encouraging, and a bit delusional. Quite the trifecta for a travel companion. Plus I couldn’t refute the triangular blue marks leading our way down. We continued trekking. My ass was grass. I managed to lose my footing three times, falling over loose rocks. The further we got, the more exerting the hike became, but it was too late to turn back.
The relief I felt when we finally reached flat ground is beyond description. Or the surprise I felt from seeing a large “Attention Rock Climbers: You alone are responsible for your safety” sign waiting for us at the bottom.
I exasperatedly stared at my dumbfounded boyfriend, now fiancé. His response was, “…but did you die?”
