The Trail Begins
As I stand at the trailhead about to begin my hike for the second time in nearly a year, a great defeat in my opinion especially considering the 9.3 mile loop, I find it crucial to begin my tour with a historical analysis of the area I will soon be traversing. The land surrounding what is now considered Shenandoah National Park was settled by the Shawanee tribe, and the Manahoac tribe. Shawandasse Tula is the homeland name of the earth on which the trail begins. Translated in Algonquian, the name means Southwind Earth and in traditional tales of lineage, the land was a gift of sustenance to the Shawnee people from Gitche Manitou, the "Great Spirit" or Creator. According to native history, to reward the Shawnee people for their great sacrifice and divine commitment to the ceremony, the Creator blessed the tribe with access to the valley which provided not only plentiful farming land but also rich resources including ample game and flora.It is not hard to acknowledge the beauty and raw provision behind the land from the trails start. The first time I hiked this trail was with my father when I was sixteen years old and I always have such fond memories of the anticipation building in my belly as we migrated from the parking lot to the beginning of the trail. Entering the landscape it is not hard to feel connected to the space, a space that provided for members of the Shawanee tribes for thousands of years before it was exploited and settled by Europeans. As we prepare to explore the land before us, I implore you to take a breath and listen to the sounds of nature around you to reground yourself and your emotions prior to this experience. Closing your eyes, seek out the calls of the native avian species such as the wild chimney swift and chipping sparrow. Though many of the precise native names for these birds have been lost to colonialism, the Shawnee would have considered them under the umbrella term of wieskillotho (Cousins, 2012). The calls of these birds are unmistakable upon your entrance to the trailhead and mark the onset of a traversing within this space. If you struggle to identify the calls select the audio link below to listen and adjust yourself to fit within the collective memory of this space. These birds have been native species within this area for thousands of years and continue to thrive among the lush provisions of the land. Recall that this land we find ourselves on holds within it, beyond the soil, mud, and gravel, the history of a people before us. This history is a cyclical one that continues to build its value through the collective, as such the intentionality behind this journey needs to be one of appreciation for the land.
Trailhead One: A study of land
When I first hiked Old Rag with my father I wanted to prove myself. My father, a seasoned outdoorsman and nature enthusiast had always professed a fondness for the outdoors. From white-water rafting in Colorado to hiking the Appalachian trail twice, there was no doubt that his love for nature was unmatched. As such, I too wanted to rise to the occasion of living in my sixteenth year and learn to love the outdoors before I soon became too old or "too busy" to enjoy it. So when my father suggested the Old Rag hike, a whopping twelve-mile loop I signed on willingly because I wanted to prove to myself that my body was capable and that I was strong enough to handle the journey. With my overstuffed backpack and worn hiking boots, we loaded into the car in the early hours of the morning, hoping that dutiful timing would pay off in terms of pacing. I chose this particular mark for my guided hike as the 1-mile marker was a point of early success for my first time up the mountain. Moving beyond the marker I fondly recall an immense weathered boulder along the ridge of the trail. According to local geologists, the boulder served as a physical memory of debris that once fell following a landslide down the mountain face thousands of years ago. Touching the weathered face of the boulder one can feel the grooves and moss that grace its face. A humbling part of the geography, this boulder is a frequent reminder on my hike that not all facets of the land fit perfect geometric formatting. The European colonization of Virginia territory has led to a modern viewpoint that land is to be molded under the dominion of man to fit a clean linear segmentation. Yet, elements like this boulder remind me that nature does not bend to the will of man, willingly, and over time reclaims its space.
Trailhead 3: Audial Learning
During the pandemic, it was clear that a lot of people found a sort of peace in returning to nature to help break up the routine and anxious quality that coronavirus brought into our lives. I myself found a truly healing quality in nature, specifically this hike, that was something I had not experienced before the pandemic. Maybe it was the fact that I had not been to the gym in over six months or perhaps it was a much-needed break from staring at my computer screen but my third time hiking this land was different. The air felt crisper as I moved along to the 2.6-mile marker. I began to really "take in" my surroundings and make accounts in my mind of all of my senses at that moment. Within our studies in class, we have occasionally referenced back to the idea of felt knowledge and the way it can play into native counter-mapping of a given area. The evocative power of sound has always been crucial in the development and foundation of memories, so it is no surprise that upon researching the first people of this land, the Manahoac, I found they too prioritized audial knowledge of the land. At this point in the hike, I normally find myself stopping to notice the running water of the spring that lays upheld to my left.Upon the north face of the ridge, our trial intertwines itself over water trickling from a spring upslope. The noises of the spring light up my senses as I find myself following the sparkling shallow placid water trickle alongside me. It is also at this point that I usually feel my boots catch on a small green plant that roots itself along with the wet soil that spring brings with it. These sharp-toothed leaves though bothersome to a mere visitor myself, I have learned have had a far greater purpose for the indigenous members of the Manahoac tribe. The Manahoac, no longer in existence today, were a Siouan tribe that merged together with their Tutelo and Saponi neighbors in the 18th century (Hodge, 2012). This tribe the first indigenous tribe to settle on the land I now stand on, a mere two miles from the hike's start. Akin to the Shawanee tribe, the Manahoac people found a use for much of the flora and fauna that graced their land and as such, even found practical and medicinal purposes for this small green plant, known as a Stinging Nettle. To the Manahoac people, this plant is better known as čhanjíčahpehu, meaning sharp beak, and its purposes were great and varied according to what tribal literature was found regarding the area. Particularly the small nettles of this plant were recorded as helping to make rope and cordage frequently used in the fishing practices of the people. Moreover, details from local medicinal practitioners also note that the entire plant was often ground up into a paste that when applied to weary joints acted as a counter-irritant.
Trailhead Four: Weathering the journey
Not long after the spring, the trail becomes significantly steeper and rockier. You are about to come out of the woods and onto the rocks! From this point on to the summit, the trail is almost continuously on rocks. At 3.3 miles into the hike, you reach a fantastic view to the northwest and begin to take into account everything around you. This is a point that has time and time again caused me to reflect on the mountain scenery and break in my path. The branches of the Eastern pine in front of me grow away from the prevailing winds and guide my eye line to the breathtaking view in front of me.Undoubtedly this is my favorite part of this hike as I find that it holds an unmatched history that was easy for an individual like myself to realize. I find that every time I walk past this area and note on the rocks in front of me the weathered patterns of hiking boots that have worn this stone I harken back to the cyclical nature of my time in this place. I have walked this route many times and every time my boots have trailed along this stone wearing it down like those who walked this route before me. As such, my memories of this place all align with the idea that my experiences here have all built on each other and will continue to accumulate. Every tree blossoming and stone weathering is merely another ascension within the land that I can appreciate as an observer of place.
Trailhead Five: Entering the Cave
At this point, the trail goes through a short "cave." As you can tell, this is not really a cave, but rather a tremendous crack in the Old Rag Granite. And yet, it stands as a place that reminds me now of the indigenous histories that fill the land we inhabit. Though this place is settled by a different tribe, the formation alongside the mountain brings memories to mind of the intersections of life, place, and space within Natural Bridge, VA. For the Monacan nation, the bridge stands as a physical reminder of a battle won against enemies and a reward paid for by the Creator. Standing now at the precipice of the entrance, I cannot help but feel as though I have come to realize these indigenous histories originate from philosophical traditions deriving knowledge from the land. I wonder in the present moment if the Manahoac tribe, who surely walked among these stones, too had stories that explained the physicality of the land. If these stories did exist they have been rewritten by Western colonizers and have forced an entirely new generation to implore their own histories of place and being.
Trailhead Six: Peaking
It is often said upon beginning a hike like this one, that the most rewarding part of the entire experience is being able to take in the view from the top. Within this section of the tour, I have chosen to interview a friend and fellow hiker, Molly, who has traversed this landscape with me before and as such is able to provide commentary on what it truly feels like to reach the top.
Trailhead Seven: The descent begins
When I first began hiking this space, I recall thinking about the way in which the descent marks a just as worthy, if not more important space within one's journey along this terrain. For someone like myself, the descent down the mountain is entirely as challenging as the gait up the rocks. It makes one's body ache and demands to be felt as a presence within the hike you have chosen to embark on. This feeling of attachment to the land is one that I have been unable to shake since my boots first graced these rocks and is arguably a feeling I never want to lose. I cherish the shifting of cotton in my shoes as I try to navigate around the rock pools that fill the holes in the granite of the mountain. My fevered heart rate peaks as I grapple with the earth around me to maintain my balance. Hamstrings quivering and sweat perusing from my pores, this interaction with nature is one I find true pleasure in. There is something to be said about the way in which our memories of a given place are able to be felt by others. I am a strong believer that all the hikes along this trail have not only added to my personal history of felt memories but rather regional connectivity to all of those joining the journey along this trail. The weary smiles and exchanges of well-wishes or perhaps wishes that one had been better-prepared, fill this trail every season. And yet, every season the same exchanges of visitors on this land warm my heart and remind me of purpose. I feel enlivened to continue my journey and even more than that- thankful to those indigenous communities who upheld a whole connection to this body of earth. As you look around you at this point in the tour try to recall all those you have interacted with along your journey up the mountain. You need not remember every face or every voice but seek out those who inspired you to go further and motivated you in some way. In the present, it can often be hard to find the same sense of community that one may feel while hiking. The same unaltered appreciation for the land around you and the bounty that abounds with it. If you can, try to delve deeper into this feeling of appreciation and community along these rocks and beg yourself to consider the communities who found this area and maintained it for centuries.
Trailhead Eight: Family and the Flowers
My sister has only ever joined me on this hike once before and as such created a very memorable journey for the both of us. Reaching the 7-mile marker on this trail, one quickly finds themselves surrounded by plants in abundance, at least in the spring when we went. For my sister, she noted that this made the hike far more enjoyable as she got to observe all the local species of plants that were in bloom along the trail. Contrary to early markers that primarily featured mosses and grasses, the abundance of flowers when we hiked was immense. In particular, my sister, an amateur botanist, pointed out right off the trail a sect of purple blooms that had captured her attention. Knowing little about flowers outside the occasional bouquet or landscaping was curious to see the flowering of this small plant. My sister suggested it looked like an orchid and implored me to take photos of it so that we could ask a family friend who was a former park ranger. Upon finishing our hike we learned that this particular species of Orchid was known as a "snowy orchid" that is commonly found blooming alongside the rich wet soil of the trails in early spring. My sister and I felt so lucky to be able to experience the blooming of this native plant. As such, I implored myself to see if there was a deeper history of the plant as it related to the Manahoac tribe that once inhabited this land. Unfortunately, as much of my research of this area proved, if there was any Manahoac literature regarding the name of this plant, it was lost to time and colonization. This interaction ultimately provided me with an emphasis on the importance of Indigenous knowledge when interacting with the land. As these tribes gained insight over thousands of years, they surely knew the species to inhabit this soil, the best. In missing this information I cannot help but feel that a piece of this history is surely lost.
Trailhead Nine: Reaffirming a connection to land
Above all else, my genealogy of this land has taught me much regarding the history of place and space and the way in which the process of western colonization has erased indigenous stories of being in a given space. Old Rag stands as a territory inhabited by two proud tribes of indigenous peoples, the Shawnee and Manahoac. However, this project has taught me that much of the indigenous history of this land has been removed from the common consciousness and has been replaced by the knowledge of the colonizers. From the proper names of local species to the native philosophical and spiritual linkages that told of the earthy formations surrounding us, it seemed as though history had been lost.Being such, I find it important to detail, the contributions of said tribes to the local area, particularly the stewardship they practiced in maintaining the land that we walk on. Beginning first with the former tribe known as the Manahoac, records indicate that the indigenous community numbered only 1,500 in total population and was a semi-nomadic community of hunters and gathers. The tribe is recorded as having spoken a Siouan-type language and had many close ties to those neighboring tribes along the Shenandoah Valley. As such this tribe faced dispossession of land when European explorers began traversing the Virginian landscape, rather than direct contact with Western colonization. As such these tribal members were forced to assimilate into neighboring tribes. The Manahoac were most known for their open relations with other tribes such as the Monacan which is perhaps what lead to their assimilation into other tribes in the area (Bushnell 1935)Continuing on to the Shawnee tribe which inhabited much of the land northeastern land comprising what is now known as Shenandoah National Park. Again not much is known about the Shawnee tribe as unfortunately there has been an immense erasure of the tribe's history within the area. Even more than the Manahoac, the Shawnee lack many records when it comes to those prescribed by tribes local to the area who might have interacted with the Shawnee. As such, this lack of information truly highlights a need to prioritize the investigation of the oral histories that descended from these tribes as a means to better understand the persons who had lived experiences on the land. Finishing the tail-end of this hike, I spotted a snake among the brush and began to wonder if those before me interacted with creatures like this one and if so if they had histories to share.
Trailhead Eleven: A Final Goodbye
Now standing at the tail end of the hike, nearly 9 miles completed and nearing the parking lot, I feel so grateful for being able to have experienced traversing this space again. My time being local to Charlottesville is coming to an end and I know that I will not be able to frequent this mountain and its hike as many times as I once did. My dad often told me that as demanding and painstaking as this hike was, I would miss it once I moved away. I seldom agreed with this point but I now begin to understand its truth. This land of the Manahoac and Shawandasse people has blessed me with an abundance of memories to last a lifetime. From jaunts during the pandemic with friends to family camping trips that always resulted in a last-minute journey up the trail, this land has truly changed me for the better. While the hike has almost always been about the journey and not the destination, the reality of an endpoint is inescapable. There is a part of me that wants to remain grounded here among these pine trees and worn trails. However, I know now that there is an element of cyclicality that will remain with me forever when I think of this space. Though I may move farther and farther from these hills with every change that life directs my way, I can always find memory that ground me back along the mossy river banks and blooming trails.
