How to Hike Old Rag for Non-Hikers

“It’s hero time!” The twelve-year-old Boy Scout looked at me encouragingly. I responded with a dubious look into the eight-foot deep crevasse below. My boyfriend had already descended; in fact, I had already watched several other hikers descend.

This is it. Do it, or turn back and live with myself.

We were already two miles up Old Rag Mountain, a 3,284-foot tall peak in Shenandoah National Park. It is a rite of passage for Virginians—or at least, my boyfriend and I decided so. When he emailed me a week earlier, with the innocent subject “Fall Date Ideas,” he had no idea what we were getting into. But as the week progressed, we slowly learned from coworkers just what the hike entailed: a one-mile rock scramble not recommended for inexperienced hikers.

The safety video on Shenandoah’s National Park’s website did little to quell my concerns. “If you’re not sure you can do it, don’t come.”

I turned to my boyfriend. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

He waved his hand and uttered those words that are somehow never reassuring: “You’ll be fine.”

What to Wear

The early fall temperature of 65 degrees Fahrenheit could not have been better suited for this hike. Capri-length gym pants, a tank top and a Nike dry-fit pullover were perfect; and though the climb was a workout, I was always pleasantly cool.

The only issue with my ensemble was my shoes: sneakers with a slightly worn tread did not mess me up too much, but they did slip in a few places. 

Hiking shoes recommended.

We decided then that ascending the mountain would count as our Virginia rite of passage. As newcomers to the area, we had spent much of our free time hitting up the tourist spots in DC, but little time exploring the vast rural areas Virginia has to offer. It was time.

I woke up at seven (on a weekend! If you know me at all, you know this is a feat in and of itself), had a good breakfast and we were out the door a little after eight. As we drove through scenic rural Virginia, watching the county welcome signs fly by and rocking out to The Beatles’ White Album, I put my fears behind me and determined that today would be a Good Day.

We pulled into the parking lot around ten and began our ascent.

Hike to the False Summit

We passed plenty of scenic views on the Ridge Trail before we even arrived at the first false summit. The trail zig zags up the mountain, and along the way we saw many outcroppings and rock steps that cut into the face of the mountain and seem like something Tolkien described in The Lord of the Rings.

About a mile and a half up the trail, we reached the first of many spectacular views. But it was the second stop that would take my breath away.

"Oh, this isn't so bad..."

After scrambling up an (easy) rock face, we stopped and sat on one of the many granite (I think?) rocks and looked out at the mountains and trees below. I don’t know what it was—the hike behind us, the feeling of triumph at even coming this far (and we probably weren’t even halfway up by this point), or the view itself, but as I looked out at the surrounding view… I had no words. I know it’s cliché, but our Earth is full of beautiful, magnificent places, which we take for granted day-to-day.

We didn’t pause long. We had a long way to go.

After that first scenic overlook, we passed many, pausing to snap pictures and grab a quick snack. We didn’t bring lunch—a mistake—but we gobbled up our snacks, sipped some water and enjoyed the view.

Then we were back on our way.

The Rock Scramble

Eventually, we came to a point in the hike where we thought, “This must be the top.” Then, we turned the corner. This would happen many times. It turned out, we really were only at the beginning.

A line had formed at the start of the Rock Scramble, for which Old Rag is well known and which gives the mountain a 4 out of 6 rating on Hiking Upward. Even at this point, a bad feeling rolled in the pit of my stomach. This was it, this was the place we would have to turn back.

But as we rounded the corner, it didn’t seem so bad. The climb just required some shimmying between two sloped rock faces. Sure, we had to balance, and be careful not to slip—but it wasn’t hard. As we progressed through the rocks, Boy Scouts scrambled in and out of the rocks around us. “Elijah, come back!” shouted one chaperone. “Climb back up right now!”

Just as the kids started to climb back up, we turned the second corner—and realized perhaps the kids had found the right path. But it was too late to turn back; and besides, the path the kids had found had required fitting through crevices too small for an adult.

Into the Crevasse

I watched as several hikers passed me, descending the eight-foot crevasse with, well, maybe not quite
“ease,” but without struggle.

“Brace your left foot here,” my boyfriend explained, “then put your right foot here.” He pointed out the steps. I watched a few other hikers pass.

“It’s hero time!” the Boy Scout next to me said.

Thinking of the Nike logo emblazoned on my dry-fit pullover, I looked down at the crevasse. “Just do it.”

For most of the rock scramble, the true challenge lies in the mind, and not in the body. This is not to belittle the truly strenuous physical activity the hike requires, but ultimately, going up the mountain takes more than the power in your legs, the strength in your arms and the grip of your fingertips. It takes willpower of the mind. It takes a firm determination. It takes a mental attitude that doesn’t accept the idea of quitting.

Now safe in the crevasse, I plowed ahead, the trail being relatively flat. We weaved through rocks; parts of the trail were even pounded dirt. But then a break through the trees showed us: large rocks piled up into the sky. Above us, tiny hikers stood out on small rocky outcrops, enjoying the view.

But I had made the first, and most important, choice. There was no turning back.

We continued our ascent, the phrase “Come back Elijah” a constant accompaniment to the sound of our footfalls.

At times, confident and practiced, I scrambled up the rocks like I had always known what to do. Other times, of course, I must have looked ridiculous, crawling and crabwalking over the rocks, unable or unwilling to stand. In some places, the scramble ascended like steps; in others, a certain application of physics—namely, put pressure with one foot on that rock and pressure with the other foot on that rock—was required. After that first crevasse, though, no challenge was too difficult.

The Road Ahead

Until, of course, it was. We reached another crevasse just as a large group caught up to us. Feeling suddenly flustered by the knowledge I was holding up other hikers, I stepped to the side and watched dubiously as they crossed the crevasse.

This one did not require a descent, but rather, a long stride up and across. Each hiker would place their left foot at the edge of the ground, stretch out their right leg and place it in a foothold on the other side, reach their right arm up and clutch the rock, and then, usually with the help of another hiker, hoist themselves up.

“I can’t do it,” I told my boyfriend.

“Yes, you can,” he said from above.

The end of the line to cross the crevasse was not in sight. There was no hope of waiting for everyone to pass. And I knew I couldn’t go back.

“Are you going?” the boy behind me asked.

I had no choice. Get it over with.

“Yes,” I said. I planted my left foot at the edge of the rock, as I had seen others do. I stretched my right leg across the crevasse. I gripped the mountain and clung to my boyfriend’s left hand. And I pushed myself forward.

Still Intimidated? 

Don’t fear. I quickly discovered a pleasant camaraderie between the hikers—a certain unspoken agreement to help your fellow man and share the joy of reaching the summit. Strangers hold out their hands, offer advice and dole out encouragement. Even hikers who arrived alone walked among friends.

Still, ultimately, you know your abilities the best. If you are hesitant, get more experience hiking other, easier trails, before conquering Old Rag. This trail is not recommended for new hikers.

It wasn’t pretty, my landing on the other side, and I crawled up the sloped rock awkwardly. But I had done it, and it was behind me. Time to keep moving.

“I’m never climbing this mountain again,” I declared, as we turned a corner to yet another crevasse, this one requiring a small leap.

Other, younger, hikers jumped across with seemingly no trouble. Looking across, I could see the distance of the jump was easy—if you were on flat ground, jumping over a small ditch, that is. But the crevasse went deep below, shadows obscuring its bottom.

I knew I would do it. I had already made the choice, after all. But I just needed to regroup. Around me, two other women, only slightly older than me, also hesitated. People passed us. But from across the way, other hikers encouraged us.

“It’s not as hard as it looks.” “You can do it.”

My boyfriend held out his hand, and I jumped.

I waited as he helped the other two women cross, relieved to learn it was just as the others had said—it’s not as hard as it looks.

From then on, the rest of the climbing was within my skill level. It was difficult, but not too difficult. And I had already passed three obstacles, three checkpoints that stood in my mind like doors that had been closed and locked.

That knowledge in my head—it’s too late to turn back—propelled me forward.

The Summit

Back half of the descent

Finally, we had done it. We had ascended the Rock Scramble—nature’s playground for adults—and had earned the reward. The summit is actually quite large; hikers can choose from three directions to view the surrounding mountains. Many scrambled over the rocks; and of course, my boyfriend found the highest rock, climbed it and stood atop it for five minutes as he took a Google Photo Sphere.

Many hikers picnicked here; others enjoyed a romantic moment as they stared out at the view. But as we had no food, we only lingered for twenty or so minutes before beginning the blessedly easy descent.

As we hurried down the mountain, the view from the summit still in our mind’s eyes, I turn to my boyfriend.

“When are we doing that again?”

Take the challenge. Reap the rewards. And enjoy the view!

Mission Accomplished!