a walk in the woods

Today (Tuesday the 8th), I left the house and drove out to the Dahlgren Railroad Heritage Trail. There's a small parking space at Mile 8, the halfway point; I was the only car there. The trail is 16 miles long (about 26 km); I walked out from Mile 8 to Mile 16 since I was parked at the midway point of the trail. Eight miles out and eight miles back = 16 miles total, about the same distance as a walk from my apartment in Seoul to Hanam City's Starfield, where there's a bus station (26 km). Today's weather was bright and cold in the morning, warming up a bit after a few hours. The day was blustery—windy and cool such that, even in direct sunlight in the few clearings along the path, I never got warm enough to sweat. The first mile I walked featured some sparse and meager benches with QR codes on them (presumably so you can look at poetry); the benches stopped after a mile, though; the only other facilities were around Mile 8.7, just past the 8.5-mile marker: some spanking new, wooden picnic tables and two Port-a-Johns. I felt a faint urge to take a poop, but I decided to gamble and wait until I was done with the walk a few hours later to do any business. As it turned out, I didn't see a single person on the trail the entire time until I was past Mile 15.5 and about ready to turn around: by that point, the trail was moving alongside some suburbs, a huge self-storage lot, and pastureland. Near the end, there was a bulldozer on a hill, moving earth around, and a dude at the bottom of the hill just watching the dozer. Both were wearing work uniforms; I guess they were part of the same team. I didn't see anyone else until Mile 16 of the trail ended at a Sheetz gas station (and store, and restaurant), which is when I saw some people pumping gas. I turned around and headed back to Mile 8. The trail remained empty of humanity the entire time. It was an introvert's paradise. The fact that it was Tuesday, daytime, probably helped: most normal folks must have been at work, with no time to walk the trail.

The terrain was mainly flat, with only one significant rise, around Mile 14, right before a treeless area where there was a church and cemetery on one side, and a fence closing off sprawling pastureland on the other. But that rise was pretty much it in terms of difficulty. I did the walk with no water bottle, no place to stop (in theory, though, I could have flopped down anywhere, including on certain fallen logs... but there were no benches beyond the first mile, so I just kept moving). On the way out to Mile 16, I stopped every twenty yards to snap pics of this or that; the whole, boring series of pics is below for your viewing pleasure.

trailhead

warning sign and water (not the Potomac river but a lake-like marsh)

The other side of the path at this point was also marshy.

lots and lots of bracket fungi

Click to enlarge if you want. Enjoy the textures.

This still reminds me of parts of the South Han River on the path to Yangpyeong.

Just past Mile 8.5 (about a half mile on) is this simple picnic area: tables and two Port-a-Johns.

See how new the lumber is?

Thanks, Gary and Colleen.

tables, fire pit, Port-a-Johns in the background

You could roast a whole pig in that, I think. Well, maybe a medium-sized pig.

Port-a-Johns, front and center

onward

looking right

There used to be railroad tracks here. You can sometimes see remnants of ties and iron spikes.

I think I see Chinese, Arabic, and gangsta graffiti.

I've gone one mile, having started at Mile 8. Mile markers are every 0.5 mile.

It occurred to me that I might need to photograph these markers as evidence that I had done the walk.

Some trees are cut down; many often fall on their own.

And what the hell is this piece of bamboo doing here?

Just don't let live bamboo grow here. It'll take over.

Another tree with that weird blight, infection, or infestation.

traces of the old railroad

in context

more evidence of the past

Apparently, after the rails were removed, the railbed was covered in a mixture of pebbles, sand, and dirt (called "stone dust" by the park's website).

These look like old ties.

I'd thought, at first, that the metal S'es were some sort of designation. I think they're to hold the wood together to keep the ties from coming apart under the repeated pressure of passing trains. That's my theory, anyway. I need to confirm it.

These purple arrows appeared at places where the trail crossed another path.

All in all, the signage and blazes were clear and easy to follow. Plus, the trail was relatively straight.

looking left at a crossing passage

lots of straightaways because the trail itself is so straight

a broken path of destruction

Let's take a closer look at what's eating the wood.

Whatever dies remains part of the ever-churning cycle.

more history?

From the angle of the fungus, you can tell it appeared after the tree had fallen.

the bridge at Mile 11

The ground beyond the bridge was wet and muddy.

just past the bridge

One day, this will be me if I don't request cremation.

pastureland, just out of reach

Anyone else getting The Last of Us vibes?

Only four more miles to go to Mile 16.

Probably a horse pasture on someone's property. The trail itself is private property. You need a pass to walk it.

It's been weird to think in miles again. I was glad for the half-mile markers because they mapped roughly onto kilometers. 1 mile = about 1.6 km; 1 km = about 0.6 miles.

about to cross a road

Some of the crossings had the DRHT "X" sign.

Some rich people with a lot of property live out this way.

How long does it take to mow that?

I'm surprised at how little hay fever I've experienced since coming back to the States.

The trail continues.

closer and closer to the U-turn point

another road crossing

DRHT = Dahlgren Railroad Heritage Trail

The trail goes thataway.

I think I prefer bricks to slats.

See the purple arrow?

Thanks for the warning. Not so different from Korea.

the weird, bumpy blights

Imagine if a human had that on his upper arm.

out into the open, at least temporarily

another road crossing

a place called "Great Cove"

big, plastic, heavy-duty pipe waiting to be put to use somewhere nearby

The path marked "trail" and the path on the right went the same way.

The character of the path is about to change.

Electrified fence, and we're about to see a cemetery. And, in the distance, a church.

Unlike in Judaism and Islam, Christian tradition often locates cemeteries right by churches. You see this a lot in Europe.

approaching the dead

They kind of sneak up on you.

Gravestones come in all shapes and sizes, possibly representing different eras.

You know a grave is old when the gravestone is leaning.

Nifty, but I can't read that.

Click to enlarge.

"I've got a shotgun, and you ain't got one..."

special love for these graves

almost at the end

crossing another road to continue the trail

I wonder what this "W" means. West? Then where's east?

This is the last mile marker I saw. I didn't see a "Mile 16" marker.

This final half mile took me past the backs of a lot of suburban houses.

A tall water tank marks the final few hundred yards.

coming up on a large self-storage facility

a big ol' Amurrican flag

When I was in high school, my French brother Dominique came over to spend a month at my place after I had spent a month at his place the year before. One thing he remarked on was the preponderance of American flags everywhere. And further, he said that American TV shows (we're talking about the mid-to-late 80s) always managed to sneak in an American flag somewhere during their run time. I guess I'd been brainwashed because, frankly, I hadn't noticed. These days, my feeling is that a person who feels patriotic about his country, to the extent of displaying national pride somehow, should be free to do so. I have no reason to feel offended or insecure because someone loves his own country. If anything, I can't relate to the people who focus exclusively on their own country's negatives, often to be point of feeling ashamed of being from their country.

Had this been concrete, this would've been an animal asshole.

a glimpse of the self-storage units

when I finally saw people

A banner about racing flutters limply on the ground.

final stretch

Mile 16 ends at a Sheetz gas station/convenience store. Kind of anticlimactic.

trailhead info

For the following images, click to enlarge, then right-click the enlarged image and select "open image in new tab" to see it at full size so you can read the print.

I'm heading back at this point. I didn't want to take many pics on the way back, but I took a few. Here they are below.

the self-storage facility's name

what the water tank says

a broken tree I'd somehow missed

Time eats everything away.

I had gambled on not needing to poop until I had done the whole walk. It was a close thing: the urge became much stronger once I was back around Mile 11, and by the time I hit Mile 8.7, I was ready to launch all missiles. Luckily, I made it to the Port-a-Johns without having a disaster in my pants, and just as had happened on my way to Mile 16, there wasn't another human being during the entire walk back to Mile 8. If I had more time in the States, I'd do the round-trip walk to Mile 0 and back, but that will have to wait.

Next on the agenda: I'm prepping a gyro dinner for Thursday evening. Tzatziki is already done, and I'm finishing up the flatbreads tomorrow. I need to prep the meat and veggies as well. The feta is already pre-crumbled, thank Cthulhu.