I went to old rag on a weekday

I went to old rag on a weekday because I wanted the mountain mostly to myself.

You have to buy a day-use ticket now, and I picked a slot that would avoid the weekend rush.

I used to be an EMT, and I still carry a small kit when I hike.

Rap, tourniquet, trauma shears, Sam Splint cut down to fit, two Israeli bandages, and a handheld

ham radio that has lived in my pack since my volunteer days.

I don't drink on trail, don't smoke, don't wear earbuds.

I log in at the board, check my time, and keep a simple plan.

Up the ridge trail, over the rock

scramble, down the saddle trail, past the bird's nest shelter, and out along weekly

hollow fire road. It was late October in Shenandoah National Park, cold shade under the boulders,

warm sun on the slabs, maples flaring red.

I've done old rag a dozen times.

I know the pace. I know where people bunch up.

I also know how quiet it gets between groups.

That quiet is why I go on weekdays.

I left the old rag parking area near nether's a little after

sunrise and settled into a steady climb. My goal was to take photos from the open granite

near the top before the crowds arrived. I moved fine through the forested approach, hit the

first views, and felt that familiar shift when the trail turns from dirt to stone.

About an hour and a half in, still below the main scramble,

I saw a woman wave me down from a flat slab.

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