Just like nothing (else) on earth: Trailhead Park

By Tim Jon

There were two paths from which to choose: one, well-paved and more civilized, stuck to the wooded area and playground; the other, rough and rocky, descended – seemingly to the original, infernal pit itself. I chose the latter, of course. Pulling into the parking area for Trailhead Park in Ashburn, I could only see the initial grounds, obviously geared more toward families and children; though I find these amenities wonderful things, I have, and probably always will, find my way toward the darker, more adventurous, sometimes even riskier features such as I enjoyed that memorably cold, windy morning just off Rt. 659 – Belmont Ridge Road. 

I wasn’t even sure, and still have my doubts, about whether the severely sloping course even belonged to the Park at all; being in my usual sunrise adventure mode, I didn’t see another soul the entire time I negotiated my way down to the bottom of that chasm. 

It really was a formidable downhill slope; I had to exercise care so as not to slide and fall or, as I feared I might – come upon a spot where the solid ground would give way to nothing but air, and I’d find myself groping for handholds as I fell to the little body of water at the foot of the hill. 

But, I made my way down in one piece at least as far as a point in the trail took a dramatic switchback and then turned again back to the fast-approaching pond. I could see, that what had vaguely resembled a beaver dam from above, had now turned out to be some sort of erosion control device made up of the same rocky material as the descending trail.  

I considered taking a stroll across the man-made ‘walkway,’ but thought better of it, in light of the extreme temperature and strong wind, which had followed me all the way down the chasm; I didn’t fancy making my way back up that hill, soaked to the gills. 

In fact, after taking as many shots as I could muster with hands that had lost most of their feeling and flexibility, I actually was cold enough to decide to run back up the steep grade. 

Now, I often run while delivering mail: I’ll jump out of my mail truck and make a 40-or50-yard scamper to someone’s front porch, often toting a prodigiously large and heavy parcel. I do this five or six days a week. I’m in good shape, right? 

Well, I was about halfway up this ascent back from Dante-land, and I had to give up the footrace idea altogether; I gained a healthy dose of humility while I sought for air and kept my legs moving in a more modest fashion. I panted my way upward at a noticeably slower pace, as I regretted leaving warmer headgear at home. I was thankful that the early hour and unseasonable weather saved me the embarrassment of having an audience. My vehicle in the parking lot wasn’t getting close enough, fast enough, for me at least. 

Strong coffee and a car heater can do wonders for a wintry morning, even for an exhausted photographer looking for adventure on ‘the wild side.’ 

But the experience offered some benefits: I got to see the clouds marching across the sky, driven by the same wind I was feeling – and the moon was reflecting a bit of the morning light, before it took its morning nap. I was grateful for the exhilaration offered by the exercise, the sights and the battering of the moving air all around me. I was happy to be dry, and as relatively safe as one can be these days in Northern Virginia. 

More horizons beckoned on my schedule, and I answered the call. But, next time, if you should find me on the bottom of the incline, camera in hand – please remind me not to try to run back up the trail when it’s already dangerously steep.