I just arrived in Shenandoah National Park (Virginia) from Glacier Bay National Park and Preserve (Alaska) 3 days ago. This Once-Upon-A-Time City Boy was thrown into culture shock in the city of Washington D.C.. Straight from the unpaved untouched temperate rainforest of Alaska, I did not feel entirely different than a mountain lion in California stumbling upon a 5-lane highway. What has happened to this planet? I couldn't wait to re-enter the woods. Enter: Shenandoah National Park.
Likely with a confused expression plastered upon my face, the shuttle snagged me from the arrival doors at the airport. I gladly ducked inside with my backpack, eager to meet the calm world of the forest once again. Within an hour, my face was pressed to the glass admiring the rolling hills, trees, and farmland. I entered a new type of National Park. I entered a "wild" land corralled by cityscape and paved roads. Nonetheless, I was intrigued. I welcomed this different kind of nature.
Here I am, my first day off in Shenandoah National Park. I'm situated in the middle of the forest, just below the crest of the hill that overlooks the Shenandoah Valley. The forests here are largely second growth forests, reemerging from the farmlands that once dominated the landscape. I traveled from the rainforests of Alaska to the mountains of Virginia, but it wasn't until my afternoon jog that my new setting dawned upon me. The forest here is thick with thin-trunked trees and a deep layer of brown leaf detritus separated by ferns and under-shrubbery. The lack of a dense tree canopy was rather alarming at first glance. I am used to interlocking branches draped with thick layers of moss. Everything in Alaska is green. Further, here in Shenandoah the presence of humanity is apparent. There are benches along the trails, there are bridges, horseback riding trails, and roads. To most Americans, Shenandoah is the wild. To me, after living in "The Last Frontier," I see a "wild" area created by humanity for nature, yet not a true wilderness. Regardless, the sunshine, the bird calls, the prancing deer leaping before me, were all welcoming sights after leaving Alaska.
I am excited to spend my autumn in Shenandoah National Park. I'm excited to be on the East Coast with the erratic thunderstorms, the second growth forests, the milkweed and butterflies, the deer, the crickets that sing under the sunshine, the moonlit orchestra of sounds from our lovely family: the insectidae, and the indescribable array of colors the trees display as the summer nights transition to the winter's eve. I am back on the East Coast and although it's a world apart from Alaska, it still is a wild land of nature, and I am looking forward to the stories that unfold.
