After the record-breaking Blizzard of 2016, it’s hard to believe that spring is fewer than three months away. Our departure date is sneaking up on us, so as soon as the forecast in Northern Virginia broke freezing we took the opportunity to spend a cold but rewarding Sunday in Shenandoah National Park. Having hiked Little Devil’s Stairs—twice, in Victor’s case—we chose to hike Big Devil’s Stairs. This scenic gorge hike, which we found on Hiking Upward, clocks in at just over 5.5 miles, out and back. All too aware of our impending trip, Victor packed his 60-liter bag to put in a few miles with real weight, and to troubleshoot any problems before we get on the road.

Despite the rapid thaw, 30 inches of snow doesn’t go fast, especially in the mountains. At 8 AM on a chilly Sunday, the park was deserted and peaceful, but many of the trails still harbored three of four inches of ice-glazed snow. While it wasn’t really that cold, it also wasn’t warm by any stretch—the sun never really came out and the wind whipped at the overlooks and through the bare tree limbs. Wearing layers helped enormously, as we stripped down during some of the steeper inclines and bundled back up while eating.

The highlight of the hike is definitely the view of the gorge after descending the namesake stairs. It comes out of nowhere; we walked out onto the ledge and laughed at the suddenness of such an amazing view. Over 200 feet above a snow-swollen stream, the canyon gives way to a large, grassy valley that stretches miles into the distance before rising into the next mountain. Delirious with wonder, we ignored the official “end” of the hike (which, in our defense, is not clearly marked), and continued to follow blue blazes all the way down the mountain. The descent was steep, and we continuously speculated about the misery that would await us on the return hike.

Where the mountain levels off against the banks of the stream, the parkland ends too—butting right up against a barbed wire fence and a swarm of yellow notices nailed to every tree wider than six inches. After eating lunch next to the stream, we began the the trip back up, and found that our earlier speculation was conservative, at best. The hike back was brutal, especially the first mostly-vertical mile, and we took a number of breaks for the sake of Victor’s chicken legs and failing glutes (office jobs are the new smoking). More punishing than the ascent alone was navigating the snow on the way back up. Hiking in snow is like hiking in cold, slippery sand. The only solution was to walk like an elf—flat on your feet and as lightly as possible. While gasping for breath, we lost the trail occasionally and had to bushwhack, zig-zagging back to the overlook. We took a lunch break at the foot of the Stairs and pined for a hot drink (Victor had packed his stove as a part of his “conditioning”). After lunch, the rest of the hike was a breeze in comparison to that first return mile, and we made it back to the car in about 4.5 hours, including all of our breaks.

After peeling off our boots and socks, I discovered that we had, in fact, overshot the end of the trail by hiking nearly a mile past the overlook. Including the return trip, these extra two miles constituted the most punishing leg of the trek. Typical. Despite the cold, the wind, the extra mileage, the weight, and the lack of hot coffee or tea, there’s no such thing as a morning wasted outdoors. It was a rewarding hike and it really challenged us physically, which is what we were looking for. It’s my turn to carry weight next time and I’m pretty nervous! I’ve never actually backpacked, I’ve only ever day hiked, and I want to make sure I can maintain mileage and not be totally miserable. We’ll be back out any time the weather is halfway decent for more practice—we’re spoiled having a national park in our backyard!