Beforehand we had to fill out a five-page health and other disclaimer form with lots of small print. A tad overkill for the hike we were taking. I wanted surgery thrown in just to make it worthwhile. But then they gave me a water bottle with its own waist carrier and a beautifully carved walking stick so I stopped complaining.

There were eight of us with two guides, Andy and Chad, who knew the park intimately well, with all its history, geologic make-up, animal residency, personal hygiene, idiosyncrasies. You get the idea. Andy initially described his 10-day survival trek thru the snows of western Maine armed with only a knife -– made me just a little leery about our upcoming hike. But listening to them both talk with reverence about the different trails, waterfalls, overlooks and even mushrooms they’ve experienced, it’s clear they really love what they do. They refused to expand upon the mushrooms part…

I liked that we could walk at our own pace. I was up front with Chad while Andy stayed back with the stragglers. Mainly I’m in it for the hiking. As you know, I’m not all that into flora and fauna. I like to walk through it; I just don’t want to hear about it. At the start of the hike, Andy pointed out an apple tree he especially loved, and immediately I thought I was in trouble. Fortunately, there were few other such intimate plant moments.

Traveling along the trail, our guides occasionally stopped to examine different "scat" (poop) we came across, and depending upon the hair, food or other contents, identifying it as deer or bobcat or bear. At one point, scat master Andy looked down to closely examine an orangey dropping, observing its unusual nature. He picked up a sample, smelled it -– and then to the horror of us all -– popped it into his mouth. Only after a moment, did we catch on -– as he munched upon the granola bar nuggets that had mysteriously been placed along our path. As one of the trekkers pointed out, April Fools was several weeks ago.

We were out close to six hours each day, but it seemed only about two hours were devoted to hiking, and four hours milling around. A tad too much milling for me. Not that milling can’t be interesting or that pausing for a relaxed lunch isn’t enjoyable, but you know me, I’m in it for the exercise.

The area of the Shenandoah we hiked through is home to the Shenandoah Salamander and apparently is the only place in the world to find them. And at the top of Stonyman Mountain were globally rare plants specific to the particular soil and weather conditions of that spot. All these vagaries of nature unique to Shenandoah National Park -- such a strange concept. You might have thought we were in the Galapagos! Heading back to the lodge required crossing a road, which Chad designated as the most dangerous part of the hike…

Though not quite as spectacular, the view from our room was similar to that from atop the mountain. We could have saved ourselves a lot of time and effort by just looking out the window and then going straight to the bar. But I’m glad we didn’t.

For more information visit VisitShenandoah.com

Fyllis Hockman is a Washington, D.C.-based freelance travel writer. She writes regularly for The Washington Times, is syndicated by the Copley News Service, and is a feature columnist for several online travel magazines. Ms. Hockman's travel stories also have appeared in the New York Post, Memphis Commercial Appeal, Providence Journal, Halifax Herald, Boston Herald, Gazette Newspapers, Asbury Park Press, New Hampshire Sunday News, Buffalo News and many other publications. She is the author of AAA Guidebook: A Photo Journey to Washington, D.C. and co-author of the Pelican Guide to Maryland. Ms. Hockman is a member of the Society of American Travel Writers and Travel Journalists Guild.

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