We are extremely spoiled campers. In the past few years, we have made it a point to pretty much visit every campground in Northern California, and most in Socal and the lower Western states. We’ve been to some amazing lodges, cabins, and set up camp in some of the most remote and beautiful places. A better phrase to describe us would be outdoors snobs.
I’ve only visited the Northern tippy top of Shenandoah. We stayed in a nice cabin and built a big fire. It was beautiful, cozy, nice, but like I said, we are spoiled.
Our original plans for the 4th fell through, so on a whim, I checked the Shenandoah website – they had lodging available. We shrugged. Why not? As luck would have it, when Sly called the reservations desk, he timed it just right, snagging the last room – a cancellation moments earlier – at the always booked Big Meadows Lodge.
With zero expectations, we headed to the park and checked into our lodge, making it just in time to catch one of the most dazzling sunsets I have ever seen. The lodge had a very old vintage vibe, something I didn’t expect. Our cabin rooms, part of the original lodge, were built in the late 1930s at the time the land was dedicated as a national park. We opened the door to our room and were greeted by a total grandma’s attic smell. Specifically, the smell reminded me of some of the old 1930s mansions we had toured in California – musty, earthy, woody, and old. Our tiny, wood-paneled rooms were bare bones, equipped with electricity, plumbing, a simple bed, decorative stone (once-working) fireplace, and coffee maker (with starbucks coffee). We spent most of our time reading (or cooking) in our room, hanging out in the great room of the lodge, watching wildlife and sunsets from the wraparound deck, and of course, lots of hiking.
