alone in the woods?

A light blue Mercury Marquis pulled up at 6:30am...my shuttle was here to take me back to the trail to continue from where I left off. I made small talk (as best one can at 6am while driving through the twists and turns of the mountains) but I could not shake my anxiety. It's a very strange thing - to be doing something you like to do, WANT to do...but to also feel dread and fear. I felt this before my last hike so I knew it would dissolve over the miles once I was out there and hiking. It took us a long time to make it back down the long forest service road I had walked up when I came off the trail. It was still dark under the tree canopy and it just seemed like the universe was giving me all the time in the world to change my mind. Finally we pulled up to the exact spot where I had come out of the woods a couple of weeks ago. My shuttle driver helped me get my pack out and then stood there watching me struggle into it (note: I think I have figured out how to put this thing on in a less humiliating fashion. I will need to post a video!). He too seemed to be giving me time to make the decision to step back into the woods. I thanked him and turned toward the NoBo (Northbound) trail marker. Then I took my first step back into silence and solitude.

Despite the break I had taken from the trail, my body fell right back into rhythm...which is to say that my back began to ache instantly and my hip, which had started to bother me at the end of my last trip, picked right back up where it left off. So, I found myself stopping pretty early to dig through my pack for Aleve. I had set aside two bars to eat during the day...but again, stopped to dig out two more during my hike (which was a little alarming because I had only budget myself to eat two a day. The first half of the day was pretty uneventful - just absolutely perfect weather and mild terrain. The temperature was in the 60s with a glorious breeze. I stopped midday to change my socks and I noticed they weren't sweaty like the normally were by this point. As I headed out for the second half of the day, things changed quickly. I was about to meet Albert Mountain.

I had heard that Albert Mountain was a challenge. I had heard that you have to put your poles away and boulder up it using your hands and feet. When I first met Albert Mountain, I thought I must be in super human shape! I was moving quickly. I was using my poles. I was patting myself on the back. And then, I rounded a corner to see this:

Hmmm, this was a red flag for sure. These blazes mark the trail but this was the first time I had seen one on the side of a rock face. I quickly put my poles away and settled in for what was the toughest climb of my hike to date. Albert Mountain was not long, but he required you to bow to him. There is likely no way to climb Albert with any dignity. Imagine climbing a steep rock wall that dropped off behind you to, well, let's just say you didn't want to look AND add in the 45 pound pack that seemed to want to pull you down that rock wall. To keep your center of gravity low you had to basically climb on your hands, feet and knees and you couldn't take a break for fear of losing you momentum and slipping backward. I envisioned the thousands of people of all ages, shapes and sizes scrambling over the top of this. But - I LOVED IT. It was the coolest thing I had seen on the trail this far and at the top you were rewarded with a metal water tower that rewarded you with spectacular views. I should say it rewarded you with views if you were not petrified of heights because as I (attempted) to climb it I began to breathe harder than I had on the mountain itself. I clung to the metal rails and was nearly to the top when I decided that I actually couldn't even imagine stepping foot onto the platform at the top. I would just buy the postcard on this one. I turned and slowly headed back down the stairs. 

From Albert Mountain I headed toward the shelter I was planning to get to for the night...Deep Creek Gap Shelter. It was an ambitious day with over 21 miles of hiking, but again, I really felt good. My only concern was that I had only seen two other people on the trail and both were heading the opposite direction. I was sure there would be a lot of people on the trail given the holiday weekend, but my initial apprehension was creeping back in as the afternoon wore on and I began to consider a night alone on the trail. With about a mile to go to the shelter, I came around a corner and saw a black bear in the trail. I froze. It saw me and took off running. Um...do you know how fast bears can run? Because I did not. WOW! When I was hiking with The Guys, all they had wanted was to see a bear. They would be so jealous. I instantly began to root around for my camera (iPhone). I realize that it might have been a better idea to root for, say, some bear spray (I had none) or even my knife (so I could tickle it?) but I am not the first hiker whose first thought was "I have got to get a picture of this!" (Nancy, calling you out here. http://takeahikenancy.com) But there was no time. I spent the last mile to the shelter whistling, clanging my poles together and telling myself how much the bear was obviously more scared of me than I of him (he didn't try to take my picture after all). 

I stumbled upon the shelter. It was odd...it was so quiet and there was no sign to mark it. I barely noticed it in the woods off to the left of the trail. I realized instantly that there wasn't a sole there. Gulp. I made my way down to it and checked everything out. The shelter itself was solid enough. There was a covered area with a picnic table and then another three sided structure with a sleeping platform. Someone had (creepily) made wind chimes out of sticks and aluminum cans and had hung them around the shelter in what I could only assume was some satanic ritual (ok, I was over thinking it, true). The quiet was disheartening...I had honestly not considered that I would be alone at a shelter. I was told that never happened. I had never seen fewer than five other people at a shelter. Surely, SURELY someone would come into camp soon. BUT...in the meantime, I did have this fantasy of setting my tent up inside the shelter. I can't explain why I wanted to do this but it's a big no-no if other hikers are at a shelter. So, I set up in the shelter and went about making my dinner. I could barely eat. The sun was setting and there was no sign of company. I packed up my food into my bear bag and went to hang it on the bear cables. Umm, where were the bear cables?? I found the hook where they HAD been...but they were gone. They had taken them down. I had only heard of this happening at one other shelter and that was because they had closed the shelter due to three aggressive bears in the area. My heart sank...was that why no one was here?? I pulled out my map and the next shelter was 8 miles down the trail. No way I could do that and who is to say it would be any better? I began to string up my own bear cable.

Every hiker on the AT is supposed to know how to hang a bear bag. It should be hanging 10 feet off the ground between two trees at least 100 feet from where you are sleeping. Black bears are amazing climbers so just hanging it off a branch is like inviting them over for dinner. I pulled out my orange string and carabiner and began my search for the perfect trees to use. I promise you that there was not one tree with a branch below 20 feet in the air. I tried to throw that stupid featherweight string and carabiner over anything and everything. I was wrapped and tangled in 50 feet of this stupid string. It was like a comedy sketch. In the end, I would settle for dangling it from a branch approximately 7.5 feet off the ground and completely against the tree. I actually laughed out loud when I finished, it was such a pathetic attempt. 

I went back to the shelter and got ready for bed. I put everything in my pack and put my pack just outside my tent inside the shelter. It was about 9pm when I climbed into the tent to read exactly 7 words of "100 Years of Solitude" (yes, I did bring this 900 page book with me again). I was OUT. In my sleep I could hear fireworks somewhere in the distance and in my dreams they were warlike noises. I didn't even bother climbing out to see if I could catch a glimpse. I slept right through.

At 11:30pm I was startled awake by the sound of the picnic table moving. This was a very solid picnic table, I might add...these things were made to stand the test of time (this particular shelter was built in 1965). I thought it might be another hiker arriving after dark but when I looked out I saw no light of a headlamp. The realization swept over my entire body. I knew what it was. I sat up in my tent watching through the mesh top, listening as the bumping and scooting and banging continued. I heard the creepy wind chimes as something scraped past them. And then, I saw it come around the corner toward the sleeping shelter. Turns out I would have some company for the evening. The bear made it's way right over to my tent and began nudging and sniffing my pack. My heart raced as I watch its fuzzy head tipping my bag over and stuffing its nose into my pack. I thought of the bars I had been stuffing back into my side pockets while hiking. I thought of the coffee I had left in my pack. IDIOT! But mostly, I ran through all of my options...well, both of my options. 

Be quiet or be loud. Consider both - quiet and maybe it doesn't notice me and goes away. I was zipped inside a mesh tent after all. Maybe that was the best option? Or make noise and scare it, which could go the way of my earlier bear sighting and the bear would flee or could invoke the bears anger or protective instincts. I sat in utter silence. I heard more noise in the picnic area and realized my friend was not alone. The bear, satisfied with his exploration of my gear, left the sleeping area but I could still hear them walking around the shelter house. They walked past the sleeping platform. They broke branches that sounded like trees cracking in half. This went on for the next 4 hours. At times, I would actually doze off, only to wake back up to the bear in my bag again. I can't explain this but at some point my fear turned to anger. I tried a new tactic. I growled at the bear. I slammed things down inside my tent. I even reached out of my tent and grabbed my hiking pole and began swinging it at anything within its reach. The bears would go away, come back, go away, come back. Finally, at 3am, I'd had enough. I took my pole and started swinging it like a crazy person. I screamed and growled. The bear walked (WALKED, did not run) away and I reached out and grabbed my pack - pulling it inside my tent. I quickly dressed and packed my things from the inside of my tent. Then I took a deep breath and climbed out of my tent. I didn't even look for the bear, I just began packing the tent into it's bag and stuffed it into my pack. I put on my headlamp and took off to grab my bear bag. I was getting the hell out of there. I would not just sit and wait. I couldn't be frightened anymore.

As I neared my bear bag it became obvious there was nothing left to retrieve. It looked like it had exploded. Bit of the bag were strewn around and food was everywhere. I turned and hiked toward the trail, guiltily leaving it all behind (I told myself I would make a big donation to the trail conservancy for this violation). I hiked through the night with my headlamp lighting the 3 feet ahead of me. After about 30 minutes I felt better. My heart rate slowed. I had done it! I hiked ahead replaying the last 4 hours and even the last few weeks. How much had this experience changed me? I was now walking through the woods in the middle of the night, absolutely fearless. A month ago I would have felt like I was in a horror movie if that had happened. I was suddenly so very grateful for this night and for the weeks that led up to it. I am not without fear, but I can't allow fear to dictate what I will try.

I came out onto a road and couldn't find the trail on the other side. I wasn't sure where I had lost it in the dark - but it didn't matter. I had no food, I had to hike out. I took a right just as easily as I could have taken a left and I walked. A few hours later when the sun rose, I promise you it was the most beautiful sunrise I had ever seen. I took out my phone and fired it up. It still didn't have service but I was able to use GPS to find a route to Franklin (a 4.5 hour walk from there). I stopped on the side of the road and made some coffee (all that I had left) and walked along while enjoying my warm beverage (it was a chilly morning). I felt amazing. 

When I reached Highway 64 (the same highway where I had been picked up by the weirdos who wouldn't let me out of the truck) I began setting my guidelines for hitchhiking. I would only accept a ride from a woman. Or a woman and a man with children who were in proper child safety seats. Or a church bus. In the end, the first truck that pulled over (and it was immediately. I hadn't gone 100 feet on the highway) was driven by a middle aged man with a South African accent. I jumped in pushing the cans and bottles aside in the floorboard. You might be asking yourself, "How could she be so stupid...again?" but I would counter that with, "Have you ever heard a South African accent? They are beautiful and kind." The man was lovely and drove me straight to Franklin on his way to work. I told him about my bear incident and about my hike in general and even about my feeling of unease...how I had come out here seeking the space to think but now it all seemed too quiet. "There is a difference between solitude and loneliness," he said. He dropped me off in Franklin and I watched him drive off before I sat down to contemplate my next move. 

round two

It's 6am and I am sitting here waiting for my ride back to the trail. I have made the decision to go out for another week - attempting to get to TN. It's difficult to describe the feeling in the moments before leaving. I have spent the last two nights in an uneasy/fearful state. The nerves are terrible but they signal a good this - they signal that I am pushing myself outside my comfort zone. 

The hardest part of this is being away from my girls. Last night my youngest daughter called me crying and I know she misses me. I wonder if, from the outside, I appear to be selfish. I wonder if they will see it that way when they are old enough to judge. If I am being very honest - this is a selfish thing to do. But how many of us have stuffed down dreams, skipped opportunities that might have made us better/happier/healthier in the long run because we feared the reaction of others or other short term challenges? I know I have done it...for years...so today as I stepped out to push toward my goal I do it confident that I will come out the other side evolved into some better form of myself and my family will benefit from a better me. 

So, my goal is simple...pick up where I came off the trail a couple of weeks ago having completed Georgia and push on through North Carolina to Tennessee. I will be writing for you all along the way and will post as I can. 

Fingers crossed for dry weather (I forgot my pack cover!). Happy Fourth of July to you all!

the end?

We woke up and broke camp in the rain. I shared my coffee with The Guy (even though when he asked me if I had some extra I lied and said I did not) and he drank his from a cooking pot. Mr Grumpy rolled out of his tent and immediately started to pile his things into the fire pit. He was, honest to God, trying to set fire to his things. I begged him not to…we still had 10 miles ahead of us until their ride was picking them up. Anything could happen! But he was set on watching it all burn and putting his days on the trail behind him. Fortunately, he wasn’t able to light a fire in the soggy conditions, so we convinced him to leave his things in the shelter for some hiker who might need them. I was sort of irritated that Mr Grumpy was being so shortsighted but whatever…we all set out to make it to Deep Gap, about 8 miles away, where The Guys had a pick-up arranged and I was planning to hike out and hitch into town.

 

We headed out of camp. It was a wet morning but the terrain was mild and followed the ridge on the top of the mountains. I was in “a mood” for whatever reason. I kept thinking about my plan of coming out on the trail alone and moving at my own pace…then I met these two and had spent the couple of days of my solitude with them. And The Guy never stopped talking! He asked questions. He told stories. He psychoanalyzed me. I found myself increasingly irritated with their presence on my last day “alone” in the wood. At one point I moved out into the lead of our group and then I just took off. I hiked as if someone were chasing me. I didn’t take break. I didn’t look back. For the next 2-3 hours I hiked with my heart rate pinned at max and with zero intentions of ever seeing those two again. I looked back…no sign. I listened…no sign. I would never see those two again and I had my trail back. I was alone. I needed no one. I was self-sufficient. And then…I stopped.

 

I stopped dead in my tracks. I stood there for 30 minutes waiting. Nothing. I hiked a bit further and wrote a note in the dirt. “Hi.” I hiked a bit further and stopped to change my socks and eat something. Another 20 minutes and nothing. I continued and as I passed the last shelter (just a mile or so from the road where The Guys would be picked up), I heard voices. I stopped and stood in the middle of the trail. I wrote more notes in the dirt. I listened for the voices. Two people emerged from the shelter and said hi as they passed me. My heart sank. I had left them and it was an awful thing to do…to never even say goodbye. I hated myself.

 

I slowly started off again and then I heard it…The Guy. He literally NEVER stopped talking! I waited excitedly as they rounded the bend. “I never thought we would see you again!” The Guy said as he hiked by. I fell in behind them and followed them to the spot on the trail where USFS 71 intersected the trail. Their ride was waiting for them. We were done.

 

The Guys put their things into the car and we said goodbye. Their friend snapped a photo. They asked me…a hundred times…if I needed a ride into town. I said no. I was going to be picked up but not until 7pm that night. It was noon. I might as well hike the 7 miles out of the forest service road to the main road. The Guys gave me their email addresses so we could stay in touch. As they drove out of sight up the gravel road I looked at the card in my hand. Then, I tore it into pieces.

 

I spent the next 2.5 hours hiking up the gravel road. I had no idea where this forest service road came out. My plan was to get to a main road and then figure out where I was and where I needed to be picked up or to hitch (or hike) into the nearest town. As I walked the skies grew dark…another thunderstorm. When I finally emerged from the forest service road it dumped me out directly onto a highway. I checked my phone…it was almost dead and had no service. I checked my personal locator device…it was completely dead. Ok…maybe I should have taken that ride??? I walked down the highway one direction for about half a mile. Nothing. I hiked back and on the other way for another half a mile. I saw a sign that read Hwy 64 but nothing telling me which direction would take me to the nearest town. It started to rain harder. I was out of energy. Out of food. Out of power. And I had no idea where I was. Oh, and now it was raining. Grrrrr.

 

I hiked back to the spot where the forest service hit the highway and I sat down on the road. I was holding my poncho over my head when a small read pickup truck pulled up (coming from the direction of the forest service road) and the guy driving stuck his head out the window.

 

“Are ya tired?” he asked. I said I was…it had been a long day. He asked if I needed a ride and I said no…but asked if he could point me in the direction of Franklin. He pointed in the opposite director to what I had thought. “Are you heading to Franklin?” I asked…and just then a woman jumped out of the passenger side and came over and grabbed my pack. She tossed it in the back of the truck. I can only remember that she wasn’t wearing shoes. And she was blonde. I instinctively chased my pack into the back of the truck. It was just that…an instinct, not a decision. I jumped in and the truck took off up the highway. I was hungry. I was tired. I was freezing. I was wet. And now things just got worse.

 

It occurred to me that I maybe had never ridden in the back of a pickup truck. It was novel at first. I actually snapped a quick photo. But then with every bump, I came off the bed of the truck and I envisioned my body flying through the air at 70 mph. I tried to get up toward the cab of the truck but there was too much stuff in the bed and I was trapped right up against the tailgate. I reached up and pounded on the back window. It slid open and revealed a third person…quite possibly the most frightening person I have ever seen…he opened the window and asked, “do you want a beer?” “Can you just let me out here?” I asked. “I am too scared. Can you please let me out?” He shut the window. The truck’s speed didn’t change. I started to think this might have been a really stupid decision. As the truck began up the next pass, it sputtered. The driver jerked the wheel to the side. I lost contact with the bed again and reached up and pounded on the glass. Once again, it slid open and I was face to face with Creepy. “Can you just let me out here?” I pled. The driver shouted something and Creepy translated. “We are just running out of gas. You’re fine.” The glass slid shut once again and I put my head down and I cried. I cried for 10 minutes and I just kept thinking over and over that I hoped my girls knew how much I loved them and that I only did things like this to inspire them someday…to do things they wanted to do even if it meant going without a safety net. I won’t say I prayed, but I chanted my love into the universe. I felt something on my hand and I looked up to see Creepy trying to shove a cheese stick into my hand (you know, the ones that they sell for a kids lunch or something). I shook my head. “Can I just get out?” He slammed the glass shut and I put my head back down.

 

Another five minutes probably passed before I felt the truck change speeds. I looked up and could see a traffic light up ahead. I looked off to the left and saw a BP gas station. I knocked on the window and it opened. “I need to get out here!” I said. “Please!!!” The woman spoke up this time, “You said you wanted to go to Franklin.” “No, here is perfect. Please can you just let me out?” I gathered my things, preparing myself to jump. “You are fine,” she said, “you’re with us now.”

 

Just then the driver pulled into the turning lane. “I need gas anyway,” he said. Oh THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU. He pulled into the gas station and I jumped out…my legs and arms trembling from fatigue, cold and fear.

 

I threw my things under a small overhang on the outside of the BP. It looked a lot like heaven. I sat down and pulled my knees into my chest and waited for the next three hours for my family to pick me up. I had a lot of amazing experiences on the trail. I met people who have changed my life and made me see the world differently, each in their own little way. And in the end…even the view from the back of the pickup sparked the feeling that life doesn’t need to be routine. Everything is a choice and you can choose the easy and safe path or you can see what happens when you take the first step in another direction.