Mile 109.8, Winding Stair Gap
// It was the Wednesday of Spring Break week and I knew it was going to be a
tough week for me. My daughters would be spending the week with their father –
which meant I wouldn’t hear from them until the following Monday when I picked them
up after school. I’ve studied my daughters intensely – watching as the effects
of our divorce this past year force unwanted change and adaptation on their
tiny little shoulders. My girls are brave. They have accepted our decision with
love and kindness and caring…for us. I am sure many people have opinions and
judgments about my choices and I am not without blame or even guilt, but when I
am with my girls and I see the way they love and care for one another and for
me – I know that they will always find their way through, and I am so proud and
happy. These days, our lives together are happy. The darkness still creeps in
when I don’t have them for long stretches…a week, for me, is too long to be
without their light. I struggle. I hate to complain about something that is the
result of my own choices…but it just sucks. So, it was Wednesday and I was
looking ahead at what I knew would be a lonely week. I signed up for a yoga
class and started to go about my day – I had the next couple of days off work –
when the thought occurred to me. I COULD go out on the trail…
I made another cup of coffee
and grabbed my trail guide. I began my calculations, writing starting points
and mile markers and shelters on a paper towel at my kitchen counter. I picked
up my phone and began texting every shuttle driver I knew. Could anyone shuttle
me from Franklin to Winding Stair Gap this afternoon? Was anyone available for
a pick-up on Friday somewhere in the vicinity of Fontana Dam, approximately 60
miles away? The responses began to roll in. One could do the drop on Thursday,
but not the pick-up. Another could do the pick-up if it was after 7 on Friday,
but not the drop. My “go to” shuttle driver was in Florida for the week. It was
started to look too complicated and I went to change into my yoga clothes. Then
the text came in from Chuck – he could do both the drop and the pick-up. I
quickly responded and told him I would see him at noon in Franklin, just 2
hours north of Atlanta. It was 9:30am and I hadn’t been out with my gear in 10
months.
I can’t even explain how fast
I moved in the next 30 minutes. I had my pack loaded and was dressed and out
the door with time for a Starbucks stop on my way out of town. I started a
group text with my mom and two of my friends and told them my hike plan, where
I was parking my car, and the name of my shuttle driver. Then I called to set
my GPS tracker to ping them every couple of hours with my location as I hiked.
I rolled into Franklin just after noon, parked my car, grabbed my pack and jumped
into a mini-van driven by Chuck. I was nervous on the way out – my last hike
had ended with a bear tormenting me through the night. This had all come
together so quickly… had I really thought this through, did I have everything?
I knew only one thing – I did not want to be in my house missing my girls and
feeling sad. I wanted to keep living my life. Chuck dropped me off on the side
of the road where the trail crossed over. I sat down, ate the banana I had
bought at Starbucks and laced up my shoes…they still smelled of the trail from
my last trip. I stood up and hoped I remembered how all this shit worked.
It was 1:00pm and I headed
into the woods. I only had a half day to hike to my goal was to make it the 10
miles over the top of Wayah Bald and down a bit to Wayah Bald Shelter. The day
was absolutely perfect. The hike was beautiful – I was out of hiking shape but
everything just felt good. Or “right” maybe. I didn’t see many other hikers,
despite this being peak season for AT Thru Hikers, but it didn’t matter. Even
as the sun inched lower and lower in the sky, I felt no fear. Last year, I was
always anxious as the sun went down, always eager to hear voices as I would
near a shelter. This time I was calm and confident – I knew I would be fine
even if I was alone, even if I didn’t make it to the shelter. It wasn’t that I
knew what would happen, but I knew whatever it was I could figure it out. I
have never felt such a freedom.
I stopped briefly at the top
of Wayah Bald, a beautiful stone tower at the top of the climb, to take a
picture. A woman who had driven up with friends to enjoy the view asked if I
wanted her to take a photo. “Yes, please!” I said, “You can imagine how many
‘selfies’ I have!” She snapped the photo and handed me back my phone. “Do you
want me to take one for you?” I asked. “Oh, no…I have friends,” she replied. We
both smiled as she realized what she said and mumbled a sweet apology. I wished
her all the best and headed over the top of the mountain and down toward the
shelter to camp.
It was only a half-mile, so I was walking into the camping
area within 30 minutes. I passed two couples who were out on the trail together
– their double tents set-up, campfires burning, dinner cooking. I listened to
their easy conversations. They were happy, that much was clear. They were out
here, together, getting through mile after mile and finishing their day hungry
and tired, but happy. It was heartwarming to see (and maybe I felt a tiny pang
of lonliness, but it was fleeting). I began surveying the available camping
spots. There were a lot of people here! Some were in small groups of what
appeared to be thru-hikers who have been moving at about the same speed and
meeting up each night. They were forming their own little clubs and taking on a
commune-style of living. A couple of people cooking while a couple people
filtered water and a couple others tended to the campfire. The remainder
hanging out around the fire rubbing their feet or tinkering with their bear
bags. Everyone says hello but no one goes too far. I think people on the trail
GENERALLY get it…if you are out here alone, it’s never because you think this
would be a great place to meet people. There are few camping spots left and I
settle for a spot on a pretty dramatic incline but I am able to put my tent up
against a bush that I hope will keep me from sliding too much. The first thing
I do is remove my shoes and socks and slip into my camp shoes (crocs). I do
this every single time I come into camp so my feet can cool and dry. I clumsily
set up my camp…this is one of those things that requires repetition to get
right. I don’t have my order down, I never seem to have all the things I need –
it takes me a long time but I don’t stress. I have no reason to stress. I know
I will get it done. Once my tent is set, my sleeping pad and bag stretched out
inside, I get a sense of nostalgia. It feels so…cozy. HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE????
It’s piece of nylon and mesh in the middle of a forest! But even now, days
later as I write this on a flight back from LA, the thought of it gives me the
warmest feeling.
With my camp set up, albeit slightly
at risk of sliding down the side of a hill, I grab my food bag and head to the
shelter where some of the other hikers have made a big campfire. The group that
has amassed at this shelter seems to either be young and “pre-real world” or
older, retired and somewhat “post real world” with topics ranging from ISIS and
our governments treatment of military to the great deal someone got on a used
inflatable pillow. Mostly people talk miles and hike plans at these gatherings.
Where did you start today? How far are you going tomorrow? How much does your
pack weigh? Do you like your (tent/pack/poles/shoes…it can get pretty mundane)?
I must say that people in their 30s/40s are dramatically underrepresented on
the trail. I realize that has a lot to do with the age of your family at that
point in life AND that invites a whole debate around why I am out there, so
let’s leave that for another day. I prepare my mac and cheese in silence and
tune out the political banter until…enter CRAY-CRAY.
I am calling her that
because, in her efforts to be so fucking loud and let you know her entire life
story, that detail escaped me and I sure as hell wasn’t going to ask her! This
young girl comes hiking up the hill from the water source and the second she
sees me launches into her story. It seems that she, somehow, got off the trail
the day before. Lost. She missed a turn or somehow got off course. It’s not
unheard of…I spent a couple of miles off the trail myself, but this girl hiked
the wrong way for 8 MILES! I remind you – that is 4 HOURS of hiking. And here
is what makes that tough…the trail is very, very well marked. There are white markings
(2 inch x 6 inch “blazes”) on trees probably every 5 minutes of hiking…10 minutes
max. So that means that this girl hiked for 4 hours without seeing a blaze that
you normally see every 10 minutes and it didn’t occur to her in that 4 hour
time period that she might be going the wrong way. WHAT?! Oh, and the story
goes on…and on and about the time it seems to be over, someone new comes near
the campfire and she begins to retell it. I am not exaggerating to say I heard
it 10 times. Every time she would begin, the rest of us would collectively roll
our eyes. People began to drift away from the fire, toward their tents and
presumably, their earplugs.
I did meet two other women, Whisper and Red Panda
(both trail names) and both were very cool. Whisper apparently got her name
because she doesn’t know how to whisper and she drops an f-bomb about every
other word. Whisper was hiking the AT with her boyfriend whose name I missed
and they bickered sweetly about how she had a Snickers bar she wouldn’t share
with him. “Oh!” Whisper looks at me, “and if you had a fucking candy bar, you
would share it??” I laughed, “Me? Oh, well, that’s the reason I hike alone.” I
smiled and she winked at me. “Am I going to hear about this all the way to
Katahdin?” she yelled to him as he walked back toward their campsite. Katahdin
is the end point of the Appalachian Trail, approximately 2010 miles away from
where we were currently sitting. That’s at least 4 straight months of hiking! We
chatted for a bit and exchanged stories. Her boyfriend yelled for her, asking
for help doing something. She sighed and rolled her eyes as she stood up,
clearly preferring to sit at the fire and relax. “And that,” I said, “is
another reason.”
Red Panda was quiet and kept
to herself. She was alone hiking and had not really teamed up with anyone. She
seemed very serious, driven. Her feet were destroyed. Blistered and taped. She
said she thinks her feet are too wide for her boots. I took one look at her
boots and mentally patted myself on the back for choosing to hike in trail
runners. I am telling you, hiking boots are the devil.
Red Panda and I hung our bear
bags with the help of “Shooter” – an older, retired military man who COULD NOT
keep himself from helping us. I headed into my tent at 8pm and sent a message
to my crew on my tracker and then I tossed it out in front of the tent, hoping
it would connect – it needs a clear view of the sky. There is rarely any cell
coverage anywhere on the trail. Sometimes you can get a tiny bit at the top of a
summit, but it’s not a reliable way to communicate. My iPhone typically turns
into my iCamera while I hike – but occasionally it will connect and my texts
will go out/come in. I love those moments and it’s such a gift to have the
words of the people you care about – something we all take for granted on a
normal day. My tracker connects and I hear the sound of an incoming message. I
grab it and check it…it’s my mom and her message reads “where are you?” I reply
with “Only you know. Good Night. XO.” I roll over and snuggle into my bag. I
have already slid down hill and am up against the wall of my tent with all my
stuff smashed up against me. It doesn’t matter. It’s all so very good. I fall
asleep while the perfect mountain breeze mimics the sound of the surf. // Mile
120.8, Wayah Bald Shelter
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