A hike in the Woods

Hey, this is Tony. It’s been a long time since I’ve written anything for the blog. I’ve been in a creative rut for a long time, but I’ve finally broken through my writer’s block. I’ve recently written a story about a hike. the hike takes place over five days. I’ll publish one day per week for the next five weeks. Please let me know what you think, I would love some feed back. Pleas enjoy.

A Hike in the Woods

 I’m leaving society behind tomorrow, and I’m so excited. I’ve been planning and preparing for this trip for months. I’ve gone on several hikes to get my trail legs back under me, and, man, do my legs burn more than they should after I’ve finished the hike. I’m a little afraid that, at thirty-eight years old, I’ve bitten off more than I can chew. But, I can’t wait to try. I can’t wait to get out into the majesty of nature. To wander paths, splash through streams, and to gaze out at the world from mountain cliffs. I found the perfect hike. It’s a mountain hike about two hours from my Virginia home. The trail is a little more “off the beaten path” (excuse the pun.) The section I’m hiking is a little under sixty miles long, and I hope to do it in five days. It’s mostly a mountain ridge hike; so, once I make it up the mountain, I’ll probably be good to go. An average of twelve to fifteen miles a day doesn’t sound that hard. I’m going to leave my car at the farther trailhead, and I’ll have Emily, my wife, drop me off at the beginning trailhead. That way I can just drive myself home. I’ve read that cell reception in that area is very unreliable, and I don’t want to depend on getting a call out for pick up.

I’ll be leaving Emily and my kids behind. Originally, we were going to leave the kids with grandma while Emily and I took on this adventure together. It was going to be a bonding experience. Something to strengthen our marriage that has been pulled a little thin with three kids. It’s hard to make time to be together, much less quality time. This hike was going to be that quality time. But, life didn’t work out. So now it’ll be a solo trip. Honestly, I’m a bit nervous about going alone. There’s a certain amount of healthy fear everyone should have about being alone deep in the mountains. A measure of nervous energy is warranted. But, I will be getting some much needed “me time,” and that’s something that doesn’t come around much. So yeah, I’m nervous but excited.

As for prep, I think I have everything I need. I have a dusty two-man tent that hasn’t been pulled out in several years. When we were younger, Emily and I used this tent all the time. Camping was a favorite pastime, but, I don’t think I’ve even set the thing up in at least five years. I have a standard sleeping bag; I’m not too concerned about it being too cold, it’s still early autumn. I’m bringing an old stove with a small fuel canister, and (most importantly) I bought a food bag specifically for this trip to hang in a tree at night to keep my food safe from bears and other wildlife. My mother-in-law tried to give me some pepper spray “Just for emergencies,” but I think I’m going to leave it behind. If I get attacked out there, a pissed off bear will kill me just as easily as a regular bear. Really, what’s the odds of actually getting attacked by a bear? 

 Day 1

Today was a lot more difficult than anticipated. I mean, I knew the hike would be tough but this is harder than I expected. My thighs were screaming after the first major cluster of switchbacks. But, I still managed a solid ten miles before making camp. And, I was glad to put up my tent and just rest. I can feel my muscles already cramping and squeezing from the effort of this first day. I thought I had done a lot of training for this hike. I’ve been exercising more, I’ve been trying to drop some weight, and I’ve gone on some practice hikes with a weighted pack, but I’m not as prepared as I had hoped. The hike itself was beautiful. I started out a little after 10 in the morning. The autumn air was still slightly cool with the sun peek-a-booing from behind white puffy clouds. I gave my wife a kiss goodbye, slung my pack onto my shoulders, and started up a gentle incline into a thicket of new growth maples and fledgling oaks reaching for the sky through a thick undergrowth of brush and brambles (I’m guessing at the trees.) The trees at this elevation were still in the beginning stages of their fall change. Clusters of yellow and orange leaves mingled with the green leaves that were still clinging on to a summer that had recently passed. Squirrels scrambled up small trunks and lept from finger-like branches as they chased after nuts to store for the coming winter. The forest hummed with energy and life. Birds called from various branches, small animals dashed around in the underbrush. It was all very much what I hoped it would be.

Within a mile or so the forest started transitioning to older trees, weathered trees. Knobby trunks holding thick branches that have withstood the more brutal tests of nature. Those branches arched out in all directions. Some of them hang low as though they were intentionally blocking part of the trail. Summer had lost all hold it had on the trees by this point. The broad leaves were all deep reds and bright yellows. I saw two different hawks soaring above the trees, gliding effortlessly on the morning breeze. Their calls temporarily brought a hush over everything. Direct sunlight, which had shown in large warm patches, became more and more scarce. The Appalachian “Green Canopy,” which was now bright with harvest colors, had fully set in by mile three.

A swift stream cascading over stones made a churning sound to my right for the beginning part of my hike. The trail formed its path by mimicking the stream. Each bend or curve in the stream equated to a softer bend in the trail. The stream would occasionally fall five or six feet (or, in my point of view, the stream would rise by that amount,) and, in response, the trail would climb by eight to ten feet. Greedily, I drank water, filtered from that stream. I ate my first meal of the trail, a packet of tuna fish and a handful of nuts, with my feet cooling in the picturesque waters. That meal tasted better than the finest meal from a five star restaurant. And, it was in that stream that I refilled my water bottles and readied myself for the climb to the ridge line.

Two miles of switchbacks and rock scrambles, all while my pack weighed heavier on my shoulders with every step…with each foot of distance I gained, I also felt like I gained a foot in elevation. I thought I had put a lot of consideration into what I would bring and how it would affect my pack weight. I hemmed and hawed over what to bring and what was necessary. But, once the essentials were packed and I added my food, water, and fuel; my pack weighed a hefty twenty-seven pounds, which was more than I expected. I ended up shaving off an additional pound.

I did end up twisting my left ankle in one of the rock scrambles. There was an audible “pop” and a moment of stomach churning panic. I shrugged off my pack and gingerly wobbled around in broad circles for a few minutes, testing and pushing my stinging ankle. I thought about the absurdity of me trying to hop, crawl, and limp my way back down the rocks to the trail head. Luckily,  it turned out to be only a minor ankle twist and I was able to walk it off. I guess if “walking it off” didn’t cure it, I would have rubbed some dirt on it? (Those are the two steps of first aid as taught to me in youth sports.) That slight twist did make me realize how alone I was, how vulnerable. If I were to need help, what if I had broken my ankle and not merely twisted it, I’m not sure where the help would come from. 

The switchbacks and rocky crag scrambles slowly gave way to cliffs that looked out onto a calm and peaceful world. Far off mountains, tinted blue with the distance, formed the other half of the wall that created this lush green valley far below me. A carpet of yellow and red autumn leaves stretched into the distance, the small brook that I had drunk from earlier joined with other streams to form a river that cut through the valley. The sun shone directly overhead, wrapping me in warmth. The majesty seemed to hold me with an invisible hand. I almost felt forced to stop and admire. But, for all its beauty, I also knew that it was a world that did not know (and did not care) that I walked upon it. I felt small, insignificant in that moment, looking at the raw beauty of nature. 

I climbed onto the ridgeline by about two o’clock, and I plopped down on the rocky cliffs for a good forty-five minutes. I drank deeply from my water and munched on a handful of dried fruit. Rubbing the sweat from my brow, I gathered myself and my pack to move on. I had plenty more miles to go before setting up camp. I had finally made it to the ridge, and, once there, the trail flattened out a good bit. It was still mostly shaded by the canopy overhead, but patches of sunlight were more frequent. The trees at this elevation were thicker still. Old growth unspoiled by the encroachment of mankind. I would see the occasional deer as it would leap away from me, making surprisingly little noise as they went through the leaf litter. The trail on the ridge would rise and fall in a gentle motion. It was much more like the waves of a calm ocean. The lightly sweet smell of earthy decay filled the air. Thick humus with various ferns and mosses covered the forest floor; even spilling into the trail itself. This section of the trail was easier compared to what had come before. But, I still had to keep a keen eye out for the random tree root that would reach across the path, or the rock that would jut out from the ground (I did stub my toe a time or two when my mind would wander.) 

After a while, my throat began to feel dry and I crarved a sip of water, but my bottles were getting low. Slowly, a mild panic started to settle into my mind as I failed to find a stream. The thought, “What if I can’t find any water?” played on a loop; only broken by “Why didn’t you bring a third bottle?” My mind started to race, my heart thudded as fast as it had on the mountain climb. It was a true challenge to not give into panic. My first minor scare on the trail only lasted less than an hour before I came across a trickling stream of mountain runoff. The stream was shallow but fast moving, and I was able to fill my bottles back up. 

About two-hundred yards from that little stream, I found a nice little spot off the trail and decided to settle down for the night. I struggled through the tent set up more than I would like to admit, and then I dug out my stove and some food for dinner. The wind was generally at my back, so I walked on from camp a little ways to cook my dinner, a freeze-dried hiker’s meal. I thought that meal would be just as heavenly as my lunch had been, but it wasn’t. I ate it more out of necessity. I think I was just too tired to truly enjoy it. From there I made a right angled turn into the woods to hang my food bag (I somehow managed that feat on my first attempt), and then I trekked back to my tent and sleeping bag. I cooked dinner and hung my food bag downwind of camp so that any smells would not bring animals to my tent. The last thing I want while I’m out here is a run in with a bear or some other wildlife.

That’s enough poetic musings about my walk. Ten or so miles down and a bunch more to go. Right now, I’m just glad I found a fairly flat and rockless place to make camp. I really didn’t want to try and sleep while a root or rock stabbed into my back. I thought about hammock camping instead of using a tent, but my irrational brain decided that a tent provided more security. By the looks of this spot, several people have stayed here before. This campsite has a well worn feel to it. I just hope the wild life also sees this as a well worn human site. I’ve heard some loud rustlings in the woods that seem a little too close for comfort. I’m telling myself that even squirrels can sound loud in the still evening air, but my mind is already pushing against that idea. Those noises are surely too loud to be something so small. But, enough gloom and paranoia. The autumn air is starting to get crisp as the sun sets behind the mountain peak to my back. I thought of climbing to the top of the mountain to watch the sunset, but my legs protested. Surely there will be many more nights to watch the sun go down and splash reds and pinks across the sky.  

Day 1, Part 2

HOLY CRAP!! I’m just now coming down from the most terrifying thing I think I’ve ever heard. The scream or roar that woke me up was deep and guttural, primal and painful. But, mostly it sounds like it came from right outside my tent. I’m still shaking, and I can hardly control my fingers to write. My skin is clammy with sweat, my body is charged with adrenaline, and I can’t stop rocking. The sun had truly set and the sky turned a deep shade of purple. The full moon cast odd shadows around my tent. I decided to call it a night and I settled into my sleeping bag. I could feel sleep slowly pulling me down deeper and deeper, when I heard a cry, or a screech, or a roar break the night. 

I’m writing this to get it out of my head. If I put it down into writing, I hope I can make sense of it. I hope I can rationalize it. I’m sure it’s nothing, but I’ve never heard a noise like that… it was chilling and now my heart is pounding, my eyes are burning but I can’t even force a blink. I don’t know what to do. I should stay in my tent, right? I have to stay put, I’m safer in my little hole than I would be out there, out in the open. Oh my God, I don’t know what to do, I just hope the sun rises soon, and I can put this behind me. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to forget about that terrible sound.