A Hike in the Woods, Day 2

Day 2, Part 1

I’m sitting by my tiny crackling fire, watching small wisps of smoke dance into the morning air, and I’ve decided to jot down a few thoughts before I head out for the day. That noise never came back, thank God. I hope I just imagined it, or I made it so much bigger than it really was. I stayed awake and alert for probably an hour before I truly started to come back down, before I started to feel some semblance of calm. I’m going to put that one weird incident behind me, and I’m going to focus on what actually did happen. It got chilly last night. It wasn’t cold or uncomfortably chilly, it was perfect. I was afraid that the nights would still be too warm for me to sleep, but the mountain air did not disappoint. The weather started cooling down as I was writing before going to sleep, and the temperature continued to drop throughout the night. I felt the cool air around me, reaching for me, but it never penetrated my cocoon of sleeping bag and pad. Before I left for the hike, I was afraid that I would not sleep well on this trip, but the mixture of my exhaustion from the climb, the perfectly chilled night air, and the warmth of my bedding allowed me to sleep like a rock after I finally calmed down. This morning I had my sleeping bag unzipped and draped snuggly around me as I gathered twigs and kindling. I know I should have used my stove to make coffee, but a small fire sounded more charming, more natural. A small fire just felt right. Slipping on some camp shoes (one of the things I decided to haul around was a pair of flip flops, not much weight but my feet can breathe and I can walk around without having to wear socks and boots all the time) I gathered a small amount of twigs and sticks to start a fire. Within a few minutes I had boiled water to make my first cup of instant coffee. And here I am now, hunched over a steaming cup, the bitter sweet aroma of coffee is only surpassed by its taste dancing on my tongue. With every sip of the heavenly black liquid, I feel my resolve for the day strengthen.

I had no intention of setting up camp on the east side of the mountain, though I guess that’s where the trail took me, but there is a great benefit to waking up facing east. I watched the sky go from an early morning blue to hues of purple that bled into red, and red becoming several shades of pinks and oranges and yellows. The sky itself is spotted with more cloud cover this morning, which only amplifies its raw beauty. 

I’m about to break down camp, I’ve already shrugged off my makeshift coat and stuffed it into the bottom of my backpack. On top of the sleeping bag sits my food bag, which I collected when I was gathering wood for the fire. Collecting my food bag was a little unnerving. I was very cautious and aware the whole time I walked to it. I wasn’t sure what I would find there after last night. Even with a slower pace, my walk to the food bag was much shorter than I thought it would be. From now on, I’ll have to be more careful about hanging it farther from camp. Once there, I looked around the area for any signs of disturbance. In truth, I was of two minds; on one hand I did not want to see anything out of the ordinary. I didn’t want to see the leaves kicked up and scattered, or claw marks in the trees nearby. I didn’t want to see any evidence that the nightmarish shriek from last night might have been this close to my camp. But also, I’m fine, I’m alive and I’m safe. So, it would be kind of cool to see some evidence of Bigfoot, or some other unknown monster that could have produced that unnatural noise (at worst it was a bear, but, knowing me, it was probably a bird.) In the end, I didn’t really see anything of note. Some leaves were pushed around, which I probably did while hanging the bag, but nothing else.  

Anyway, my coffee is drunk, my little fire has burned to smoldering embers that will soon become a pile of ash to be scattered into the dirt and wind. My bag is repacked and I’m ready to set out on my second day. I do feel refreshed and energized. My legs feel capable of several miles today and I’m ready for the challenge. Here’s to another ten to fifteen more miles down the trail.

Day 2, Part 2

I guess I’m going to write all my posts during my meals on this trip. The hike today has been a lot smoother than yesterday. No close calls with my ankle, no stubbing my toe on protruding roots, and no two mile vertical climbs. The trail has continued today much the same as it had ended last night, with rolling hills and only moderate elevation change. Large boulders have become common, with rock formations dotting the landscape all around me. One tree in particular has grown within a deep crack in a boulder. The tree’s roots are now wrapping over and around this huge rock, slowly tearing it apart. I have not seen any wildlife so far today except the occasional bird chirping on a  branch or taking to wing high above me. I can’t help but wonder if they too heard the ungodly cry last night, and simply fled the area. Better to leave the area than to risk sticking around I guess. I just finished an early lunch (It’s just now turning eleven o’clock) which consisted of freeze dried fruit, a protein bar, and another handful of nuts. It was not my favorite meal ever, but it was good enough. I’m surprisingly not as ravenous as I thought I’d be on this trip. My meals have been modest compared to what I eat on an average day at home. Compared to the amount of work I’m doing, the amount of walking, I figured I would be eating all the time. That will most likely change after I burn a few pounds of excess weight I’m carrying. The one thing I did notice was that even though the meal wasn’t wonderful, I did savor every bit of it. Every salty and sweet morsel that touched my lips was welcomed. I find that at home I tend to eat well beyond the point of enjoying my food. Though I’ve been somewhat frugal with my food, I cannot say the same about my water. From the moment I put on my twenty plus pound pack, I’ve been sweating. My shirt is drenched, the bandana I’m wearing is sopping, and by the end of the day my socks are soaked. I’ve had to ration my water again, it’s getting low. Luckily, a fellow hiker I just met while eating lunch told me about a stream only a mile or so down the trail. “Fresh, clear, and cool” is what he said, and I can’t wait to get there.

He was a really lovely guy, this person I passed at lunch. We didn’t actually pass each other, we sat together for a good thirty minutes while I ate. Come to think of it; he didn’t actually eat, he just sat there and talked while I ate. I’m excited that I made a trail friend. Talking to people, for me, is usually a no go. At best I’ll say “hi” as I pass someone on the trail. So, for me to actually converse to somebody I met out here is out of character. My trail friend’s name was Harry. I was a bit too nervous to ask if “Harry” was his actual name or his trail name. People on the trail tend to be given unique names when they hang around the hiking community for long enough. On previous hikes I’ve met Caveman, Neon, and Trip. But, Harry was too close to an actual name for me to know if it was his true name. Personally, I don’t have a trail name. So, when he asked my name, I could only give him my actual name. If Harry was his trail name, it fit him. He was one of the few people blessed with both a gorgeous head of hair and a beard that would make ZZ Top take notice. Harry’s mahogany hair fell in gentle curls to his shoulders which, along with his mountain man beard, framed a kind looking face notched with smile lines around his mouth and eyes.

We sat and talked about the trail, about our hikes so far (we were headed in opposite directions,) and we told each other what to expect for the rest of the hike today. He told me about some water when he noticed mine was getting low and I told him about the rock scramble descent that he was going to run into just before evening. “You might want to make camp before the rock scrambles so that you aren’t trying it in the dark. There’s actually a pretty nice spot to camp right before you start heading down” I suggested.

But he didn’t seem too worried. He didn’t seem to lack confidence or comfort out here in the woods. After everything else was discussed, I brought up the guttural roar, the unnatural scream that I heard breaking the night stillness. To this, he merely titled his head toward the sky as though trying to remember any such thing. After a moment of contemplation, he gave a wave of his hand, he said “Sorry, I didn’t hear anything like that last night. I must have been too far away.” And, after a moment’s more thought, “It was probably an owl screeching that you heard. I wouldn’t worry about it. I’m sure it was nothing.”

Soon after that, he stood, said his goodbyes and headed off down the trail. It’s kind of sad that the trail will bring people into your life for such a short amount of time. It’s unlikely that I’ll ever see Harry again. We’re on the same path, but our paths go in different directions. Hopefully he makes it to where he’s going. I watched him walk easy down the trail, and that’s when the oddity hit me. He had no pack, he only carried a water bottle which was tied to a small rope that he wore like a sash over his right shoulder. Surely this must be a day hike for him, but he had the feel for a person that’s been out here for days if not longer.

Day 2, Part 3

I saw something very unsettling shortly after lunch. Luckily, I was only an hour or so into the post lunch hike (and I was trying to reflect some of Harry’s enviable confidence) when I came across that gruesome scene. Had I come across it this evening, when I was closer to making camp, I’m sure I would not have stopped. I would definitely still be walking, or more likely running, to put in as much distance as possible. In the noon sun that dappled the ground, I was much more comfortable and rational in understanding what I saw, and grasping the inevitableness of nature and death. In the twilight of the fading sun, my mind would have had a much easier time running wild and creating some horror story. But, I feel safe with the distance I made, and really it is a natural part of life. Plus, Harry gave me a peace of mind about the screech from last night. It probably was just an owl and nothing to worry about. So, I’ll save that crazy bit of story for the end of my writing tonight.

I’m writing this from the comfort of my sleeping bag, with the help of my head lamp illuminating the dark. I spent the evening and into the night sitting around a nice cozy fire. The small blaze grew into a proper campfire. Flames leapt and shifted in a mesmerizing dance sending sparks into a sky that changed from reds and pinks to a dark purple, and finally a deep black pricked in several places by bright dots of light. It truly is amazing how bright the stars become and how many of them you can see in the vast sky when you are up here. When you are this far from civilization.

I made another trail friend this evening. As dusk settled in and the sky, I came upon a hikers’ shelter. These shelters are dotted here and there in Appalachia to give the weary walker a bit of added shelter. Most of these places come with a glorified lean-to covering a wooden platform wide enough to accommodate four to six sleeping bags (depending on how cozy everyone is comfortable getting,) several flat spots for tents, a fire pit, a bear pole, and, if you are lucky, a woodsman latrine. This latrine is not much more than four walls and a hole in the ground with wood shavings to throw over your waste. But, you do get walls for that illusion of privacy; so, that’s a win. The name of this particular shelter was “Hikers Nest #3,” implying there’s at least two more fairly close by. This shelter had the added bonus of a stream. My love of streams grows ever more on this trip. 

I picked a flat tent site a good distance away from the actual shelter. The shelter itself is probably fine, but I can’t help imagining all sorts of rodents and bugs have also found a good home in a permanent structure like that lean-to. I was a few minutes into putting up my tent when I caught sight of someone sitting by the fire pit. Low and behold, a fellow hiker. Only the second one I’ve seen in two days. I was glad to not be alone tonight. I mean, we’ll be in separate tents but there will still be a small sense of community. After setting up camp, I made my way to the fire pit. My fellow camper had gathered kindling, sticks, and branches; enough to have a true fire, and she was about to set it alight. I greeted her as I approached the pit, not wanting to startle her. “Evening.” she called without turning from her task. I sat a few logs removed from the log directly behind her and waited as she finished feeding the fledgling fire. She straightened from a crouched position and swiftly moved to a stretching posture with her fists pressing hard into her pink puffer coat to massage her lower back. That’s a move I know all too well after crouching for a while. Once she had finished her stretch, she came back to a comfortable standing position and our eyes met in a warm greeting. She stayed standing near her growing fire, carving bits of tinder from a branch with her pocket knife, and brushing her hands off on her charcoal pants every time she added twigs to the growing flames.

“It’s good to see another face.” I said, feeling awkward as it came out of my mouth.

“Sure is,” She replied. “I won’t mind some company.” After a pause, she added, “How’s your hike going?”

 And with that, our conversation came to life. I learned that her name was Little Foot, which was a bit easier to deduce as a trail name. Once she shared her name, I did what I’m sure everyone else does. I looked at her shoes. Her feet looked average sized to me. She saw my gaze shift downwards (or she expected as much out of experience) and began to laugh. 

“I was named after Little Foot in The Land Before Time.” she told me.

As it turns out, Little Foot has a habit of, at some point in a trip, telling just about every hiking buddy she’s ever had that they are, “Going the wrong way.” I also learned that Little Foot is a fifty-something year young woman from Pennsylvania, who has been out in the woods for four days, having taken two different spurs to arrive at this shelter. She then talked about her child, which we connected on, having three kids myself, but I’ll exclude those details. Seems to invasion of privacy-ish to me. I told her about my first two days of hiking, and about meeting Harry, whom she did not have the luck of meeting. Finally, and out of some need for comradery, I asked her about last night’s terrible noise. At this point, I’m hoping someone else heard that yell. I’m starting to feel a little paranoid that I’m the only one who heard it.  

“I did hear something odd last night,” Little Foot said, “but, it was kinda far off. I didn’t recognize what it was, but I also didn’t think it was overly alarming. I don’t know if that’s what you wanted to hear, but I hope it helps.”

She had noticed that I was getting a little on edge after bringing it up, Little Foot wanted to calm my nerves. After a few moments pause, I told her about the unsettling thing I saw on the trail. With twilight sinking in and my unease (or imagination) slowly taking hold, I told her about the dead body.

After saying goodbye to Harry, I took to the trail, which had become more rocky. Large worn rocks like nature’s own paving stones led up a strong incline. Old trees, twisted from pushing up and around and through large boulders, grew on both sides of the trail. With the old trees, came more undergrowth. Less and less trees grew the farther I climbed. The trail also became rockier, with crags jutting out to narrow the trail. By this point, the trees had fallen away and the underbrush could hardly hold on. I scrambled between two “V” shaped boulders onto a small rocky landing. I had made it to the peak of the mountain. A rock face tenish feet tall stood to my right, the actual peak I suppose, but this was good enough for me. I had no desire to face my fear of heights and climb the extra ten feet to the true top.Sitting near the edge (I didn’t dare dangle my feet off the cliff face,) I took a few minutes rest.The view was amazing, and I basked in my own perceived glory having made it to the top. The trail curved to the right, around the true peak, and started a descent. The path here was slippery with loose pebbles but not too tricky, and, after a couple hundred yards, I came upon the stream exactly where Harry had told me it would be.

Like the one before, I could easily step over this stream, it wasn’t wider than a foot, and I’m sure it’d be dried up except for the decent amount of rain we had recently gotten. Unlike the other stream, however, this one was significantly muddier. It wasn’t the “fresh, clear, and cool” water Harry had promised. I considered straining the water through my bandana and let the water filter do the rest; but, in the end, I decided to head off trail to find clearer water upstream. Within twenty feet, I started to hear a soft droning. With each step it grew louder and unmistakable. It was the buzzing of flies. Dozens of flies. Not forty feet from the trail and next to the little stream lay a dead deer. This by itself is unpleasant but not exactly unusual. Animals die, carnivores kill and eat other animals to survive, it’s an unavoidable part of life. What was so unsettling was that this deer had been freshly killed. Its body showed neither sign of bloat nor was there a distinct smell of death. Entrails lay spilt on the ground, chunks of the deers hide were gone (eaten I’m sure,) and wicked raking claw marks cut deeply down the back. It looked as though the deer was leapt upon or somehow attacked from above. The most bizarre part was there simply was no head. The neck ended in a ruined stump with a single vertebrae protruding from eviscerated flesh. The deer had been violently decapitated during the attack or shortly there after.

I took a wide berth around the headless body, unable to take my eye off the gruesome scene. I had to swat and wave away flies that flew into my eyes, drawn there by fresh moisture.  Ten feet upstream, I stumbled over the poor animal’s head. Unrealizing I was even doing so, I stared at the head in disgust for a moment, trying to take in and understand what I was seeing. The deer’s eyes were bulging from their sockets, its mouth hung open in a silent scream. 

In the end, I managed to find some clear water far upstream beyond that horrible site. I filled my water bottles and quickly made my way back to the trail, taking the other side of that pitiful stream.

“Not sure I’m going to sleep tonight, after that.” Little Foot said in response to my story. “Thanks for that.”

I didn’t know how to respond and we both sat quietly in our own thoughts for a while. Little Foot turned her attention to a stick she was whittling. The full moon shone down amongst the bright pins of stars as we let the silence take us for a minute. We did finally manage to make light conversation for a while before turning in for bed, but mostly we just stared into the fire. We’re both headed in the same direction tomorrow, and agreed to walk the trail together. I’ll be happy to have some company for a while longer.