On November 18, 2017, I headed towards Greenbriar in The Great Smokey Mountains National Park for a day hike on Porter’s Creek Trail. I had previously hiked out Porter’s Creek to Fern Falls twice. The first time was in January of 2015 with my beloved spouse, the second time I hiked it with my friend Rhonda. Today was solo and the goal was back country campsite 31.

The evolution of my journey along the trails in the Park continues. When I started hiking I wanted a destination like an overlook, or waterfalls or some other significant sight or relevant history. Now I hike for the challenge of the trail itself. If there happens to be a waterfall or an astonishingly beautiful overlook it’s icing on the cake. I have my 100 mile pin, my 250 mile pin and my 500 mile pin is within easy distance. From here the next challenge is to hike all the trails inside the park. As one hikes a trail one fills in their map. I have a lot of Park left to cover in order to fill in my map but I have begun with that intention and  we shall see where I end up.

My jeep needed an oil change so I had scheduled the first slot for the job. I left Porter’s Tires here in Rogersville, Tennessee and headed towards Porter’s Creek Trail with a smile. The day was nice and warm for November. When I arrived at Greenbriar there were plenty of parking slots available. I geared up which for me includes my trusty backpack with my first aid kit, water filters, snacks and supplies and my awesome iron wood walking stick. The first mile or so is an easy walk up a gravel road to a round from which Brushy Mountain Trail and Porter’s Creek take off. A little ways up Porter’s Creek trail I met a lady who had driven all the way from Louisville to hike a few miles in the Park. Gotta respect that! I left my conversation with her feeling blessed. I only drove an hour and a half.

The sun broke through the clouds and I took pictures. It felt warm as it shone down through the canopy of remaining leaves and bare limbs. I met folks at the Falls and on the trail beyond. It was my first walk up the trail past the Falls and I saw where trail work had been done, leveling out a section and making footing more secure.

As I ventured on I climbed and wound my way towards a rolling misty cloudy mix that was coming in from deeper in the Park. It was covering far peaks and converging on my destination. The wind roared through the trees and whistled through the hollers, a constant sound in the deep woods. It was heralding the front that would dump copious amounts of rain over the next couple of days. I stopped several times to just watch the effects of the wind on the tall trees. I watched the mist roll in and I walked to meet it the dampness announcing its nearness. I had to stop and find a tree in answer to nature’s call and all and when I left I left my walking stick behind yet again. Argh!!! This is becoming a very bad habit! I made it to the campsite and stopped for a snack. I watched as a group of hardy adventurers set up camp and I looked up and over at the dark looming mass of clouds above already shedding a light mist.

I waved as I left to backtrack my steps hoping to find my Tree and my walking stick. Luckily, once again it was exactly where I left it. I walked out of the darkness of the cloud cover that gives the Smokies their name. I passed the beautiful waterfall speaking to folks there and headed to the Jeep. Another successful hike.

 

On Friday, October 20, 2017, I went to my happy place to celebrate getting a new job. On Monday, October 23, I started a new job in my hometown. To celebrate I was ready to hit the woods and check out a new trail in my favorite National Park. I picked Meigs Creek Trail because I heard it had several creek crossings and I had a new pair of water shoes to try out. I bought the new water shoes to replace the ones the the new puppy chewed. Bad Mugsey!!!  According to the Brown book this trail has 18 water crossings along its 3.5 mile length.

The trailhead is located at The Sinks along River Road. I drove into the Park from Townsend, Tn. I drove through Newport and into Sevierville, crossed the main drag and drove through Wears Valley into Townsend. I have fond memories of Wears Valley. As a child I accompanied my Father and Mother as they brought my paternal grandmother to visit her mother up one of the hollers off Wears Valley Road. My great grandmother Rebekah lived in an ancient Home back in the hills there; in fact, I can remember when they got indoor plumbing installed. I was 5, maybe. It was a big deal. Great Grandma lived to be 107. Grandma lived to be 101. There is something about these mountains that lends to hardy stock. Maybe it is only something as simple as Darwinian survival of the fittest. Seeing how Mountain Folk fought the land for sustenance lends itself to this idea. My roots go deep in the soil of these Mountains on both sides of my family.

The drive was very pleasant and there was plenty of parking at the Sinks. The Sinks is a popular water spot and parking can be at a premium here. Meigs Creek Trail starts just past the platform overlook for the Sinks. It starts with a nice set of stone steps leading away from the river towards the backcountry. The trail went up and around then through some bottomland before climbing up over a ridge to meet and follow the creek. The water levels were down as we have not had much rain in the last month and a half. I never managed to get my feet wet as I skillfully rock hopped the many crossings. I did not count them. I just crossed them.

There is a really nice cascade waterfall about 2 Miles or so back in. I went down to the base of the falls to admire them and take photos. I ran into a few hikers out enjoying the trail. I really enjoyed the ambiance of this trail and the sound of flowing water is one of my favorite sounds in nature.

As I walked I took time to pray. I prayed prayers of heartfelt thanksgiving. My 3 month job search is over. God is so good! And his creation is a marvel. His timing is perfect. There are times out and about on the trail when I find myself overwhelmed by my own insignificance. Then I reach out humbled and anchor myself in His presence. I may solo hike but I am never alone!

It was not a terribly strenuous hike. It had a few decent climbs that got the heart thumping and the sweat rolling off the brow, but it was mostly level. I have yet to meet a trail I do not like. Each trail has its own personality. I could see doing this one again as part of a longer loop hike. Maybe with higher water levels to really test the water shoes.  Until then!!!

I pieced together a nice little loop hike for the day. I parked at the Kephart Prong Trail head on 441 around 9:00 am and headed towards the Shelter where 3 trails converge. My plans were to go up Grassy Branch, intercept Dry Sluice Gap, head up Dry Sluice to the AT and walk the AT by the popular Charlie’s Bunion then proceed to where Sweet Heifer met the AT, take Sweet Heifer back to Kephart Shelter then backtrack to my Jeep. I would get a total of 14.2 Miles. I was pumped for it, and the day was absolutely magnificent. Kephart had had some loving attention since my last hike there on Labor Day. Trail maintenance had cleared a couple of fallen trees making the path cleaner and more easily traversed.

I hustled up Kephart to the Shelter and there spoke with other hikers out enjoying the day. Then I headed up Grassy Branch. I climbed from Kephart Shelter towards Dry Sluice Gap. I liked Grassy Branch. I took some pictures as I made my way up. It wasn’t terribly steep. The grade was very manageable. I took pictures but pictures are only reminders of the experience. One can’t truly capture what one is seeing or experiencing. Your eyes see so much more, the contrasts and depth of color and subtle nature of texture. How can you capture the sound of the wind, the smell of the forest, the pounding of your heart, or the sweat running down your spine from the climb?

The satisfaction of personally beholding the unique features of every trail and the recognition of commonalities that speak of the ecosystem you are adventuring through are true delights for a dedicated hiker. The same trail has a personality that changes with the season, or even the time of day. Nothing is static in nature. Each walk is a brand new adventure. When I got to the intersection with Dry Sluice Gap I found a comfortable place to pause and snack.

I lingered and explored the area a little then loaded up my backpack and headed out. A little ways up the trail I heard other hikers headed my way and I realized I had walked off without my beloved iron wood walking stick. I turned around and raced back down the trail to find it leaning against the tree where I placed it when I took off my pack to rest and eat. Argh!!! This is the second time I have done this. That walking stick has been to the bottom of the Grand Canyon. It has been high in the Rocky Mountains to see glaciers in Montana. It has been to the Bad Lands. That walking stick and I have been places together. Don’t ask me why I seem determined to lose it in the Smokies. I collected it and retraced my steps then forged my way on up to the AT.

There is something almost magical about the Appalachian Trail. When I made that left turn and saw the familiar white blaze I couldn’t help but smile. I headed towards Charlie’s Bunion. As I walked I came to this open grassy area with astonishing views. It was breathtakingly sweet. As I made my way forward I started encountering more hikers. I met one couple who asked me if they were on their way to Newfound Gap road and I told them nope, they were headed towards Smokemont. They turned  around and we all headed towards the Bunion. There were so many people at Charlie’s Bunion you couldn’t see the rock formation for the human bodies covering it. The view is spectacular and the weather was perfect. I got a nice lady to take my picture there and then I pressed on. I had thought to take a break there but there were just too many people. I went on following the AT back towards Newfound Gap. I was heading to Sweet Heifer where I planned to descend to Kephart once again. I crossed paths with the couple I ‘rescued’ a few more times as we seemed to alternate taking breaks. I passed them, then they passed me. I stopped at Icewater Shelter, there is a privy there. I like shelters with a privy.

As the day progresses and you tire physically it can sometimes seem to take forever to reach a landmark whether it is a land feature or a trail intersection. I like the signs that mark the trails inside the park. There is no second guessing where you are when you find your sign. I felt great too. I felt strong and full of energy. I felt no pain or discomfort. By the time I got to Sweet Heifer it was 3:30. I was high up so I turned on my cell phone and had enough signal to text my beloved with my progress. I went down Sweet Heifer and sat on a Grassy bank and snacked in the deliciously warm sun. The breeze was cool at altitude with a bit of that fall nip in the air. There were shadowy places I came to in my descent where it was significantly cooler. If I had not been moving I would have needed a hoodie.

It seemed to take forever to get back to Kephart Shelter. I was starting to feel the miles as the shadows became longer and deeper. My knees were starting to complain in that way only abused joints can. My feet joined on. I could almost hear them whining in that little kid voice that drives every traveling parent to distraction…are we there yet? I persevered, taking fewer pictures as I closed in on that one foot in front of the other zone.

At the Shelter I met a different group getting ready to set up camp overnight. I chatted with them as I rested and snacked. I was chasing the waning daylight now. I left the house in darkness and I would be returning that way.

I made my way back down Kephart as the light faded towards twilight feeling pretty good about my day. Until next time Hike On my friends!

 

I haven’t been here in a few weeks. Life suddenly got very busy as my job search came to an end on October 23. I started a 9 to 5 job in my hometown and the last couple of weeks I have started to rearrange my life seeking to establish a routine and settle into the working life again. After 3 months of searching it is a relief to be gainfully employed once again. Enough about that for now. I am behind on trail tales. Let’s start catching up shall we?

On Saturday September 23, 2017 I did a solo hike from the Thomas Divide trail head on 441 to the Mingus Mill parking area. I read on my favorite FB hiking group that there had been several incidents of vandalism against vehicles parked at trailheads on the North Carolina side of the Park. This has not happened since this little spate of malicious destruction in September that I know of, but at this time the incidents were fresh on FB and in my mind. I have a fairly new Jeep I am extremely fond of and wishing no harm to come to it I asked around the family for a potential drop off at the Thomas Divide trailhead. I felt safer parking at Mingus Mill as it is a popular tourist site with Park attendants at the facility. My youngest son said it was possible I could talk him into it if no other options were available. His grandmother saved him a trip by offering to drop me off on her way to visit my sister who moved to North Carolina. My mom and stepdad wanted to check out her new home and my destination was only a little out of their way. Thanks Mom!!!

We drove over 40 to Maggie Valley then skipped over to the GSMNP via the Blue Ridge Parkway. I dropped my Jeep off at the Mill lot and Mom drove me up to the Thomas Divide Trailhead. It was a beautiful day! Not too hot and not too cool. I took off after bidding my folks farewell.

There were several blow downs on the trail. None proved overly difficult to navigate around or through. Thomas Divide runs ridgeline for its first 5 Miles and those were the miles I had mapped out. It was a most enjoyable walk in the woods with just a hint of fall color to tease the senses. The trail was covered with fallen leaves but the majority of the canopy was still green. There were enough golden and red leaves crunching and crackling underfoot for one to appreciate the change of season. Fall is creeping in, the days are getting shorter.

I took a short break at the trail juncture with Kanati Fork. I sat on the same fallen tree I sat on on my last hike. After a short interlude I pressed on past the Kanati Fork Trail towards my chosen trail. I passed the trail juncture with Sunkota Ridge trail and then I left the Thomas Divide trail at the Newton Bald intersection. The 5 Miles out to Newton Bald were not taxing at all. Feeling pretty good I made the turn onto Newton Bald and got the last little section of that trail in. I am filling in my map. It may take me a while to do. I have set no deadline just made a goal. Hiking Newton Bald I struggled for whatever reason and I turned around before completing the trail to Thomas Divide where it ends. Turning in from Thomas Divide I hiked the short distance to campsite 52. I had rested here once before. When I hiked up Mingus Creek to Newton Bald I walked out Newton Bald to the campsite. I filled in the missing Gap on my map. I took a long contemplative break at the campsite. I strolled around and checked it out thinking that I wouldn’t mind spending a night at the site. I snacked a little then proceeded on to the Mingus Creek Trail and headed down the mountain to where my Jeep waited. My knees protested the down hill hike, they always do. I stopped to give my body a break about half way down. This is the longest hike I have done in a while. I made pretty good time on it. I spent 7 glorious hours alone in the woods. The only folks I passed all day were at the end of the hike as I closed in on Mingus Mill. I got in 11.4 Miles on this loop. Looking forward to the next hike. Until then!!!

The beauty of the mountains and the healing found in the embrace of nature are intertwined to offer such solace to the soul. Leaving behind troubles and fears to enter the wilds offers one the opportunity to release the concerns of the world and take a few steps closer to peace of mind. The benefit of this exercise to body and spirit stretches beyond the experience itself. Hit reset while you are walking and when you step out and drive back into civilization it will take a while for the burdens of life to bind back onto your shoulders. I always feel like a much bigger more well defined person when I come out of the woods free and clear of so many thoughts and worries. It doesn’t seem to take long for that clean slate to start filling up again. The good thing is I know a place I can go to wipe it all clean again.

Saturday September 9, 2017, I did a solo hike up Kanati Fork trail to where it intersects with the Thomas Divide Trail. At 2.9 miles and roughly 2000ft elevation gain the trail promised to be enough of a challenge to make a body sweat without actually wearing one totally out. After my struggle with Newton Bald Trail only a couple weeks back I was wondering if my change in life circumstances and routine had led to a decline in fitness I should be concerned about. I wanted to climb and see how it went without setting the goal so high I would regret testing myself. It has been a long time since a climb has done me the way Newton Bald did. Kanati looked and then proved to be a sweet little trail. I parked at the trailhead where I was the only vehicle there. This was one of the very rare instances that I encountered no other hikers on trail at all. I was truly solo.

I crossed Newfound Gap road and started up. My concerns about my fitness decline proved to be groundless as I felt strong and capable as I climbed and there were some steep sections and some sections where the trail was cut into the bank and looked to be giving way. The wind was blowing a really nice cool breeze with the temperatures in the high 60’s. The combination of breeze and cool temperatures made for a most pleasant day. I had to roll myself over one substantial blowdown that blocked the trail a little ways in from the trailhead. It was angled steeply and I had to cling to it to keep from riding it like a slide down the steep embankment below. The sun shone and I was able to glimpse it through the heavy canopy along the trail. There were also places along the trail where one could stop and soak in a few delicious rays. The play of light and shadow in the forest makes the land an ever changing wonder. The trail was overgrown with weeds in places and washed out in places making for tricky footing. I was careful and was rewarded by the challenge of the trail and the beauty of my surroundings.

I came to one spot on the trail where I stopped and listened to the wind blowing causing the oak trees to moan and creak as they moved with the wind. The trees swayed and groaned and I watched and listened as acorns were shaken loose and pelted the ground all around me. The forest floor was littered with acorns. I was surprised one didn’t crash down atop my head there were so many falling. They hit the dry leaf strewn ground in a cacophony of sound.

What I was most pleased with were the happy little endorphins that flooded my body giving me that pleasing sense of strength and well being. Whatever was going on when I climbed Newton Bald I was having none of that this glorious day. When I topped out on Thomas Divide I was satisfied. I found a fallen log and took a short break to just enjoy that sense of accomplishment that is so addictive. The trip back down Kanati Fork did not take as long as the climb. When I got back to the Jeep I considered the little adventure a success.

Without a purpose life looses its luster. There must be a reason to rise, to get up and go out into the world. Each of us gets to decide what makes life worthwhile. And as the seasons of life change so also changes our motivations and purpose. Sometimes we just get totally derailed and we need something to keep us from rolling too far off course. The mountains are my go to place to get realigned when the crazy just won’t let up. I wrestle with my personal expectations that just are not ligning up with reality right now. The only place I can seem to set it all down and just let it be what it is while I be who I am is when I step away from it all to a place with no expectations. The wilderness strips away the mask of civilization and reveals to us what we are at our most basic level. It is, we are. Just walk, climb, exert physically, let your body work and exalt in labor. The world and its crazy will be there when you get back and when you have had enough of that well…the Mountains will be there waiting.

After our last great adventure in our beloved Park where I tried to get my inheritance early by taking Mom to Andrews Bald we picked a trail that was more her speed. Kephart Prong is a delightful walk in the woods with very little difficulty along its length. Two miles of gentle incline to the Kephart Shelter.

It was a beautiful afternoon. The sun was out and the skies were blue. It was comfortable with little humidity. The trail starts crossing a sweet litttle wooden bridge. Stepping into the forest is to step into reminders of the past. There is a large stone sign frame and fireplace along with a water fountain. There was a day when these were in play and I imagine in that day there was a sense of permanency about the constructs of man. Standing in front of the fireplace looking past the stone edifice at the encroaching forest one  understands the impermanence of temporal creations. Man is the dominant force in the world until he is not. Nature waits, biding her time knowing that when Man steps aside she will arise and reclaim what was hers. It is humbling.

Mom had a wonderful day. We took our time walking the trail, crossing the creek on several log footbridges. We passed a Park Ranger who was hiking back out after a visit to the Shelter and had a nice conversation. We stopped once to listen to the frogs chirping. Mom said she could feel the change in the season coming. Change, sometimes it is a thing we chase wanting to leave behind where we are today; other times it happens and catches us unprepared and leaves us feeling lost and anxious. I am struggling with change. These walks help me to keep my equilibrium in a world where I have lost my footing.  As I walked along with mom we joked about the difference with our last hike. She struggled so much with the steep descent and climb I thought I was going to have to carry her out. Who does that to their mom? She told me that this was so much better. Kephart Prong is 2 miles long ending at the Shelter where it meets Sweet Heifer and Grassy Branch trails. We met other hikers out enjoying their holiday. At the Shelter we had a little snack before returning to the trail head.

The walk back took us a little longer coming back. We would stop and rest and chat as we made our way back to the road and our car. I cherish this time with Mom exploring her childhood home. She said she grew up in the Smokies but never ventured out on the trails. It is so easy to take for granted what is outside your back door, treating your surroundings like the background for your life. Then one day you step out of your life and into the woods and everything changes. Where was I when all this was here waiting on me?

On Monday June 29, 2015, my friend and I got up at 3:00 am and packed our gear for the hike down into the Canyon. Mom drove us over to meet the shuttle bus that would deliver us to the trailhead. We boarded the bus and it delivered us to the South Kaibab trail head and then we had 7 miles to the bottom of the Canyon and our campsite at Bright Angel Campground. Now we are talking some very serious down hill and frankly down is my special nemesis. In that 7 miles we would descend 4780 feet. We set off and entered an alien landscape. The sheer size of the Canyon got personal. Due to the extreme heat we were carrying extra water and salty snacks. I also had some Gatorade. We stopped at Ooh Aah point to watch a beautiful sunrise with a group of folks, most of whom were heading back up. Resuming our journey we were passed by a mule train taking supplies to Phantom Ranch. As the sun rose and we descended the heat became more and more a presence. Let me assure you that a mile of savage switchbacks is a long way. We reached Cedar Ridge then proceeded to Skeleton Point. 3 miles of 7 and my feet and my knees were complaining about the harsh treatment.

South Kaibab trail has no water stations like Bright Angel Trail. At Skeleton Point we looked down on an impressive series of intense switchbacks. They seemed to last forever until we got to the TipOff where there is a comfort station and we entered another zone in the Canyon. The last 2.6 miles were difficult and seemed to last forever. I am slow going downhill my buddy left me in the dust as the dirt trail turned from white and grey to red. I could see his figure ahead and below me as I went one step at a time, one foot in front of the other. The warning against hiking in the heat of the day in direct sunlight is one one should heed. Craig waited for me at the tunnel and we crossed the bridge over the Colorado River. We did it. We made it to the bottom of the Grand Canyon in 5 hours. We made our way to the Campground and looked for shade. There was very little of it. I took off my boots and put my feet in the cool water of the creek. Craig was so excited he couldn’t be still. He went back to wade in the Colorado River, located lemonade and Frozen Snickers at Phantom Ranch and even brought me some ice a little taste of heaven at the outer gates of Hell to be sure. It was 116 with the heat index over 120 degrees.

The heat was oppressive. It sucked the vitality right out of your bones leaving you lethargic and stealing your appetite and there was no escaping it. I would submerge myself in the cold water of the creek and then lie on my sleeping mat until I grew too hot and I would repeat the dunking and I would drink and snack forcing myself to eat. I went to Phantom Ranch with Craig and got a lemonade and candy bar of my own then convinced Craig he needed to cool down in the creek and rest up. After all going down is optional coming back up is mandatory.

The Rangers came by to check our permit and I asked them about going back up and they said that many folks especially on moonlit nights opted to hike out overnight to avoid the heat of the sun. It wasn’t going to cool down after all. Craig could never rest so we decided to head out. We left camp at 8:30 with the full moon rising. The hike out felt surreal as the moon lit the path a silver thread making its way up now, ever upward. The 1.5 mile river trail along the Colorado leading to Bright Angel our chosen route out of the furnace had stretches of deep white sand and your feet sank and slipped as you walked. We rested at a potty house and watched a storm roll by, thunder and lightening big fat raindrops that did nothing to alleviate the heat. Our goal was Indian Gardens Campground where there promised to be a water station. The degree and intensity of the heat was lessened only by the absence of the sun. Climbing is hard work. Once the ascent got serious I lost Craig. From 8:30 to 3:30 in the morning it was a lot of stopping and waiting as Craig lost his battle with the exertion and the heat. I gave him the last of my Gatorade and encouraged him to persevere. The pace was agonizingly slow. I would go ahead a little ways and wait on him to catch up. My reserves were being slowly chewed down by the sheer amount of time we were spending in the Canyon. The heat sucked it out of you a slow steady bleed. The sights and sounds and physical challenge of the trail will always be a highlight of my life. The moon and shadows made it feel like I had stepped into the pages of a fantasy adventure. The trail practically glowed under foot. Details of the scenery were lost in shadow and the moon hung in the sky like a beacon. The river below was a distant roaring heard and felt on a primal level but unseen. Finally, on a rocky ledge Craig gave up and told me he needed more help than I could give him.  He was hurting, muscles cramping up on him and he was starting to feel sick. I was wearing down myself, I made sure he had water and was in a place he could semi comfortably wait while I went in search of aid.

At Indian Gardens I found the ranger station and woke a nice middle age lady ranger named Beth. I explained the situation and she set me up at a campsite and went in search of my erstwhile companion. Thank you NPS and Beth for being there. She located Craig, we had been so close to Indian Gardens, and brought him to the campsite gave us electrolytes and snacks told us to rest and head on out when we felt able. It was 1.5 mile to a water station, then 1.5 mile to the next water station then a mile to the Rim. We rested and hydrated and when Craig said he couldn’t stay there one more minute he had to get out of the Canyon out of the heat…we started up. The traffic on Bright Angel is pretty constant. As the primary corridor trail with water stations it sees a lot of people. A mile and 1/2 does not seem all that far until you begin to climb in the heat of the sun. It was catching up to me. I was losing my vitality. I could only go so far before I had to rest. I was wearing down but still doing better than Craig. I made it to the rest house at mile 3 and waited for my friend. People came down, they went up, all were friendly many offered help. I took a couple of different groups up on sharing electrolyte drinks. The terrain is steep, you really can’t appreciate the true magnificent magnitude of the Canyon until you go down into it then climb back out. It became my endurance test as I waited on Craig. He finally made the rest house. I spoke to him, he was struggling but determined. I told him I would wait on him at the next station and proceeded up. It was grueling and a test of grit and determination. I was moving slower but I made it. At the 1.5 mile rest house I waited and waited and asked fellow hikers if they had seen my buddy. I got positive confirmation he was on trail and making slow progress so I waited and the day passed. Traffic thinned and then the phone rang. I had signal this close to the Rim. It was Craig…Beth, the Ranger and rescuer from the night before, had caught up to him, recognized and evaluated his condition and was sending for a medic. She wanted me to go on out of the Canyon. They didn’t need two of us misplaced hillbillies below the Rim. This last surge towards the Rim was the hardest yet. I was depleted. I walked a short distance and rested then got up and made my way up until I had to rest again. I looked for places to rest and went from one to the next one on sheer willpower alone. The medic passed me at a jog heading down to give Craig medical assistance. I walked 100 paces rested, repeated. A storm rolled in Thunder and lightening and blessed cool rain. A family caught up to me about .3 from the top and the man offered to carry my pack. God bless this man and his family. I almost couldn’t keep up with them, but I did. At the top I called Mom. It took Craig and I 18+ hours and medical intervention to make the 9 miles out of the Canyon. Craig got 2 IV’s and a nap and walked out by early morning.

Life is an adventure for sure. So many things could have gone so much more wrong. The Rangers told us more folks die from heat related issues than from falling. I can believe it! I learned so much about practical hiking in that environment. Rim to Rim is on my bucket list. I will be better prepared knowing the challenges of the terrain and environment.

There are a few places in the world where nature can make a person feel insignificant, the Grand Canyon is one of them. I took up hiking as a personal hobby in earnest in 2013. As I blog here I plan on recounting some of my adventures along the way. The trip to the Canyon is one of those adventure stories that cannot be told in one sitting. So we begin with the prelude and the start of a yearly tradition that I hope to maintain for years to come.

One spring day in 2015 my co-worker and friend Craig caught me as I delivered a test run to another lab and informed me that a group of 6 to 8 co-workers were talking about pooling resources and renting a van to drive out to the Grand Canyon for a few days of camping, hiking and sight seeing. He wanted to know if I would be interested in joining the group. I had never been out west and the economical travel plans really appealed to me so I said sure, add me to the list. Every time I ran into Craig we would talk about the trip, and it seemed that every time we talked the number of committed adventurers shrank until finally Craig and I were the only ones left.

Anyone who works with a group of people knows that gossip and rumor mongering are favorite activities among old and young, male and female alike. I told Craig that much as I wanted to venture out west to see the canyon it probably wasn’t in our best interest to take off cross country just the two of us. Our respective spouses both said they didn’t have a problem with it but it just wasn’t their idea of a good time. My beloved spouse’s actual comment went something along the lines of “Ok, let me get this straight…you are going to drive 2 days across the country so you can sleep on the ground? You’re crazy! I am not driving all that way to sleep on the ground.” I said, voice filled with awe, “It’s the Grand Canyon!” He shook his head and replied. “I’m not sleeping on the ground.” If I remember right Craig’s wife agreed with my husband, just not her idea of a good time. I was really wrestling with my desire to go and my reluctance to put myself in the position of being the subject of destructive rumors. We really needed another adult or 2 to accompany us to make it happen. Craig asked friends and companions outside work and I did the same.

My beautiful daughter-in-law and sometimes hiking and backpacking companion Danielle was at the top of my list of desired companions. My mother was driving Danielle and I to a trail head on the AT. I dropped my vehicle off at Carver’s Gap and mom was dropping us off at 19E for an overnight trip that is a delightful tale all its own, When I told Danielle that it looked like my trip to the Grand Canyon was going to fall through because we couldn’t find another soul willing to accompany us; Mom, looking straight ahead at the road, said quietly, “I could go.” I just looked at her. She was 70, retired, in good health, getting around and taking care of her business. I said “We are going to be camping out in a tent.” She smiled and assured me that sounded like a real adventure, she hadn’t ever tent camped before but it sounded like it would be fun.

I went back to work and told Craig that my Mom wanted to go. We were set. Craig’s daughter Abby decided to go if she didn’t have to hike. She could hang with Mom and do touristy stuff while we hiked. So now there were 4 of us. And so we got a tent sight at Mather Campground. Mom and I gathered supplies. This included getting her a 5 man tent she could stand up in and a cot so she didn’t have to get down on the ground and get back up. We discussed the trip and what we would like to be able to do while there. Still caught up in the notion that renting a vehicle to drive there and back was the way to go we found a full size pickup truck with a bed cover to haul our gear in. We figured we could trade out driving between the 3 adults and not have to stop. We had all kinds of things figured out and like all plans that lasted until the rubber hit the road.

My better half took us to the Tri-cities airport where we picked up the truck then followed us to Craig’s and helped us load the behemoth with our gear. There was not an inch of space to spare. Were we only going to be gone a week my dearest wanted to know, we had enough stuff for an indefinite leave of absence. I don’t know if he was worried or hoping and I didn’t ask for clarification. Some things are better left in that hazy state of the unknown. Packed up and brimming with excitement, we headed towards I40 and Arizona.

Driving across the entire length of the great state of Tennessee is a journey in itself. From Kingsport to Memphis took us over 8 hours. We all realized that the idea of driving without stopping all the way was not practical for our little company of adventurers, a teen-age girl, middle aged lady, and a genteel elder lady, made the marathon drive totally impractical. We soldiered on though, through Arkansas finally giving in to the inevitable in Oklahoma. We got the last two rooms at a roadside inn off of the Interstate in the wee hours of the morning.

The next day’s drive saw us enter into a new geological environment. I had never been in the southwest before. The terrain was an alien wonder. We finally gave up the ghost in Winslow, Arizona. And yes we had to take the obligatory picture on the corner in Winslow, Arizona. Go ahead and hum the tune and sing a few lines…I am. From Winslow we drove to the Canyon itself and Mom got a senior citizen’s lifetime pass to the National Parks for 10.00, thereby securing her inclusion in further adventures. We parked in the main Visitor lot on the Southern Rim and walked out to Mather’s point for our first sight of this Wonder. My first impression standing on the lookout was that it didn’t look real. I couldn’t grasp the sheer immensity of it!

We found our campsite and set up our tents. The Ravens are something else. They have no fear and will raid your campsite for any unprotected  foodstuffs or even just to see if they can unprotect your foodstuffs. We found our way around the village and checked out the visitor center. We found the ranger station and I checked on getting a couple of backcountry permits for an overnight trip below the rim. Having read up on the Canyon I didn’t have much hope of securing permits but it turns out they were readily available. The Canyon was experiencing record heat down in its depths and only die hards and novices were signing up to experience what it must feel like to stand outside of Hell’s gates. Sign me up…I had been doing some strenuous hiking in the heat and humidity of the Appalachian Mountains. I figured with the proper hydration and snacks it was doable. Craig, a former Marine, insisted he had been working out and this was why we had come, to experience the Canyon not just look at it. Like our road trip our plans were flawless. Unfortunately, the Canyon likes to make fools of those who think. Part 2 will detail the hike, Bright Angel Campground, the return and Ranger intervention.

I woke up Saturday, August 19 not sure if I wanted to head to the Smokies or not. I had read on some FB pages that the Park was expecting a heavy influx of people for the eclipse on Monday, August 21. I am not a big fan of crowds and I almost talked myself out of going, but I had spent the whole week waiting on a follow up call for a potential job that never came and I was one wired up puppy. Being a physical person I need to move, to work at something, go places, and challenge myself in order to stay healthy and sharp. Piddling around the house, cleaning and rearranging things, reading ebooks and listening to audio books isn’t really cutting it. I wasted an hour talking myself into just getting into the Jeep and going to my favorite National Park. It turned out to be a good call. After all the day was magnificent. The sky was so blue, wispy clouds like lacy white accents on the blue background. I stopped at Food City for snacks and supplies and discovered that Jack Links has a New Jerky product. 🥓 BACON…a little resealable package of mouth watering goodness. I decided I would try it along with the mixed nuts and Chex Mix I like to munch on.

I had spent Friday fasting, eating only a very light meal of boiled eggs late in the day. At the rest area on I40 I pillaged my backpack and brought the nuts and bacon up front. I tore the packages open like somebody who had only had a couple boiled eggs in a 40+ hour time period. The bacon jerky is good! I ate half of it, chewing slowly savoring the baconey goodness. The drive was pleasant and traffic had not reached the level it would Sunday and Monday as folks drove towards totality. I cut across a section of The Blue Ridge Parkway to enter The Smokies at Oconaluftee Visitor Center. Newton Bald Trail head is across from Smokemont Campground. I pulled into an empty parking area at the trailhead. All concerns about overcrowding gone.

There was a motorcycle rally in Maggie Valley and with the wonderful weather, I was not surprised by the heavy Bike traffic. I like checking out other people’s rides and the heavy rumble of motorcycle engines is a pleasing sound to me. I was able to appreciate a great number of bikes as I drove in and as I put on my backpack and got my walking stick out of the Jeep. I went down to the river and soaked my cool rag, placed it around my neck and then headed across the road to the trail head.

Newton Bald Trail gains around 3000 feet elevation in 4.7 miles where it intersects with Mingus Creek Trail. My initial plan was to hike to where Newton Bald ended at its intersection with Thomas Divide trail at 5.4 miles then hike back out. I got a little later start than I like when going 10+ miles, but I figured I could do it before dark.

The trail goes alongside Newfound Gap road for several 100 feet and I walked it watching the traffic go by seeing them and thinking about how they could not see me, they had no idea I was there. I was in the woods, a part of nature now, not an observer but an intimate of the Park. When the trail took a turn and began to climb I turned my back on the vehicles and sought to distance myself from their noise and smells.

I climbed, there is no other way to gain 3000 feet in elevation. You go up, straight up, switchback up, winding along the sides of mountains on inclines up, it’s all about the up and this trail offered a little of it all. And about an hour in I realized it probably wasn’t the best idea in the whole wide world to go on a punishing hike after a day of fasting, at least not for me. I tired quicker than I am used to. My legs felt a little weak as I pushed on. My wind was OK I just wasn’t my usual strong legs of steel self. At 2+ miles in I had my first Bear 🐻 encounter of the year.

I rounded a hill, crossed a wet weather seep and climbed towards another twist in the trail. 3 cubs loped across the trail and down the hill beside me where they scampered up a huge straight tree trunk towards the cover of the canopy above. One of the cubs stopped and looked over at me and we contemplated one another for what seemed like long moments. I thought about digging my iPhone out for a photo then had visions of those websites advertising last photo before tragedy strikes. There I was, the last picture on my phone the infamous selfie with a bear and then I saw Momma, she grunted and rolled her big body around and headed away from the tree full of cubs. I decided distance was my friend and headed on up the trail away from the cubs. I could hear Momma in the woods off to the other side and I called out making sure she could hear me as I put distance between myself and her family. As I used my little adrenaline rush to speed my steps, my back to the bear tree it suddenly struck me that I had BACON in my back pack…and everything tastes better with BACON! 😳

It took a little while before my legs said enough and I stopped for Gatorade and a rest. The rest of the climb then became one of pure stubbornness on my part. I stopped more to rest during the next 2.7 miles than I think I have since my first serious hike in 2013. Every time I stopped to rest I would think about just calling it and turning around and heading back down. But that is not what we do. I thought of Mom stubbornly climbing up the trail two weeks ago refusing a helping hand unless she just couldn’t lift her leg or push herself along. I didn’t drive to North Carolina to only get part of the way up the trail. I came to finish it, by golly and finish it I would. I made it to the trail intersection with Mingus Creek and it was after 4:00. I had gotten all the elevation gain I was going to. The last .7 mile runs Ridge line to meet Thomas Divide. I rested and called it good. I had gone from Mingus Creek up to Newton Bald then past the backcountry campsite a couple weeks ago. I was familiar with the rest of the trail and frankly, I felt so washed out and done in from the exertion of the climb I just decided to cut myself some slack. I snacked some on the Chex mix and drank Gatorade and let my heart rate level out. I had taken 4 hours to top out. I took a deep breath and headed back down. It took me 2.5 hours to get back to the Jeep. No sign of my forest mates on the return trip.

Every adventure has its own flavor and texture. No two outings are the same. The bear encounter was the highlight of the day. People ask me all the time what would you do if you met a bear out there all by yourself. They tell me they would be too scared like I am some kind of superhero or supernutcase…I never can decide as I explain that I don’t know what I would do. Kinda depends on what the bear does really. Best case scenario we look at each other as the curiosities we are and go our separate ways none the worse for wear. The moments the cub and I stared at each other in wonder and awe on my part are etched in my mind’s eye enriching my life with its memory. Fear is the enemy, my friends, not the bear.

Five years ago I was helping my husband refurbish his 1986 Sportster. While we were pricing parts at our local Harley Davidson dealership, Colboch’s Harley Davidson in Morristown, Tennessee, I was trolling the new and used bikes. I had always wanted a motorcycle, but I had never quite gotten up the nerve to learn how to ride let alone get one. As I looked over the array of motorcycles I came upon a 2002 883 Sportster that someone had lovingly outfitted with an aftermarket seat and tank cover and some other cool accessories. I looked at the asking price did some math in my head and realized I could write a check and take that sweet little bike home. When my husband found me I asked him what he thought about the bike. Being clueless to my intentions he proclaimed it a nice looking little bike. Then I asked him, oh so innocently, could you ride it? I got the look then, you know the one, that male look of supreme confidence, as he declared; “Honey, I can ride any bike in here!” And click…the trap sprang and I nodded with a wide grin and clarified…”So if I write a check for this bike then you can ride it home?” In a pair of tennis shoes, shorts and tshirt and a helmet bought at the same time as the bike my beloved rode my motorcycle 30 miles home.

I had never ridden a motorcycle before and now I had one. My 16 year old son agreed to go to the motorcycle training course at Walters State with me and we signed up. The bikes at the training course were smaller and much lighter than my new Iron Horse. I was excited and nervous as I learned basic motorcycle safety and control. With my new license endorsement I was ready to start learning on the 883. It is not a big bike but it was huge to me and heavy. Finding my balance and controlling the bike were challenging to me. Patiently, my spouse helped me get started and helped me pick up the beast when I laid it down trying to make a turn or come to a stop at the top of the hill here on the farm. Finally  I felt confident enough to try it on the country roads here.

So, I tell my husband I am going to ride out to the main road and make a lap going by the church and out to the highway and back. He looks at me and solemnly announces that one of his best friends died in a motorcycle accident on the road we live on. Ok…I will try to make it home. Next I want to venture out a little further from home and decide I will ride over to my eldest son’s. As I put on my leathers, half the fun of having and riding a Harley is wearing all the really cool riding leathers and knowing it’s practical gear not just dress up, and start for the door my sweetie hugs me tight and tells me “This guy I went to school with, he died in a motorcycle wreck on 66 there where you are going. He hit a dump truck head on…” O…K… I nod and promise to try and avoid all oncoming traffic. I am beginning to wonder if he knows anyone besides himself who has survived owning and riding a motorcycle. Needless to say I am still this side of heaven, and still riding my little bike.

My youngest son who got his motorcycle license when I did and my middle son also ride. The last 3 years we have gone on a Mother’s Day ride. Our first ride we visited Elrod Falls over the mountain towards Sneedville. My eldest rode with my second son and my youngest and I rode solo. Last year my two younger sons and I rode to Hot Springs North Carolina. This year due to work obligations my youngest son was the only one available to ride. We did a big lap through Greenville to Morristown. I look forward to this ride every year. I am blessed to have such wonderful sons too!

Riding has been a confidence building exercise in freedom. The feel of the wind at speed is an unexpected shock to the system the first time you experience it. Then it becomes a rush as you pull out and build speed. The world is rich in feel and smells. The smell of wildflowers and woods, fresh cut hay and rain moving in battle with the smells of rot and decay from road kill and the barnyard stink of farm animals and the smell of exhaust from traffic. The cool air, the heat of the sun, the rain…hey the rain hurts, stinging like pin pricks as you race along in the elements. I rode over Clinch Mountain in a thunderstorm once and as I battled the weather keeping steady and calm on the winding twisting road I was a participant in my life not an observer. Riding in a car, there is a barrier between you and the elements. Not so on the bike. Fully exposed and fully engaged, you meet the challenge and you come through the other side. There is nothing between you and the road but those oh so practical yet cool looking leathers. When I got off the mountain and made my way home I had water standing in my boots and not a dry stitch of clothes on and I was exhilarated. My heart was racing and my mind was full of wonder. I felt like I was on top of the world as laughter bubbled up and over. I felt so alive, every nerve ending popping, eyes seeing the world with an intense clarity, colors brighter, the light of the sun peaking through the clouds like a sunbeam from heaven itself.

Nothing we do in life that is worthwhile is without risk of some kind. When we always seek the safe path, when we avoid things out of a fear of failing or being hurt we deny ourselves the opportunity to stretch our minds and psyches beyond the mundane to touch the extraordinary. The simplest things offer profound insight when we are totally engaged. There are so many distractions these days, so many excuses to not even try, so many self proclaimed victims, that the mere act of just being who you are in the moment is becoming rare. Step away from the TV, put down the phone, don’t worry what everyone thinks says or does. Find a motorcycle and ride. It will liberate your mind.