Tuesday, May 23, 2017
If I were to categorize each day on the trail, I would call this one, to put it nicely, challenging.
Though rain had moved out of the area yesterday afternoon, it came back this morning. A brief rain shower started around 4 a.m., then started again as I packed up to leave.
That would make this the fifth day in a row with rain.
| Weather | Light rain in the morning, followed by a continuous rain shower in the afternoon into the night |
| Trail Conditions | Lack of water bars caused trail to flood after a few hours of rain |
| Today's Miles | 20.1 miles |
| Trip Miles | 578.8 miles |
Still, the day began easily enough. The rain was only falling lightly as I started hiking at 7:40 a.m.
I would discover later there was way more water than I wanted, but not enough of it to drink.
Not surprisingly, the trail was wet and becoming muddy. The terrain was up and down, but the first five miles remained about as easy to walk as most of yesterday.
A small cluster of Yellow Lady Slippers I passed stood out brilliantly against their dark and damp surroundings.
Then the trail began to climb steadily toward Chestnut Knob, the first substantial change in elevation since leaving Mt. Rogers. The climb was about 2,000 feet over the next 4.5 miles.
Near the top of this climb the trail entered a long, narrow meadow.
After going through a clump of trees, the trail entered another meadow, then another. This pattern was repeated several times over the next couple miles.
All the while, the weather became gloomier and gloomier. Clouds descended to make a thick, damp fog.
The farther and higher I went, the thicker the fog became.
I turned to look behind me and could barely see through the fog a hiker headed my way. I stopped, thinking it was Uncle Puck or someone else I knew, but as he got close I discovered it was not someone I had met before.
When he caught up he told me his name was Gaucho, a name he got while spending some time in Argentina.
By the time I reached Chestnut Knob Shelter at the top of the mountain it was completely enshrouded in the thick fog.
The shelter was a four-sided stone structure that was once a fire ranger cabin.
Bunks for eight people were added when it was converted to a shelter. It looked to me like a good place to get out of the damp weather and eat lunch, but Gaucho decided to keep on walking.
When I walked inside I saw several hikers, including River, Lost, Stick and Fireproof. No Chill was also there with her dog, Sir Barks-a-lot. While we were there he barked, but not a lot.
Before I left, rain began to fall again, but the walls and roof were so thick we didn’t realize it at first. This time, the rain was heavy and steady.
After 45 minutes in the shelter, it was time to get going again. Fortunately, the rain let up a bit, but it was still falling steadily.
From here I should have been able to walk over to the edge of the ridge and see a large, beautiful valley, but the weather eliminated any chance of a view.
The valley below is called Burke's Garden. If I had been able to see it, it would have looked like a large volcanic crater, but in fact is a giant sinkhole. It is five miles wide and ten mile long, and was created when an underground limestone cavern collapsed.
A story is told of how the sinkhole got its name, which implies how fertile the soil is in the basin. As the story goes, James Burke was traveling in the area during a surveying expedition in 1748. While camping here, he planted potato peelings by a campfire. When he returned to the same spot the following year, he discovered a crop of potatoes had sprouted.
It’s also been said that when George Washington Vanderbilt II was looking for a place to build his opulent estate, Biltmore, he tried to buy Burke’s Garden. Every resident refused repeated offers to sell their land to him.
The trail descended steeply from the ridge for nearly a half mile on rocky, slippery trail.
At the bottom of the descent there was a road. It was here that I made a big mistake.
The rain was coming down so hard I made an assumption instead of checking the trail guide to see where the nearest water source was located. I continued down the trail, hoping to find a spring or stream soon because I was down to less than a liter.
Had I checked at the time, I would have discovered I could have easily followed the road a tenth of a mile in the opposite direction to reach a spring.
It was a mistake I soon regretted. There would be no satisfactory place to get water for more than seven miles.
This was the first time I had failed to plan appropriately for water. The only good thing that could be said about this was, because of the rain, I would not get as thirsty as I might if the weather was hot and dry. Still, dehydration happens in all weather conditions.
Because there was so much rain collecting on the trail, I briefly considered trying to filter some from a puddle. It was so muddy, though, I decided against that because of the risk of clogging my filter.
I decided instead to ration the water I had, taking two sips every 30 minutes.
The rain continued steadily as I made my way along the rocky trail, which stayed on the edge of the rim above Burke’s Garden.
At one point the trail had been carved through a rock outcropping. It appeared as though I should have again been able to peer down into Burke’s Garden, but the weather was still too nasty.
The farther I walked, the heavier the rain fell and the rockier the trail became. Not surprisingly, this made the trail more slippery. When rain is falling and the angle of a rock is just right, instead of a solid spot to place your foot it becomes a Slip ‘n Slide.
Or so I discovered.
Fortunately, I didn't injure myself in the fall, but it was another reminder to carefully consider ever step.
Nearly five miles past the last road crossing I came to another. These were the only two roads that led into Burke’s Garden. If I followed this one into the valley I could go to a hostel called St. Luke’s.
I paused there at the road to consider my options. The bad weather and my lack of water were almost enough to convince me to head that way, but I decided to push on down the trail.
My other options were to go about five more miles to Jenkins Shelter, or only two more miles to a side trail leading to a campsite.
The problem with the second option was that trail was four tenths of a mile steeply down the side of the ridge, and the water source was another two tenths of a mile beyond that. Considering the weather, that didn’t seem like the best option, so I pushed on to Jenkins Shelter. At least, I told myself, there would a place to get water about a mile before the shelter.
Before long, however, I was again regretting my decision. By now I was soaked the skin, the weather was turning colder, and the trail conditions were getting worse.
In a well-constructed, well-maintained trail, water bars are used to channel water off the trail. This prevents water from flowing continuously, which can cause deep erosion.
I saw no water bars on this section of trail.
Slowly and barely perceptively, my spirits were running low. It took a while, but eventually I realized what has happening.
At that moment I decide to kick out my negative thoughts and keep moving. I decided to power my way through the mental funk that was creeping in.
From that point on everything I did became a game. I made a challenge to see how fast I could filter water, how soon I could reach the shelter, how quickly I could set up my tent in the rain, how dry I could keep my gear before I got it all in my tent.
I was determined and the game became fun.
When I reached the brook that crossed the trail I stopped to filter two liters of water and drink as much as I could.
It was getting dark when I arrived at the shelter. The shelter was full, so there was no option for me to sleep there.
I found a flat spot about forty yards away from the shelter, and in 15 minutes I was sitting dry inside my tent.
A couple problems remained that I needed to solve. For one, I hadn’t had anything to eat in a while. What should I eat? A few trail bars or cook a hot meal? The other problem was I was now warm in my tent, but so was my food. Should I go back out and hang a bear bag?
The decisions I made might be considered risky, but I thought them through and felt my risks were low.
First, I set up my stove in my vestibule. Because of the type of stove I use, the flame is not exposed. And because the tent is well ventilated, there was no risk of carbon monoxide.
This allowed me to eat some hot food, which at this point was essential to my physical and mental state.
Next, I decided to keep my food in my tent. I had hung a food bag every night on the trail so far, but in this case, I reasoned, the weather was so bad and there were so many people camped in the area, the risk of a bear coming to my tent tonight was very low.
I was now warm and dry, well fed and in good spirits. After hiking 20 miles in miserable weather, that made for a very satisfying end to a difficult day.
Don't interrupt the sorrow
Darn right
He says "We walked on the moon
You be polite"
Don't let up the sorrow
Death and birth and death and birth and death and birth
He says "Bring that bottle kindly
And I'll pad your purse
I've got a head full of quandary
And a mighty mighty mighty thirst"
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