When planning a backpacking a trip, I always look at a detailed map of where I will be hiking. I look for places that we camp, taking into account the distance between camping spots, and the amount of climbs in any given stretch of trail. But sometimes, the map just doesn’t have enough information.

The map indicated that after Marble Springs, we would have a 500 foot ascent up High Cock Knob. It showed that the climb would be steep in a few spots, but really it didn’t look bad. The map doesn’t, however, show trail condition or take into account the heat and sun.

The trail up High Cock Knob started out okay. I was able to ascend 300 feet, to an altitude of 2500 feet according to the altimeter in my watch, without any problems. The trail became rockier and much steeper. At the same time the sun was now directly over head and the temperature was above 80 degrees Fahrenheit. The canopy was getting much thinner, and it was obvious that I was getting sunburned on my arms and face. I kept going, but my pace slowed to a crawl as the trail got much steeper. Slowly, using my willpower to force one foot to step in front of the other, I proceed up over rocks until I finally reached the summit. Over an hour had passed since I had left Marble Springs. This climb had taken much longer than it should have.

I found a rock to sit on and drank the bottle of water I had carried up with me. The water bladder in pack was now empty too. The summit was beautiful, but I felt too hot and exhausted to care. I put on my wide brimmed hat to keep the sun off my face, and started walking again.

The descent was as bad as the climb had been, slow going over rocky trail. The day was only getting hotter, and I was getting tired. I was beginning to get concerned, I still had over 5 miles to walk. The descent ended at Petites Gap, and now I was faced with a 1200 foot ascent up Thunder Ridge

The trail up this ridge was better and the walking went easier, but I was hot. There was no shade, my arms were turning a brilliant shade of red and there wasn’t any relief in sight, as the sun was still nearly directly overhead. Eventually, I reached a spring on the side of the ridge. I took of my pack and filled a bottle with water, I sat on a rock that almost let my arms be in the shade. When I had finished with the water, I refilled the bottle and drank it’s contents again. The temperature was now close to 90 degrees, and it was nearly 4 o’clock. Instead of being at the shelter, as I had believed, I was till over 3 miles away with a lot of climbing left to do.

I have to assume, that I had the beginnings of heat exhaustion at this point. As I write this, I know that I should have taken the bladder out of my pack and filled it. I know that I should have changed in to the long sleeved camp shirt that was in my pack. But sitting there on the side of the mountain, in the heat, I thought about these things and decided against them. The idea of digging through my pack seemed to hard. I didn’t want to lose anymore time than I already had, yet I still sat at the spring for nearly 30 minutes. I also didn’t want to add the weight to my pack that a full bladder would have added. These things which make so much sense now, I could not think clearly about at that time.

After finishing a 3rd bottle of water and clipping a fourth bottle to my pack, I started walking again. Instead of feeling refreshed, I still felt beat. My muscles were tired of climbing. I tried to walk at an even pace, but I found myself stopping after just a few steps. I’d have to make myself start walking again, just to find that after a few steps, I had stopped again. It went on like this till I had reached the top of the ridge.

The trail leveled out a bit and I was able to walk at a slow but steady pace. I pushed on till I came to a road crossing, the Blue Ridge Parkway. I checked my map, and saw that I had about a mile to go. I wondered about Shutter, who I hadn’t seen since I had left Marble Springs six hours ago. I considered waiting for him at this point, but I decided if he was feeling even worse than me, I wouldn’t be able to help him much sitting here exhausted. I decided to push on, get to the end and if he didn’t show up I would go looking for him.

Between me and the shelter at this point, was one last climb, about 500 feet to put us over 4000 feet of elevation. On the map, it appeared that 300 of those feet had to be climbed in less than a quarter of a mile. As we had looked at the map, we had dubbed that last unnamed ridge, the Fuck You. As in, “you are almost to the end, but Fuck You, you have to climb this.” It lived up to its appellation.

As soon as the trail started to ascended, I again slowed to nearly a crawl, taking a few steps and stopping. I finally got to the top of the Fuck You, and sat on a log and caught my breath. After a few minutes, I pushed on. When I arrived at the shelter it was after 7 o’clock.

I ate a big snack and drank a liter of Gatorade. I set up my tent, and tossed my gear inside of it. There was still no sign of Shutter. When he hadn’t shown up by 8 o’clock, I grabbed my trekking poles and headed back the way I had come on the trail. I felt better for having rested, the snack and drink had helped and the temperature had gone down. I didn’t have to walk far to find him. I saw him at the base of the Fuck You.

“Dude!”
“Dude. I’m off the trail.”
“What do you mean?”
“My legs are cramped, I can hardly walk. I feel like shit.”
“Let me take your pack.”

I carried his pack up the Fuck You, and to the shelter. He followed at a very slow pace. By the time we got to the shelter it was nearly 9 o’clock. Thirteen hours had passed since he had set out that morning.

I made myself some dinner and drank some tea. Earl Grey, hot. The wind had picked up and was gusting across the ridge, there wasn’t much point in staying up, so I crawled into my tent and fell asleep quickly.

We both slept in the next morning. I felt much better, but Shutter still felt awful, his legs were still cramping. He was dehydrated. After a bit of discussion, we decided we had to get him off the trail. We walked back to the Blue Ridge Parkway, and made a few calls.

Our trip was done. I could have gone on by myself, but two things stopped me. First, 9 days is a long time to be alone. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to endure that. Secondly, even though I didn’t feel as bad as my friend, I still had a pretty bad sunburn and had pushed myself very hard. I didn’t want to find myself alone and exhausted and wanting to get off the trail in a day or two. If I was going home, this was the time.

The trip may have ended early, but that climb will stick with me.

I was so excited about being started on my big hike, that I climbed the first stretch using nothing but adrenaline, I think. But the climbing continued. I soon set into a good stride and was making great time. I took in views of the James River Gorge and was amazed at the thought of a river slowly cutting it’s was through a mountain range. I also took note at the changes that came with increased elevation.

Many of the changes are subtle, but they are there if you look. The Rhododendrons that had been in bloom at the beginning of my hike were only showing buds by 2000 feet. The vegetation was thinner in general, especially the leaves on the old hard woods that cover these mountains. Over the course of the day, I went from walking under a lush green canopy at 700 feet to bare limbs with only the hint that a leaf would someday be there at 4000 feet.

The day was going to be a challenging one and we knew that going in. We would be gaining over 300 feet of elevation over the course of the day, but actually climbing much more that that. The day broke into 5 climbs; a 1000 foot climb out of Matt’s Creek Hollow to Big Cove Branch, another 800 foot climb that would bring us up on a ridge and then to Marble Spring, a 600 foot climb up High Cock Knob and the 600 feet back down to Petites Gap, an 1100 foot climb up Thunder Ridge, and finally a 700 foot ascent to the shelter.

I reached Big Cove Branch and took off my pack and grabbed my water pump and two 32 ounce Nalgene bottles. I pumped water from the stream into the bottles. The pump is actually a filter against microorganisms and other nastiness, a necessity when all of your water comes from unprotected sources. I took the bottles and sat in the shade and proceeded to ‘camel up.’

There is a school of thought that believes that the best defense against dehydration is to get more water than you need in you before you actually need it, not unlike a camel storing water in its hump. Then as your body needs the water it can absorb it from your stomach to the cells that need it. Also this means that you aren’t carrying the weight of the water on your pack, only to drink it after your body already needs it. They say that by the time you feel thirsty, you are already beginning to dehydrate.

I sat in the shade and drank the contents of both 32 ounce bottles. I clipped the bottles and the pump to my pack and started walking again. In addition to ‘cameling up,’ I also had a water bladder in my pack that I was able to sip water from a tube as I walked. I sipped sparingly knowing that the hottest part of the day was still ahead of me.

Again I climbed. Finally I reached the ridgeline at an elevation of over 2500 feet. As the trail leveled out, I picked up my pace to take advantage of the easier walking. After a mile or so of walking I saw Capt. Shutter for the first time since early that morning. It was now about noon, the sun was nearly directly overhead and shade was scarce. We stopped and reviewed the map. We weren’t quite halfway, but we did seem to be on pace to make it to the shelter at a reasonable time. We decided to walk another mile or so to Marble Spring and have lunch there.

It didn’t take long to get to Marble Spring. I sat on a fallen tree to make my lunch, while Shutter wandered down to the spring to get water. I mixed tuna from a foil pack with mayo and relish from single serving packs and put it on a tortilla. It was delicious, but messy. I made a mental note to just eat the tuna in the foil pack and have the tortilla on the side on the next day. I went down to the spring and filled 2 bottle and drank them.

Haven eaten and ‘cameled up,’ I felt ready to to tackle the rest of the hike. I left Shutter to preparing his lunch and headed out, guessing that I would be at the shelter in three or four hours.

A huge trip is what I planned. What I got was a long climb. And that’s okay.

We drove hundreds of miles and for hours. We left Shutter’s car in small parking lot by the side of the road outside of some small Virginia town. He threw his gear in my truck and we continued to head southwest.

We drove up a mountain on winding back roads. We reached the top, there waiting for us was our ’shuttle.’ We had arranged, via email, for him to meet us here and take to the beginning of our hike. We put our packs in the trunk of his car and headed out, leaving my truck on top of the mountain.

We drove for miles, over a hundred. We finally reached the James River Foot Bridge. We retrieved our packs and paid him for his trouble. He drove off, leaving us ready to hit the trail. Or you could say, he took all of our money and left us in the middle of nowhere.
I guess it all depends how you look at it. Watching that distance pass had made me start to doubt whether I could really go that far. I was really questioning if I could walk the last 5 days by myself, it seemed to be just too much.

We hit the trail and headed south. It was hotter than we expected, in 90’s, but we only had 2 miles to walk. Before very long we had reached the Matt’s Creek Shelter.

We set up our tents, but left the rain flies packed. We cooked dinner and relaxed, enjoying the beautiful weather and the quiet of the woods. After a while we retreated to our tents and slept, knowing that we had a very big climb the next day.

A big climb isn’t really accurate. We had to climb from an elevation of 700 feet above sea level to over 4000 feet over the course of 12.5 miles. It is not a simple ascent up a single mountain, but a series of climbs of several mountains resulting in a total of more than 6000 feet of climbing.

Shutter was up early and already eating his breakfast before I crawled out of my tent. I felt good. It was a beautiful morning and I was on the trail! I cooked myself a breakfast of scrambled eggs and grits with a large cup of coffee. By the time I was done eating Shutter was packed up and ready to go. He headed off up the side of the mountain.

My feelings of apprehension from the day before had evaporated. I felt great and it felt good being in the woods again, and I was looking forward to the trip.

I packed up my gear, finished my coffee and headed out on the Trail.

11 days. An ambitious plan. I knew that it was extremely possible that I would not complete the whole trip. And I was at peace with that.

I did, however, think that I would make it further than this.

Details to follow.

For now, I am home a week earlier than I expected to be. I still have next week off, but I am seriously considering going to work. I mean what’s the point of taking Vacation Days just to sit around the house?

Still, I feel refreshed. I got some time off work and spent some time in the woods. These things are important to me.

The backpacking is something I need to think hard about. Be able to walk the Appalachian Trail from beginning to end is a goal I have had for a long time now. And I’ve been working towards being able to complete that goal. Every time I turn down a donut or cookie; every step on the treadmill and stair-stepper is towards that goal. And I’ve done well, but it has left me in a situation that I hadn’t considered before.

While I have prepared myself for this, most of my hiking/camping buddies are not physically or mentally prepared for this. I think that, realistically, if I want to be able to do a long section hike, I will have to do it alone.

I don’t like alone. I don’t care for it one bit. I’ve had times in my life of terrible loneliness. I never feel teh need or desire for long stretches of solitude. I enjoy leaving the world behind when I go backpacking, but I like a companion or two to enjoy it with.

This is a contradiction that I will have to deal with.

I feel that, on some level, maybe it would be healthy for me to come to terms with the solitude. To find a way live quietly with myself, to help me to appreciate the company of others more. But being alone in the woods for several days is a hard thing for to do. Don’t misunderstand me, I’m not talking about being a hermit or anything. This time of year, there are several hikers on the AT. I would not be completely isolated, but I would be alone.

This is something I will have to think on for a while. I may sneak out and take a weekend trip by myself and see how it feels, see if this is something I can do.

To be able to do this alone will take a new level of mental toughness, and quite honestly, I don’t know if I am ready for that.