|
|
| From | Message | ||
|---|---|---|---|
|
 Unforgettable Backpacking AdventuresIn May 1986, Jeremy and I set out for our third backpacking trip, which was on the Upper Cane Loop of Fall Creek Falls. The trail extended a total of 13 miles, and included little more than forest. On a scale of 1 to 5, 1 being very easy and 5 being very difficult, I would rate this trail as a 3. We mistakenly elected to venture past the first campsite that we encountered, and we barely made it to the second backcountry camping area. After having hiked approximately 8 miles, Jeremy removed his pack and crashed. But nightfall was approaching, and we needed water in which to use for cooking. I hustled down the trail in an effort to intersect a creek that was marked on the trail map. On my hurried way to the creek, I was startled by a buck which stood about thirty feet from me. He was a beautiful specimen with several points on his antlers. I think we must have startled each other as he was not expecting me nor I him. We both stood perfectly still for a few moments, and then he vanished into the thicket. When I finally arrived at the creek, I was unpleasantly surprised to see that the water was stagnant and contained bits and pieces of dried leaves and other forest sediment. Due to limited access, I was forced to remove my belt, attach it to my canteens, and lower them to the water from off a small bridge. This was an awkward process at best. I had to use several water purifying tablets in an attempt to make the water safe to consume. This was before the days of neutralizing tablets, and hence the iodine tablets left a nauseating taste to the water. Once back at the campsite, I woke Jeremy long enough to set up our tent and eat dinner. I made the mistake of using Sterno cans to boil our freeze dried food. The Sterno was not sufficient to bring our food to a boil; therefore, our dinner was not adequately cooked. Consequently, the dinner tasted almost as bad as the water. This meal broke me from using Sterno cans for cooking and from using freeze dried food for future trips. The next day we consumed the remainder of the awful tasting water while finishing our trek. As a result, we both suffered from diarrhea for several days following the trip. Heat Exhaustion In the summer of 1990, Ronald, one of my Sunday school students, and I, backpacked the 11 mile Volunteer Trail at Long Hunter State Park. The terrain is somewhat easy, and the trail parallels Percy Priest lake. I would rate this trail as a 2. However, on this particular trip the heat index topped off to around 100 degrees. We were not at all expecting this heat wave. Had I been by myself, I would have headed back to the trail head when the heat rose so high. But I did not want to disappoint Ronald. Further, I knew I would be hiking at a slow pace due to the heat, and I did not want to hold him up. Knowing that the trail was well-marked and that Ronald was a Boy Scout, I sent him on up the trail ahead of me. This was mistake number two. About two and a half hours into the trail, I collapsed as a result of the heat. I somehow managed to rise after a few minutes of rest, but I collapsed a second time about an hour later. Realizing that the campsite was within an hour further down the trail, I managed to get back on my feet again and finish the trek. Afterward, I took a long rest break, and then established camp. After dinner, Ronald and I swam in the cool water of the lake. The water was quite refreshing, and I was under the mistaken belief that I had regained my strength and would be okay. We retired for the night and all appeared to be well. But the next morning following breakfast, I became quite ill. Once again, Ronald was anxious to move on down the trail, so I gave him my truck keys and sent him on ahead. This was mistake number three. I knew before I headed out of the campsite that I would be unable to carry out my backpack. So I hid the backpack in some brush and headed down the trail with only water and a few other necessities. After around two hours of walking in the heat, I collapsed a third time. After remaining on the ground for quite some time, I realized that I would not be able to finish hiking back to the truck without some desperate measure. Close to the water's edge, I unloaded everything I possibly could get by without, and headed for the water. In the process of swimming across the wide cove, the water rejuvenated me enough so that I was able to climb up the steep bank on the opposing shore and finish my hike. Wearily, I drove Ronald back to his house. Upon arriving at my home, I immediately headed for bed where I remained the next three days. My backpack was later retrieved from one of the park's rangers; he had used a maintenance road to access it. I had obviously suffered from a serious case of heat exhaustion. This experience brought an end to my backpacking excursions during the hot summer months. One Devil of a Trail In March 1993, Jennie, our two dogs, and I backpacked the Hobbs Cabin trail in the Savage Gulf area of the South Cumberland Recreation Area. This trail is 19 miles roundtrip; I would rate this trail as a 3. As the name implies, a cabin lies at the far end of the trail, and it is available on a first come, first serve basis. When we began the trek, we were the only ones headed for the cabin. The air was somewhat cool, and the cabin would provide a safe haven from the weather, so we thought. We started hiking down the plateau portion of the trail, which is normally somewhat easy going and extends about 11 miles. However, this day we hiked that entire portion of the trail in the rain. In doing so we encountered several wet weather run off streams where my waterproofed boots proved not to be so waterproof. This is the trip that led to my purchasing Gore Tex boots for future outings. Within a mile or so of the cabin, another group of hikers overtook and passed us in a mad rush. We were frustrated in losing our attempt to have a dry place in which to rest. A little further down the trail, we encountered a run off stream too wide to cross without assistance. Wondering how the previous party managed to cross over the stream, we dragged a large limb across the two banks of the rushing water. Jennie and the dogs crossed over with no problems. However, just as I placed my foot on the other side of the bank, the limb broke dropping me into three feet of ice cold water. I had to remove my pack, and then Jennie awkwardly helped me out of the water. Cold, wet and tired I pressed on until we finally arrived at the campsite. The cabin dwellers were cozily enjoying the warmth of their dry shelter heated by the cabin's fireplace. But Jennie and I were forced to set up camp in the rain. I changed into dry clothes as soon as I could but remained shivering in the cold throughout the night never quite able to obtain warmth. The rain finally subsided just prior to bedtime. I was a bit frustrated and annoyed as every time I visited the outhouse, I was greeted by snorting sounds from our boorish neighbors. However, they were the least of my troubles, and I ignored them as best as I could. The rain had completely cleared away by the next morning. As a result of wearing completely saturated clothing in the cold for awhile the night before, I became quite ill at the start of the gorge portion of the trail. I struggled with my pack the whole way back, but the remainder of the trail only extended about eight miles. Moreover, the scenic gorge overlooks were quite spectacular, and they made the trek worthwhile. Struggling with my illness along the way, we finally arrived back to our vehicle. This is the longest backpacking trip that we have successfully completed to date. Camped Near a Stream In September 1994, Jennie, her friend Dan, two dogs and I embarked upon a backpacking trip in the Cohutta Wilderness Area of the Chattahooche National Forest in north Georgia. The forest backs up against Cherokee National Forest in Tennessee. Jennie and I would have never located the trail head on our own. After exiting 1-75 we encountered one turn after another driving a good distance down a series of gravel roads. We backpacked approximately five miles down a trail wide enough to be a horse trail. The terrain was moderate for the most part, but we did hike up one long incline that left Jennie and I huffing and puffing. I would rate this trail as a 3. I honestly did not think I was going to make it to the crest. I don't think the trek bothered Dan too much; unlike the two of us, he appeared to be in great shape. After accomplishing that hill, the remainder of the journey was much more level and quite enjoyable. We established camp right beside a rolling stream of water. We then embarked on a relaxing day hike and waded through a portion of the stream. At one point Dan stripped off to his underwear and jumped off a small cliff into a deep pool. He beckoned us to strip down and join him, but Jennie and I declined his offer. Upon returning to the campsite, we relaxed and prepared for the night. The sound of the running water rendered peacefulness and tranquility; it lulled us to an easy sleep. This occurrence reminded me of the memorable episodes as a kid when my father would take us to the mountains of California where we camped near a stream as well. As a young child, I always spent my most enjoyable times swimming in the ice cold water. Needless to say, we were quite refreshed the next morning. Backpacking back to the trailhead seemed so much easier than our hike to the campsite the previous day. Jennie and I left Dan behind only to discover later that he became quite ill and barely made it back to his vehicle. Jennie and I have never been back to this area, but we have since longed for the experience. An Uneasy Experience In the fall of 1995, Jennie, our two dogs, and I backpacked the main trail at Natchez Trace State Park in west Tennessee. This was after a serious ice storm that had taken place the previous January. The storm downed many trees across the state, and Natchez Trace was no exception. The terrain is somewhat level; I would rate this trail as a 2. We spent most of the day walking over, under and around fallen trees as best as we could. All of this extra walking was somewhat exhausting. When we finally arrived at the campsite, the area was in shambles. Consequently, we decided to set up camp on the shore of a nearby lake immediately off a gravel access road. Spotting a park ranger in the distance, we hurriedly set up our tents. Sure enough, not long after the tents were up, the ranger drove to us and informed us that we were camping illegally. However, since we had already set up our campsite at that point, he decided to allow us to stay. After dark, I decided to take a swim in the cold lake donned only with my underwear. When I first plunged into the lake, the cold water took my breath away. But being the lover of swimming that I am, I soon adjusted to the chilly water temperature. I had a very relaxing time as I swam to the other side of our cove. Afterward, Jennie and I retired for the night. Then around midnight I awoke to the fierce growls of Mattie, my dog. I hurriedly opened my tent to investigate why she was growling so intensely, and I was surprised to see two men approaching our campsite from a distance. The closer the men came toward us, the more Mattie growled. I hollered at her a couple of times, but she was seriously in her attack mode. When they were within thirty feet from our tents, Mattie started toward the men as if she was ready to charge. They finally came to their senses, hurriedly retreated back to their vehicle, and drove away. We never figured out their intentions, but had Mattie not been with us on the trip, the men would have been upon us without warning. We determined from this trip that we would never again camp near an isolated access road without the presence of other people. |
