Went up to Chattanooga last week on Wednesday. I was surprised to hear F. say she had been pondering going along, just for overnight trip since she had the day off, when I stopped for a quick visit in Decatur. And P. was Very Surprised to see both of us at her door when we arrived on Wed. afternoon, about the time they got home from work. Seems there had been some miscommunication about scheduling, and I was not expected until late Thursday afternoon - and of course, her sister was not expected at all. So doubly surprising.
We went to eat downtown, in a grocery store - sounds strange: but if you want food, that is probably the best place to start. And this particular store had a wide variety of prepared items and a huge bar for customers to pick and choose, eat-in or take-out, ready to consume. We ate too much dessert, but it was very good, as you would expect of high-priced fancy taste-tempting little dressed up tarts and cheesecakes..
Those people in TN like to sleep, and go to bed very early as some folks have to get up in the dark and drive great distances to arrive at work on time. The ones who had to work got up and went, and the ones who didn't drove downtown to walk along the river, wander through the TN Aquarium area. Still practicing the walking... if I knew then what I know now....
F. left to get back to the city and on to work, and the rest of us started getting organized to head over to Gatlinburg where we would spend the night before starting the trek on Friday morning. Reservations in a neat little family-owned hotel with a balcony overlooking a burbling stream.
We got up Friday a.m. and went to eat a lumberjack breakfast before heading out to arrange vehicles before we started the hike. Leaving one car at the end of a different trail in the Smoky Mtn. Park to take a shorter route when we left to head back down the mountain on Saturday morning. Then with four people with large filled backpacks squeezed in, packed into the narrow, designed for be comfortable for two people and no backpacks, we drove up the road that starts in TN and crosses the Smokies to end in Cherokee, NC. I am sure it looked like a circus clown car when all those people and packs came tumbling out in the parking lot there at the point where the highway crosses into NC, in a parking lot that probably holds over 100 vehicles.
The plan was to start up at a higher elevation, so the walk to the top would not be so steep. The distance would be longer than some of the other trails, but (theoretically!) the walk would be more 'level' with less incline. In the guide book, you are lead to believe it will be easier traveling, as much of the eight-plus mile distance would be trekking across the ridge tops instead of a steady climb uphill as most of the other options for getting to the top would be.
This is patently untrue. I am convinced that about 80% of the trail we took was at about a 45 degree incline, with intermittent areas that were relatively level, when you would find the trail flat enough that you could actually lay yourself out and beg for mercy. It was awful.
I kept trying to decide if I had come too far to turn back. I kept thinking that it would get easier. I kept thinking that once we got over the next hump, or around the next turn/curve, it would level out and be smooth sailing. I kept thinking: Don't be a wuss. I kept thinking: everyone one else has a whole lot more weight to carry and they are plodding along, so 'you can do it'. I kept thinking: 'What was I thinking?'
I wondered if it would make me feel better or worse to have 'mile markers' like you often see on walking paths to let you know how far you have come. And decided it would be Both: better and worse. If I had known I'd been trudging for hours and had only come 3 or 4 miles, I would have laid down in the woods and given up. If I had known I had 3 or 4 or 5 more to go, I would have turned around, telling myself it had to be easier downhill.
I do not think I have ever been so tired in my life. And that was before all the muscles I used that I did not even know to show any appreciation for started hurting so badly I could barely walk.
If you asked me how beautiful it was, how much I enjoyed the scenery, I would have to respond with the fact that I spent 95% of the time I was walking looking down at the next place I would put my feet. It was so rocky, rough, uneven, that I feel like I had four hundred opportunities to fall and get severely injured. I actually only fell once, and my tail bone will probably be sore for a week. Had I not had the hiking poles I kept in both hands to enhance stability and use for support, making my way across the constantly rocky, rough terrain, they would still be picking me up from all the falls, mis-steps, tripping events on exposed tree roots and loose shale along the path.
But the other 5% of the time, when the trail was fairly level, and I felt I could could safely take my eyes off my feet, watching for footing, the scenery was beautiful. I was surprised to see so much lush growth, making the forest look almost tropical: ferns growing densely along both sides of the trail, thick covering of mosses on fallen tree trunks, a thousand shades of green - when the weather in so many places has been so dry farmers are plowing under crops that will not produce due to drought. The forest was so lush, with beautiful evergreens and grasses lining the trail for miles, it was amazing.
As we were trudging along, straggling up the last few miles, someone remembered that the guide book described the part of the trail closest to the top as 'strenuous'. Those guys: what profound understatement the guide book writers are! I knew I had been at it so long that it was closer to the top than it would be to turn and go back to the parking lot, but it was sooo tempting....
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