Obviously, I do a lot of day hiking. In my quest to hike the Appalachian Trail and all 900 trail miles in the Smokies, I'm able to do a good bit of the trails in day-sized chunks, but it's going to be necessary for me to backpack some of it. I've probably said this before, but I do not enjoy camping. I like sleeping in a comfortable bed with heat or air conditioning, and, most of all, I absolutely hate peeing in the woods. Men, you have no idea.
Most of the areas within the Smokies that would require me to backpack involve the AT, as it's generally the highest, most difficult-to-reach trail, meaning that you typically (with a few notable exceptions) have to hike a decent number of miles to get to it, so if you're going to hike any miles on the AT and then hike back out, in many places it's too long of a hike to do in a day. Another complicating factor is that, on the AT through the Smokies, the Park normally requires that you camp only in designated shelters (or other designated backcountry campsites that may be slightly off the AT). The problem with the AT shelters is that they are rat-infested, and rats CRAWL ON YOU WHILE YOU SLEEP. That is something I absolutely cannot handle. If I have to choose between meeting my AT and Smokies goals or not being crawled on by rats, I'm choosing not being crawled on by rats. Hands down. Right now, however, the Park is operating under Covid protocols and allowing tent camping outside the shelters rather than having a bunch of people congregating within the shelters, so my options are to either (1) do the long AT hikes through the Smokies now before that changes; or (2) do them as really long day hikes (like 20+ miles). Which, again, I will 100% choose over being crawled on by rats.
Ben likes to camp, but he's not very interested in doing it in the Smokies because Tigger can't come with us. Most of my friends and other people I've talked to either "don't camp" (hey, I get it; I try not to, either) or are fine with camping but don't want to do the hiking part. I do have one friend, though, who is a very experienced camper and who also hikes, so she and I hatched a plan to knock out some of these Smokies AT hikes in 1- or 2-night overnights. She has typically camped with her husband, and I have typically (I use that term loosely, as I don't "typically" camp) camped with mine, so even though I rely on and appreciate her camping experience, the two of us (at Ben's suggestion) decided to do an "easy" one-night "shakedown" to practice camping together and work out any kinks.
We chose a 16-mile, mostly downhill hike from Clingman's Dome (nowhere to go from there but down, am I right?), southbound on the AT to the Miry Ridge Trail, then doing the length of the Miry Ridge and the Jakes Creek trails down to Elkmont. This is a hike that I could've done in a [long] day, but that was kind of the point. If anything went terribly wrong, we could just hike out and make it a long day hike. It wouldn't be pleasant to hike that far with overnight packs, but we could do it.
So we met at the Jakes Creek parking lot at Elkmont, and Ben shuttled us to Clingman's Dome. It was a beautiful morning, and I think the sunrise crowd at the Dome actually got some great views. We weren't there quite that early, but we got some great views from the parking area as well.
 |
| The pre-hike photo reflects nothing but optimism. |
The hike started out great, with several great views within the first couple of miles.
|
| Hey, there are some clouds moving in. That's why they call them the Smokies, right? |
 |
| If you look closely, you can see some patches of leaves starting to change color down below. |
We also passed what someone deemed to be the 300-mile mark on the AT (I'm sure there are several different calculations of exactly where that occurs, but someone was kind enough to mark it here).
Of course, we were going southbound, so we were counting down from here.
We saw some other cool nature stuff, like this super-spiky fallen tree:
This super-shiny "water bar" log:
And this tree that apparently exploded/twisted itself apart to release some kind of demon:
I was also taking in a bunch of plant life, which included a ton of berries of different sorts this time of year.
 |
| The Mountain Ashes are FULL of berry clumps. Most are red like these... |
 |
| ...but some are various shades of orange. |
 |
| According to the Brown Book, this is "carrion flower," which "in the fall, has baseball-sized clusters of blue berries." Can you see the berry clusters back there? |
 |
| Before they ripen, they look like these huge green clusters. At least I think this is the same thing. Cool, huh? |
And there was a bunch of this pretty, weedy thing, which my PlantNet app identifies as some kind of "Angelica."
And aside from that, all hell broke loose.
At about 1PM, it started raining. It was a light rain that didn't cause much concern, but it lingered for a while. It lingered while we crossed Silers Bald, which, by the way, is a bogus excuse for a bald. Trees and tall shrubs have taken over, and there are no views. But hey, there's this great rock that tells you you've arrived and has AT directional arrows painted on it:
 |
| Notice the rock is wet. |
The rain had picked up enough in intensity by the time we reached the Silers Bald shelter that we decided to stop at the shelter for a break and a snack and see if we could wait it out. There was a couple there who were section hiking on the AT and had decided to stop there to stay the night, and another couple of section-hiking guys showed up a few minutes after we did. They were planning on moving on to the next shelter, which was just a couple of miles away, but I don't know if they ever did.
We hung around for about 45 minutes, during which time Evon collected some rain water.
One of the guys was able to get a radar map to pull up on his phone, and it showed spotty showers through about 6PM. We contemplated just staying at the shelter that night and doing our 11-mile hike down to Elkmont the next day, but I ultimately chose to press on to our planned destination, which was Campsite 26 on the Miry Ridge Trail. My reasoning was that (1) it was 1:30PM. It was still raining, and we weren't going to set up a tent in the rain. Why would we stop hiking at 1:30 PM? What were we going to do for the rest of the day? (2) The forecast for the day was 50% chance of "scattered showers." I checked the radar that morning before we headed out, and there were no identifiable "bands" of anything moving in. At worst, we'd get some summer pop-up storms that would move out as quickly as they moved in. Ultimately, my meteorology skills are lacking, and this will probably go down as one of the worst decisions I've ever made. Evon, I thank you for trusting me to make the decision, and I'm sorry I'm a dumbass.
We soldiered on and, because Evon did not have a rain cover for her pack (and because I'm the one who was responsible for us continuing to hike in the rain), we tied my rain jacket around her pack, which we thought made a pretty great substitute rain cover.
That, of course, meant that I was hiking in the rain without a rain jacket, but it was hot enough that I really had no desire to put on my rain jacket. I did put on my rain pants because I had only brought one pair of pants on this trip (an extra pair of pants for a 1-night overnight would be a ridiculous waste of pack weight; even I, the compulsive over-packer, know that). I decided to protect them so I could wear them again the next day.
I took the picture above because I thought, "Wow, look how bad the trail conditions have deteriorated. This is crazy. God then said, "You think that's crazy? Check this out."
 |
| Check out the strength of the current running down this trail when it hits Evon's shoes! |
Trail conditions varied throughout the next 6 miles of our journey, but I'd say we had a moderately strong rain, with thunder and lightning, throughout. Thankfully, at least we didn't have heavy winds making us worry about trees falling, but I'd be lying if I said the lightning wasn't a big concern.
We began to discuss the possibility that the stuff in our packs would be water-logged, in spite of our efforts to protect it, and that maybe we should just hike all the way out to Elkmont that night. That option got more attractive the closer we got to our planned campsite, when it still hadn't stopped raining (that "hit-or-miss and clearing up at 6PM" radar was a flat LIE); however, ultimately, neither of our bodies was going to tolerate an additional 5 miles that night. I can do a 16-mile downhill hike in a day with a day pack, but add 15-20 pounds to my normal day pack weight, and that distance becomes absolute torture (especially on a downhill - my knees just won't do it). Evon was also having trouble with her neck (trying to watch footing all day) and hips, so it was the best decision for both of us to stop at the campsite as planned, even if we had to put our tent up in the rain.
I probably should've practiced tent set-up before we left, but it's not like I've never set up this tent before (it's just been about 2 years since I've done it). In dry conditions, it would've been no problem, but trying to do it quickly so that the least amount of rain possible would get in the tent before we got the rain fly on could've benefited from some recent practice. Ultimately, however, we were able to get it set up pretty quickly, and we didn't get a bunch of water in the tent.
That's not to say that everything was awesome and cozy after we made camp, though. Evon boiled us some water to make our dehydrated food dinners (which, actually, were pretty dang good). We got all of the necessary overnight stuff out of our packs and hung the packs from the bear cables. I also burned/cut several of my fingers on the bear cables when one of them slipped through my hand with the pack weight on it.
While unpacking, we learned that almost all of Evon's stuff had gotten wet. Because apparently my rain jacket doesn't perform as well as a well-fitted pack cover would perform. Seriously, though, I thought it covered most of the important areas. Anyway, neither Evon nor I brought sleeping bags because it was supposed to be in the mid-60s that night. Instead, we bought "sleep sacks," or sleeping bag liners, that are more lightweight. Not that it matters which one you bring if either one is soaking wet. Evon's sleep sack was wet, as was the down blanket that she brought. My sleep sack was dry, but I wasn't going to just crawl in it and say, "Night night. Good luck," and leave her to freeze, so we shared it, draping it across both of us as a blanket that covered, at most, 1/3 of our bodies. Temps remained in the mid-60s as expected, but when you've been wet all day, mid-60s is pretty dang cold. The wind also picked up overnight, which made it feel even colder (but thankfully, it eventually blew the rain away). We went to bed at about 7 PM (because what else are you going to do in a backcountry campsite when it's pouring rain), and we both shivered and were cold for the next 12-ish hours. We had to cuddle, y'all. I probably slept an hour total during that time, and I imagine Evon was about the same.
At several points during the night, Evon would tell me what time it was, and the time was dragging. When I "woke up" (and by that, I mean, came out of a 10-minute semi-conscious state) at one point and saw that the sky was getting a little lighter above the tent, I took that as my cue to start deflating my camp pillow and sleeping pad and breaking down camp so we could get the heck out of there and start hiking to warm ourselves up.
Problem: ALL MY CLOTHES from the day before were wet. Even my pants, which had been "protected" by rain pants. Apparently rain pants can only do so much, and my pants and underwear were soaked. I actually took all of that off the night before and just slept in my pajama bottoms and pajama top, which were wonderfully dry. Of course, my shirt and bra were also soaked because I wasn't using my rain jacket. I had brought an extra shirt for hiking the next day but not really an extra bra. I say "not really" because I brought a half-ass non-supportive bra to wear around the campsite in case there were other people there, and I had that, but it certainly wasn't a sports bra or anything suitable for hiking in. Or for doing anything other than lounging or sleeping in. And even that's questionable.
But I was not inclined to put back on any of those wet clothes the next morning. So, I ended up hiking commando in my pajama pants, with my rain pants over the top of them. The pajama pants are very thin material, and all the weeds, etc., along the trail were still wet. There were also several areas where the trail was overgrown and we were having to bushwhack through weeds and stuff, so I knew I needed some more protection on my legs (and bare bum) than what the pajama pants offered, so the rain pants did the trick. I also wore the ridiculously non-supportive bra, my pajama top, and my extra t-shirt over the pajama top. I had put the t-shirt on over my pajama top in the middle of the night because I was freezing and figured I could use all the layers I had available, so I just left it on the next morning when we started hiking. Bottom line: I looked like a total hobo for the second day's hike, but it worked. This is the part of the story that entertains you at the expense of my embarrassment, but these blogs are supposed to remind me of all the "fun" details of these hikes several years down the road, so talking about hiking commando is necessary, I suppose.
Here's our survival selfie just before we set out from camp on the second day:
I will say that my Hokas performed beautifully, and my feet were not wet all day long. Evon's feet got soaked, I think because she was wearing leggings and water was just pouring into her boots from the top (her boots are Gore-Tex like mine). My rain pants covered the tops of my boots, so my feet (if nothing else) were well-protected. My boots were a little damp on the second morning because I had left them sitting in the tent vestibule under the rain fly, and condensation dripped down into them all night, but they weren't too bad. My feet didn't feel wet after I put them on.
Thankfully, it did not rain on us on our second day's hike. It was pretty windy, but no rain. The hike was slow-going for a number of reasons, not the least of which was that the two of us had been awake since approximately 5AM the day before and were really tired. There were bright spots, though, like these pretty flowers that we kept seeing (I never saw any that had opened, though):
Also, as you might imagine, the Jakes Creek trail runs alongside water for most of its length, so we had some pretty water views.
When we got within a mile and a half or so from the bottom, Evon spotted these two turkeys walking up the trail. I was hoping they'd get close enough so I could get a picture, but we didn't want to scare them. We walked toward them a little bit and then stopped in the trail. The crazy turkeys kept marching towards us. These pics are not zoomed:
Shortly after the last pic, they took off flying to the left. One of them hit a tree as he flew, but it didn't seem to faze him.
We were both so thrilled when we got back to the car (our running family joke after the hike Mom, my aunt Pat, and I did on the McKee Branch and Caldwell Fork Trails is "We made it to the car," and I couldn't stop thinking about that throughout this hike). But our day wasn't quite over. When we got to our campsite the night before, there were two ladies from Georgia who had just gotten there and set up their tents. They were supposed to be camping on the Lynn Camp Prong trail at a campsite just on the other side of a creek crossing, but with all the rain, the creek had gotten too high and was moving too fast for them to cross it, so they had to hike back up to Miry Ridge and stay at our campsite instead. They didn't think they would be able to cross the next morning, either, so they were not going to be able to get back to their car, which was parked at Tremont, without hiking a detour of epic proportions. They asked if we would mind giving them a ride to Tremont if they hiked out with us to our cars at Elkmont. Of course we agreed, because (1) you never know when you're going to need similar assistance, and karma is your friend on the trail; (2) the hiking community is usually pretty awesome about helping each other out; and (3) I figured if their intent was to kill us, they had a better opportunity at the backcountry campsite where we spent the night (notice I didn't say slept) in close proximity to them than they would have in our cars between Elkmont and Tremont.
So, after shuttling those ladies to Tremont, we were finally able to take our exhausted selves home. I took a hot bath that felt better than any bath in the history of bathing, and then I started the long process of drying out/cleaning up all my stuff.
What you can't see above is the rain fly I had draped over the John Deere Gator, the Tyvek tent footprint that I had spread out outside to dry out (where ANOTHER storm blew in and got it wet again, but at least it washed all the needles and crap off of it), and the massive pile of wet stuff that I threw in the washer. I was highly motivated to get everything cleaned up, but to be honest, my motivation has waned since then, and if I weren't worried about Tigger puncturing my tent at some point, it might just sit there until the next time I'm ready to use it.
Firsts for this trip: (1) Backcountry camping without Ben. Ben's an Eagle Scout and just good at doing things/solving problems in general, so this was a big source of anxiety. (2) Using bear cables. I've never stayed at a site that had bear cables, so we (meaning Ben) have always (and by "always," I mean the only other time I've camped in the backcountry) done the "throw a rope" method for hanging our packs out of harm's way. Bear cables are easy-peasy, even though I still managed to injure some fingers in the process. (3) Eating dehydrated camp food. Mountain House Lasagna with Meat Sauce is pretty delish! (4) Hiking commando. Honestly, it wasn't as bad as I imagined it would be. It really didn't feel much different after I got going, but it still weirds me out and I hope I never have to do it again.
Ultimately, although I don't think either of us would call this an enjoyable trip, there were some fun moments. The first half of the first day was pretty nice, actually. I had good company and good conversation, and even though we were miserable for most of the trip, we were still able to laugh. Most importantly, we proved to ourselves that we can do this together, even under pretty crappy conditions, without having other people there to help us. We were actually able to be the ones who helped other people. We dealt with adversity, solved problems, and came out relatively unscathed. I'm proud of us and looking forward to our next adventure (and by "looking forward," I mean in a month or so when my PTSD subsides).
AT miles: 387.3 down; 1802.7 to go
Unduplicated Smokies miles: 266.65
Total Smokies miles: 338.2
No comments:
Post a Comment