Trail Epic

It’s 9:30 AM and I have made a last minute decision to hike a full twenty-two miles rather than the more modest trip I had planned days before. Though snow is on the ground, this is Tennessee. And it is April. Leaves should be budding from the branches of once dormant trees; flowers should be lining the sides of the trail leading me happily to my journey’s end. (I took the picture on the right during my journey.) Even with the snow and the clouds and the cold, I am still optimistic that I will finish with ease.

As I look about, though, the gray clouds are moving ominously across the sky from west to east. The temperature is in the low 20’s and the forested landscape is painted in a symphony of whites and grays. Even though I am in the mountains, the ups and downs aren’t too severe. And of course the weather could always clear later in the day. I convince myself that there is nothing wrong with this picture.

Bob Peoples, one of the most renowned mountain men in the south, has shuttled me to route 421 which intersects the Appalachian Trail fourteen miles south of Damascus Virginia. One reason for doing big miles now is that I have been trying to get to Damascus for over a year, but every time I set foot on the trail some obstacle is placed in my way. Last April, it was the flu and in November it was extreme cold and snow. So doing these miles makes sense to me because when I get done later in the day I will have almost reached my goal.

I start out with the hope of covering about three miles each hour which is a moderately fast pace, but the map profile indicates only slight elevation gain and loss. If I am able to maintain this pace I will finish before 5 PM. However, the map does not indicate 30 MPH winds sweeping relentlessly across the mountain ridges, nor does it show snow drifts accumulating to almost a foot.

And the plan does not allow for blizzard conditions worsening throughout the day. I had envisioned a clear path, but the snow comes hurling at me from every angle; after three arduous hours, I had covered a disappointing seven miles. With fifteen miles to go, I had no choice but to forge on.

Occasionally a north bound hiker would emerge out of the snow. We would stop and trade information and then quickly go our separate ways because without movement, the cold began to penetrate through the layers of gear. The real benefit of meeting another hiker, though, was to have their snow tracks point the way forward. Eventually the wind would erase most traces of their presence, but I appreciated the help while it lasted.

By 7:30PM I arrived at Vandeventer Shelter about three thousand feet above Watauga Lake. By that late hour the storm had relinquished its firm grip; occasionally, the full moon would peer out from behind passing clouds. Lights flickered around the lake pointing the way to warmth and safety. A few hikers were inside their tents near the shelter, but they did not bother to emerge, nor did I bother to stick around. The clock had become my greatest enemy as I still had over four miles of steep downs before reaching my car. So off I went, moving as fast as I could. The curtain of dusk descended slowly, but by 8:30 it was night. I lost the trail one time but quickly retraced my steps, found the right way and headed down. And at 9:00 I finally reached my car, and with it, I reached warmth, safety and a way back to a place to spend the night and a very long and sweet sleep.