Into the Wilderness
A number of years ago my faithful trail companion, a Labradoodle named Strider, and I went for a hike in the Middle Prong Wilderness of Western North Carolina. One thing about wilderness trails is that they are usually not marked. I always pack a map and compass, even when hiking familiar trails. I would learn later that day just how important that decision would be.
The Middle Prong Wilderness is 7,900 acres of pristine high-alpine forest; it’s home to plants that were leftover from the last ice age. The wilderness protects the headwaters of the Pigeon River, which flows wide and quick through deep ravines and thick woods. The Middle Prong is less traveled than the nearby Shining Rock Wilderness due to its remote location and lack of trail markings. I love hiking with friends and meeting people on the trail, but every now and then it feels good to get away from everyone and hike the trails with only a dog for companionship.
I chose a lovely June day and an 8-mile loop that would take us about five hours to complete and get us back to our car by about 4 p.m. that afternoon. The trail did not disappoint. We didn’t meet anyone until about a third of the way through the hike.
Two younger guys were coming the other way and we stopped to chat. They had originally started out like Strider and I had, planning to hike the same loop. At a certain juncture, which I remember being tricky to navigate from a previous hike a few years before, they lost the trail. After spending some time following false leads, they decided to give up and hike back the way they had come.
I do not like giving up, letting go or leaving a task unfinished. This trait has served me well in that I generally complete what I set out to accomplish, but like every trait, this one has a flip side. There have been times when turning back would have been the better choice. This might have been one of those times. Instead, I thanked the guys for their information and pressed on.
Strider was the best trail dog!
When Strider and I came to the juncture where the trail should cut right and begin to loop back up the mountain, through beautiful fields and amazing views, it turned out that those guys were not kidding. Even though I had been on this same trail before, I had no better luck finding the turn than they had. “Come on, Boy,” I said. “Let's do some bushwhacking and see if we can find the trail.” We spent about 20 minutes chasing false trails (these are usually made by deer and bear) until I had to make a decision. Do I go back or do I press on?
I pulled my map and compass from my pack and got my bearings. I knew the way back. I also knew that if I pressed on and missed crossing the trail, I would eventually reach a ridge trail that would take me back to my car. The trick was that the ridge trail would require bushwhacking a mile through deep uncut forest 1,500 feet straight up the mountain. To give you an idea of that height, the Empire State Building is 1,454 feet from its base to its tip.
Thirty minutes into our bushwack I knew that we were not going to find the trail but I still did not want to turn back. “Strider, are you game for taking the long way to the top?” Strider was a trooper as we cut through thick rhododendron, crossed creeks, and stepped around signs of recent bear activity. I suspect that humans had not been this far off trail since the area was logged 100 years ago. “Strider, if I fall and hit my head they will never find me.”
The strenuous path we were cutting became more vertical as we climbed. At one point I could only walk 20 paces at a time before I would have to stop and catch my breath. I was grabbing and leaning into trees to keep from falling down the slope. It was when I ran out of water that my thoughts turned to dehydration. I was thirsty and growing weak but we had no choice but to keep climbing.
The beauty of this amazing wilderness was not lost on me. We are fortunate to have vast spaces where it is still possible to lose the trail and even oneself. I smile now remembering how the late afternoon sun streamed through the trees. It was a special place to have all to myself.
I felt humbled under the realization that the outcome of my decision could be very bad. But just as quickly as the thought came to me, just when I thought I couldn't go any further, the trail was suddenly in sight. I had reached the top. I got down on my knees and kissed the trail. “We made it Strider!”
Nine hours later and 100 yards from my car!
We had another two hours of hiking ahead of us but it was all along the ridge, and that was going to be a cake walk compared to what we had been through. We met some sweet people camping in a field, who offered us water and a dog bone. Strider and I sat with them and watched the most lovely sunset before heading on. Finally, after nine hours of hiking and five hours later than I had expected, we arrived back at my car.
What did I learn?
If we are prepared and have confidence in ourselves, we are capable of meeting more unexpected challenges than we may give ourselves credit for.
Know the terrain you are working in and have a sense of what your options are. While I missed the trail, I was never lost. I could read a map and orient myself, so I always had a general sense of where I was and where I was going.
Plan and prepare for the unexpected. While I did pack a headlamp, which came in useful near the end of the hike, I did not carry enough water.
If you are lucky, friendly strangers will offer you resources. Be on the lookout for them and generously accept help when offered.
Finally, it’s good to have friends (four-legged and two-legged) to accompany you into the wilderness.