My hiking buddy, Brett, and I took half of last Friday off and headed up to the Joyce Kilmer Wilderness for a couple of days. We hadn’t really done any hiking together in probably 18 months, although both of us have hit a few trails alone over the last year.
Trails. Not mountains. Big difference.
His four dogs thoroughly enjoyed scampering up to the mile-high bald late Friday. Brett and I, not so much. We spent the 2.5-mile ascent telling each other how out of shape we were between gasping for air and stopping for numerous water and sit-down breaks. After a little more than two and a half hours (nearly all in a steady rain), we reached the top and basically fell into our favorite campsite. Brett set up his chair, I strung up a tarp, and we generally didn’t move or speak for the next 30 minutes.
Finally, I made some coffee with the water that I’d packed in and Brett and the dogs headed south to the site of a little spring, the only water on the bald, to fill a 5-gallon filter bag for all of us.
The next hour was spent setting up tents and climbing into them. Both of us were completely exhausted, I’m somewhat ashamed to say.
I slept like a dead man, though. Something about physical exhaustion, coupled with rain falling on my tent, knocks me out. I was dead to the world by 8:30.
Woke up at around 6 Saturday morning and crawled out of my tent to find that we were in the middle of a cloud bank. I couldn’t see the tree line 50 yards to the north. I was a bit dismayed by this, as my boots and socks were completely soaked and I’d been hoping to dry them. Fortunately, the clouds eventually moved on, and by noon or so we had a beautiful sunny day with a strong wind out of the east. Boots, socks, shirts and tent covers were spread out around the campsite for the rest of the day.
I had a couple cups of ramen noodles for lunch and dinner on Saturday, and spent much of the day walking around on the bald and part of the way down the Wolf Laurel Trail towards “The Hangover” which, as the name might imply, offers views from a rack overhang. I didn’t go to The Hangover on this trip for a few reasons – my legs hurt, I’ve seen the view before, and I’m afraid of heights. It is pretty spectacular, though.
Managed to get a good fire going on Saturday night and Brett cooked some sort of pork loin that he’d carried in. Really? You’re packing raw meat? How much did that pack weigh?
Then again, I brought water…
Slept like a baby again on Saturday night, mainly because the breeze continued all night. I took the cover off of my tent, leaving just mosquito netting, and snuggled down into my 40-degree bag. Absolutely perfect sleeping setup, and I didn’t wake up until about 8 Sunday morning. It was 58 degrees and sunny.
After downing some coffee and packing everything, we hit the trail back to the cars at around 8:30 and had a much nicer time on the downhill stroll (an hour and 20 minutes).
Got back to Atlanta at around 2 (it was 98 degrees), got cleaned up, and then helped Jenny and Herb move some of Andi’s things into an assisted-living place.
My good deed for the day, in exchange for getting to play on the mountain, I guess.
Some scenes from the weekend
