Stealth Camping, Water Breaking, and Trail Magic: Days 3-4 on the MST

I broke down my wet camp with the stars shining through a misty layer of clouds above me. The light of day was barely visible on the horizon and ideally I’d still be sleeping, but stealth camping and sleeping-in don’t always mix well.

Last night, I was camped at the highest point east of the Mississippi River. This morning, I was treated to one of the most beautiful mornings ever. The clouds started glowing pink and orange with the rising sun. The wind effortlessly pushed them up over the mountain and through the trees. As quickly as the magical scene began, then sun ducked behind some clouds and it stopped. The show was over but, the day of hiking was about to begin!

Leftovers and Bears

 Yesterday’s leftover miles were the first ones I hiked today. Thankfully they were all downhill, and went down as easy as pie. I passed some day hikers and they looked surprised to see someone backpacking this late in the season. Thanksgiving break certainly isn’t prime time for backpacking in the mountains, but it came with some perks. Sure, the days were short and the nights were cold but the lack of biting insects and abundant views sealed the deal. A few stopped and asked my plans, wishing me good luck after hearing them. Random kindness weighs heavier on the back of a hiker, but in the best way possible. I made it to a junction, then a trailhead, and turned around to see a piece of paper warning hikers.

It read: CAUTION: MULTIPLE SIGHTINGS of mama bear and cubs on this trail. PLEASE USE CAUTION.

Having just hiked said trail, it didn’t make much of a difference to me, so I carried on to a nearby picnic table for a short snack and drink.

Work for Water +1st Trail Magic

Filtering water had become more than a chore. Drinking cold, refreshing, and clean mountains streams until my belly ached was now faint dream. My clogged filter and the current drought meant that water sources were not only hard to come by, but even harder to drink once I’d found them. I crossed the South Toe River and pulled out my sawyer squeeze. It mocked me, pushing out small drops of water in return for a draining amount of squeezing. After spending so much effort and time I decided I was hydrated, topped off my bottle, and carried on.

Even though my filter technically still worked, I stopped considering asking people for water, and just started asking. I got lucky and scored two 16oz bottles from a friendly forest ranger on my first try. Though I was thirsty enough to down them instantly, I decided to keep them as backup for later. At this point I was about 20 miles from camp, had 1.5L of H2O and didn’t expect to cross any more streams. Passing through the trailhead parking lot brought me eye to eye with a CDT bumper sticker. I imagined how much thirstier I would be in the heat of the New Mexican desert in just a few months. Gratitude for what I had replaced my thirst for what I didn’t.

Empty Trails

After many hours and miles regaining some elevation, the trail began to parallel the Blue Ridge Parkway. Besides the ranger and the handful of day hikers from earlier, I hadn’t seen anyone else. When the trails are this empty, its easy to get absorbed into the landscape, something I look forward to most while backpacking. Road crossings are mostly a sobering reminder of how fragmented these landscapes are, but today they meant the possibility of more generous people with water to spare.

Afternoon was just turning to evening. I crossed my fingers for someone to pull off at the overlook where I was taking a short break. Plenty of cars drove by, but I didn’t think my plea was desperate enough to wave them down. Not yet at least. After hearing my luck whiz by again and again, I decided my time was better spent hiking towards water rather than sitting here and hoping for it. The trail was empty for the rest of the day, and I enjoyed a beautiful sunset before making it to camp next to a small creek.

My Water (Bladder) Broke…

I woke up to the sound of trickling water and dogs barking in the distance. Camping next to a creek was convenient but didn’t change how long it would take to squeeze water through my clogged filter. Last night I figured out a way to use much less effort while filtering. This morning I wondered how many times I would get away with genius idea of sitting on top of my water bladder…. My question was answered as it burst right beneath me. Luckily I had already “cameled up” and just finished topping off my bottle…

Cursing my naivety, I shoved the broken bladder in my bag and got the show moving. I followed forest service roads and after a short while, came upon the barking dogs I heard earlier. They looked like hunting dogs by the collar they wore and didn’t seem to notice me until I pulled out my phone to take a picture. When one of the dogs began to charge me, the picture became a video and I stuck out my trekking pole to keep our distance. It tried circling me but when the collar let out a loud beep, the dog immediately darted back into the woods.

I turned around to keep hiking, took a few steps and then the same dog jumped out of the woods again charging my way! It dodged and then retreated from the swat of my trekking pole running in the same direction I was headed. Eventually I passed the owner/hunter and left the dog drama behind. I had almost forgot about my water ordeal amidst all the excitement.

 

Grind Time

Backcountry camping opportunities start to open up as the MST nears some spectacular wilderness. I was anywhere from 10-20 miles away from the next campsite but no matter what, I wouldn’t be camping with a working filter, which meant no water. That thought was less than appealing. My car was fully stocked with water and snacks but was still ~30 miles from where I was , I contemplated just hiking all the way back to it today. Id be carrying an extra days worth of food, but at least I wouldn’t have to hike without water tomorrow. A weather forecast showing heavy rain sealed the deal. It was grind time, and I was hiking all the way back to my car, today.

It seemed like as I hiked farther away from Mount Mitchell, everything gradually became drier. Sandy soil and burnt trees smelled like the Pine Barrens back home. The trail switch-backed up and over a few knob’s with great views of the terrain I’d been recently hiking. Little compares to the feeling of knowing you walked from the most distant ridge to where your currently standing. So far I’d hiked around 70 miles, and had another 15 remaining for today.

More Trail Magic

Single track turned into forest road and shortly after I passed an empty parked car. If anyone was inside I surely would have asked them for a drink. My mind shifted from day dreaming of food to dreaming of another water bottle from the next person I saw. At this point I was rationing what I had just to keep my mouth wet. There was no doubt I would make it back to my car, but it would really suck if I couldn’t find any more water until then. Finally I heard the hum of a vehicle and I immediately turned around to wave them down. Chainsaws and heavy backpacks filled the bed of the dusty truck and three guys about as dirty as myself filled the cramped cab.

The passenger rolled down a window and I made my plea. Questionable face’s returned my question until I further explained my weeklong backpacking plans. They didn’t have any spare bottles of water, but one of the guys was nice enough to dump all of his personal water into my bottle, which refilled my 1.5L Nalgene to the brim. I watched the water fill my bottle like a kid watches syrup drip onto their pancakes. Before driving away they asked if I needed anything else and wished me luck. I rode that kindness high right down to the lowest point of my hike, the crossing of the Linville River.

Next stop, Apple Pie

The drought in NC was so bad that I was able to keep my shoes while crossing one of the most formidable rivers along the trail. Passing by 5 star campsite after 5 star campsite made contemplate pushing back the 8 or so miles I had remaining. I’d hiked almost all of them before and knew the steep mountains that stood in between me, my car, and all the food/water inside of it. I forgot about the beautiful campsites when I remembered the apple pie I’d saved for this exact moment. Next thing I was booting straight up the hillside.

I don’t often play music while hiking, but for the rest of the day I did and it was amazing. Nature’s music is thoroughly entertaining, however there’s something to be said for backpacking through beautiful places while playing your favorite tunes. To put it simply, it feels like your in a movie. The miles went by, up and over mountains and along precipitous cliffs as I retraced my steps from years prior. The gray sky faded to black while reflecting on the past and thinking about the future. Finally I passed the first backpacker I’d seen! We exchanged greetings and each carried on after talking about tomorrow’s rainstorm.

All downhill

Even with the recent water refill, I was starting to get seriously dehydrated and very tired, very quickly. My appetite followed the spottiness of my hydration and my energy was tanking. On the last climb, the thought of water and apple pie was the only thing moving my legs. I even remembered the steaks I had in the cooler, but the though of staying awake to cook them was disgusting. I’d hiked bigger miles than this before, but never with a pack this heavy, and always with enough food and water.

Standing atop the Chimneys of the Linville Gorge, I looked out across the nighttime skyline with the wind whipping my hair back and forth. All mountains to the west and all city lights to the east. If it was light out, I’d be able to see my car in the parking lot beneath me. So close now, I could almost taste it. In a few more days I hoped to be standing 80 miles farther along the trail on top of Grandfather Mountain, but for now it was pie time!