Thursday, November 4, 2010

Hiking the A.T. April, 1998

As far back as I can remember, I wanted to hike on the Appalachian Trail, but I would not have dreamed in a million years, that I would be sixty when I finally did it! It took weeks of planning for the spring break outing: reading articles, making lists and mulling over just the right menu for six or seven people. The evening before our adventure began, we gathered at Marty’s apartment for supper. We divided the food and supplies, stowed and lashed gear on our pack frames, and the crew seemed ready to go. Mindy Bliss, Marty Taft, Marcia Bronson, Daisy (Marcia’s ten year old basset hound) Sara Smedley, Cody Young ( Sara’s fourteen year-old-grandson) and me.


Back in my own bed, it was very difficult for me to calm down. I kept going over the lists in my mind, trying to make sure I had not forgotten anything. Thunderstorms began and a storm raged all night, with lightening and high wind. I didn’t get much sleep.

Too early the alarm went off. At 5:07 that morning, I showered, and then stepped on my scale: 145 pounds. At 5:28 I was dressed. Wearing hiking boots with two pair of socks and camouflage army pants, my pockets and belt were weighed down with: a full water bottle, bag of trail mix, compass, camera, binoculars, a swiss army knife and other (necessary?) stuff. I now weighed 154 pounds. And, there was still one more item, the backpack, bulging with food, clothes, sleeping bag and tent poles. I hoisted it onto my back. Securing the straps, I stepped on the scale again: 185 pounds.


Big drops of rain hit the windshield as I made my way back to Marty’s apartment. There I had a cup of hot cocoa and watched TV as others made final re-arrangements of their gear. We were preparing to leave, but the TV weatherman reported tornado warnings through 7:30 AM. Making a group decision, we decided to wait it out before leaving. Little did we know how often we would have to confer as a group to revise our plans.

About eight o’clock, we loaded the cars and began the three and a half hour drive to Franklin, North Carolina. The weather became more beautiful as the miles ticked by. When we arrived at our starting site, it was an absolute glorious day and our spirits were high. We began our hike at Kimsey Creek Trail which would lead to a campground on the Appalachian Trail at Deep Gap. The group picture included Melissa Prince, who drove us and picked us up at the end of the hike.

Cody-Sara-Melissa(driver)-Marty- Grace-Marcia-Mindy



KIMSEY CREEK TRAIL The trail is 4.7 miles long, but we ran into a small detour due to storm damage. The detour seemed to go on forever, thru eight inch deep undergrowth and around felled trees. By the time we got to Deep Gap it was a full five miles. The trail followed the ridge and creek with a few steep inclines, but generally speaking, was a nice trail to hike. With the aid of walking sticks, I really enjoyed the challenge of crossing streams and climbing over logs.

The sunshine was wonderful and we were keeping a nice pace, but as our second break was over we noticed that the weather was beginning to change. It was starting to get cooler, and by the third break, we were pulling out jackets. The sun had gone behind the clouds and the wind was strong and cold.


DEEP GAP. The first night taught us a lot about backpacking. Mindy carried our tent and I had the poles and stakes. We put up the tent and awkwardly organized our gear, deciding what belonged in our tent and what we should leave outside, covered over with a plastic garbage bag. Even supper took extra time. We had packed food in so many backpacks, we forgot who was carrying what. Oh well, we finally had a wonderful warm meal of chili, with chocolate pudding for dessert. At that point anything was welcomed. It had been a long day; it was getting colder and I was very tired. It was dark by the time we had cleaned up our dishes. We huddled around the fire to enjoy it’s warmth and the company then slowly made our way to the tents. By 9:30 everyone was settled down. In the quiet of the tent, I suddenly heard the long, low who-o-o-ing of an owl, followed by a similar answer from the opposite direction. Several times there was the haunting call, and each time an echo came, the sounds lulling me to sleep. However, the pure enjoyment of this moment was shattered by the soft, familiar sound of rain falling lightly on our tent. Later the wind began to blow, and several times during the night I wondered if our tents would still be standing in the morning.

DAY 2 – GOOD FRIDAY arrived drizzling and cold. My body did not want to move out of that warm sleeping bag. The rain was making a pinging sound as it touched our tent. Once outside, I realized what I thought was rain was actually SNOW! I couldn’t believe it…SNOW…Marcia had started heating water, and my thoughts were on nothing but something warm to drink.

The snow continued to blow around us and we were all concerned about continuing on to higher elevations. I was not prepared for anything below 32 degrees F. Actually, I don’t believe any of us were prepared for this. I didn’t have gloves; Marty didn’t even bring long pants for this spring fling. We discussed retracing our steps back to the beginning or continuing on. We received a weather forecast from someone on the trail with a radio. It was to clear up in the afternoon and the weekend was to be warm and sunny. With that bit of information, we decided to trust God and Mother Nature, and trudge ahead up the mountain.

It took a bit longer to break camp. All the tents were saturated with moisture and hard to handle, not to mention, our hands were freezing from working in the cold. Some of us resorted to wearing yesterday’s socks on our hands. Daisy was shivering and we put a piece of polar fleece on her back under her pack to keep her heat in.


Despite it all, optimism was still running high as we started our first leg of the AT. The trail itself wound around the mountain in a gentle slope; it was easy to walk and very beautiful. Snow covered everything in a light dusting. We found that as long as we kept moving we were warm, but when we stopped for breaks the cold penetrated our bodies and my hands were very cold. We hiked the first mile and arrived at Standing Indian Shelter, a three sided lean-to, with a bench and a raised area inside for sleeping. There we stopped to have something warm to drink. Daisy was still shivering hard, so we wrapped her in an emergency blanket and heated her bouillon to drink. Several of us ate our breakfast at this time as well. Instant oatmeal was packed in plastic ziplocks and we discovered we could pour the hot water directly into the bag, kneed the bag to mix, and eat out of it.


A cloud bank covered the mountain, hindering our panoramic view of the area. After our midmorning break we started back on the trail. It didn’t take long to get warmed up again once we began walking, except for my hands. I needed to carry a walking stick, so only one hand could be in my pocket. One in which I carried a disposable hand warmer my son had given to me. I traded the walking stick back and forth, from left to right hands, warming one in my pocket and the other wrapped in a kerchief and a plastic baggie as it held the stick. I must have looked pretty funny, with my makeshift glove, bundled up with two jackets, hat and scarf, then the backpack, and then a bright orange poncho over everything to break the cold wind and keep things all as dry as I could.


The higher we went, the more beautiful the landscape became. We began to see rime ice (also called hoarfrost) formed on the trees from atmospheric moisture. Higher up, because of rain, there was ice a half inch thick on the branches of the trees. We saw two inch icicles, lining the branches, spaced about a quarter inch apart. They formed horizontal instead of vertical because of the blowing wind. And the ice crystals on the tree trunks spread out like feathered lace against the black bark giving a fantasy, fairytale beauty to our surroundings. Our walk soon entered a canopy of rhododendron, each leaf covered in an icy mix. It was like going into a tunnel and entering a winter wonderland.

THE SUMMIT We gathered for picture taking and congratulated each other on making it to the top. The snow was about an inch deep, temperature COLD!! It was time for lunch, however, hoping it would be warmer, we continued on to a lower elevation. We prayed for the fog to break and for the sun to shine.


Going down was just as easy as climbing up. The trail was gentle and sloping with only a few tricky spots. At two in the afternoon we found a nice clearing in a tumble of large flat rocks and we stopped for lunch. We had summer sausage and cheese and a variety of breads. Everyone wanted to lighten their packs, so each suggested using whatever THEY were carrying, particularly the bread. Our great debate was: Which is heavier? A bagel or a pita? Twelve bagels or twelve pitas?

Marcia cut her finger slicing the meat. After returning home her doctor asked why she had not gotten stitches! Oh well, we did have ice handy! Sara bandaged it up and we had our lunch. The sun was trying to peek through, but it didn’t. The snow had stopped falling and it seemed a bit warmer, however, because we were resting, our bodies began getting cold again. So we cleaned up, slid on our packs and proceeded down the trail. As we walked along in places near the creeks, we were sloshing in mud. Pretty ferns and little yellow flowers sprouted along the path. By five, we reached our campsite for that night.


BEECH GAP Upon arrival, tents were set up immediately. The sun was lowering and it was turning bitter cold as we fetched water from the nearby stream. Mindy chose to use tablets instead of pumping it thru our purification system. The main reason for this was that it was just too darn cold to be messing with anything wet.

This evening we made chicken curry and gingersnap/cream cheese sandwiches. The only problem we had, was by the time the meal was ready to eat, we were all too cold to enjoy it. After wolfing down the meal, we packed up the leftovers, cleaned the dishes and headed off to our tents. By this point most of us were shivering and needed to get out of the cold. It was only 6:30 PM, and the dreary thought was… this meant we had a very long and cold night ahead of us.

I went into the woods to relieve myself one final time before entering the tent for the night. Walking west of the tent over a little ridge, I kept our tent in view the whole time. When I was ready to return, our tent had vanished. I started retracing my steps as best I could, but you know, every tree looked the same and camp was still not in sight. I stopped to revaluate the situation, thinking: “Well, here I am in the middle of a national forest with only a small flashlight, a hand trowel, toilet paper and the clothes on my back…and the temperature dropping.” So I listened. Nothing, it was so cold, the birds were even in bed. Truly no night fit for man or beast. I retraced my steps again, and heard the sound of rippling water. “Bingo” I was getting close. We had camped next to a stream. Out of the fog the tent magically appeared, and as I got closer, I thought, “only I could lose camp while going to the bathroom.”

One good aspect was that it felt really good to slide into my sleeping bag after my little jaunt. As I remembered my prayers, I thought about the events of the day. If I had been at home, I would have gone to church for it was Good Friday. Today, I viewed nature’s awesome beauty, but endured the uncomfortable cold and knew there was more to come.

Our second night on the trail was the longest, coldest night I have ever spent in my entire life. At midnight I awoke, wishing it was morning. I guess I woke up at least every hour, all night long. Every item of clothing I had was on my body or flung over the sleeping bag. I even covered my face and still could not get warm. I envied Marcia. She told us the next day that she put Daisy in the sleeping bag with her. I did not crawl out of the tent until the sun was out and beginning to warm the tent up.


DAY 3 SATURDAY As we gathered for a hot cup of cider, coffee, tea or PowerAde (which by the way is very good hot) we began to revise our plans. The cold had taken a lot out of us. If we continued on according to the original schedule, we would be hiking seven miles toward the next mountain. All of us agreed that we simply didn’t have that kind of energy in us. We chose an alternate route, heading back to Standing Indian Campground near our pickup point, via the Beach Gap Trail. It would not be necessary to leave until after lunch. This meant we could relax and enjoy the morning. This was the first time some of us had actually wanted to brush our teeth or wash our faces. I even felt like writing in the journal I had brought along. Several of us hung clothes out to dry on the trees. Mainly, we just relaxed in the sunshine.


At lunchtime, we had a fine meal of bagels, peanut butter, cheese, summer sausage and leftovers we couldn’t enjoy the night before. We chatted and ate and enjoyed the fellowship. After our lunch was put away, we hoisted our packs and headed on down the Beech Gap Trail toward the next camp.
It seemed like we had been defeated by not completing more of the AT, as we had walked just a mere 5.3 miles on the actual AT, but then I remembered that they were the most beautiful and breathtaking miles I have ever walked and realized that it didn’t matter, just being there on the trail proved we had been successful.

The Beach Gap Trail was gentle at first, but not as clean and well maintained as the AT. Walking became difficult in several places. There were several steep paths we had to hike through. In one area all the underbrush had been burned off, and still had the strong smell of smoke. Amazingly, weather now was warm and several of our party were in tank tops and shorts.

The day went quickly. This day, like the first, required crossing several streams and creeks. Daisy loved these, as she got a fresh drink every time. Cody lagged behind at the bad areas and helped the laggers across. Mindy kept looking for morel mushrooms, but I think it was still too cold for them. We did see tiny wild flowers, purple, pink, white and yellow, also ferns and May flowers. Our campsite was at the base of Albert Mountain, the highest point south of the Smokies in North Carolina. We were next to Bearpen Creek which runs into the Nantahala River.


By now we had the hang of setting up camp. Everything was running pretty smooth, even pumping the water thru the purification system. Cody had that down to a science and was so good at fetching water and filling everyone’s jugs. At night we built a campfire and feasted on tomato toss with pepperoni (everyone’s favorite dish) and then rice pudding for dessert. After the dishes were cleaned, we sat around the fire and talked as we watched a full moon rise through a gap between two mountains. It was incredible! Sipping hot chocolate spiced with cherry brandy, we lingered at the fire until 10pm before turning in. It was just too beautiful to go to sleep and I knew the night would be much shorter than the last.

DAY 4 EASTER SUNDAY We woke early for a sunrise service on Easter morn. The pre-dawn was crisp and chilly, with a light covering of frost over our equipment and the ground. As we huddled around the fire, I led the service.


I gave each a small plastic Easter egg, and inside was a tiny feather butterfly. We sang “Jesus Christ is Risen Today” and “This is my Father’s World”. The Scripture reading came from John 20: 1-18. I told the true story of Faberge’s exquisite eggs. We closed with a prayer and the singing of “How Great Thou Art.” It was a very meaningful time, and as the sun rose, the Spirit of Easter was truly with each one of us. All the preparation time, and the cold, hard times were worth it, to share in this unique experience with my Christian sisters.


We had a leisurely breakfast, finding lots to chat about as we enjoyed our most unusual Easter. I broke away from the group and went down to Bearpen Creek, the water supply for this particular campsite. My husband, Earl, had died about six months earlier, and there at a beautiful bend in the stream, with fresh water rippling over rocks and cascading along under green boughs, I brought out of my pocket the tiny container of Earl’s ashes that I had brought along for this very moment. I felt Earl’s spirit very near to me as I cast the fine gray powdered ashes out into the water. There were tears in my eye and a genuine joy in being filled with memories of the good times Earl and I had spent together in God’s beautiful world of nature. I talked with Earl, I talked with God. I ran my fingers through the bright green moss at the river’s edge, and listened as a small wren warbled a happy tune.


Oh, how I missed Earl, but I knew that he was in a better place and I was going to be OK without him. Things were not normal again, but I was finding what a friend of mine called, “a new normal” and it was good. The sun was warm on my back and a light breeze played through my hair as I walked back to camp.


We stayed at the site until after lunch and then headed down the road a mile to our pickup point at Hurricane creek. Melissa arrived in at van and carried some hikers to Marty’s car. Marty, Sara, Cody and I, perhaps, still not wanting the hike to end, chose to walk the last mile to Marty’s car. Our trip was almost over. I truly hated leaving the mountains to come back to civilization. But, since we had to come back, my thoughts turned to my soft bed and the longing for a hot shower as well. I also breathed a sigh of relief that I would not have to dig a latrine this night.

In total, we hiked 20 miles in four days. Not bad for a bunch of beginners and a basset hound. We learned a lot about hiking, nature and each other. I said that if I had the chance, I would go again in a heartbeat. We shared a meal at "Cracker Barrel" and vowed to meet again for a fall hike.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

RETURN TO THE AT - October 1998

On and off during my summer vacation to New Mexico, I wondered if my friends in South Carolina were truly planning another trip on the AT. I was excited about the prospects of hiking with them again. For one thing, I knew I could do it. On our first try I worried if this 60 year old novice would have the stamina needed to keep up with the rest of the group. To my great delight, I did just fine. Secondly, I was prepared for cold fall weather. This time I had a warm hat and gloves, something I sorely needed during our spring walk and had neglected to pack. There was no telling what kind of weather an October outing would bring. Thirdly, there were a few items I could do without, to make my pack lighter. I did not take binoculars, or the gym shoes not worn of the first junket and I did not carry the first aid kit I brought along last time, for I knew two others in the group had theirs.

The news of this outing came only two weeks before departure date. I had no time to get my muscles in shape. On my first AT hike, for a month before the trip, I would strap my pack on my back, don my hiking boots and go about my housework. While extending the time a little each day and gradually putting a little more weight in the pack, by the time we were ready to leave, I was able to carry a forty pound pack for long periods of time without tiring. Now I was out of shape, because I had been spending my time vacationing, relaxing and even spending some days primarily behind the wheel of my car. No way to toughen up. No time to remedy the situation.

All but one person from our last hiking group came this time. We also added three new hikers, so now we were nine, if we count the basset hound. The spring break hikers enjoyed reminiscing about that trip and showed off any newly acquired equipment. I found a hiker’s thermometer in a camp store out west. Mindy, our leader brought out a fancy cook kit of nesting pots with a set of containers in the center to hold small quantities of two different liquids and four separate cooking spices. The gals had also made a variety of beef jerky for snacking on: original flavor, frontier, sweet and spicy, and my favorite, Hawaiian.

The food for lunch and dinner, we divided evenly. Along with this, we each carried our own snacks, pitas, drink mixes, and breakfast. Nine-thirty Friday morning, Ginny, the camp caretaker piled us and gear, in her pick-up truck for a drive to the starting point. We were dropped off on a logging road west of US 178. Packs on our back, Ginny took a group picture and promised to meet us on Sunday at our destination.


The weather was picture perfect as we began walking along with joyful abandonment. The trail left the road and ascended steeply northward, up a series of steps that entered a mixed deciduous and evergreen stand. It was a surprisingly difficult fifteen minute climb upward. At the top, a level area of fallen logs gave invitation to sit. I was huffing and puffing as I made my way to the logs, cursing under my breath, that I hadn’t prepared my body for this. I sat beside Mindy, who offered me a piece of jerky. Just the thought of it made me want to gag. My heart was still pounding and my lungs were panting. I didn’t remember climbing being this hard the first time out. I silently wondered if I was really prepared for what lay ahead. Was I that out of shape? Once my breathing returned to normal, I had a long drink of water and decided a snack would not only taste good, but maybe give me some energy for what lay ahead.

Considering we had only gone about a tenth of a mile and we had 6.9 more to cover on our first day, we had to move on. I did so, without feeling the candor and bravado I had started out with. The trail continued to wind with staggered steps generally paralleling a logging road. At about half a mile, the trail turned sharply west until the steps ended and we walked through an oak glade. At .7 miles, more steps were ascending steeply and then for a brief time we joined the old road before leaving for a ridge line.
By the second mile we were pacing ourselves well, stopping every twenty minutes to so to get a drink or just catch our breath. We walked beside a stream and crossed over several times by way of foot logs. We found the remnants of an abandoned liquor still in the stream south of the trail. We knew what it was, for it was reported on our guide notes. These notes, which Mindy acquired for us were very helpful in keeping us informed as to what we might find along the way. They were also a great assurance that we were in the right place on the trail and not lost. However, being aware of what we had already trod, and the notes for that section only commenting with the adjective, “steep”, I really wondered what lay ahead. I noted, we were now being told, “Trail winding and steep; possibly treacherous if icy conditions exist.” Well, there was no ice. It was a pleasant day and violets flanked the steps. We would trudge on. Yes, the trail did wind and very little of it was on level ground. I think the steps were presumed treacherous because we were on a hillside and a slip off the path would mean a long tumble to level ground. Complicating this, was the fact that many of these stair steps had handrails, but in some places they had deteriorated, were rotted away or completely missing.


Following stream beds we encountered many picturesque, babbling waterfalls. At 3.9 miles, we walked along a trail ridge through groves of piedmont rhododendron and mountain laurel. The buds that would need to set over the winter were already formed. As the trail descended into a hemlock stand, we looked for a spot for lunch. Slices of apple, chunks of Gouda cheese and fresh bagels hit the spot.

On the trail again, we passed through fields of doghobble. A vine, so named, because it’s fine, strong tendrils web the ground, and could easily trip most any dog trying to bound through it. This vine, very pretty with its small, shiny green leaves was common throughout much of our hike. Frilly lichen decorated some trees.


Our trail continued up and down. At approximately 4.3 miles we crossed a wooden bridge over a cascade. This was the first of a series of bridges. Made of 2 by 6 planks, there were usually three planks, side by side crossing streams, or chasms. These bridges were about 10-15 feet long and I usually felt quite safe in crossing. However, once or twice the chasm was quite deep, and in one case there were only two planks instead of three. During these moments, I recall how my throat tightened, my hands turned clammy and I truly wondered if any of the rest of my party was as scared as I was.

At a stream we stopped to fill our canteens. The cascading water looked clean and was quite cold. We did pump it through our purifying system. Actually, I sat and rested, while Marty, Marcia and the boys fetched and pumped it. The boys were such a blessing to have along. So well mannered, and while walking ahead, if there was a fork in the road or a rough spot, they would stop and wait for the slower hikers. Any problem and they were there, ready and willing to help out the less agile.

By this time we are on our fifth mile and I am exhausted. Knowing I’m not the only one who is tired, helps. Even Daisy is napping! Before us is an open valley, forested with deciduous trees, wild hydrangeas, magnolias and a carpet of Christmas fern. I’m hoping this “flat land” will continue. This area was home to many early settlers and also the site of 1982 logging activity. We crisscrossed several deserted logging roads already. We supposed they were used now, only during hunting season.
At 6 miles, amidst pine, partridgeberry and a flower named “Oconee Bells” was the site of Laurel Fork School, built about 1900, now completely gone. I wonder how many homes were there and where the relatives have gone.

The trail descends, narrows and joins a logging road. Guide notes say, “Good camp site,” but we cannot find it. I, along with several others say we just can’t go on. However, the area does not have a space large or clear enough for camping. So half of our group rests while others scout around for a spot. They return saying they have found nothing, we must move on. Half-mile later we finally locate the site.

We set up camp, get a fire going and enjoy a supper of CousCous with dried tomatoes, pecans and pepperoni on floured tortillas. Ginger snap and cream cheese sandwiches for dessert, mmm…good. There has been talk that bears could be out. So, after cleaning up supper, Mindy and the boys string all our food up on ropes away from the tents, where hopefully bears won’t get it. The stars are out and it’s a beautiful evening. But, it has been a rough day and we turn in. It feels wonderful to lay my bones down in the tent for a lovely night’s sleep.

I awake at about 11 pm to a tremendous racket. What in the world is it? It took my tent-mate, Mindy, and I a moment to realize we were camped quite close to a logging road and a bunch of “locals” had camped out to play with their ATV’s. With music and beer flowing, the vehicles raced up and down that road till three o’clock in the morning. At least our food was safe. No respectable bear would come within a mile of that fracas.

Morning dawned with heavy dew. Surprisingly, my body was not as sore as I thought it would be. Figuring we had walked 7 miles yesterday, 5 miles today would be a piece of cake…Then I read the trail guide: “This beautiful rugged 5.7 mile trail segment contains both the steepest ascent and descent on these sections of trail built by Duke Power Company.” Oh-boy, better eat a good breakfast!

We broke camp and began hiking again. We passed the campsite of our noisy neighbors and found our trail crossed a suspension bridge. A little further we followed a spur trail leaving the main trail south, to the top of Laurel Fork Falls. Very pretty.

Back to the main trail, we begin the gentle ascent of Jackie’s Ridge. At various places along the trail we can look back to see spectacular views of the falls. About a mile down the road, we see where a spur trail again leaves the main trail, this one descending to Lake Jocassee and the Laurel Fork boat access point. Two couples come up the trail, as surprised to see us, as we were to greet them. They questioned us, completely amazed that we had spent the night in the woods. I’m sure we looked bedraggled and they, on the other hand, were well dressed and elegantly coiffured. Though they didn’t say, we were quite certain they had a boat moored at the lake. We parted and continued up the AT, laughing at what we thought the refined yachters were saying about us.

The next couple miles we work our way up and down, sometimes ascending to a ridge top amid pines and mixed hardwoods. Other times descending onto the old road and through rhododendron-lined ravines beside a small stream. As the descent becomes steeper, we stop for lunch. This time it is summer sausage and mild cheese along with the drinks and snacks that each of us carry.

Lunch finished, we continue down the trail. At one point, the steps, with no rail to hold on to, are so steep, that I, and several others, alternate backing down or sliding down on our bottoms. One lady could not make it until a boy offered to carry her pack down for her. Continuing on our steep descent, the trail passed through a cluster of large beech and hemlocks.


Views of Lake Jocassee are revealed through the trees. On a wooden bridge we cross Rock Creek. Doghobble is again abundant and the trail narrows and climbs steeply and steadily.

My leg muscles are aching and I realize that we had little flat trail today. It has been almost constant steps, either up or down. We continue a steep climb up to the ridge and go less that one-tenth of a mile before beginning another steep descent. We take a lot of breaks, but they never seem quite long enough for my legs to recoup. Finally, we reach the lake shore. Nestled amongst the pine trees, close to the shore, we set up camp again.


It is the perfect camp site. It is close to a beautiful lake, under tall pines, and the woodland floor is covered with soft pine needles. There is a group of youth camping down the road from us, but far enough away not to disturb us, and definitely, no logging road nearby. …a very peaceful setting.




Just knowing we were over half way and figuring we had definitely finished the hardest part of the trip, I completely enjoyed the evening. Supper was excellent. Would you believe “beef stroganoff”? Mindy found all the ingredients in freeze dried form, by adding boiled water in proper amounts and order, “Wow” was it good. Dessert was equally fantastic, a decadent chocolate pudding. The boys kept asking for the secret ingredient. I think in time they figured out it was “Kahlua.” The moon rose and sent a shimmering beam across the lake. I played my harmonica and the gentle glow of the campfire brightened the smiles of my backpack buddies.


With no ATVs or blaring radios, only the gentle lapping of the water and calling of distant water fowl, we slept undisturbed till the sun was high. After a leisurely breakfast and a final pack up, we headed out toward the suspension bridge that crosses Toxaway Creek. The bridge swayed and bounced as I gingerly walked across it.


Built by the Duke Power Company, it is one of the longest wooden footbridges in the Southeast, 220 feet long, and suspended 25 feet above the river level. The view from the middle was spectacular, with mist rising in the morning light.


And guess what was at the end of the bridge? Stair steps!! Up!! I started counting, but quit at 100. You know the saying, “What goes up must come down.” Not one day of this season’s hike was going to be easy. I guess that’s good. It gives one a sense of accomplishment.


Today’s hike was shorter. Within a mile, we were at the boat access at Cane Break. We had about an hour to wait for the pre-arranged pontoon boat to arrive. Lunch was tabouli on tortillas. The boat ride was a wonderful way to end our journey. It took us back from North Carolina to South Carolina. We sailed along in the sunshine, sitting down and enjoying the view. As our eyes traced the spikes of the mountain ridges we had followed on foot, they didn’t look to be the challenge they had been.


Ginny met us at the boat dock and took us back to the Thornwell Camp to get our belongings. We agreed it was a much more strenuous hike than our first one, however, the weather had been lovely, no ice or snow. So it was a trade off. That’s the beautiful thing about hiking. It is never the same. There are unique and special moments to be found each and every time. Thank God, for another priceless backpack trip.


I give you thanks, dear Lord above, For all your living, giving love.
For mountains, towering high, to climb, For valleys, cool, and hills sublime.
For oceans, rivers, lakes and streams, For sun’s bright rays, and soft moonbeams.

I thank you, Spirit, breath and fire, For all the gifts that you inspire.
For love, that seems to have no end, When shared with family or a friend.
For fellowship at feast and meal, For hugs and laughs and smiles that heal.
For all these gifts, wondrous and true, I offer now my thanks to you. Amen.

Friday, February 26, 2010

Earl and family

Earl Felix and Savannah Stiers - 1927









Diana and family visited us in Florida


We visited in Mt Healthy 1997






Mr and Mrs Earl Stanley Stiers - June 28, 1958


in Memorium
Earl Stanley Stiers (1933-1997)
Beloved Husband, Father, Policeman, Houseparent
He loved God, his family and friends, and the children.
They loved him back.
We are better because he lived and worked among us,
and God was glorified.
- from "Thornwell Life" Spring 1998