Monday, September 8, 2008

A short(er) adventure

You may be wondering what I'm doing here.

Turns out that I can get homesick.

The trail was beautiful, weather was good, and Winston and I both had no problem with the hiking, although there's a chance that he never wants to be in the car ever again.

Wednesday and Thursday we went from Damascus, Virginia to Shady Valley, TN. I planned to stay in Shady valley for a few days to get rid of stuff in my pack that I didn't need, and check how Winston and I were doing. In that space, I saw one pair of hikers. No one else. Wednesday night I was already lonely. I didn't expect to have any problem hiking alone, but then, I had expected to see a few other people every day.

I had gotten really low on water Wednesday, so I was up at 4:30 and on the trail at 5:30. We made it the six miles to the shelter at 10:00, and ran into a pair of hikers a mile before that. They offered me a ride to Shady Valley if I reached their truck at the trailhead before them, but they must have passed me while I was getting water, because it wasn't there when I got there.

Since I was early getting to Shady Valley, I called and Sara came and picked me up with my car. She offered to let me spend another night at her house before doing the camping I had planned to. I immediately took her up on the offer: I couldn't pass up a warm shower and soft bed. Sara was a big help - I'm so glad that I had a local contact. I can't even say how much I appreciate everything she did.

Friday I went over to Damascus and replaced the first aid kit that fell off my pack on Thursday, as well as a 1.8 liter Platypus reservoir - I didn't want to get as low on water ever again. I also got some electrolyte tabs and a smaller fuel tank. I was still tossing around what to do next. I considered just heading straight home, but I was really enjoying myself, and the area was beautiful. Physically, I was feeling better than I had in months. Even with overdoing it Thursday, I felt good. If I'd still been on the trail, I would have had no problem continuing the hike. I went to the Shady Valley Campground and found... a field. No picnic tables, no trees, no shade of any sort. They do have a really nice restroom and shower facility, as well as some cute cabins. I spoke with the guy who built the restrooms; he told me the plans for the campground, and pointed down the steep hill and said that there were tent sites "down there." I'm sure it'll be nice when they get everything finished.

I left after I realized that there was no place to sit to make and eat dinner, and my sister helped me find another campground nearby. I'd driven by the TVA Watauga dam campground earlier that day when I went through Hampton - turns out they have hot showers too! I stayed up late reading a book and slept lightly; Winston "woofed" every time another camper spoke or something rustled in the woods.

Saturday, I explored the dam area. It's really beautiful, and definitely a place I'll want to return.

The real adventure started Saturday night. I was playing cards with a couple - let's call them Debra and Bob - a few sites away from mine when they started cleaning up their food. They were leaving out a lot of food that I would have put away ("The mustard's not open - that's ok, right?"). Eek. I explained that I don't leave any food out, period. They were finishing up putting things in their vehicle, and Winston and I were sitting at the picnic table.

Winston started barking.

The other dogs started barking.

I tried to quiet Winston, but he was pulling on the leash harder than usual, and then I noticed that all of the dogs were barking in the same direction - not at each other. I heard a hissing, so, thinking it was a raccoon, I stepped back from the table and looked for something furry. Then I heard a growl. Amazing how when one hears something like that can reduce the just about any vocabulary to four-letter words. I heard another hiss, and Debra walked up and asked me what was going on. I explained that I wasn't sure, but whatever it was, it wasn't good. One of the guys from another campsite came up with their spotlight and flashed it around the trees. I had just offered my raccoon theory when the beam lighted on a bear. In a tree. Less than 15 steps from where I'd been sitting. It was supposedly a baby bear, which meant Mama wasn't far off. It was a big baby.

You know how you're supposed to act if you see a bear? Stay calm, back slowly away, don't yell, pick up kids so they don't run screaming, and vacate the area and leave the bear alone so that it'll feel safe enough to leave.

There had been one child in the campground all weekend - now there were dozens of kids running, screaming, across the campground toward the vehicles. All of the adult (using the term loosely here) men ran over to where the bear was spotted and were talking loudly and shining the light on it, and the women were chasing after the kids yelling at them to calm down. If you guessed that wasn't effective, you'd be right.

If not for the bear in the tree, it would have been pretty funny.

The campground host came back over and made sure it left. He assured everyone that the bear wouldn't return, but I knew I'd have a hard time sleeping regardless, so I spent the night in my car. The reason the bear had come into the campground was because Debra had left a bowl full of dog food out next to the picnic table - about 10 feet from where I'd been sitting when the bear came to investigate.

I was still feeling homesick when I got up the next day, so I packed everything up to head home. I checked in with my campsite neighbors before I left. The bears had showed up again the night before and ate a cooler. Who leaves a cooler out when a bear had just visited the night before? That sort of thing is why I slept better when I was camped on the top of the mountain by myself than in the campground.

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