Lessons Learned In Linville Gorge

Linville Gorge Hike – Pinchin Trail/Linville River Trail/Conley Cove Trail/Rock Jock Trail – 5/12/18 – 10 miles 

An opportunity for some challenging hiking with experienced friends, “only” ten miles, what could go wrong in Linville Gorge? A lot. My cautionary tale is long on details (and my viewpoint) in hopes that it helps someone avoid a similar situation.

The cast of characters: me/Terry/Chris/Andy/Cathy/Mike and Mike’s energetic dog Lily.  It’s been a couple of years since I’ve hiked with Terry, a super congenial guy, talkative and engaging, a strong hiker and a native Virginian like me.

A cheery drive to the Gorge, bumping along the Keistler Highway, a fine name for a gravel forest road.  It was in much better condition today than when Cathy and I hiked at the Gorge a year ago.  At the parking area for the Pinchin Trail, we stepped out of the cars and into unexpected stifling heat.  “What’s up with this?”  Temps are supposed to be significantly cooler at this elevation than back at home.  Hmmm…

  

The Pinchin Trail plunges straight down into the Gorge, extremely steep in places, rutted, red dust, scrubby trees and low vegetation, some nice spring flowers though.  

Bristly locust

Mountain Laurel

Viburnum

Catawba rhododendron

Soon I was sweating from the fierce sun exposure, thighs quaking from the steep terrain, not liking this trail even a little bit, very glad we were not hiking up (that part comes later).  1.5 miles is 1.5 miles too many. Good gravy, where IS the river? But…the view is fantastic.

Shortoff Mountain

Hawksbill Mountain and Table Rock

Linville Gorge Trail follows the river upstream, not always in sight or sound, and although there are no long stretches of elevation gain, the trail is quite rough, boulders, roots, ups and downs, still not a relaxing hike.  But the views…

Capturing Mike the photographer

The mighty Linville River - this is why you hike into the Gorge

Surprise! Pink lady slippers right by the trail

 

I cried uncle (this group is not much for stopping) and we stopped to eat at a very nice spot beside the water.  Big boulders to sit on, crashing fast water.  My new mini Sawyer water filtering system wasn’t working well because the one-liter pouch I was filtering from didn’t fit well and was leaking.  Andy brought a large pouch and a big Sawyer Squeeze.  He and Mike were kind enough to filter and fill my 3-liter Camelback as well as topping off everyone else who asked. Foreshadowing: This will be significant later.

Terry is chillin’

I need to fill ‘er up

We continued following the river to the left turn onto Conley Cove Trail.  The sign that I remembered from a year ago was there.  By now the hiking order was set:  Mike and Cathy and four-legged Lily, Andy and Chris, me and Terry.  Once or twice I told Terry that he could pass me if he wanted, but he politely said he was happy to stay in the back.  He is a “gentleman” that way.  I agreed that I was very happy to stick with him at the back, since he had the car keys. 

 

Conley Cove Trail is brutally steep, its only advantage over Pinchin being more tree cover.  Three-quarters of the way up, I was breathing so heavily and working so hard, I finally turned to Terry and said, “I am sorry, but I have got to stop to rest.”  He responded, “Good!” and immediately sat down.  After a couple of minutes, we started again.  The others were waiting for us at the intersection with Rock Jock Trail.  I hoped that Rock Jock would be a moderate trail back to the start – but it was not.  Everyone took off in the prescribed order and we did not see Mike and Cathy again.

Chris being coy amongst the azaleas

A short while on, Terry said with an embarrassed half-laugh, “Sharon, how much would you charge me for some of your water?”  I hesitated for a second, then asked, “Terry, are you out of water?”  Another half-laugh, “Yeah, it looks like it.”  “Well, Terry, we can share what I have.”  Oh, no, I couldn’t take your water.”  “Terry, if we both need it, let’s use it.” 

Terry sipped from my Camelback tube as my thoughts raced:  how far is it to the end of our loop?  I guesstimated maybe a mile-and-a-half on what I thought was a fairly level trail, so my mental calculations said that if we slowed down a little bit and shared the water, we would be hot and tired, but okay.  Terry is a big muscular guy, over 6 feet tall, 200 pounds.  If he was telling me now he was out of water, he had probably run out a while ago and didn’t want to admit it.  

Taking pictures is a good excuse to stop again and again

Table Rock

Shortoff Mountain again

The Rock Jock Trail curved around the rocky shoulder of the slope in the foreground

The trail was a lot longer than I thought and even rougher than what we had covered so far, more ups and downs than I expected.  I was feeling exhausted.  Chris and Andy had gotten out of sight, and I hollered for them.  Chris answered, and I asked her to wait for us.  They waited, we regrouped, told them that Terry was out of water, and Chris had about half a liter that she gave him.  I whispered aside to Chris that Terry was getting stressed and not feeling well.  We started up again – and Chris and Andy got out of sight once again.  After a bit I hollered again, Chris answered again, and they stopped again.  We all rested for a bit.  We stopped at a great rock outcropping and Terry even took our photo. 

 

Then Chris and Andy got out of sight once more, and this time they got out of hearing range and we didn’t see them again.  Repeatedly I’d say, “Terry, let’s sit on this rock,” and he would immediately drop down.  I was doing that for my benefit as well as his, because each step now was labored and exhausting. (My own problem-solving ability was impaired.) I had no idea how far we were getting or how far we had to go.  I just knew that we were climbing relentlessly up out of the gorge. 

Terry would stop and lean forward on his hiking poles, swaying, his eyes closed.  When I talked, he answered with slurred speech, and when he raised up from his poles he was unsteady on his feet.  Several times I would grab his hand (or vice versa) and we would both teeter precariously but regain our steadiness.  I was really frightened that he would pass out, have a heart attack or a stroke with just me there, and I felt helpless.

When we reached a height where the trees were shorter and scrubby, I pulled out my cell phone, praying to get a signal.  Chris answered but we were cut off.  I texted her that we needed someone to come and help us.  I got a reply that Cathy was on the way.  We were less than half a mile from the top.  Cathy hurried down, gave Terry more water and took his daypack, which was a big help.  She coached us the rest of the way. 

Chris was waiting at the road, sitting with Lily. Mike and Andy had gone to get the car.  I learned that Lily was quite ill, vomiting and lethargic, and that’s why they had been hurrying to get her out of the heat.  She weighs 35 pounds, too heavy to carry.

We got Terry into Andy’s car.  His speech was not coherent.  Mike suggested that we should take Terry to a hospital.  He was right – I had not thought beyond getting Terry off the trail.  In hindsight, he had every symptom of heat exhaustion. It took half an hour to drive out of the gorge to the itty bitty town of Nebo, NC.  By then Terry was recovering a little bit (cooling down in the air-conditioned car) and we told him we wanted to get him checked out.  He was reluctant, but I insisted, saying that if someone took his blood pressure and said he was okay, we would just head on home, but we couldn’t drive two hours home if he wasn’t well.  I casually asked if his wife was at home or out of town (would someone be home?) and asked if his wallet was in his backpack (we needed his ID).

We saw the Nebo volunteer fire department/EMT building on the hill. Several EMTs checked Terry out, blood pressure, pulse, temperature, etc.  By now he was feeling significantly better, coherent, able to speak for himself and even make jokes.  He refused an ambulance to the hospital and they said he could leave, no charge.  We stopped at the Dollar General to get Gatorade for Terry and water for Lily (who was still vomiting and lethargic).  Terry drank 2 huge Gatorades and 2 liters of water. 

Mike drove back to Gastonia with Terry in the front seat, Cathy and me in the back seat with Lily, a sad pup. Terry was his old self, talkative, joking.  He said he didn’t remember much about getting off the trail.  Whew!  In Gastonia, we were all very hungry but didn’t want to leave the dog in the car alone, so we got humongous bacon cheeseburgers at Hardee’s and ate in the car in the parking lot.  Delicious!  Terry took over the driving from there and seemed to be okay again. (Lily took a couple of days to get back to her old self.)

The next day I educated myself on the symptoms of heat exhaustion and heat stroke.  I felt bad that I had not thought about heat exhaustion during this experience. [I was fixated on getting off the trail.] There are a couple of things we could have done, like put water on a bandana around Terry’s neck, sit and rest for a much longer period of time.  We kept resting for a couple of minutes, hiking a little further, repeat – not resting enough. 

  

Moral:  You don't have to stay on the couch, but hiking is risky business. Be prepared.  Six experienced, seasoned hikers on the first hot day of the year, steep, rough terrain, not enough water, not enough long rest breaks, good intentions but poor communication during the hike, all add up to trouble.  Never again!

“You don’t want to take on Mother Nature (unprepared),” Lewis warned. “She’ll spank you and send you back home every time.” ~Lee Lewis, a Search and Rescue volunteer in the Smokies.