Benton MacKaye Trail: Smokies Backpack Day 3 - 3/18/19 – 8.7
Miles
This morning Chris reported a temperature of 31 degrees. The
air was only 6 degrees warmer than the previous night, but my tent added a few
more and I slept much more comfortably. I wore the same base layers, my lightweight gloves, didn’t
need my purple puffy coat or teal fleece, and used my neck gaiter for my ears/head
instead of my headband and Liberty hat.
BUT…this was my first time out with my new Lightheart Gear tent
and I was a little disappointed. Staking the tent properly is crucial, and the
outer fly sagged to touch the mesh, getting moisture from condensation at the
end where my face was. I’ll have to keep working on the staking. Otherwise I
loved the tent construction, design and light weight. It allows me to sleep
with my backpack inside and not feel crowded.
The plan was reveille at 7:00, step off at 8:00. I woke up
at 7:05, still dark out. My morning habit is to get dressed, pack up my
sleeping bag, sleeping pad and clothes sack, toss them outside the tent door
before I emerge into the world. I was out of the tent by 7:30 a.m., daylight
touching the mountaintops. The creek was roaring as it had through the night
and would long after we were gone. No heating water for breakfast, just brown
bread with Justin’s almond butter. I stuffed my damp tent into its sack and
strapped it onto the outside of my pack. No worries – I’ll spread it out in the
back of my car to dry on the drive home.
I headed out first to tackle the 2.7-mile, 1,300-foot uphill
(of course) as Enloe Creek Trail climbs out of Raven Fork Gorge. About a quarter-mile past Campsite 47, the
trail turns way from Raven Fork and starts up the Enloe Creek drainage (thus
the trail name, even though the campsite is on Raven Fork). At that point the robust
whitewater of Enloe Creek was on my left-hand side.
We were aware that about a mile from Campsite 47 there’s a
knee-deep creek crossing of Enloe Creek (once bridged by a foot log, long gone
now). We wanted to all be together for the crossing, thus my early start. Timed
out perfectly; as I was removing my boots at the water’s edge, my friends rounded
the bend.
Chris waded right through the creek in his boots, but Nancy and Lane and I changed to water shoes. Our anticipation of freezing water helped and it
didn’t feel too bad at all. Somebody got
photos of everybody crossing.
Not too scary, I can see my duck feet
From this viewpoint - yikes!
Here comes Nancy
Safe on the other side, we dried off, laced up, and started
again with me back in last place where I was happy. Enloe Creek was now on the right-hand
side, still loud and feisty.
The climb got tougher but wasn’t as daunting, proving that
it’s mostly a head game: my adventure is ending today. At the junction with Hughes
Ridge Trail I turned left, walked half a mile and reached Chasteen Creek
Trail. That little half-mile quirk is
not clear on the Smokies dollar trail map, but there it is.
Chasteen Creek Trail started out as my favorite trail variety,
a smooth surface winding in and out of small coves. I was tripping along with a light heart (pun
intended). Then fist-sized rocks began
to appear underfoot and the trail widened, showing its true nature as an old
roadbed covered in rocks that slowed me down. Sometimes steep, sometimes gentler,
but still rocky as all get-out, I finished the 4.1 miles in under 2 hours. The
last 1,000 miles on Bradley Fork Trail to Smokemont Campground was flat and long.
For those of you keeping score, I counted the .3 miles through the parking lot
to my car.
Are we there yet??
My friends were already settling in at a campsite, tents
pitched, evaluating their resupply food before going into Cherokee for a big
lunch. I’d debated all morning about whether I would join them. Facing four hours in the car, though, I
decided to go on home. As we all hugged goodbye I was a teeny bit sad that they
were continuing on their big adventure – but I was sure happy to not be hiking
up a mountain again in the morning.
The drive home was déjà vu from my Smokies 900 challenge,
overwhelmed with nostalgia for those days of discovery. I felt ultra relaxed, rotating through my
CD’s for music that I hadn’t heard in a while. The pain of the climbs was
already receding (happens every time – why don’t I trust it yet?) I do have
some reflections to ponder, though, because my body is older and I cannot do
the things I could do 20 or even 10 years ago.
I can mourn for it or accept it and hike on at my unique pace.
"I dream of hiking into my old age. I want to be
able even then to pack my load and take off slowly but steadily along the
trail.” ~Marlyn Dolan
