Appalachian Trail

Same Trail, A Year and a Half Later

Same trail, a year and a half later

Milkweed along the AT (May 2009)
Another wonderful guest post from our wonderful hike leader, Hemlock.  For more of her writing, check out her blog athttp://ramblinghemlock.blogspot.com/
This weekend, I went on an overnight backpacking trip from Hogpen to Unicoi on the Appalachian Trail.  A year and a half ago, in May of 2009, I backpacked this section as a new Trail Dame and a beginner backpacker.  I recall struggling up the hills.  Thankfully it was spring and there were plenty of flowers in bloom to examine while I caught my breath.   I remember asking our trip leader a million questions about her gear, taking notes on everything she said.  She was one of the first people I’d met that was a solo hiker (how brave!) and had hiked long distances on the AT (how cool!).

Now, I scouted the trip as a trip co-leader, in preparation for taking a group out there next week.  Walking this same path, it struck me how much has changed– not just the change of season with the wildflowers all gone to seed– but how now the hills seem like a breeze, and I’m the one answering questions from the first-time backpackers as they email me about what to expect on this trip.  I sometimes feel like a fraud– I’m still learning myself– until I realize that I can help since I remember vividly what it was like to be a beginner myself.

Milkweed pod and seeds in fall
What hasn’t change is how much I plan for the hike (and, I’ll admit, how I still get butterflies the night before a big trip).  But now, I try to figure out how to provide directions and explain the features of the trail and think through what to do in case of emergency.  I wonder how I can be as welcoming, respectful, and supportive to them as everyone was to me a year and a half ago.

As I walked along, I thought about what makes the Trail Dames a unique group.  Like I said before, I’ve hiked with dozens of other hiking clubs, so I know there’s something special about the Dames.  Is it the caring nature of the group that brings everyone together?  How does this happen?  How can such a diverse group of women get along?  How can we laugh so much?  When I hike with the Dames, I try to keep my ears open to catch incredible conversations– inspirational stories of challenges faced with courage.  And there is something about being outdoors that allows the conversations to just flow.   I take in this wisdom, and make mental notes about how I want to live my life.

I watch the way everyone looks out for one another- not condescending at all– and how folks are understanding if someone is having trouble, because everyone else has struggled at one time or another, so we all know what it’s like.  (One Dame describes it this way– “There’s No Shame With the Trail Dames!”)  I really appreciate this because I’ve hiked with other groups that are competitive, and I’ve noticed that this attitude prevents people from coming together as a team, and connecting with one another.   I see these things, but all of these parts don’t fully explain to me the incredible things that happen on the trail with the Dames.

Backpacking With The Dames

This is a cross post from Hemlock’s wonderful Blog….. for more of her writing, check outhttp://ramblinghemlock.blogspot.com/

Same trail, a week later

Winter wonderland.  Photo by S. Adams.

The story this week was how a group of Nine Warrior Women braved 14 miles of slippery trail as we hiked on the Appalachian Trail from Hogpen to Unicoi.  We faced a night of bone-chilling, finger-numbing, frigid temperatures (18 degrees!), and I will never forget how the Brave Dames on this trip came together as a team and had a total blast.

It’s hard to comprehend how the same trail that I scouted just one week ago could be so completely different than it was this weekend, magically transformed as it was by a layer of snow and ice.  At first, I was nervous because I’d never backpacked in the snow before, though I’d done plenty of hiking in worse conditions.  But my fears drifted away as we gazed in amazement at the trees cloaked in snow, breathing in the crisp air, listening to the crunch of frozen leaves underfoot.  Eventually, the sun broke through the fog and clouds, making the forest sparkle and ice shimmer against the deep blue sky.  I felt grateful to be out enjoying my first winter weather of the year, while nearly everyone else in Georgia was down in the valley having a regular fall day.

When we stopped at the Low Gap shelter for lunch, we listened to a group of young guys describe their miserable night in the snow.  I hoped that we wouldn’t look as wrenched as they did the following day.

We hiked on and the trail joined an old road.  Icicles were forming along the rocky outcrops.  As we descended in elevation, pockets of snow became more scarce.  Finally, we reached our campsite which was thankfully free of much snow, due to its sunny exposure.  Everyone pitched in to help with making camp, helping set up tents, gather firewood, and hang the rope to keep our food away from bears.  Still Waters had a fire blazing before the rest of us returned from fetching water.  We huddled around, telling stories and laughing, recalling the high and low points of the day.

                   Draped in my under-quilt, huddled around the campfire.  Photo by S. Adams.

We turned in for the night at 7:45, since we were all getting cold as the air temperature plumited.  At first I lay shivering in my hammock, wondering if I would freeze to death during the night.  Finally, I slipped my pack beneath my feet, and shifted the sleeping pad and underquilt around.   Miraculously, I warmed up enough to finally drift off to sleep.  Whenever I woke during the night, I heard a chorus of soft snores around me.  How could everyone else be sleeping so well?!  In the morning, we’d all discover that EVERYONE had this thought during the night– we must have all taken turns lying awake shivering and sleeping and snoring.

The trail the next day had some serious climbs, and was treacherous with icy leaves over slippery rocks.  We only took brief rest stops because we got too cold when we weren’t moving.  Last week, I’d sailed up these hills, but this time, they left me sore and tired just like they had on my first backpacking trip with the Dames a year and a half ago.   Funny how just when I think I’ve got everything figured out and am feeling strong and confident (as I was last week), the trail will continue to provide new challenges.

Things I learned:

– Who you’re with can make all the difference.  I am so grateful to all the Dames who continue to teach me the meaning of friendship, strength, perseverance, and bravery.

– I need to figure out how to keep my hands from freezing.  I’ve always struggled keeping my hands warm, and I loose all dexterity when my hands get cold and also I have a lot of trouble thinking coherently when I loose feeling in my fingers.  I’ve tried various gloves and handwarmers, which work OK during hiking, but my fingers freeze when I take off my gloves to do stuff around camp.  Maybe I need to develop a cold weather camp routine that doesn’t require the use of my fingers or thumbs.  Any suggestions on how to cook and get water without either getting my gloves drenched or having my fingers go numb?

– One of the first signs of hypothermia is mental confusion.  Next time we are standing around discussing how we are all having sluggish thoughts, take that as a sign to warm up!  Also, Still Waters kept telling me to take off my wet gloves and put my hands near the fire to thaw out, and I just stared at her blankly.  This was sort of like the tendency hypothermic people have to take off their warm clothes when they are freezing to death.

– My camera is NOT an item I should leave behind just to save pack weight.  What was I thinking!?!?

– Even at the lowest point of the trip when I was nearly in tears because I was so freezing cold, I still wanted to be on the trail more than anything else– I don’t want to be at home.  Even when I’m scared and uncomfortable, I still feel like I belong on the trail.

Beautiful Maryland Hike

MD Dames
Hike Report from the Maryland Dames

What a great hike we had yesterday!  Many thanks to Sue Guynn of the Frederick News Post for coming along to interview the Dames and take photos and video.

We met in the Harpers Ferry Visitors Center parking lot and took the shuttle bus down into town. We were early to be almost the only people on the bus…the one other person was a lone male, or as one Dame put it “a thistle in a bed of roses.”  Winking smile  It was chilly to start off, only in the upper 30’s, but brilliantly clear out.  We made our way to the trail head (a trek that probably adds another full mile to the hike, round trip), and took our group photos. I took a moment to dedicate the hike to a dear friend, Lola Williamson, who died suddenly this past week. She was always a great encouragement to me in every thing I did and will be sorely missed on this earth. Broken heart

This trail is the road bed that Union troops made to haul up cannon, ammunition, powder, water, tents and other supplies to the summit of the mountain, where they set up to defend the rivers and town.  It is long and steep, 3 miles to the summit. If we find it hard in our high tech boots/shoes, light clothing, and using hiking poles then just imagine doing it in July, in wool uniforms, broken down boots and shoes, dragging cannon capable of firing 100 lb cannon balls plus all of the supplies the troops would need – and having to go all the way back down to the rivers once a week to haul up enough water for everyone.  At the 2 mile point we took the side trail, another 1 mile round trip, down to the overlook – a rocky cliff that has a full view of both rivers and the town.  Spent some time enjoying the view, taking photos and having snacks.  Then it was time to do the last mile ascent to the summit.

Once there we spread out, relaxed and had lunch.  Again, stunning views and by then a gorgeous warm day.  Off came the layers and we soaked up the sunshine.  I should note as well that there are many historic markers and sites on this trail – the ammo dumps and powder magazines, the ruins of the stone fort the troops built, the site of the 100 lb cannon at the summit (that’s the weight of the cannonball – not the much much heavier cannon itself), troop tent sites, and even a sad sign remarking on the death of a soldier who was blown to bits when an ammo dump blew up. I suppose he’s still there watching the hikers pass by…….

The hike back is all downhill, as much steep down to the bottom as it is up to the top.  It is a loop hike, so the way down offers different scenery til we hit the main road again.  It took us about 4 1/2 hours start to finish, for a total of about 8 miles with the walk back to town.

Once in town some went on home, many headed to the Secret Six Tavern, and five of us went on up High Street (another long steep climb!) to the PATC HQ (Potomac Appalachian Trail Conference). We had been invited to stop by by a new Dames member, Terri, as she’s a volunteer there. They were so excited to meet us!  Lots of handshaking and a 1000 questions! I’d never been there and it is absolutely worth visiting. So much information on the AT, books and things to buy, a hiker’s “lounge”, photo albums of thru-hikers that have stopped on the way, a huge relief map of the AT,  and more.  I will definitely be going back when I’m not so tired and sweat soaked!  The five of us went back down the street to the tavern for some refreshment. We couldn’t get seated with everyone else, but we still had a great time just sitting and chatting and it was a perfect way to end a perfect hike.

Caving with the Dames

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This is a guest post by our own Joan aka Hemlock– originally posted on her bloghttp://ramblinghemlock.blogspot.com/

This weekend I went on a caving trip with the Trail Dames.  We were fortunate to have several experienced guides and the Dames, as usual, were incredibly helpful and supportive.  Even though we went to a so-called “horizontal, easy” cave in northwest Georgia, it offered plenty of challenges for us nervous first-timers.

Caving was a fantastic experience, both for the physical challenge and because being within the earth proved utterly peaceful.  After getting the hang of it (thank goodness for the kneepads and helmet!), I enjoyed squeezing though the tight spots on my belly while pushing my pack in front of me, and rolling down the passageway, which turned out to be easier than crawling.  My arms, shoulders, core, and legs all received a satisfying workout.   I went through holes that I couldn’t believe I’d fit through and went down inclines that scared me, and felt such a sense of accomplishment after I realized I could do it!  Also, the cave was such a different, simplified environment– constant weather, fewer sounds, darkness.  Instead of being scary and claustrophobic, I found this environment enhanced and focused all my senses:  I could really smell the cave, listen to the sound of the drops from the ceiling, and see the glint of rocks.  I felt utterly alive and fully present.

A few times on the return trip, there was no one ahead of me and I tested my route-finding skills.  It took my brain a while to adjust to reading the cave.  Where was the easiest route?  Should I crouch, crawl, or roll?  Which way had I gone before?  Trying to remember the route, I visualized not just a two dimensional trail, but the series of interconnecting tubes that branched in three dimensions.  Using rocks and mud as landmarks was challenging for me because I am normally use plants and trees for navigation because for me they are so easy to remember.  I began to develop a better eye for subtle differences in rocks and formations, like how in winter, tree shapes and shades of brown become totally fascinating.   Mud in some places was dryer like clay for pottery and resisted pressure, while in other places it melted beneath your feet and stuck and slurped.  Caving was thus totally mentally engaging in addition to providing a full-body workout.

During rest breaks, our trip leader instructed us to lay down on the rocks and let our body heat radiate into the ground.  This had such a calming effect.  Much more so than just sitting down or standing during breaks.  The physical connection to the ground is so peaceful, and it reminds me to practice my yoga relaxation and breathing techniques.  I would love to take this practice back with me to the trail.  I normally stand during resting moments, but I think I will experiment with reclining against a tree or even laying down and being aware of my connection to the earth.

-Joan aka Hemlock

You Can Never Have Too Much Tango…Day 4 Continued

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Day 4 continued………

After driving back to Quito, we all go our separate ways to get ready for a big group Tango lesson    followed by a Milonga tonight. We still have plenty of time, so Njål and I head down to the  Indian Market in the Mariscal area to buy some souvenirs. We get out of the cab and I look    up at the giant black clouds that have rolled across the sky. ¨You know¨, I said, ¨this might be a great time to go have a coffee and let this storm pass before we wander  through     the open air market!¨ He agrees and we head for the Hilton Hotel that happens to be there  on the corner. We settle into a much-too-nice restaurant next to a window and order coffee as the rain starts to pour and lightning begins to flash across the sky. Talk about    good timing!!! We talk and laugh and exchange stories about violin making. The conversation   goes from serious to hysterical and back again, neither of us bothered by the fact that this is probably the worst coffee either of us have ever had. J By the time the coffee pot     is empty and the rain has stopped, it is time for Njål to head to his private Tango lesson.   The shopping will have to wait for another day.
I head home to get things organized and within the hour am in another cab headed      for Cafe Libro. This is a beautiful, small restaurant with a dance floor that hosts all  kind of events, including visiting famous Tango teachers. When I get there, class is about     to begin and the floor is covered with dancers. I chicken out of the lesson, knowing that Njål will teach me later, and settle back to watch. Our group of friends has bunch   of small tables and chairs on the side of the dance floor and I am joined by different   people that I met the first evening I was in town. I later told Njål that it was like being part of the     ‘cool crowd’ in high school!
As the lesson turns into the Milonga itself, I talk to different people, sipping hot      red wine, ( vino caliente) out of a mug with a sugared rim. The energy in the place is electric, but grounded and comfortable as more and more people stream in.     There is a group of very stern, frowning women in their 60´s gathered around a table  across the dance floor and I have fun watching them make a considerable dent    in a bottle of rum. I watch all evening and only once did I see one of them smile. 🙂
At times, I find myself sandwiched closely between new Tango friends, all of whom  treat me like I have been there forever. I am having a good time, but all of the sudden,      the Tango music stops and Salsa music starts blaring through the speakers. I do believe     that the Milonga is finished!!! The other women at the table jump up and start    dancing like crazy, motioning that I should join them. Again, when in Rome, right?!

I dance away while the die-hard Tango people slip out quietly. Noticing Njål standing on the side quietly, I went to ask him if he was ready to go home. Tiredly, he says ‘yes’.    Unfortunately, though, the DJ picked that very moment to play “I Will Survive”!     I begged and cajoled and Njål reluctantly followed me out onto the dance floor.  I enjoyed myself to pieces for the next few songs which consisted of American greats,     such as “YMCA” and “Thriller”. Njål was a great sport and kept me company on the dance     floor til I ran out of energy. It is close to 2 am and it is time to go home.   Tomorrow is my last day of playing tourist and Njål and I have been invited to visit a music    festival outside of Quito. I figure I should save some energy for that……. J

Buenas Noches…………

Anna