Travel

Gambrill State Park- Maryland Dames

Gambrill maryland
Hike Report from the Maryland Dames….

Wow, what a wonderful hike! I am an admitted fair weather hiker and hadn’t hiked in the snow and ice (other than to hike up Fox Glacier in New Zealand 7 years ago), and I loved this. There was 13 of us and many first timers. Brave souls all to make this their first time out with us. It was about 27 degrees when we set out at 10 am, but not at all windy or even breezy. It actually felt just fine. It took 2 hours to cover the 3.3 miles as some of it was treacherous and slow going with icy slippery rocks and leaves, especially the descents.

The sun came out, more or less, after the first hour and started melting off the snow. The woods were beautiful – the white sugar dusting of snow, the brown of the ground, the green ferns still peaking out, the fallen leaves…..just breathtaking. And so calm and quiet. We will definitely do another winter hike. More snow would actually be better – a thicker, packed base to walk on rather than the thin coating of snow and ice on everything. I’ve asked my hubby for snowshoes for my birthday, so I’ll have them by January and our next winter wonderland hike!

Linda

Wagon Train Trail

This weekend, I went with the Trail Dames to see the leaves changing at Brasstown Bald, the tallest peak in Georgia (4784 feet).  We hiked the Wagon Train Trail, which follows a ridge north from Brasstown Bald all the way to Young Harris, a college town.  This hike is all about the journey, rather than the destination– especially the views along the ridge and watching the trees change as we drop elevation and go through different forest types.

Down the Wagon Train Trail.

Eleven Dames met at the large parking area early in the morning.  We had a wonderful mix of women- it was one woman’s second hike ever, while others had been hiking for years.  We started down the wide, relatively flat path, and reached a viewpoint after an hour.  We stopped for a break and marveled how far we’d come.  The tower at Brasstown Bald, near where we began our hike, looked so small in the distance and it was hard to imagine we’d so easily traveled all this way already.

The tower on Brasstown Bald appears tiny.

After a very long and hot summer, the crisp fall air was quite a relief.  The leaves were spectacular red, orange, and yellow, contrasting against deep blue sky.  As the sun shone through the red leaves, it gave everything a rosy hue.  Leaves crunched beneath our feet.  Though most of the time we were walking through forest ablaze with red leaves, we passed through one part of the trail was all golden yellow.

The Dames that went with me on the Blood Mountain hike recognized the turtleheads clustered around small springs.  We also saw quite a few striped gentians.

Turtlehead

After getting back to the trailhead, some of the Dames still had enough energy to climb the remaining 6/10 mile up to the observation tower and visitor’s center at the summit.  Stepping off the Wagon Train trail, where we’d seen very few other hikers, was quite a culture shock, because the summit area was crowded with tourists.   At first, I felt annoyed that this summit had been “ruined” by all the development.  But then, we met a woman in a wheelchair that was 95 years old!  She had visited this mountain many years ago, and was excited to make this return trip, even though she couldn’t walk anymore herself and had to take the shuttle bus to the top.  Of course this made me instantly appreciate that this mountain was accessible to everyone, and I smiled looking around at all the different people, up there, enjoying the fall day.

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.

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