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Lost      by Christina Packard

 

     It was a short five mile round trip hike to the Cherokee, NC water tower.  The average person is supposed to walk this in two hours and twenty minutes.  I took two hours to find the tower, and over five hours to get back to the start.  I lost my way, and thought I would never find my way back to town.

 

     My adventure started when I decided that I wanted to walk the Appalachian Trail [AT] which runs from Georgia to Maine.  This was not a joke, but what I really wanted to do.  To practice I had walked fifteen flights of stairs each day and started to lose weight.  To practice in the mountains I had planned to have a friend walk with me for a couple of weeks on the AT.  My friend did not believe I was serious and backed out of the trip.  I went on to North Carolina, to the Smoky Mountains to do short hikes for practice by myself.

 

     My first walk was a total of four miles.  I used a fully loaded backpack that weighed 37 pounds, and  I weighed 235 pounds.  With each step I was going to have to lift a total of 272 pounds!  I used two walking sticks made from bamboo fishing poles.  The poles were used as an extra pair of hands and helped balance me as I walked.  I started my walk in the parking lot of the Clingmans Dome, which is the highest point in the Smoky Mountains.  I started my journey with three young men that were hiking my way.  Within thirty minutes I realized my pace was equal to a snail.  The men went on and I was on my own.  Each step I took was planned with deadly precision.  I say deadly because I found the path only a matter of inches wide in places, and had a shear drop on one side.  In one part I literally had to climb a tree to continue up the trail.  I made it to Andrews Bald, which is a clearing with a panoramic view all the way to Fontana Dam and beyond.  The weather was perfect and I could clearly see for miles into other states.  Andrews Bald was my goal which I made in a reasonable time for a 272 pound novice hiker.  I cried with deep exhilaration from accomplishing what I would never have dreamed of doing in my life.  I am a city grown girl from flatland Florida.  I cooked lunch and enjoyed the view, I felt there was nobody around me for miles.

 

     The next day I was a little sore and slightly worn, I set off in a different direction to put another notch on my walking stick for another incredible walk.  I wanted to stay close to my camp site, and save the time in driving.  I found a moderate hike with considerable more effort either because of its length or from the degree of the climbed slope.  I chose the water tower trail not even a mile from my camp right in Cherokee, NC.  This would be a shorter climb of less than a mile, but would be a continuous 1500 feet going up.  This hike is considered a moderate hike.

 

     Perhaps I should have observed the omen of not easily finding where the trail started.  This was ridiculous because the trail started from a corner of a round parking lot at the Oconaluftee Indian Village on the Cherokee Indian Village Reservation.  Even the Indians working there did not know that there was a hiking trail on their grounds.  Visualize that this parking lot is the size of a small strip shopping center, not like Disney World’s.  After more time than I will admit went by, I found the trail-head.  I was the only car parked in this area.  I assumed since it was only 10:30 I was ahead of the other town tourists, and surely those many who visited the village would be along soon to walk this trail.  This trail was only one mile from my camp site on Mt. Noble.

 

     The trail rose and narrowed quickly.  Within a few blocks length I had to jump streams of water.  A gazelle I am not, but I moved through this first water hazard with determination to stay dry and clean.  Experienced hikers know that walking in and through water is a common park of hiking, but I would choose to avoid this part.  I walked up and up, twisting and winding around in the inside of the hills.  The coolness of the inner forests and its sound started to give me a swelling of feeling like the one I had had the day before.  As I ascended I enjoyed every step I took.  I started to do a bit of trail maintenance, clearing the path for those to follow, but I noticed by all the debris that the trail had not been cleared for some time.  I wondered, surely lots of people must walk this short path.  Don’t they?

 

     I was now approaching the tops of most of the surrounding hills, or should I call them mountains?  I still do not know when a hill becomes a mountain.  One fact which became pronounced was that I always went up and never down.  It was approaching noon, and I had brought a coke and a candy bar to eat.  I had not brought my full backpack, which was a wise choice because of the constant uphill trudge.  I had been stopping to rest every twenty feet.  I found it extremely hard to breathe.  This moderate hike was turning into a strenuous one!

 

     The trail at times was not even a human foot’s with wide, and the slope down looked practically vertical.  One misplaced step and I’d never know how long it took before I would come to a stop.

 

     Where were all the other hikers?

 

     After two hours and fifteen minutes I was accepting possible defeat.  I was going to continue my ascent for fifteen more minutes.  If I could not see the water tower by then, I would start back.  Before I continued I sat and rested, drinking my coke and a bit of water.  I was uneasy because I could make out bear tracks on the trail.  What would I do if I came across a “real” bear?

 

     As I rose to continue, two Indian people, a man and a woman, came up the trail.  I spoke to them and found that as children they had walked up this trail to see the tower.  I assumed they were Cherokee only because I was on the Cherokee reservation.  They assured me that the tower was only ten minutes further up.  I was comforted by the Indians presence.  The man gave me strength, and the woman a feeling of security and safety.  I would achieve my goal and could believe in myself still!  Watching the sleek bronze bodies quickly disappear up the trail, I pushed on with renewed enthusiasm.  When I saw the tower, through the trees above me, I continued to look up and watch my goal as the trail turned on to a fire road.  Note, but I did not watch what I was doing.

 

     At the top I walked all around the rusty water tower a couple of times.  Another notch for my hiking stick!  The two Indian people left quickly going back down the trail.  I was alone again.  My excitement dwindled when I took notice that no matter where I looked I could not see a view out and down.  All I could see were the trees at the top of the mountain.  I learned then that hiking is not always seeing the view at the top, but the satisfaction of hiking the 1500 rise up and the mile and a half of hiking.  With nothing to see, I then started my descent.

 

     My first and most dangerous mistake was before me; I could not see where to find the trail off the fire road.  I also found I had stepped on an underground hive of bees and I had to run down the fire road to get away from them.   With over-confidence I decided just to follow the road down to town.  I could see cars and a main road, and surely it couldn’t be more than three or four miles this new way down.  The sun was high and hot, and the fire road did not give me the coverage from the foliage.  Faster and faster I wound down the steep road.  I used my watch to time my descent, which took twenty-eight minutes.  Walking on a flat portion of road, I made a turn around a hill and found the road was going to rise up again.  There was a metal barrier across the road.  My heart sank, I was not headed back to town, but further into the Smoky Mountain foothills.  I knew I had to go back and find the trail down, which was just a tiny foot path.  I was lost!

 

     There was real work to be done.  Twenty-eight minutes down meant two to three times that time to get back up.  It was blistering hot, and I only had four ounces of water left.  I knew I was in trouble because of my weight.  It would not be long till I was severely dehydrated.  It takes a lot of effort to propel 235 pounds up a hill.

 

     I concentrated by taking one step after another, pushing myself upward.  Up in front of me I saw water in the middle of the road.  No, it wasn’t a mirage, just a mud puddle.  I thought nothing of kneeling down and splashing myself with the water.  I soaked my shirt and long hair.  I needed to keep my body temperature down, and in the searing heat I knew I would be bone dry in minutes, but it could help cool me.  I then continued walking at a steady determined pace.

 

     I was beginning to panic, and knew I was in serious trouble.  My odds of finding the path were slim.  I carried a whistle for just an emergency.  Putting it to use I blew three long loud blows and then paused doing so over and over as I climbed.  I could feel that there was no one hear me.

 

     Even though I was an emotionally strong person, I was losing it quickly.  It was now three in the afternoon.  I was getting sick from the heat.  How stupid I had been.  Crying without inhibition I knew I had to rest and think.

 

     Underneath a thin, weather-beaten, stubby tree I sat down.  First I told myself to quit crying because there was no one to impress or to help, and each tear was valuable water I needed for survival.  I next took a few sips of the now precious water.  As to getting sick, it was after three, and I had not eaten for over four hours.  I remembered the candy bar and at it.

 

     While gaining what composure I could, I thought of my predicament.  I was by myself.  I had not told anyone where I would be.  I had told the campground manager to start looking for me if I was not back before 9:00 P.M.  I know now that the hike to the water tower was not a popular tourist hiking trail.  Would the Indians at the village notice my car left by the trail-head, when the village closed?  Was the parking area closed at night?  When did search teams start to look, and would they think to look in a parking lot for my car?  I could actually die.  Dying of embarrassment for all the mistakes I had made would be punishment enough if a search for me proved to be successful.

 

     I had to keep trying to find a way to the path down. Mainly because of the shortage of water, otherwise I wouldn’t last.  I started again, up above me stood the tower, in the trees at an angle I had not viewed it from before.  I knew then I was below the trail down, and the path had to be close.  At that moment I saw a piece of dirt covered carpet embedded into the road.  I had seen that carpet before, but I didn’t know then what I was actually seeing.  It was the trail down.  I had found the trail!  I had stepped over rocks and the carpet while looking up  when I first saw the tower, and that is why I missed the marking on the trail..  Someone else had marked the trail crossing with that carpet piece.  How I thank that person for doing what I should have done [marked my own trail change].

 

      The phrase “my feet have wings” is now common knowledge to me because I flew down that mountain, never missing a beat.  Half way down the trail I found a clear stream of water.  With confidence I walked up through the mud and running water climbing over rocks and filled my water jug with all the water the container would hold.  I was not going to pass an opportunity to have water with me just in case I had another survival situation on the way down.

 

     Sitting in my car I thought back on my experience:  I was so lucky only to be in shaken but in great shape; alive.  I learned not to fool with Mother Nature, but respect her and take time to learn.  After this past hiking trip I have and will continue to hike.  A trail is never going to only be so many miles, and done in so many minutes.  A short trail can be long.  An average person may not be so average.  I still find I am finding my way.

DRAFT: This module has unpublished changes.