I have to be honest. My first two “hitches” (each 4-day stretch on the trail is called a hitch) have been relatively intense. I knew the weather could potentially be brutal in the Smokies… in February. But until you experience it firsthand, it is hard to imagine the full force of intensity that Mother Nature has within her. My first hitch was a combination of exceptionally low temperatures, single-digit wind chills, and intermittent heavy snow. Besides everything freezing solid… including all the water I was hauling, walking along the high-elevation, snow-covered ridgeline of the Appalachian Trail was breathtakingly beautiful.
This past weekend included gale-force winds up to 50 miles per hour and freezing rain. I don’t believe I knew exactly what freezing rain was until last Friday. It is when the rain hits a surface and instantly freezes, coating everything in a thick, slippery layer of ice. Every limb, leaf, stick, and plant was encrusted with a shiny translucent coat of arms, creating a perilous winter wonderland. Wearing microspikes over boots instills a sense of confidence while walking on ice but makes swift movement quite cumbersome. And the wind!! Winds like a tropical storm or a hurricane… Winds that never abated… and swelled to such a thunderous level that I thought I might be flung off that narrow sliver of ridgeline trail.
Eventually, the freezing rain turned into plain old boring rain and proceeded to thoroughly drench me as the day wore on. When I was within a few miles of my destination, I began to lose motor skills and coordination. I felt wobbly and could no longer feel my toes inside my squishy boots. When I stopped, even for a moment, the cold settled deeper within my body. I tried to sip water from the tube of my hydration reservoir, but with each small drink of icy cold water, I could feel the cold move down through my esophagus into my stomach, sending shivers up my core. I knew I was dehydrated and succumbing to further stages of hypothermia.
By the time I arrived at my destination, I was shivering uncontrollably. I hung my backpack on the bear cable, stripped out of the soaking wet clothes, put on everything I had that was dry, and crawled into my sleeping bag as quickly as possible.
Not surprisingly, I hadn’t seen a single hiker all day. There was no one at the shelter besides me. I listened to the park radio chatter for a while and called for an updated weather report. I was relieved to hear the other Smokies Ridgerunner had safely evacuated the trail and was clear of the backcountry. The weather report came back, and the winds were due to abate toward midnight. When I heard the good news, my shoulders dropped, my jaw relaxed, and I knew everything was going to be just fine.
And sure enough… the winds died, and the rain turned into a foggy mist. Finally, all was calm. I awoke early and began to put the wet clothing back on and pack up. Still feeling a bit unstable, I carefully followed the steep downhill trail to get water, which I had been unable to do the day before. I made myself a big pot of oats with nuts, seeds, and dried fruit. I ate heartily and drank nearly two liters of water with rehydration salts before heading out. I still felt weak and tired, but I was hydrated, rested, and nourished. I had a big day of climbing up and over Thunderhead Mountain and Rocky Top before reaching my objective for the night.
And then a miracle happened. As I walked, I could feel the life flowing back into my body. The slow, steady walking was renewing my spirit! The sun would appear briefly, and the clouds began to part. As the temperature rose, I encountered more and more hikers donning their short sleeves. It took some time for my body to wholly warm up. Despite the steep ascents, I nearly finished the day wearing full rain gear and insulated undergarments. By the evening, I was feeling a lot more like myself again. I completed my Ridgerunner duties at the shelter and privy areas and had some lively conversations with weekend backpackers and early-bird thruhikers alike. The cold and dreary day had transformed into one of my favorite days on the trail to date.
I had serendipitous encounters and magical moments throughout the day. My prayers to my guides, guardian angels, and ancestors felt passionately answered, and I was safe and strong. I took a moment to share gratitude for myself for the loving self-care I had summoned and my intuitive, experiential wisdom about always knowing what to do in the backcountry. I trust myself to respond to situations with the best decisions for the highest and best good. After a day of anxiety-ridden survival drama, I felt guided, supported, and indisputably loved by the universe.
What a difference a day can make!
I am so grateful.
We are stronger than we think we are.
We are more resilient than we think.
We can do anything we believe we can.
I got this.
xoxCollin
