And the last one had deep, cloying mud that threatened to rip off shoes. There were 3 more fords that day, and each one was challenging in its own way. A quarter of a mile later, the forest spat me back out onto the AT, and I’d re-learned the lesson I thought I’d learned back in Georgia. Stupid, stupid, stupid, I chanted internally as I picked my way down the hillside, back to the trail. I’m going to bushwhack down to the trail on this side.” The hiker in red stared at me, dumbfounded. We were supposed to switchback to the base of the waterfall, then cross.” I stowed my phone in its Ziploc as rain continued to drizzle on us. I looked around for a white blaze, then pulled out my phone to check FarOut, tracing the red line of the AT over the elevation profile map. “There’s a campsite here,” the hiker said, shrugging. The red flash I’d seen from across the creek sidled up to me, looking confused.
I reached the opposite bank and looked around. In comparison, this ford didn’t seem particularly dangerous, or even out of the ordinary. Garfield, I’d down climbed a literal waterfall as part of the official trail.
Just more ridiculous AT trail routing, I thought, as the rushing water broke on me mid-calf. After the dangerous trail routing through the Whites, I didn’t pause to question a ford at the mouth of a waterfall. After looking at the ford dubiously – the edge of a significant waterfall was a mere 20 yards away – I stowed my shoes and hiked up my rain pants, proceeding cautiously over the slippery rocks. When I reached the first ford, I squinted across the water and saw a flash of red on the opposite bank. I wasn’t a particularly fast hiker, so when I heard anyone behind me, I would let them pass so I could walk in silence. I pulled off trail to let a large group of hikers pass, as I normally did. After convening and deciding on a campsite for the night, we split up and hiked our own pace. I was hiking in the vicinity of Treble, Blossom, Cookie Monster, and Chupacabra since we’d split the cost of our resupply drop from Shaw’s. Beads of rainwater gathered on each leaf and pooled until a single, gigantic raindrop fell, or took the entire leaf with it, sending it spiraling down onto our heads and shoulders as we trudged through the woods.
#Raindrop tree tent full#
We hiked quickly and with purpose through deep, muddy puddles, over roots, disappearing into the forest.įall was in full swing now, and the reds and golds were deepened by the mist and the rain. Poet’s quiet, encouraging goodbye was like the gunshot at a race’s starting line.
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