5. Rock Bottom pt. II

Person of the week: “Helen is lit.” guy

You would probably think that one rock-related incident was more than enough for ten days on the trail, but you’d be wrong. Perhaps it would be in a typical backpacking trip, and something about me and Chandler simply bent everything in the universe—sentient or otherwise—towards our destruction and, in this case, paranoia. If these walls (or rocks) could speak. . .

 

. . .they’d probably tell me and Chandler that we’re fools.

 

It all started after our descent from Blood Mountain, the highest point on the Georgia section of the trail, about which I’ll have more to say in another post. Immediately at the end of the descent is a forest highway, and directly on the other side of that highway is the Walasi-Yi Center/Mountain Crossings shop, a gift shop, equipment store, and hikers’ hostel that the trail literally runs through. Chandler and I stopped for a bit, had lunch, picked up some freeze-dried meals for a later date (can’t recommend Mountain House’s spaghetti highly enough), and enjoyed some stimulating conversation with one of the workers. We told him quite a bit about our experience, explaining to him that in the following days we’d be hitchhiking into Helen to pick up the rest of our food supplies. He was encouraging about our shortcomings, affirmed some of the decisions we had made, and offered the following paraphrased advice for our upcoming trip into Helen:

 

Are y’all 21? Helen is pretty lit man. It’s like, a German town and there are tons of bars and stuff. You should kick back and spend the night there if you get the chance.

 

If I remember correctly, we both just nodded our assent rather than sharing that we were only 19, but it was a subtle reminder that we were the wilderness equivalent of unaccompanied minors in an international airport terminal.¹

We enjoyed a nice meal at the picnic tables right outside and gave Chandler’s parents a call to let them know we were alive. I had a cheeseburger and an ice cream sandwich; it was glorious. We were only a mile shy (straight uphill) of our campsite though—seeking solace from civilization—so we didn’t wait all that long to take the opportunity to refill our water supplies directly from a potable source and continue on our way.

Winding our way through switchbacks up the next mountain, I distinctly remember an extended conversation about Kanye; especially his song “FML.” With such stimulating conversation material, the time flew by, and it wasn’t long before we were staring across our campsite at a sign nailed to a tree: it was a plank of wood with the shape of a drop of water roughly carved into it along with an arrow pointing down a side trail and the words “not much,” or something similar. With slight concern, we started down the side trail in search of water. We found bears instead.

We were never an any danger; the bears were quite a ways off. And, just as our training had prepared us, we yelled really loudly and they ran off. It was an exhilarating experience.²

Despite a thorough search after our wildlife encounter, we confirmed the premonitions that the sign had inspired: there was no water. We evaluated our options and decided that we did not have enough with us to spend the night there and refill the next day, so we turned around and hiked back down the mountain, stopping to set up camp in a clearing right behind the hostel.

Lifting our spirits with a hearty dinner of ramen noodles, we set to prepare things for the night; having just seen bears, it was important as ever that we hung our food in a tree. In order to accomplish this, as usual, we found a rock to tie our rope around and throw over a tree branch. At some point in the process, one of us dropped the rock, and when it hit the ground, the bottom fell out. The rock we had picked up was made of plastic, hollowed out for hiding a house key in a garden. In the middle of the forest. We were dumbfounded.

Many times since Chandler and I have discussed the implications of the fake rock on whether or not our hike ever really happened, let alone if the forest is even real. Our proximity at the time to the hostel and the road is the only thing holding us back from radical conclusions, but—I must say—I still have my doubts.

¹I’ve actually discussed this phenomenon with Chandler and others on several occasions; as I’ve mentioned before, we were the recipients of constant assistance on our adventure, and eagerly kind assistance at that. I attribute this to a sort of Children of the Trail effect; that people wanted to take care of us because we were clearly young and naive. I firmly believe that had we made the same trip with the same mistakes a few years later—especially if it was post-grad—people would’ve labelled us as ignorant maniacs, endangering ourselves and burdening others by gallivanting in the forest without the faintest idea of what we were doing. As it was though, everyone we encountered happily took us under their wings and enjoyed the chance to impart knowledge about proper forest practices and stewardship to a few young aspiring outdoorsmen. We were the children of the trail, and it raised us as such.

²Proper safety procedures in the presence of bears includes much more than just being loud. Please consult more comprehensive sources before venturing into areas potentially inhabited by any type of bear (or any predatory animal, for that matter).