Math Problems for Backpackers

Most of the time, math problems for backpacking involve easy calculations to find the number of miles hiked, hiking pace, or estimates of time to the next landmark.   Backpackers make these estimates all the time, and you get pretty good at estimating your pace for different conditions and terrain.  This is very helpful for planning how far to go, and whether you have enough time before dark to take that extra side trail or linger at a swimming hole.

If I left Woody Gap 8:13 AM, and got to Gooch Gap 3.5 miles away at 9:21 AM, how did I still have time to stop to smell the flowers?

On my solo overnight backpacking trip this weekend, I ended up doing a lot of math that was more complex than usual.  I started at Woody Gap, and did an out and back along the Appalachian Trail to Three Forks.  How would you have solved the following problems:

1.  You end up talking to and then hiking with two friendly thru hikers on their first day on the Appalachian Trail.  They just graduated, and they've been dreaming of this day for years.  They are hiking roughly 1.5 miles per hour, while you hike 2.5 miles per hour on your own.  If it is 2:30 PM now, how long can you hike with them and listen to their engaging and inspiring stories before saying goodbye and striking out at your own pace, if you want to get to certain rocky scenic viewpoint 5.5 miles away for dinnertime (5 PM)?

Who needs a view anyway when dinner looks and tastes this good? (That's baked tofu, fresh broccoli from the CSA, and rehydrated hummus.)

2.  You are at a spring, and the next water source is 6 miles away, over Sassafras Mountain and a bunch of other steep PUDs.   The day is swelteringly hot, you are drenched in sweat, your feet are swollen, and have already done more miles than you have ever backpacked in a single day.  Your pack weighs 13.4 lbs without water, and you will eat your dinner (0.5 lbs) in another hour.  How many liters of water do you get before setting out if one liter of water weighs 2.2 lbs?

Airing out my feet on a cool rock, and "tanking up" at the spring, cause water doesn't weight anything when it's in your belly.

Swimming Holes and Waterfalls in South Carolina

When the weather gets hot in the South, it's time to explore out-of-the-way waterfalls, swimming holes, and streams.  A friend from South Carolina shared a few magical places to cool off with me.

Brasstown Falls in South Carolina was actually a series of falls.  The main dramatic falls was easily accessed via a short trail from the parking area.  Then, scrambles along side trails led to a series of upper and lower falls.  A large deep swimming pool provided the perfect place to swim in the swift current.  This area is know to be quite botanically rich, and mountain laurel and rhododendron were putting on a spectacular show.

Brasstown Falls.

Playing at Brasstown Falls.

Chau Ram County Park was another place we explored.  It was accessible and developed, but very peaceful.  Huge rocks for relaxing and picnicking bordered calm swimming holes above the falls.

Falls at Chau Ram County Park.

Along the banks of the Chauga River at Chau Ram Park, I was delighted to find leather flower (Clematis viorna).  In the buttercup family, this lovely climbing vine doesn't look much like the cultivated Clematis, even though it's a close relative.  Leather flower is native to our region and is really beautiful.  The curvy colorful part of the leather flower is actually the sepal.  The fruits (called achenes) have long whispy tails which help spread the seeds.

Leather flower

Achenes (seeds) of the leatherflower

Summer is also a good time to linger near small headwater streams, which are home to caddisfly larvae, salamanders and other enchanting creatures.  Caddisfly larve build protective homes out of tiny rocks (or sometimes twigs and leaves), and can be found on the undersides of rocks.

caddisfly larvae

tiny salamander are also found by turning over rocks in streams

Frozen Hands... in Summer

The rain started in the afternoon and continued steadily through the night.  After getting wet a few months ago in a storm, I was pleased that my tarp held the rain out, and I was glad I decided to go backpacking despite the forecast and my apprehension about backpacking in the rain.  In morning rain, I packed up, and began the hike back to my car.  The temperature was a mild 60 degrees, cool for Georgia in May.  As the day wore on, winds started whipping and the water soaked through my rainskirt, but I just kept moving fast over the difficult mountainous terrain to keep warm. 

It wasn't until that hollow feeling of low blood sugar stopped me for my morning snack that I realized anything was wrong.  My fingers were literally frozen and numb from the rain and wind.  I fumbled for five minutes to get my pack buckles opened.  I had lost all dexterity-- this is a problem I've struggled with repeatedly in winter, but I couldn't recall having it this bad.  I could barely do the simple task of opening my pack, pulling out the food bag, opening the ziplock bag with my snacks, and pulling out my protein bar (anything requiring a spoon was out of the question).  I summoned all my strength and channeled it to my fingers-- just grip the wrapper and tear it open.  But I could not!  My lame fingers fumbled but I was unable to open that darn wrapper.  My stomach growled in protest, but I could not physically get any of the food-- which was all there in front of me-- into my mouth.  I tore at the wrapper unsuccessfully with my teeth.  My knife was in my pack, but I knew my useless hands couldn't open it anyway. 

Negative thoughts and fear swirled inside me.  If I couldn't move my hands, I couldn't set up my tarp, or do other things to stay safe.  I started shivering-- I was mildly hypothermic, and not thinking clearly.  I felt helpless and very scared.  This seemed like the complete antithesis of self-sufficiency.

Was I really having this problem in Georgia in SUMMER during a f?@?#$ing DROUGHT!?!?   

What do you do in these difficult moments?  When you haven't seen anyone for two days on the trail, you have to pull that inner strength.  Meltdowns are for safe places like at home or with friends.

I fell back on what I know I do well, which is hike fast.  I reluctantly put the unopened snack away, put on my pack, tucked hands into my shirt, and felt my legs carrying me swiftly down the trail.  As I generated internal heat from the exertion, I could feel the life creep into my hands as I nestled them in the warmth of my armpits.  (Though it wasn't until a full hour later that I had enough dexterity to do anything that required fine motor skills like undoing my buckles of my pack again.)  And I didn't stop moving until I reached my car where I could blast the heat.

***

Backpacking brings us to places far outside our comfort zone.  Difficult situations are inevitable in the wilderness-- nature has a way of throwing us storms, wild animals, dry springs, rocks, and mountains that never seem to end.  You can pack your backpack with expensive and heavy gear to protect yourself, but let me tell you-- no amount of gortex is going to keep you dry in the end.   When confronted directly with our fears with no one else to fall back on, resourcefulness and inner strengths shine through.  What we discover about our ourselves when things get scary is often more beautiful than any flower or viewpoint.   While I was disappointed about getting hypothermic in the first place, I also know I can take care of myself.  Each time I struggle this much but still make it through, I see myself as someone who is strong and capable, and this is incredibly empowering and one of the true joys of solo backpacking.

***

Note: This trip was a solo out and back on the Benton Mackaye Trail Sections 1 and 2 from GA 60 to Long Creek Falls and then on to Springer.

Toilet Paper on the AT

Each year in March and April, the Appalachian Trail through Georgia gets heavy use from thru hikers and with that comes a surge in trash left in their wake.  I find piles of food wrappers in campfires, fuel canisters near shelters, and invariably puffs of toilet paper strewn all over the place.  The former get stuffed into my extra garbage bags and taken out with me.  The latter cause me to fume-- I feel powerless to do anything constructive about it since it's too gross to pick up.

At a campsite past Low Gap Shelter this weekend, I found the following note propped against a tree and weighted down by rocks. 

This note was near a partially buried pile of poop buzzing with flies just at the edge of a campsite.  I especially like this part: "Would you leave TP in your garden?  Well, this is nature's garden.  Please be responsible."  I hope other hikers read the note and it made some people think and reconsider their practices. 

Especially along heavily used trails like the AT, it is always best to poop at privies or anywhere far away (200 feet) from campsites and water.   If you do go near to where people often walk, take extra care to bury waste completely (in a hole 6-8 inches deep).  Pack out toilet paper in a plastic bag.  The AT is such a special trail that it deserves to be kept beautiful.   Please, Dispose of Waste Properly!

(Note: The trip this weekend was a solo out and back from Unicoi Gap to Low Gap shelter and back (19.2 miles total) to scout the water sources for the trip I lead next week for the Trail Dames.)

"Stealth" Campsites for Solo Backpacking

Some of you may be wondering what I mean by "stealth" camping when I backpack solo.  I use this term to refer to camping in an unestablished or pristine site which is out of view of the main trail.  (Note: it does not mean camping illegally.)  My primary reason is it makes me feel safer as a solo female.  When I am in a group, I prefer to stick to established sites to lessen our collective impact on the environment, but when I'm solo, I go stealth on certain trails or if I'm within a mile or two from a trailhead where I feel more likely to encounter non-backpacker types that I think could give me trouble.

In choosing a stealth site,  I find somewhere that will have the smallest impact from my presence.  Most often, this means choosing a site where no one has camped before, rather than further developing a lesser-used site (a basic LNT principle).  Sometimes, stealth sites require effort to find.  In addition following LNT guidelines (i.e. away from water and sensitive areas), plus the hammock-specific guidelines (i.e. to stay warmer and out of the wind), my goal is to find something hidden.   But if I take the extra time and follow my gut instincts, I can always find a spot.  One of the biggest advantages of hammock camping is more options for where I can camp-- I am not restricted to flat ground or bare dirt, and I believe I make much less impact on the environment when I hang.

When I leave the trail to find a site, I take care that no one else is watching where I am going.   After I set up, I walk back up to the main trail to be sure I am truly hidden from view.  When I leave my hammock site, I turn around and take a photo of where I leave the main trail and note any distinguishing trees or rocks so I can find my way back and not get lost.  Then, I walk along the main trail to check that my hammock is not visible.  Honestly, this may sound totally paranoid, but it makes me feel safer.  When I'm on the AT or the Foothills trail, I feel safe and don't bother, but I like doing it in other areas.

Looking down at my stealth site from the main trail.

When I camp in a pristine site, I follow basic leave no trace practices (UPDATE: for a great review-- see this post).  I take extra care to avoid walking around excessively and trampling plants.  I disperse my impact by taking different routes to walk around the site, so I don't make any trails.  I never have a fire, and I don't move logs.  Usually after I set up, I get into my hammock and go to bed early.  If I have any energy, I go for a night hike and watch the stars.  The next morning, I pack efficiently, playing games to see the fewest number of steps and motions I can take.  Then, I move the leaves around to eliminate any trace that I've been there.  If I pick my spot carefully and watch where I walk, there is no sign I was ever there, which makes me happy.

The other thing I love about stealth camping, though, besides the safety factor and my reduced impact on the environment-- is the feeling of being in the wild, how the forest smells so fresh and unspoiled, and how it looks so pristine when I peer out of my hammock.  That's what really makes it all worthwhile.

Nature Notes: Gaywings

 Not only are gaywings (Polygala paucifolia) improbably cute and small with bursts of fringe, but they also have a hidden secret.  In addition to their regular, colorful and showy flowers, gaywings have hidden, small flowers underground called "cleistogamous" flowers which self-fertilize to make seeds.  The downside of selfing is that the offspring could suffer inbreeding depression, but at least some offspring result, so it may be better than nothing.  With cool fringe on their regular flowers to lure in the bees, it's surprising they need a reproductive back-up plan, but sometimes pollinators are scarce.  Plants in this family (the Polygalaceae) tend to be rare or endemic so there may not always be other plants around to fertilize the regular flowers.  Gaywings in Georgia can be locally abundant, but they are only found in a few sites around here.

Above-ground regular flowers with fancy fringe

I made a special trip to Panther Creek Falls in Habersham Co., Georgia to see these remarkable flowers for myself.  This trail tends to be a popular place, so given my love for quiet, I'd only ever been there in winter.  But it was worth it to brave the crowds over Easter weekend to find the gaywings carpeting the forest floor in simmering lilac.

More gaywings!

In addition to gaywings, there were many other plants in bloom all along the trail. 

Showy orchis

Catesby's trillium

Toothwort (with spider)

This rhododendron attracted a pollinator.

Trail Dames at the Pocket

"Happiness held is the seed; happiness shared is the flower."  ~Author Unknown

You may have noticed that I've been doing a lot of solo backpacking trips this spring.   But this weekend I took a break from my loner ways, and instead led the Trail Dames on the Third Annual Hike to the Pocket. 

The Pocket of Pigeon Mountain is an extremely special place for wildflowers in Georgia.  The setting is stunning too, with steep rock walls surrounding the valley and a clear blue-green stream and waterfall.  The remote location-- lack of signage, (sometimes rough) dirt road, stream crossing-- combine to keep this place protected.  Though it's several hours drive away, I've taken the time to visit the Pocket repeatedly each season for the past few years and it has always filled me with awe and wonder.

I arrived at the Pocket at dusk the night before the Dames hike, hot tired and cranky after a long drive.  My mood darkened further as I walked around the short boardwalk.  The plants I'd been eagerly anticipating, the Virginia bluebells and poppies, had dropped their petals and gone to seed already.  All I could see was a drab, empty forest.  I was horrified and mad at myself for not changing the timing of the hike to coincide with the earlier emergence and warmer temperatures this year.  I thought, "What if all the Dames were disappointed and felt like I wasted their time bringing them all the way out here?  What business did I have leading hikes anyway?  I didn't know anything!"  I contemplated canceling the hike.  In retrospect, I was having a serious case crankiness and (what I later recognized was ) Imposter Syndrome.

Faded Virginia bluebells

Thankfully, an evening spent listening to owls calling back and forth across the valley, a good night's sleep in my hammock, and an early morning walk around the Pocket cleared my head.  The magic of the place soaked into me.

Morning beauty

Rather than missing the familiar early bloomers,  I noticed flowers I'd never seen before, including wild hyacinth.  Masses of wild blue phlox, wild geranium, and purple phacelia created a sea of purple.  I was actually lucky to have gotten the timing "wrong" and to find these late bloomers I'd missed in previous years.  More importantly, I remembered that the thing I do best (or so I've been told) in leading hikes is sharing my enthusiasm for nature.  I resolved to keep my lack of self-confidence hidden, and try to be myself and be there.

Purple phacelia

Wild geranium

Wild blue phlox

Wild hyacinth

Bent trillium

When the Dames arrived, I watched with delight as everyone started pointing out plants and bugs and a million other things, and asking all sorts of fascinating questions.  I could feel their excitement echoing off the walls of the valley.  They totally felt the magic of the Pocket too!  Listening to their laughter and seeing the wonder in their eyes, I realized that what makes the natural world come alive, more than anything else, is having the opportunity to experience it and share it with friends.

Photo by Jules

Photo by Donna

Please note: if you are lucky enough to visit the Pocket, please keep this place preserved for future visitors and generations by staying on the boardwalk and trails, never ever picking or trampling the flowers, and please pick up the GORP pass (which is now required) to help support this place (there is no way to get one at the site, so order it ahead of time online).