Father & Son Re-acquainted In Two-Day Smokies Hike

The phone rang! It was Jason, my twenty-one-year-old son who lives away. Shortly into the conversation Jason asked "Dad, do you have any vacation built up? I'd like for us to take a vacation in the Smoky Mountains." He suggested that I plan a journey, expecting there would be time spent "walking in the wilderness."

I took this as an opportunity to fill in the gap we had, for some unknown reason, experienced earlier in life. After studying my topo of the Smokies, I settled on a place called Big Creek, located in the northeast tip of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. With plans for a three day, 33-mile backpack in the mountains of North Carolina, we headed south.

Early the first morning we stood at the trailhead with fifteen miles between us and our backcountry campsite. There were to be a couple of climbs, one directly in front of us. We used this first ascent for getting our bodies accustomed to the packs, our feet to get the feel of the trail, our minds into the spirit of the wilderness.

We were in no rush, just moving along at a moderate pace having meaningful conversation, breaking a pretty good sweat. A couple hours later we were wisping out a ridge and down over a long, gently descending trail to a valley on the other side.

It was like walking through a living, breathing tunnel. My favorite shrub, the mountain laurel, was bursting forth in a dazzling performance with millions upon millions of peppermint blooms. Some had fallen and were decorating the path we walked.

Next thing we knew, we had trod ten miles. We had a small lunch at the bottom end of another climb to the ridge. This time it would be a vertical gain of 2,000 feet in two and half miles of trail - long and steep. We started the ascent at a practical pace. We were just enjoying the small talk, taking in nature, breathing in nature, being a part of nature. We enjoyed the leaves with splashes of gold on the inner side. They were being released to the path by the giant tulip poplar trees. The shedding of the leaves played some part of the mystery of the intricate flowers that were emerging.

Pace Picks Up

About a half-mile up the climb, the pace picked up a little, Jason was real close on my heals. Within four or five minutes the talking had nearly died out. The feeling was coming, we knew what we were in for, we'd done this before. All of a sudden the unspoken message was "We're haulin' it to the top as fast as we can - can you hang on?" On up the mountain was a wider spot in the trail, for the first time that day Jason eased ahead of me and picked up the pace a tad. That sent a strong message - the race was on. By that time sweat was flowing, breathing was deep, heart at full throttle, the endorphines spewing.

At one time I questioned, is he going to pull away from me? I struggled for a time, then just when I needed it, I found more energy. I sneaked past him, regaining the lead. Half expecting a response to my move I maintained our lunge for the top.

Small Talk Between Breaths

We tried small talk between breaths, one sentence per minute. Things like "the top has to be close," "maybe a little less steep around the next turn," "I hope so, this is the equivalent of a 10K race," "no, its more like a marathon," and "the top has to be in sight around the next turn."

Finally, on my last leg, taking short steps because I couldn't take long ones, the top was in sight. The trail widened and we strode side-by-side to the crest. There was no need for a winner this time because we knew we had given the mountain our best effort.

At the top we took a short break, then dropped down over the other side to a backcountry campsite called Walnut Bottoms. We made camp beside a fair stream. The stream was strewn with large smooth boulders that caused the water to create soothing sounds. Sounds nice to sleep by.

Part way through our supper, the storm that had been threatening all afternoon arrived in a fury. We scrambled to put things where they needed to be and made a dive for the tent. It was a downpour that left water standing in the area and splattered debris on the tent. Darkness was soon to fall, so we opted to stay in the tent for the night.

A little while later we were talking about some wild-shaped thing. Jason was gesturing with his hands. I propped up to see better, and out of the corner of my eye, through the mosquito netting at the end of the tent, I caught a movement in the fading light. Yep, not 15 feet away, standing there, broad sided, was a big black bear. As if by a bolt of instinct, I brought my hands together with velocity and accuracy. At the same time I shouted loudly, with the strength of confidence, "Get the hay out of here!" He took off as if he had been spurred by the Bogeyman of Walnut Bottoms.

Whew, it worked, I pulled it off. Sometimes I ponder: I know that bear could have torn us to shreds in less time than it takes to tell about it. At the same time I rely on the knowledge that nearly all wild animals have an ingrained fear of humans.

We were awake by the approach of dawn. Soon we were winding our way up Yellow Creek. Within a mile we must have crossed it a dozen times. It was fun figuring out how to cross, reasonable safely, without getting our feet wet. Once we crossed walking on a springy log. It was our lucky day. At every crossing one could look at the placement of the boulders, then measure the span of water between them and envision a route to the other side.

There were places where it was important to know exactly which foot was going to go where four moves ahead. I often found a dead branch and broke it into a suitable third leg. Once on the other side, the sense of accomplishment was enjoyable.

Second Day Climb

The path for the second day gently climbed nearly 3,000 feet. Experiencing that kind of gain one realizes the change of seasons in a few hours. Most spectacular was the altitude where the purple rhododendron was showing its most brilliant display of the year. The perfect sunlight on giant clusters of brilliant purple blossoms was stunning.

Off on a short spur was nature's most pristine swimming pool. It was the kind you would find in the Garden of Eden. Crystal clean water came pouring into the pool from several places. Nature had chipped away at the earth's up-turned strata and formed the perfect shape. The water was so clean and purified by nature that we could see details on rocks six or seven feet deep. We drank our fill, straight from the pool. I intend to go back when the weather is warmer, swim in it, submerge in it, become a part of it, if only briefly.

Fairly early in the afternoon we reached our campsite atop Mt. Sterling at 5,842 feet

Unexpected Guests

During supper we had some unexpected guests. We were cooking some ramen noodles when a friendly, sociable male human named Tom came into our space. We were getting acquainted when Tom mentioned that he and his female friend had wanted so bad to see a bear. Within a few heartbeats of saying that, he crouched, pointed and whispered "There's a bear!"

He was so taken by the bear's presence, I was hesitant to chase it off. Within seconds Tom's friend Barbara joined our group. All four of us were silently staring at the bear. He got spooked and disappeared into the wilderness. About three minutes later he came into view from another angle. Barbara was getting excited about the possibility of getting her picture taken with the bear. I was getting worried because I realized he was stalking our dinner! I know bears get real brave when driven by hunger.

Flirting With A Bear

A few minutes later he came into view from yet another angle. Barbara and Tom were flirting with "how close is too close" for trying to get a few pictures. About this time I was getting edgy, scurrying around, picking up a few fist-sized rocks and thinking "They just don't know what is going on with this driven-by-hunger, big wild, black bear."

I couldn't risk anymore of that. I yelled and fired rocks as hard as I could. The bear ran away and didn't return until later that night. But that is another story!

Later, we all became friends. I realized that only a few years ago I may have done the same thing that they did. We agreed it was a learning experience for all. Yes, I can understand someone thinking critically of my actions. The sad reality is, those who feed the black bear and encourage closeness are enhancing the bear's chance of being exterminated by our kind.

Walking Alone

Next morning I had the need for walking alone. Things worked out great; Jason, Tom and Barbara walked the remaining six miles down the mountain together.

As they faded out of sight and sound, my periodic need for solitude in the wilderness came over me. I sauntered down the trail. There were a few places where giant trees were standing on extremely steep parts of the mountain. They had managed to escape man and his axe of earlier times. In these places I would stop and stand in awe, captured by their majestic shapes, their hugeness, their ability to live to be old and beautiful.

As this segment of our journey was coming to a fork in the trail of this great life, I felt honored that we had had this time to share, "walking in the wilderness."

Jerry's Journal- Late October, 1998:
Humans "On the Verge of Insanity"

Lately, I have encountered a great number of people that seem to be connected by a common thread. There seems to be a consciousness arriving to us humans that we (as a species) are very close to stepping over the line. I'm referring to the line, that if we slip over the slippery edge - will bring about our very own insane extinction.

Anyway, lately, I find myself thinking, several times during a day, nearly every day, about how we humans have changed the face of our precious earth. There have been tremendous changes made by humanity just during my brief little blip of 57 years of life on this earth. Occasionally my mind drifts back to my early days down there in Walcot, (that's up there in Bracken Co., KY).

I start remembering when I was about four or five. In that peaceful little valley where I was raised there were no black-top roads, no televisions. I don't even remember a radio. "Gosh, we surely had a radio!"

Boy, did I have it made. My chief occupation was to keep an eye on everything that nature had to offer over at the crick. That crick was just full of crawdads, several kinds of fish, turtles, snakes and a thousand other things I had no name for. My days were spent inventing things like a fishin' pole. I would use a broken branch from a drift pile and a piece of string taken from a gunny sack. With fishin' gear in hand I would tie on what ever came my way. Great big crawdads were abundant. It didn't take long to catch enough to make our pair of hogs happy. Our hogs had a way of turning crawdads into bacon.

During my childhood, many a time I bellied down and drank my fill from local streams. At the age of five I learned to swim at the "Old Covered Bridge Swimmin' Hole", as we called it back then. I enjoyed all the untold natural wonders that had for the most part escaped the influence of humanity.

Here it is, a blink of the eye later, (on the geological calendar). The "humans" came over the horizon. They drove their huge earth moving machinery right down through the middle of my crick shoving with it nearly everything except the precious memories I have in my mind. What the left behind is a huge trail they named the "Double A Highway" and a creek that is little more than fit for a dog to go wading in.

Friends, that is just one microscopic example of how we humans are scarring the earth's surface. We are fouling the air we breath, adding enormous amounts of filth to the water we drink. We are consuming the earth at a faster than ever rate. And the "stuff trucks" keep on rollin'!

Fact of the matter is, we as a species need to come to our senses and make a tremendous effort to turn the rushing tide of consumption. We continue down the path of bigger and better "stuff" coupled with increasing the number of our kind. As we stampede ahead, most other species are being pushed further and further aside or eliminated forever. It doesn't take a Philadelphia lawyer to figure out that we are on the brink of tipping out of balance the scales of nature.

Sorry for the negativity, though it needed to be said. On a more positive note: often times I have a great feeling come over me that, (as I mentioned earlier) a hew consciousness is arriving. I see and hear the signs of. the coming nearly every day.

More and more, little groups of concerned humans are uniting, having orderly, intelligent and sometimes profound conversation. It turns out, most discussion is on strategies to save "Mother Earth". It's not just talk. At this very moment some of the strategies are being implemented. I can feel it. The cogs of right thinking are in motion and the pace is quickening.

Just this past week, I caught wind of a meeting that was to take place in a small, simplistic Quaker meeting house. The discussion was to be about determining a way of getting all environmental and other right minded groups under one umbrella. "Think about it. That would be a growing force with mountains of energy." We're working on it.

There were twelve of us that showed up for the meeting. Two faces were of my friends from the Voluntary Simplicity Group I attend. There were representatives from a few groups I had never heard of. Their talk was music to my ears.

What is so strange, is that the small group that called the above meeting hasn't settled on a name for the group. We'll be working on that!

Spread the word. A new consciousness is arriving.

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