TRAIL DAY 58
Mon, Apr 18, 2016 Needless to say, when morning came, I was without food.
Farther north I had begun to hang Theo’s entire saddle bag with my bear bag, stuffing any excess food items of mine in his pouches. Thank God I had not done that at Watauga Lake or I’d have been out a saddlebag in addition to all my food, utensils, lighters and GPS locator.
I had found that a 4.4 pound bag of Purina Puppy Chow was the best. The Puppy Chow had more vitamins and each pouch easily held a sturdy plastic bag with 2.2 pounds of food. Theo’s saddlebags with what little dog food remained from our last resupply were stored in the vestibule of our tent all night. Thank God my food was far from the tent and the bear smelled it first.
OK: food; bear bag.
Let’s do bear bag first. How had this clever bear gotten my food hung by the “sophisticated” PCT method? What were the facts? (1) The entire food bag was gone. (2) All that remained was the rope. (3) There were no telltale claw marks visible.
I had imagined as I returned to my tent the night before that the bear must have crawled out on the branch, picked up the rope I’d flung over it and bitten through it. When possible, a branch too flimsy for a bear was preferable but sometimes the bag was just too heavy as on that fateful night.
The rope, however, was not severed where it went over the branch. The only break in it was at the loop through which I had clipped the straps of the bear bag.
There was only one conclusion!
The bear had grabbed the rolled up ball of rope that hung down from the branch well below the bag, pulled it until he could bite the stick and pull it out and then lowered the bag or simply let it drop. He had to have done precisely what I would have done to retrieve my food in the morning. This would be confirmed several nights later.
Food.
I had none.
Now mark this well. The mountains and sunsets, the sunrises, the awe-inspiring storms and quiet, the moonlit nights and all the stars in the firmament above Newfound Gap, the sun-splintered, misty forests – all are partners in the grand scheme of creation with the kindness shown a fellow hiker in need.
I don’t want to overstate what happened that morning at Watauga Lake. But when you are out of food far from resources with 2 days of wilderness hiking ahead of you and your dog, you are not in a good place. Here’s what happened.
El-Tejano from Texas, a man in his 50s perhaps, picked up his food bag and dumped its contents on the road,
“Take whatever you need.”
And then other hikers contributed as well.
That initial gesture, its magnanimous what’s-mine-is-yours embrace of the situation obliterated personal boundaries as if we were a single organism in need of food to survive. My impossible situation was not mine alone and not impossible. The hiker loves to carry only what he needs on his back but there is something in this essential poverty that opens the heart to one who is doing the same and in need. There are no reserves in the next room. There are only the woods and each other. In another 820 miles it would be expressed so well. . . .
We go off on our own for the challenge and the experience, the self-sufficiency and independence but there is a safety net to catch us when we fall and it is held by others seeking the same experience.
How is it that the impossible situations, the darkest moments, the greatest difficulties expose the most brilliant light? Is that why Good Friday is good?
Thank you, bear. I saw something on the trail I might not have seen without you. Our logical minds have trouble reconciling opposites. Putting together puzzle pieces that don’t fit but there is a geometry beyond our understanding and it is there that the storehouse of food never runs out.
So, I had breakfast that morning at a banquet table not of my making, after which all in attendance disappeared into the woods, each lost in his own thoughts – his own wilderness.
I had determined the night before that I would search the trail and surrounding areas for any remnants of my food bag. Not far off the road, I went off trail to the west a fair distance but saw nothing.
Back on the trail, I kept my eyes peeled. Nothing.
I had paid the price with a full food bag and received a spiritual return beyond measure. I carried on not knowing, of course, that there was more blessing in store.
The trail from the “hanging tree” was gently up and onward and before long came to the extension of the service road. Across and deeper into the woods was the Vandeventer Shelter, 4.7 miles from where I had slept. I had dismissed the idea of hiking that far the night before. Highway had with no bear problems. I learned later that Medicine Man and his friends also had no bear issues down at the lake where I imagined they might.
I had lunch at the Vandeventer Shelter – power bars from fellow-hikers – and there met Stephanie who was clearly from New York but was living in Raleigh, North Carolina. I told her the story of my food and the bear and she told me she was paranoid about bears. She also told me she was hiking to the next road where she had left her car and then driving through to Raleigh that night, no matter how long it took because she had to be at work the next morning.
We hiked a bit together but then she took the lead and disappeared – she had reason to pick up the pace.
The trail was more of the same. Dry dirt with dry leaves off to the sides and the occasional strips of grass offering up the only colors to be seen, barren branches shattering the views over the northern fingers of Watauga Lake and muted colors of distant rolling hills. A peaceful, post-bear day number one.
By 7:00 p.m. we came to the Iron Mountain Shelter where supper was instant Idaho mashed potatoes. I lit my stove with the spare lighter I had put in my first-aid kit just in case.
Theo was well fed on remaining dog food and whatever could be spared from the dwindling store of people food. He ate well on the trail in honor of his good health and extraordinary loyalty. He ate more in both the morning and night than he got in only one morning feeding at home. He also got a bite of snack almost every time I did and often some of my breakfast and supper. Unlike me, he never lost weight.
His feeding in our immediate post-bear days was surely compromised but as little as possible.
Highway was at the shelter and he contributed some people food to keep us going. He pitched off in the distance and we both had a near-“midnight” bed time.
Day #58 Watauga Dam > Iron Mountain Shelter 11.5 miles