Little by little...

The last weekend in March I decided to go on my very first solo backpacking trip. I had a three day weekend, pretty much all the gear necessary to go, and the weather looked bearable.

My friend helped me pick some good trails to choose from. We looked at weather, mileage, views, and for something within a 3-4 hour driving distance.

My sights were on something challenging--20-30 miles, with stunning vistas, waterfalls, and also I really wanted it to be part of the Appalachian Trail.

The weekends had been a delightful 70-75 degrees with no rain in sight, and so when I planned on a loop in the mountains near Asheville, the weather was looking chilly, but promising.

I packed my gear, planning for 2 nights and 3 days of hiking and backpacking. As the day got closer, I kept an eye on the weather and the chosen trail began to show signs of snow with temperatures in the teens. So, I did more research and looked for another trail. This one, the one I ended up at, was predicting 49 degree highs and 30 degree lows. Sunny. It was not the 20-30 miles I wanted to do; it was measured at 14.6 miles and set as a challenging trail. It was called the "Three Ridge Loop via the Appalachian Trail" and was not too far from Lynchburg, VA. Easy.

I was beyond excited. I could barely sleep and was up at 4 that morning, ready to load up my car and drive north. I arrived at the trail head about 8:45 that morning, and it was chilly and sunny— so not too bad. I had about 35 pounds on my back, my iphone strapped around my neck for pictures, and I was determined. 14.6 miles. No biggie.

I crossed the road, and then a long suspension bridge over a rushing stream. The wind was blowing--I put on my beanie and covered that with the hood of my thick sweatshirt. It helped keep the sharp cold air from rushing into my ears, and though the wind whipped and moaned I pushed ahead with positivity and the first two miles were an easy incline--steady but not too taxing.

As I approached an intersection I was faced with two choices: to take the loop clockwise or counterclockwise. I had read numerous reviews that going counterclockwise meant facing the most challenging elevation gains right away, and that the first place to stop was farther into the loop. Some people chose to get the toughest portion of the trail over with first; and then others went clockwise and recommended going that way as the view is best and some of the steepest portions of the trail are downhill rather than uphill for going this direction.

I opted for the better views; and I did not regret it. I summited my first mountain within the first 3 miles, and that third mile was brutal. I rested often, and stopped to take pictures as well as have lunch on a log with a stunning view of the mountains through the trees. As cold as it was, I was thankful to have had an opportunity to enjoy mountain views during the entirety of that loop. The trees were mostly bare and being able to pause and take some deep breaths and see the majesty of the mountains made every step worth it.

Part of the benefit of going clockwise were the waterfalls I encountered. Instead of walking away from them with them behind me had I gone counterclockwise, I moved towards them at a steep decline. This was the Mau Har pass and apparently quite tricky and laborious had I gone the other direction. I did not find this out until chatting with other hikers towards the end of my journey. The trail was well labeled and had me scrambling over rocks and through streams and actually carefully walking across the stream that fed into the waterfall. The rush of the waterfalls was loud and in the midst of the descent towards them it began snowing!

At this point of the hike I was about 4.5 miles in, and by the picture you can see there was a fair amount of snow covering the ground and that I was heading uphill again. After all the rock climbing and the elevation gain of 2200 feet, I began to worry some.

Should I turn around?

How cold will it end of being tonight?

I knew that I could turn around and head to the trailhead and go back home. The ascent and descent had been taxing on me and taken me about 45-55 minutes per mile. I knew I still had another 10 miles ahead of me, and most of it would be uphill then steeply back downhill.

My ankles were beginning to bother me, as were my feet--I am so used to hiking over pinestraw and dirt—and so far the trail was quite rocky. Also, waking at 4 and driving for three and a half hours without coffee was beginning to take its toll and I was quite tired.

I sat on a rock and contemplated.

I had no cell service.

It was snowing.

I was beginning to hurt.

I was tired.

Wait, didn't I already say I was tired?

Because I was.

Do I walk the 4.5 miles back and make the safe choice? Or do I continue and set up camp at the shelter 2 more miles straight up? There was no telling how much longer it would snow, how cold/windy it would end up being, and how frozen everything may end up the next day. I went back and forth a number of times, carefully weighing my options...I settled on pushing ahead. I had not come this far only to give up because of a little snow, lack of sleep and sore ankles. I have conquered far worse than this.

So. I pressed on. And literally, I did. I used my trekking poles to help push myself up some very steep inclines...I crossed multiple streams--and of course I HAD to fall at least once on this hike! Ironically, it was while trying to cross a log over a rushing stream that had very few and quite submerged rocks...I was carefully balancing my clumsy self on the log and shimmying sideways across...then lost my balance halfway across and fell forward--soaking my left foot in the frigid water and rolling onto my right side.

The good news? It was a little tumble and I protected myself by rolling.

The bad news? My foot was soaked. And now it was numb from the cold, and I still had 2 miles till camp.

At this point as you can probably imagine, I was feeling a little discouraged. I told myself,

Little by little...

Little by little...

you will make it.

And as I pushed myself upwards, my left foot laughed at me, squish squish...squish squish.

But guess what!?

I made it.

6.6 miles into my hike-- I stopped at a shelter right by a stream of fresh water. Originally I attempted to set my tent up at a campsite so others could take the shelter; however after the wind defiantly knocked my tent down multiple times I decided to set my one person tent up in the corner of the shelter, which was empty at the time. I then proceeded to collect water and filter it and build my very first fire!

I was and am honestly so proud of my fire. I was initially terrified of starting a forest fire; however with sopping wet feet (I didn't mention my OTHER foot also got soaked? Yep, that happened) and the snow and the soreness combined, I thought a fire might be nice.

It was so nice.

And it didn't matter where I sat around that fire, the smoke blew right in my face, and I just savored it.

About 5:30 pm, some hikers passed through--one a thruhiker nicknamed Bass and his girlfriend who met up with him in Virginia to refresh his supply and spend some time with him; and then another couple who was on the tail end of their college spring break. We hung out, ate dinner, chatted a bit and hung out in the shelter and by the fire, then hauled our food bags up onto a bear pole (yep...a bear pole) and wished each other a good night's sleep.

Oh and Bass casusally shared that the weather was going to drop down to 19 degrees that night.

WHAT!??? 19 degrees?

But what happened to my app that said the temperature was going to be a balmy 30 degrees? Bass chuckled at all of our wide eyes and said he had an app for the Appalachian Trail that gave accurate weather for each of the shelters on the trail, and not to trust the weather channel or all trails app because the temperatures are coming from the closest town--not with the actual elevation in mind. The college couple I was with had said the reason they had chosen the trail was because it had the warmest weather predicted for the weekend--which was the same reason I had selected this trail.

It is easy to say that I was not prepared for the night ahead. I had packed dry socks and fleece lined thermals. I put those on over top of my leggings and sports bra then bundled my sweatshirt and insulated vest over top, wore my beanie and gloves and sheet with my sleeping bag in my zipped up tent. I put the fire out, just because I really did not want to leave it unattended, and spent one of the longest nights of my life freezing and uncomfortable in that tent. Needless to say, I decided first thing that morning that a second night camping was NOT going to happen.

On a side note, trying to squat and pee in the pitch dark by a roaring stream with the wind blowing in 19 degree weather was definitely an interesting experience.

As much as I would have liked a morning fire, I knew I had about 9 miles left to go to get back to the trailhead, and most of those miles would be either at a steep incline or descent. So I quickly packed up my things, left my thermals on, had coffee and oatmeal for breakfast, and said good bye to my new acquaintances who were heading the opposite direction of me. I did give fair warning about the number of streams and to watch out for slippery rocks. I had thought seriously about going back the 6.6 miles rather than face the 9 ahead; however the idea of trying to cross rocks glazed with ice did not seem safe to me, and I was encouraged to complete the trail--that I would have regrets if I did not, so I forged ahead.

I will interject here and say, the ground was frozen and it worked out well for me, as it would have otherwise been very slippery and muddy!

I was at this point, overly tired and my body was stiff from the cold and the psoriatic arthritis I suffer. My ankles and feet were still hurting from the previous day's activities, and I was carrying a heavy pack. When I left the campsite, I headed towards the next mountain peaks--towering at over 4500 feet tall, and I was still only at about 2900 feet of elevation. I encountered a lot of switchbacks and rock climbing.

Some parts were well laid out and mimicked staircases made from rocks, while others were definitely just sheer climbing and I would remove my pack and fling it up, then scamper on my hands and knees and brush off the dust and get re-situated.

I will say this, the worst thing one can do is constantly look at a map and see how little they have moved on that map. It didn’t take long for me to stop glancing at the map and just move.

The same goes for looking ahead. Whenever I looked ahead and saw how far UP I had to go, I would get discouraged. I trained myself to enjoy the view from side to side, and watch my footing but not look up too far ahead.

I told myself, Little by little.

Little by little.

Slow and steady.

Careful and deliberate.

I would get to the top of an incline and think, whew, I can rest a bit--but then turn a bend and see another, even more steep incline ahead of me.

Life is a lot like that, don't you think? Just when you think you are close to the top--you are about to reach a goal-- and when you think, "just a few more steps and I will get a well deserved break,” then an even MORE difficult challenge is waiting for you.

And...

This is where I show you the spectacular view of the mountains and end my blog post saying, it was worth all the struggle and the pain to get to the top!

I hit this summit and it was a 360 view of nothing but blue skies and gorgeous mountains as far as the eye could see. It was breathtaking and I wept at the majesty of God's creation.

Every detail, from the shadow of the clouds as they moved across the mountains, to the icy winds that whipped my hair around my face, to the sheer wonder I felt--yes, it was worth it.

It was just as exhilarating as when I jumped out of that plane several months ago.

I did it. The end.

ummmmm.....well, not quite. You see,

I wasn't finished yet.

That was the second time I summitted since I began. I still had a good 8 miles to go... and well, another mountain to summit.

Don't get me wrong, I loved that I traversed multiple peaks and walked ridgelines and explored waterfalls and met fellow hikers! I am so proud of myself for doing this on my own! Sleeping with possible bears and freezing weather and hiking in snow. Building my first fire, climbing and navigating unfamiliar territory and just making the plans and the drive and doing it.

However by this point, I was pretty tired--my feet and ankles were throbbing in pain, and my mental state was on the verge of giving up. And just when I thought I was done going up and I thought I was going to head down the mountains, guess what!?

I found I was still going up!

I was certain I had seen all the mountains, certain I was going to start my descent any time now...where was it?

At this point I was ready to start my descent and get my old, worn out body to the car. I saw some more beautiful views, however I didn't gasp in wonder or stick around and stare at the view nearly as long this time. I took a few pictures and continued on the trail. My 35 pound pack was feeling like it was full of bricks and every time I stopped to sit and take a breather my feet seemed to hurt even worse than when I was walking moments before.

It got to the point where instead of sitting on a log or rock to take a break I literally would stop at a tree and face the trunk and rest my forehead against it, leaning into it so I felt like the tree bore my weight but didn't trick my feet into thinking I had stopped. I thanked every tree afterwards for holding my load for me, however long or short I leaned on it.

I did take a second fall, due to the weight of my pack and being overly tired--my ankle rolled and I hit the ground fairly hard-- however, I had already known ahead of time that falls were going to happen and handled it as gracefully as possible then continued on my way.

After some more ups and downs there were some more level areas of land that my body was grateful for, and then began the descent.

As much as my ankles and feet hurt going up, my knees took the brunt of going down.

And it was steep, my friends.

Looking back at one of the steep descents I took, I had to take a picture of it--good grief! And that was only the beginning. I thought I had 5 miles to go to get to my warm car and then of course I passed a sign saying I actually had 6.8 more miles to go!

What did I say about that thing that happens when you think you are getting close?

Downhill was just a difficult as the up--I relied heavily on my poles for support so I could carefully place my feet on solid rocks. And again and again I repeated my new mantra;

Little by little

Little by little

Slow and steady

Careful and deliberate

you got this

The sun was beginning to go down, and I truly wanted to get to the car before dark. I had started hiking about 8:30am and it was almost 6:30pm when I finally finished up.

I have to say, once I got to the trailhead to my car I was exhausted, and it didn't end there. I still had a three and a half hour drive --and zero cell service to guide me back to the freeway! I had to wander aimlessly on poorly labeled back roads and rely on my groggy memory to get me back far enough to find a signal.

The good news—I only got turned around once!

Let me say, I found a Wendy's on my way back home and the cheeseburger and diet coke I grabbed was the best I had eaten in ages. It gave me enough energy to be alert on the way home, and I made it home by 10pm.

I left all my gear in the car and went straight to the tub, and took a long soak in epsom salts...then crawled into bed where I slept a LOT better than I had in a long while.

I could barely move then next morning--so I took another soak in epsom salts and then was able to get around with only a slight hobble.

When I looked back at the map that tracked my movements, I saw that the trail was not 14.6 miles, but 17--and it had taken me a total of 14 hours to hike.

Here is a decent map of the path I took, starting at the bottom of the map down by Route 56, then heading up 2 miles to the intersection of the loop and I went left, heading clockwise and came back around then back down those 2 miles to the parking lot.

All in all, from planning to travel to execution to completion and getting home, I would say I went through a myriad of emotions and spent a lot of it battling physical and mental challenges I was not anticipating.

I was expecting lots of time lost in thought, staring at inspirational views and being so excited--when in reality I most of my thoughts were spent encouraging myself to keep going, telling my feet they didn't really hurt as much as they did, and looking forward to my warm, soft bed.

So, when you see the stunning pictures and hear about those amazing hikes--just know, it is a lot more than frolicking up a mountain, sitting at the top and eating a delicious lunch, then skipping down and going home.

There happened to be so much more for me to unpack than just my tent and dry socks.

Lessons about mental fortitude, perseverance, overcoming pain, and the reality of never REALLY being done with the challenges of life were just a few of the things I experienced on this hike.

Would I do it over again?

Yes!

Will I keep doing these backpacking trips?

Most definitely!