Last January for my 20th birthday, I decided to go on my first solo backpacking trip. It was going to be a short trip (just one night) in the Three Ridges Wilderness in George Washington National Forest near Wintergreen Resort in Virginia, but that isn't exactly how it turned out. In the creative writing course that I took this past Fall at the University of Exeter, I wrote a short story about my experience, which you can read below. Not all of the trip was enjoyable, some of it was painful, but I'm glad that I went through with it, or at least attempted it.
Alone in the woods with 50 pounds resting on my shoulders and back. The straps of the pack around my waist dig into my hip bones and will surely leave bruises behind. It’s early January in the Appalachian Mountains with temperatures just above freezing during the day and well below freezing once the sun goes down. I’m wearing two layers of pants, two pairs of socks, four layers on top, gloves, a scarf, and a beanie, but I can still feel the cold air. At the same time, however, there is sweat underneath all of those layers from miles of walking and the extra weight on my back.
Not a single soul for miles. Up and down, up and down. I follow the rise and fall of the mountain, hiking on top of the ridges. Around an hour into my hike, I pass by a wooden sign, “Three Ridges Wilderness” and a smaller marker nearby, “6 miles to Lurray Shelter.” I continue along the 12 mile loop, one foot in front of the other. I count my steps for awhile, “one, two, three,” but I lose count somewhere in the three hundreds. I repeat songs in my head. I talk out loud to myself.
Finally, I reach the summit. After taking pictures and eating the lunch that I packed, I continue walking. Hiking downhill hurts just as much as hiking uphill. I can feel all of the weight, my 160 pounds plus the extra 50 on my back, hitting my knees and toes with each step.
After another two hours, I’m starting to get bored. I feel very alone. Soon I see the Lurray Shelter, a simple three-walled wooden building, but it’s only two o’clock. If I stop here, I’ll have nothing to do for hours until I fall asleep. I decide to keep moving. Another shelter and camping area is further along, so I continue hiking the path, looping back to the “Three Ridges Wilderness” sign.
I was wrong. Hiking uphill is a thousand times worse than hiking downhill. I walk at an incline for hours, climbing over rocks next to a river running down the mountain with small waterfalls every so often. It hurts. My legs are screaming. Eventually, I scream. There is no one around for miles to hear. I yell from the pain. I curse, but I keep moving because if I stop, I do not know if I will start again.
It’s getting late. Soon the sun will be lost to the night, but I make it to the camping area. I work in the dark, laying out the tarp and setting up the tent on top. I unpack my sleeping pad and bag, and I change into a pair of fleece pants. I’m shivering. I set up my stove on the ground to make some hot chocolate, but the water struggles to heat with the wind blowing. I eat tuna and crackers in my tent, wearing two layers on the bottom and four layers on top, but I can still feel the cold.
Laying in my sleeping bag, I can feel the frozen ground beneath me. There is no way that I can sleep through the night alone in the middle of the woods. I break down in my tent. I start sobbing. It is only 6:30PM, meaning I have to be out in the freezing temperatures for at least ten more hours before the morning would arrive. At that moment, I decide to leave.
It takes less than half an hour for me to repack my entire backpack with only a lantern to see in the dark. I then wander around, looking for the white mark of the Appalachian Trail on the trees. I begin to panic, worrying that I would be lost in the pitch black woods. Retracing my steps to where I entered the camping area just a few hours earlier, I spot the white marker. I follow the path as fast as I can with sore legs and tender hip bones. Up and down, and up and down. Walking on top of the ridges, I can see the lights of the nearby city. Three miles of silent darkness later, I make it to my car in the gravel parking lot. I throw my backpack and myself into the Volkswagen Beetle, and after a few minutes, I’m driving down the mountain towards the highway, making it home by 10:00PM.
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