First Backpacking Trip
It was early March in 2016 when I decided to try my hand at backpacking. I had wanted to go for a long time and had a small gear stash in preparation for a trip. A friend who already had experience with backpacking offered to plan a trip together and I was elated. We decided on the Coosa Backcountry Trail for a couple of reasons. It was a loop trail without a ton of mileage that offered easy options for backcountry camping and promised to be a somewhat challenging hike. I was sure I could handle it - I had done 10 mile day hikes without much problems even while wearing a semi loaded pack. The elevation profile didn’t seem like I couldn’t handle it; sure there would be some ups but there were plenty of down as well. Little did I know at the time how hard grinding up hill for miles can be.
Before this trip, I had always slept in a tent when camping and all these times had been car camping trips. Knowing how heavy my backpacking tent was (7 lbs.) and that my hiking partner would be hammocking, I decided to give hammocking a try. I did a little research and picked the Eno Jungle Nest hammock and fly. I knew I would need some top and especially under insulation but being the DIY’er I am, I decided to make a couple out of Costco down throws after watching some Youtube video. Based upon people’s feedback, they should hold me down to 40s with the understanding that I though I was a warm sleeper. I thought I was all set.
With the week of the trip upon us, I was excited and nervous. I started checking the weather for the weekend and Saturday’s night lows started dropping from the mid 40’s to low 40’s and then to the upper 30’s. I was a little worried by this because I didn’t know how my gear would hold out but I was still all systems go. We didn’t have any chance of rain because that was moving through during the week. By Friday afternoon, we were looking at low’s around freezing but that would be only in the early morning. We would have a fire for the evening and I could snuggle into my down and sleep the night away.
Saturday came and we set off for Vogel State Park all be it with a slightly later start than I would have liked but hey we didn’t want to spend a ton of time at camp. We got to the trailhead around 1-2 in the afternoon with my 33 lb pack which I thought was actually pretty good (current self is face palming as I reflect on this). Ascending with a fully loaded pack for backpacking vs a partially loaded pack with water, clothes, and a couple of snacks was a completely different beast. It was horrible from the gate but I thought this was just part of the process of getting used to it. I struggled up the first mile til we hit the road and started our first descent. My heart and legs thanked me for the down hill for the next mile or two until we hit the first forest service road and then began our 3.5 mile climb up to Coosa Bald approximately 2,000 ft above us. Thus began the process of looking 50-100 ft ahead of me on trail, hiking to it, letting my heart, lungs, and legs recover and repeat. Even in this, I was still having fun and enjoyed ticking off the hard won miles.
As the afternoon drew on and the sun began to set, we still wanted to make some more miles. We knew we needed to make camp before dark but we also didn’t want to set ourselves up for a long day two. As the last bit of light was leaving the woods, we managed to find a campsite with water where the hammocks would work. We started our camp chores - setting up hammocks, filtering water, and looking for firewood. As the light left us, so did the warmth and the chill in the air was noticeable. All the wood we gathered was too wet for us to get a fire going no matter what we tried and it also vexed my Biolite stove (which has never gone on another trip). Luckily, I had brought my Jetboil stove to loan to my friend so we could heat our water for our Mountain House meals. It really wasn’t that great but I ate it before I was starving. With no fire to hang out by and the night starting to get cold, we decided to retire to our hammocks for the night. Little did I know that this night would remain my worse night on the trail.
Shortly after retiring, we were hit with a growing wind blowing up the mountain. Because we wanted to be near water, we had camped in a draw which had the effect of channeling the wind right into us. The wind then brought with it a winter thunderstorm which sent us scrambling from our hammocks to put our pack covers on our stuff and making sure everything was covered to ride it out. The rain turned to sleet which then turned to snow. By midnight, I knew my quilts weren’t keeping me warm. I had every layer of clothes on that I had brought and all I wanted to see what the sun cresting the horizon in the morning. I even fell out of the hammock when I tried to get back in from using the restroom around 2:00 am. I didn’t care; I just crawled back in and prayed for morning.
When the first light hit my hammock in the morning, I breathed a sigh of relief. I knew warmth would come soon and that we would be out of the woods by the afternoon. We ate breakfast and broke down camp and got moving just the last of the switch backs up to Coosa Bald. Everything hurt from the day before and the hike, rest, repeat routine started out of the gate. Once over Coosa Bald, I relished in the descent to Wolfpen Gap and then cursed my way up Slaughter Mountain. By this time, I realized I did not pack enough snacks for Day Two. Again, over-estimating my abilities had came back to bite me. I was completely drained by the time we summited Slaughter Mountain and by the time we were most of the way down, I was zombie hiking. I just wanted to get the pack off my back and food into my stomach.
We got off the trail around 1-2 pm and headed back to Vogel with me feeling sick as a dog. The lack of food, the curvy roads, and everything from the past 12 miles hiking made me want to puke. When we finally hit McDonalds in Cleveland, I was beyond caring what I looked like or what people might think of me for ordering as much food as I did. Two large fries, 10 piece nugget, quarter pounder, and a large soda or two and might outlook on life was restored. The trip back to Atlanta was uneventful and the feelings of Type 2 fun were sprouting. By the time I got home, I was hooked. I would never take another 33 lb. pack into the woods but I was itching to get back out there.
