The question took me by surprise, in part because we had been talking about federal grants at the time and usually when Anthony changes topics he signals it by saying, “Random question …  .”

It also caught me off guard because I happened to be reading a book about a guy who lived off the grid — way off the grid — in Western North Carolina. He’d begun his love affair with the woods as a teen, to get away from his father. When he reached the age of consent, he went at it full-time, with his mission to bring all of America with him. There was a lot to admire in this guy’s quest, which was largely driven by a love of the natural world and a desire to preserve it. A desire that included living in a low-impact teepee; drinking spring water; learning about ,and living off the plants around him; eating road kill. I was thinking about the latter when turned to Anthony and asked, “How far off the grid are you talking about?”

“Not having any bills to pay,” he answered. That, some follow-up questions revealed, meant still having modern conveniences — appliances, for instance — just not buying them on time. And also having a self-contained power system — solar, a water wheel, etc. 

We then asked each other how long we thought we could live off the grid.

“Not very long,” Anthony speculated.

“A weekend,” I answered. “Or up to a week.”

My answer was based on fact because I’d done it maybe 100 times over the past two decades. Or roughly how many times I’ve gone backpacking.

As Anthony and the fellow from the book demonstrate, living off the grid means different things to different people. I draw the line at eating roadkill and foraging for certain wild foodstuffs. Mushrooms, for instance, where there can be a very fine line between a fungi that sautés nicely over a camp fire and one that will kill you. I’ve drunk from many a spring (filtering if I think the source suspect), and while I’ve yet to build a shelter, it’s on my list. Until then, I’m content to sleep in a tent. 

Off the grid? Well, I need no outside power sources to get by, I’m self-sufficient, and because I’m observing Leave No Trace, I’m living harmoniously with nature. I may not be eating squirrel with a tire-track down its back and it may only be for a weekend, but it is, for the time being, the right amount of OTG living for me.

One last thing. That book I’m reading came out in 2002. Toward the end of the book the subject was growing suspicious and distrustful of others. I was curious about what had become of him, so I Googled him to see if he’d stuck with it and if so, how a lifetime spent off the grid had worked out. Not so good, it turns out. He’s less well-known today for his environmental efforts, more for his embrace and promotion of conspiracy theories. Apparently it takes a special kind of person to live entirely off the grid. 

Because I’m not special, I will confine my off-grid living to weekends, beginning Fridays after work, continuing through late Sunday. I’ll be in a tent, I will have hot coffee in the morning (thanks, JetBoil), I will have a comfortable place to sit and savor the evening (yo, Helinox Chair Zero). Off the grid, away from the grind.

At least for a weekend.

The post Off the Grid? Sure, for a weekend appeared first on GetGoing NC!.

A stream with no bridge or obvious rock-hop crossing can be intimidating to the unprepared hiker. The mere thought of getting your feet wet and continuing on in soggy boots seems capable of raising blisters. Fortunately, most rivers can be easily forded. Here’s a look at the gear and technique for a successful crossing:

Gear

• Footwear. If you know you will be dealing with multiple crossings in a short span, slip into a water shoe. Keens (or anything that’s similarly constructed) are ideal, with their closed toe and firm fit. Old running shoes also work, though they don’t dry as quickly. So, it wouldn’t hurt looking for some good ones at shoe hero. If it’s just a crossing or two, walking across in hiking socks (preferably wool) provides a bit of protection to your feet and improves grip.
• Trekking poles (or at least a hiking stick). Your balance crossing water is greatly improved if you have trekking poles or a hiking stick: three or four points of contact beats two. Probe with your poles/stick, plant firmly, take a step. If you don’t have poles or a stick, you can often find one leaning against a tree or rock at the crossing.

Scout the crossing

Don’t be hasty, it’s a several step process:

• First, check the opposite bank and see where the trail resumes. Often, the direct line across is where you’ll find the logical crossing, though not always: water levels in particular can impact the best place to cross.
• Check to see if there is a viable rock-hop.
• Generally, the widest spot in the river — where the water is often shallower and the current not as strong, is the best place to cross.
• Look for a worn path headed either upstream or down on your side of the river. Odds are it leads to a preferred crossing.
• In general, slow moving water shouldn’t be above your thigh, fast moving above your knee. If it is, scout for another location.
• Look for large rocks or other obstacles in the stream; they create an eddy (slow moving water) behind them, making for a good spot to rest and catch your breath before continuing on.

Making the crossing

Again, take your time …

• As you wade in, face upstream, leaning slightly into the current. Cross slowly, taking a slight angle downstream.
• Don’t hurry. Make sure every pole and foot plant is secure before applying full weight.
• Always maintain at least two points of contact, ideally three (again, why you need poles or a stick).
• If you’re with another person, try linking arms and cross. Ideally, the heavier person is first and slightly upstream, lessening the flow’s impact for the second hiker.
• If you fall, try to fall forward, or upstream; if you’re in fast-moving water and are swept downstream, dump your pack and point your feet downstream: better your feet hit any downstream objects than your head.

Post crossing

• Dry your feet, regardless of whether you’re continuing on in river shoes or putting on socks and boots.

This is an abbreviated version of our Water Crossings tip sheet, which you can downtown here for free through the end of April.

The post Tips for taking the fear out of water crossings appeared first on GetGoing NC!.

* * *

Before we set out Saturday morning from our campsite at Yellow Mountain Gap on the Appalachian Trail, I outlined the morning plan. “We’ve got a long climb — 900 vertical feet in 1.7 miles — up to Little Hump Mountain. We’ll take a break there. Then head on to Hump Mountain for lunch.”

The afternoon before we’d started from Carver’s Gap around 1:30. “The first mile is one long great view,” I explained. “Sunset isn’t until 8:03, so we’ve got plenty of time.”

I’d made a variation of that speech on at least a dozen previous trips on this revered 14-mile run of the AT from Carver’s Gap to US 19E. The backpackers are always glad to hear there’s no rush — then proceed to rush after paying brief homage to the more deserving views. Maybe spend 5 minutes at Round Bald, taking in the 360-degree views of everything from Roan High Knob to Grassy Ridge to ridge after ridge fading west into Tennessee, a few minutes less at adjoining Jane Bald. The grass is always greener at the next bald, apparently.

But this group was different. We hung out at Round Bald for a good 15 minutes, stayed nearly as long at Jane Bald. Even after descending into the mountain ash forest at Roan Mountain, we stopped frequently, for the wildflowers (white snakeroot, yellow sneezeweed), to check out a briskly running spring, to enjoy more wildflowers.

To be clear, these three hikers weren’t stopping to catch their breath. I’d hiked with all three before: Marie had done one of the toughest trips we do, the four-day, 37-mile Virginia Triple Crown; Nick’s done several trips, including the rugged Joyce Kilmer Wilderness; and Sue has done most of our trips and had just gotten back from a 7-day trip with the Sierra Club in the White Mountains. They’re three of the strongest folks I hike with.

With all the stops we still made it to camp before 5 p.m. — three hours before sunset, with plenty of time to enjoy camp.

* * *

When we set out Saturday morning — sleeping in and leaving camp around 9 — I was prepared for another leisurely day on the trail. We stopped about 15 minutes in at a clearing overlooking where we’d camped. We stopped a short while later to check out an ancient barbed wire fence atop the razor-sharp ridge (“They had cattle up here?”). We stopped to check out a likewise perplexing ridgeline roadbed that had once, presumably, served a vital function. When we topped 5,453-foot Little Hump Mountain, we dropped our packs and settled in for the view. 

Fifteen minutes later we were back on the trail, descending off the bald into another mountain ash forest, then into Bradley Gap at the base of Hump Mountain, the entire mile-long climb visible before us.

“We’ll stop for lunch at the top,” I said.

I’ve done this trip in good weather in the past (I’ve also done it in blinding rain), but the conditions this past weekend were the best I’d ever seen. The temperature was in the upper 60s, early on there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. When we reached the top of Hump Mountain a few scattered and harmless white clouds were drifting in from the west. We stopped at a rock outcrop with a plaque honoring Stan Murray, founder of the Southern Appalachian Highlands Conservancy, the perfect place to stretch out for lunch. 

“We’ll hang out here a little longer than usual,” I said. “How does an hour sound?” Later, Sue said she was expecting me to say 20 minutes. “You rarely get a lunch break that long on a guided hike.”

After an hour had come and gone, I surveyed my fellow hikers. One appeared to be asleep; one, who’d set up her Helinox camp chair, appeared to be in a trance; one was gazing intently to the southeast. “It’s only a little over an hour to camp,” I said. “If we leave now, we’ll be there by 2:30. You good with staying here a while longer?” They were. So we stayed another hour.

I recall maybe 10 words being said that whole time. I drifted in and out of a light sleep, thoughts pingponging to unexpected places. At first, I smelled a hamburger, a specific hamburger, one from the grill at a pool where I grew up. That made me think of water and my Mike Nelson phase, which made me think of Gragg Prong in the Wilson Creek area, the best summer swimming hole in the Southeast. I thought about my first swimming hole, a mountain reservoir near where I went to school, where I spent a summer diving into its icy waters, then sunning on its exposed granite. I remembered that odd, orange glow on the insides of my closed eyelids, the same glow I was feeling now. It was the feeling of being young, without a care in the world. It was the holy grail of being in the wild.

* * *

As our shuttle driver was unloading us at Carver’s Gap Friday, one of our group said, “Well, maybe we’ll see you again on Sunday.”

“Sunday?” he huffed. “You’re taking two nights to do this? You’re gonna get bored.” 

It struck me as an odd thing to say for someone who makes a living based on hikers’ love affair with these mountains. It also struck me as flat out wrong. Later, recalling the exchange, I told the group, “You could do this trail every week for the rest of your life and not get bored.”

Especially when you take the time to enjoy.

* * *

Last chances

Eager for that feel-like-a-kid feeling on the trail? We have two that can’t miss.

GetBackpacking! Virginia’s Triple Crown. We have one more backpack trip on the schedule this year, one more opportunity this year to feel young! It’s a four-day, 35-mile trip in late October taking in Virginia’s Triple Crown: McAfee Knob, Tinker Cliffs and Dragon’s Tooth. Learn more and sign up to join us here. Two spots remain.

GetHiking! Weekend Classic Escape on the AT at Hot Springs. Not into camping but love hiking? We’ve got one other last chance just for you, our GetHiking! Fall Weekend Escape on the Appalachian Trail at Hot Springs. Stay in the Hot Springs Lodge/Cabins, enjoy two days of late fall (first weekend in November) hiking on the Appalachian Trail. Learn more and sign up to join us here.

The post The slower the better: a weekend on the AT appeared first on GetGoing NC!.

“We’re old school,” said the man. He was dressed in all camo, standing next to his wife, who was bent over a small trickle of water filtering water into a half-dozen empty soda bottles.

We were on the Appalachian Trail in the Standing Indian area of far southwestern North Carolina, heading into Beech Gap. As we talked, we gathered, we think, that the couple may have started at Springer Mountain, the AT’s southern terminus, but that they were not thru-hikers.

“We need to get back home to Virginia, to our cats,” said the woman. “How much farther to the road?” she asked.

There was a gravel access road about 7 miles ahead which lead to the Standing Indian Campground, but I assumed she meant U.S. 64. “If you mean the road into Franklin, it’s about 12 miles,” I said.

“Oh, we’ll never make that today,” said the woman. Added the man, “We call ourselves the Virginia Creepers, because we go so slow.” The couple appeared to be in their mid-70s.

Midway into Day 2 of our three-day hike we’d encountered a surprising number of northbound thru-hikers, maybe 20, 25? Surprising, because most thru-hikers start in mid-March and are well past this point, about 90 miles into the trek, by mid-April; it was nearly May. The folks we’d encountered had long-since worked out the kinks of distance hiking and seemed to be operating lean and efficient. These folks hadn’t reached that point.

I asked, “Are you looking for a shuttle into Franklin to resupply?”

Yes, said the man. “That last climb out of Georgia kicked our butts and we’re about out of food.” He said they had some oatmeal and a few snacks left.

They did not ask for food, only information. Despite being nearly out of food and apparently unaware of where they were, they were in remarkably good spirits, didn’t seem out of sorts in the least. 

“We’re running ahead of schedule,” I said. “In fact, we may hike out tonight,” which was true, and we ended up doing so. “I’ve got some food you can have.”

“Me, too,” said Carrie. With that we loaded the couple with tuna packets, fig bars, power bars. They were extremely grateful. We spoke for a few more minutes, then the three of us continued on to Beech Gap.

The encounter raised a myriad of questions. We had extra food, they needed some. Any backpacker would have done the same. But was there more we could have done?

I was worried about how prepared they were. They were nearly out of food with at least two days on the trail to go. Were they lacking other necessities — like a map? Allison had noted that they were using a syringe, usually used to clean a water filter by backflushing it, to draw water from the trickle — a trickle that fed into an accessible running stream just feet away. Later in the conversation, we got the impression that the couple needed to get to Franklin so they could get a ride home to their hungry cats in Virginia — at least 300 miles away by trail. Did the Virginia Creepers think they were going to make it from Springer Mountain to Virginia in two weeks? Should we have asked a few pointed questions, at the risk of offending them, to make sure they were safe?

That evening when we got back to our cars I thought about driving the forest service road to where the AT crosses at Mooney Gap and intercepting them, then taking them into Franklin. But finding them in the dark seemed futile. Besides, we had just done a 14-mile day in full packs, and I was beat. And I was low on food.

I trust the Virginia Creepers made it to Franklin and are perhaps back in Virginia with their cats by now. There were certainly enough helpful hikers on the trail who would lend a hand, if needed. Still, I wonder: Did we do enough? 

And perhaps more to the point, what exactly constitutes enough?

The post What’s our obligation to our fellow hikers? appeared first on GetGoing NC!.

There’s strength in numbers, and to me the sturdy number for backpacking is three.

I recalled this bit of advice I used to hand out when I was contemplating my to-do list for 2024 — and realized I’d only backpacked once last year.

Once!

It wasn’t long ago that I was getting out about once a month. Sure, it was part of my job as a guide, but still, it felt natural. Once? Once did not feel natural.

So this year, I’ve vowed to follow my own advice. I’m scheduling three backpack trips. And I’m hoping you’ll go with me.

Here are the three, selected because they’re my three favorite. Click on the link for more information and sign up.

Standing Indian AT loop

Thursday – Sunday, April 25-28

Standing Indian Basin, a portion of which is in the Southern Nantahala Wilderness, is one of the few places where you can create a loop hike incorporating a large (about 20 miles) stretch of the Appalachian Trail. The AT portion of this hike is along the basin’s rim, offering expansive views of one of the most undeveloped regions in the Southeast. We meet Thursday evening at the Standing Indian campground (camping and welcome beverage and snacks included), hit the trail Friday morning.

Learn more and sign up here.

Virginia’s Triple Crown

Thursday – Sunday, June 20-23

On this 4-day, 35-mile trip you’ll visit the three most iconic spots on the Virginia portion of the Appalachian Trail: Dragon’s Tooth, Tinker Cliffs and McAfee Knob. Views abound on this trip, and you’ll work for them. This trip includes a training program that should whip you into shape for the challenge ahead. Note: Only one spot remains for this trip.

Learn more and sign up here.

AT from Carver’s Gap to US 19E

Friday – Sunday (Aug. 23-25)

The 14-mile stretch of the Appalachian Trail between Carver’s Gap and US 19 E is perhaps the most scenic stretch of the AT in the Southeast. We take our time and savor this hike, over Round and Jane balds, over Hump and Little Hump mountains, and past all the scenic hardwood splendor along the way on this 3-day, 2-night backpack trip. Trip includes shuttle.

Learn more and sign up here.

The post Join us for 3 classic backpack trips in 2024 appeared first on GetGoing NC!.