Date: 2010-02-08
From: Unicoi Gap

To: Tray Mountain: turned back see story
Miles today: 2.7

"The Company halted suddenly, as if they had come to an agreement without any words being spoken. They heard eerie noises in the darkness round them. It may have been only a trick of the wind in the cracks and gullies of the rocky wall, but the sounds were those of shrill cries, and wild howls of laughter. Stones began to fall from the mountain-side, whistling over their heads, or crashing on the path beside them."                                       - J.R.R. Tolkein                                          "Fellowship of the Ring"I was up very early this morning readying my pack to resume hiking. My plan was to start at Unicoi Gap, push hard to make Deep Gap shelter before the rain/sleet/snow arrived. Then I planned to make the last 3 miles to Dick's Creek Gap on Tuesday. A return to Hiawassee to wait out the storm and be ready to leave heading for Franklin, NC as soon as the weather would break.I boxed up a few things, including extra food and my folding keyboard to leave at the motel for my return. Trail angels extraordinaire, Dave and Robin, dropped me off at Unicoi at 7:45. My one worry was that I hadn't been able to find a replacement fuel cannister for my stove. I had Esbit tabs and a tiny tin of Sterno. I've never used it camping and wasn't sure about it, but I hadn't been able to find anything else. I figured for the one night I'd be out that would be good. Those hikers coming after, don't expect to find canister fuel in Hiawasssee!In good spirits and with high hopes I pushed up and over Rocky Mountain and dropped down to Indian Grave Gap. Then another long climb toward the summit of Tray Mountain. I crossed Forest Service roads 3 times.I noticed that most of the tracks I could distinguish seemed to be headed southbound - back toward where I had left. I wondered if some weekenders had been out and done the section southbound.Once I crossed the last road the snow on the trail became deeper and harder. Snow on other parts of the trail had at least partially melted. The further up I went the more blowdowns I had work around. The trail was fairly narrow so bushwacking around many of them was not really possible. That meant going over or under. Often they seemed to be just high enough to be a struggle to hoist my legs over or just low enough that squatting with a big pack on and duck-waddling under was uncomfortable (and probably pretty silly looking!).The sun came out and the day brightened. I continued my trudge on toward the top of Tray. I remembered I would then have a short rocky stretch, pass by Tray Mountain shelter and then a fairly easy trail. I hoped my memory was accurate. I still had a lot of miles to go to make Deep Gap Shelter.Then I came to a place on the trail where downed trees and drooping rhododendren blocked my way. To make matters worse, I wasn't even sure just which way the trail went. There were bootprints that went on in the same direction, and others that went up and off to the right as if following a switchback. But which way did the trail go?I tried one way and then the other. Even working my way part way through I wasn't sure which was the false trail and which was the true trail. It would be a struggle, but I thought I'd be able to eventually work my way through. But which way to go?Just about that time, between the bright sunshine and rising temperatures, the ice in the trees above began to let go of the high branches it had been coating. Large chunks of ice began crashing all around.Now, I had walked through ice falling down on the first two days of my hike, but this seemed very different. These chunks seemed likely to give me more than welts and bruises. Lacking a full football uniform or a personal force field, I wasn't up to facing the possibility of getting clonked by a big chunk of ice.So, I turned tail and fled - like a frightened bunny. Back down the trail I ran until I was under trees that had only a little bit of ice. There I decided to pause and consider the situation before giving up any more of the elevation I had worked so hard to gain.I had something to eat and drink. No point in running if the problem was really in my head or a lack of something in my belly. I hadn't been spooked by the crashing ice on Springer....I tried to look at the situation rationally. The ice chunks seemed like a real problem. Maybe I could make it through uninjured. But if a big one did hit me in the head would I be able to care for myself? I could get mighty cold before someone would find me. I could try to wait it out, maybe enough of the ice would come down that I could continue. But that would put me even further behind, and I was already racing to beat the storm coming in. I thought about possible bailout points beyond. Nothing good that way. How certain could I be that the trail condition would improve if I DID make it through? I would still be high enough up that the trail could be bad.In the end I just wasn't willing to go on. I like hiking solo, but I require a certain perceived level of safety to go on. It just wasn't there. So I turned back. The mountain had spoken. Caradras, I mean, Tray Mountain, had won.I was one very tired puppy by the time I got back to Unicoi. I was second guessing myself. I'd never make it to Maine if I turn back every time the going gets tough. My feet had picked up new blisters and a small cut. My head was down, and I was discouraged.Dave and Robin were kind enough to give me encouraging words and a lift back to the motel I had just left that morning. I limped to my room and took a long bath. Eventually I gimped, limped, shuffled and trudged over to Daniel's for an AYCE (All You Can Eat). Southern Deep-Fried Everything as someone commented. Though it wasn't my usual fare, it was good and filling and hit the spot. Feeling a bit better I made my way back to my room and collapsed into bed.I tried to dream of Maine, but I couldn't. Maybe the morrow would bring a clearer vision.