The Foothills Trail (Part 1)
After tackling the Art Loeb twice this year, I decided it was time to up my hiking game and jump on some trails that would really test me. I wanted something that would force me to break through any physical or mental barriers that might attempt to halt my journey along the Appalachian Trail next year, and boy did I push through.
It wasn’t but July when I walked into the kitchen at work and announced to one of my coworkers that I was going to do South Carolina’s Foothills Trail. Almost as soon as I opened my mouth my father, a former rock climber and day hiker, stated openly that he was going to walk right alongside me the entire length of trail. I have to admit, I didn’t take him seriously, and as July fell away into August and August bled into September, I was still planning on tackling this thing solo. When I walked into my parents’ house to check on his “progress,” I was surprised and excited to see he had not only acquired a backpack, food rations, various camp necessities, and a water filter, but that my mother had also been spending hours on the Foothills’ website trying to familiarize herself with what we’d be doing and where we might end up on any given day. It warmed my heart to see them invest so much time, energy, and money into supporting my endeavors, but it also put me on alert for the challenges to come. I wasn’t alone anymore. All my food, water, mileage, day-to-day care and trip management, safety, everything had to account for another person now. I couldn’t just push when I wanted and do whatever I wanted to do. I had a responsibility to my partner to ensure whenever anything came up he was accounted for and his success assured.
We left before dawn out of Oconee State Park. As we pulled our packs out of the car, dad realized something had ripped the nipple off his bladder and it was leaking all over the parking lot – what a way to start eighty miles of hiking. All in all it was of no consequence, and he managed to rig the bladder so that he could still drink from it as long as he was careful not to spill any. We waved goodbye to mom, and our journey began.
The morning was cool and misty in Oconee, and we made big headway right out of the gate. The whole trip we continually referenced our mph, and it was its fastest at the very beginning. We flew through five miles in just two hours and constantly pushed our pace in the lowlands. We were hoping to build ourselves a large margin of error for the rest of the week by getting ahead in the first miles, but those first steps admittedly fooled us.
As the day crept on so did we deep into the hot riverside of the Chattooga. The early afternoon contained an eight mile stretch that continuously shot us up the surrounding mountainsides and dive-bombed back to the sandy riverbed. The heat made this section feel almost endless, and we were both constantly chugging down the very same water that was making the deep forested air so hard to breathe. Our relief was brought on by the scarlet shine of the setting sun on the glistening whitewater as the day came to a close and we made our way into camp. The cool breeze and a full belly served as our reward for a full day, but the heat seemed to put us behind schedule even after crushing every step that morning. We were behind by three miles, and this seemed inconsequential.
More next week.
Adventure on!
-JGM