The Woods Have Eyes

Yerba and I began the trek across the balds, some 1000 acres of balds.

At times the trail was difficult to follow due to the tall grass overgrowth.

It seemed the beauty would never end.The sun's warmth, the crystal clear sky, the largeness of it all helped any worries or cares fade.

We must have been about 1/2-way up the largest bald when we stopped at a small rock outcrop to rest. We drank a bit of water and ate a snack.

I held my hand to the sky, palm straight, facing my face, my fingers flush against one another. Aligning my index finger under the sun, I measured approximately how many hours of sunlight we had left. Sun to horizon measured around 3 hand widths which translates into 3 hours.

"Yerba, I'm not sure we'll make it to 19E by 9:00. I wonder how far it is? Worst case scenario, we'll sleep on the trail. We can use my pack cover as a ground cloth. I've got my sweatshirt, pants, weather shell. We have each other and can snuggle up for warmth. Josh will probably call the rangers. I'd hate that, but that's what he would do...I mean if we peter out before 19E."

Yerba looked at me with agreement, her tongue hanging out her mouth.

After about a half-hour, "Time to go. Come on Yerbster."

It was difficult to leave the Balds and enter the woods. By that time clouds had moved in. It was chilly. The weather could change any moment, so the timing was good to re-enter density. It must have been around 7:30 or 8:00 PM.

I dug around in my pack for my headlamp. The woods get dark quickly. We were descending into the thick forest.

Footsteps mounted. Time passed. We stopped again. Water sips. Snack.

We heard faint car echoes in the the distance.

"Oh good Yerba, maybe the road is just beyond a few more curves."

But, after a few more bends, instead of a road, we found ourselves in a forest hub with no white blaze shining from any tress. The trail had simply disappeared.

"O.K. There must be a white blaze down one of these corridors."

My head lamp on high, being sure to not veer too far from the small circular open hub, I began the white-blaze-on-a-tree search. It took a long 10-minutes, but I found it.

"Here it is Yerba."

We continued descending, switch back after switch back. The car echoes had vanished; the only sound now was the woods. I don't recall any crickets or cicadas, but maybe they were singing.

"Well, Yerba, who knows how much farther we have. It could be hours. We gotta keep walking."

At that point, I reckon thus far that day, we had trekked some 11 or 12 miles.

Yerba would run ahead on the trail disappearing into the thick dark. I continually called her so that she would stop and look back. Her yellow eyes would then shine at me like laser beams, piercing the darkness.

Some four months earlier when I had been preparing for my solo debut on the AT, I had done some solo night-hiking on Mountain Trail at Pilot Mountain State Park. Yerba was not with me then. The eyes that glared back at me through that forest were eyes of deer most likely. I'd see groups of 4 or 6 eyes in the distance as I'd stop on Mountain Trail and peer into the dark distance with my head lamp shining. Once there were only two lasers, and one of the lasers winked at me. I think nature was humoring me. "It's the same out here at night as it is in day; no need to fear."

Yerba was getting tired and so was I.

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Home Among The Balds (part 1 of 3)
The Woods Have Eyes (part 2 of 3)
Cocoon Shelter (part 3 of 3)
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