Hikers Only, I

Monday, January, 27, 2014

Oh my, a warm Monday like last Monday. Supposed to be in the 50s. I really need to get the 1099s done. God, I abhor paper work and record keeping. Carol all you have to do is sit down and tally how much you paid to each of your contractors; Hubby will do the rest. I know, I know. But I can do it tomorrow. I can hike today; go to Pilot Mountain. It gets cold again tonight and supposed to ice and snow tomorrow. Go hike while you can.

The 1099s were again put on the procrastination list.

After my pet-client stops, I headed north on Highway 52. Pilot Knob came into view, a giant rock against the crystal blue North Carolina sky. Pilot Knob's Indian name is Jomeokee, which means the "Great Guide" or "Pilot."

Today I'm not going to the Knob, but rather Mountain Trail, a five-mile round-trip hike which I've trekked probably 15 times. It's a great training hike with various kinds of terrain, from flat to steep to rocky to small-stream crossings. I've hiked it in daylight and in darkness. I've hiked it alone and with others. But I have rarely run into other hikers; maybe that's partly because I usually hike on weekdays when most humans are at work.

I don't think I've ever seen any deer along Mountain Trail, but perhaps some of the night eyes I've seen were deer staring at me. I have seen turkey on the trail. Mountain Trail is the only place where I've seen a turkey take off in flight. One time when taking a break and sitting on a rock, I heard a loud rustling noise. I peered in the noise direction and I saw a turkey running and then lifting off the ground! I was stunned; I had no idea turkeys could actually get off the ground in flight.

I take the Pinnacle Exit off of Highway 52 and then take a few more turns making my way to the Corridor parking area near the entrance to Mountain Trail. This parking area also serves park visitors that want to ride horses. To the south of the parking area are horse trails; to the north are people-only trails. Mountain Trail is on the north side.

In the gated parking area, on the south side, sits one lone compact red car. Though the gates are open when I arrive, I park outside the gates on a stretch of grass beside the small country road. I've parked here many times before. I'm never sure what time the rangers will close the gates; I don't want to risk Edward the Explorer getting locked inside the gates.

After I park, I get out of the vehicle and collect my hiking gear.

I check my hip pack for my headlamp, batteries, whistle, tissue, and inhaler. I put on my green parka over the shirt I'm wearing, a black cowl-turtleneck with sleeves that stop near my elbows. I clip my hip pack around my waist and put one filled water bottle in one of the bottle-carrier side pockets on my hip pack. I then pull my arms one at a time out of my green parka sleeves. My hip pack secures my parka holding the bottom part of my parka in place at my waist as I allow the upper part of the parks fall down my backside. I stuff my light-weight, mixed-fabric, pink vest into one of the parka sleeves and my scarf into the other. I put my Bluetooth in my right ear and tune in Pandora on my cell phone. I pull my purple and black Isotoner Smartouch gloves over my hands and grab my trekking poles.

As usual, I'm a lone hiker on the trail. I often hike alone. I rarely get scared on a trail. If I do, it's usually when I am closer to a road; I feel safer deeper in the woods. But Mountain Trail is not a deep-woods trail. Still, statistically, I'm probably safer hiking on Mountain Trail than driving on an interstate.

About twenty minutes into my hike I've worked up a sweat. I stop and look around; no one in sight. I take off my turtle neck. The cool wind brings a chill to my bare torso. I put on my light-weight vest. The cool wind is picking up, but the sleeveless vest gives relief from the stuffy turtle neck. I stuff the turtleneck into my parka sleeve.

I continue the northwest trek along Mountain Trail. Off to my left I see a bright yellow sign with black letters: "Don't got this way. You WILL get lost!" Trailing from the sign are small plastic red flags on wire stems stuck into the ground. They must be making a new trail. Okay sign, I'll stay with the old red-dot blaze trail.

I become lost in thought and in music as it streams into my Bluetooth, though reception goes in and out. After awhile, how long I'm not sure, I notice my surroundings. Where am I? There should be lots of rocks and certainly I should be at the corridor sign by now.

I look around. Oh geez. I somehow intersected the red-flagged new trail. I don't like this new trail. I feel like a mountain goat with my feet sideways on the mountain like this. And I miss all the rocks. Oh well, this trail probably intersects with the red-dot old trail.

Another 1/2-mile or so I intersect back with the red-dot trail. Much better. I'll be sure to follow the red-dots out. I don't like the new trail. I hope they keep the old trail once they finish blazing the new.

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Click below for Parts II through IV:
Hikers Only, II
Hikers Only, III
Hikers Only, IV
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