There’s a saying that if you’re backpacking and you don’t like the forecast, wait five minutes and it’ll change. That was certainly the case on a recent backpacking trip I took to the Shining Rock Wilderness with my brother-in-law, Ken. In the 10 days leading up to the trip we watched the wilderness area forecast change daily from hot to cold, sun to rain, and breezy to gale force winds.
In addition to the weather the Shining Rock Wilderness has a couple of rules that impacted our trip. First, no campfires. It’s a rule, and unfortunately many take it as a “rule” including the ones responsible for the recent fire at Cold Mountain that burned 132 acres. Second, in the past few years the bear population has increased resulting in greater than normal bear sightings and bear encounters (one backpacker had a bear enter his tent and remove his backpack). As a result, the U.S. Forest Service requires bear canisters in the Shining Rock Wilderness.
Atop Little Green Mountain overlooking Panthertown Valley
I’ve been tent backpacking for several years and it wasn’t until a recent trip to Tsali Rec Area that I began to consider the alternatives. A list which includes: on the ground, on the ground with a tarp, or above the ground in a hammock.
I’ve slept on the ground in a sleeping bag. It was fine, but the conditions were ideal (i.e. moderate temps, no bugs, and we were on a bald with little wind). However, I had not crossed off tarp or hammock from my backpacking bucket list.
At Tsali, I noticed a lot of people choosing hammocks over tents. Curious, I asked one camper to let me give their hammock a try. It seemed comfortable enough that I thought I could use a hammock on a future backpacking trip. To the Googles!
Turns out, hammocks aren’t all that expensive. Prices ranged from $40 on up to $200 depending on material. I also found that most backpackers recommended using a bug net, rain fly, and sleeping pad along with a bag, quilt, blanket, or bivy. So let me back up. The hammock is between $40 and $200 while the accessories to keep bugs out, rain off, and heat in will collectively run you an additional $400-$600.
I also took a close look at the weight difference between a tent and a hammock. My REI Quarter Dome T1 tent with footprint, poles, stakes, and rainfly weighs 3 pounds 10 ounces. The ENO DoubleNest Hammock (19 oz), bug net (16 oz), rain fly (22 oz), straps (11 oz), and stakes (2.8 oz) weigh in at 4 pounds 4 ounces. Six ounces isn’t a lot, and in the winter months I’d be 16 ounces lighter since I wouldn’t need a bug net. Plus, factoring in how a hammock packs compared to how a tent packs, I was sold on giving the hammock a chance.
With coupon in hand, I purchased an ENO DoubleNest and the above accessories from the local big box store, and gave it a whirl at a family car camping trip a few days later. Set up was a breeze and sleeping was, in my opinion, better than in a tent. I took the hammock with me on a couple day trips with my son and he loved it as much as I did. The real test, however, would come in an upcoming backpacking trip to Panthertown Valley in the southern Appalachian Mountains.
In 2012, my buddy John joined the Blue Ridge Relay GO FAR team. I’d later learn that he was using the relay as a training run for an upcoming ultramarathon. I thought, what an idiot. Then I thought, wait, what’s an ultramarathon?
In short, an ultramarathon is defined as any running event longer than the traditional marathon length of 26.2 miles (42 km). Good gravy, that sounds awful. Yeah, John is definitely an idiot.
After the BRR, John talked me into running the Pilot Mountain Payback Marathon. As we trained for the Payback and as we ran the race, John kept talking about running ultras. Eventually I fell victim to his persuasive tactics and signed on for the Triple Lakes Ultra 40 miler. Then I thought, I’m an idiot.
If you’ve run a marathon, then you’re pretty familiar with how to train for an ultra. You just have to run more. Between May and October I logged 600 miles. Most of my runs were on the road, about 100 miles were on trails, and my longest run was 29 miles. Beyond that, I didn’t do much more to prepare myself. I just ran, a lot.
I love a good hike. I love the peacefulness it brings. The camaraderie it provides when traveling with friends. And, I enjoy a good challenge. This past weekend I got my wish.
Three buddies and I hiked the Great Smoky Mountains via Fontana Dam. As an added bonus the lot of us hit up Tsali Campground for a couple nights where we swam a bit, fished, got poured on, and hit up the Nantahala River for a ride.
We arrived at Fontana Dam on Saturday around noon, grabbed a permit from the dam welcome center, and began unloading our packs from the car. Within minutes it was evident that the 100° F (37.7° C) temperatures were going to be a factor in our planned 12-mile hike. Every one of us were sweating buckets. Thank God for water bladders and bottles.
In 2010, my buddy, Coop, and I met Chris, a fellow backpacker, at the base of Shining Rock in North Carolina. At the time, Chris had just turned back due to extreme winter conditions, and we were looking for a place to camp before the sky went dark and we froze to death. After surviving the night, the three of us exchanged contact information and suggested we get together again in the future.
This past weekend, almost two years later, the three of us realized the suggestion. Coop and I started at Sam Knob via the Flat Laurel Creek trail off of NC Highway 215/Lake Logan Road on Friday, ran an impromptu 5K to the top of Sam Knob’s 6,055′ peak, and Chris joined us on Saturday morning at the Black Balsam Road parking lot en route to Cold Mountain.
2/23/10, 6AM, Day 4: Our watch alarms go off at 6AM. Daybreak is nearing. Time to break camp, fill bottles, drink coffee, and plot our course. With plenty of sunlight, we can see how to avoid the thickest patches and travel the safest route down the mountain. The downside? The slopes are steep, there’s 3 feet of snow on the ground, there are fallen trees everywhere, and to top it off, there are coyote, bobcat, and mountain lion tracks on both sides of the creek.
2/22/10, 2AM, Day 3 Part 2: Just moments ago Search and Rescue (SNR) told us we were on our own. So much for being airlifted on a chopper. Wonder if we’d have to pay for an air rescue. Not that it matters though. According to SNR, we have to keep walking in the direction we’re headed (which we don’t know). The trail will get steep (i.e. “just shy of cliff.”) And, once we cross the valley and climb the slope we’ll be on Old Butt Knob (maybe). Is that all? Well, shoot. Honey, set me a plate. I’ll be home in a few.
CHRIS: Dude, this totally blows. Let’s get off this mountain before the weather hits.
2/22/10, 2AM, Day 3: Morning comes sooner than expected. At 2AM rain starts to fall. At 4:15AM sleet begins to accumulate. By 6AM our tent domes sag thanks to a fresh 5 inches of sleet and snow. Thanks weatherman. Any hope of following tracks are gone. The 3 feet of snow is now 3 and a half feet. Looks like we are going to have to posthole our way down the mountain. I’m not sure about you, but when I have to lift my leg to my ear 400 hundred times in a row, I get tired. Eventually we find a clearing. Clouds settle in bringing visibility down to about 10 feet. Compass says we need to go up the mountain through all the rhododendrons. Seriously, who’s in charge of landscaping around here? We melt snow to fill our bottles and bladders, and use the surplus for a cup of coffee.
The pu-pu platter of whiteout, waist-deep snow, and bobcat tracks make choosing the correct path difficult. We choose a path that takes us through rhododendrons (a.k.a. the vineys) for a good quarter mile.
2/21/10, 6:00AM, Day 2: Sun up at 6AM. Oatmeal and coffee are the morning’s priorities. I break down my tent and fill up on water—not sure how long the creek will follow us up the mountain. By 7AM, Coop and Bigfoot wake and join me at the fire pit. Photo ops take up a few minutes after breakfast. Bigfoot tries out my poles out of curiosity. At 9AM it’s time to gear up. Coop and I part ways with Bigfoot and continue up the trail. Nice to be hiking on an actual trail. For the first hundred yards it’s hard-packed snow. After that, we’re off trail and following Bigfoot’s tracks from the previous day.
The mountains of North Carolina are a thing of beauty when viewed from afar. They are an even greater spectacle when you experience them up close. And when snow blankets the ground they are truly wondrous. Until they’re not.
This past weekend my buddy, Coop, and I set our sights on the Shining Rock Wilderness for this year’s winter backpacking trip. We monitored the location via webcam, checked the weather forecast daily, and packed the essentials we thought we’d need. We planned everything out meticulously, and fully expected a flawless trip that we’d remember for a lifetime.
