I have a tendency to overdo things, so when my friend, Erica, invited
me to a hike on Crowders Mountain, I went into overdrive. I needed
supplies.
First on my list were hiking shoes, along with some nice, thick socks. I remember reading something about the socks protecting you from deer ticks that carry the dreaded Lyme disease. I then purchased a water bottle, flashlight, matches, first-aid kit and mugger repellent -- I could not find any bear spray. (Side note: If you ask a sales person in Walmart on what aisle you find machetes, be prepared for the side eye.)
Sunday morning arrived. My backpack was stuffed, including my lunch, which I carefully sealed to not attract predators. I wore my new hiking boots, thick socks, jeans, two t-shirts, a hooded jacket and a bandana, which served a dual purpose of holding back my locks and doubling in case I needed to bind two sticks to make a splint. (I saw that once on The Discovery Channel.)
I was sitting outside when Erica arrived. She and the kids got out of the car to greet me. Hey, the kids had only t-shirts, shorts and sandals. Was I over dressed?
We piled into Erica’s SUV and headed up I-85 towards Crowders Mountain. We first stopped at Subway and Food Lion to get sandwiches, chips and water. Hey, they were not vacuum-sealing their food. Would this leave us vulnerable to animal attacks?
I had seen Crowders Mountain only from a distance, so I thought we were just going to pull over and start hiking into the bush. Erica explained that this was a state park and that the visitor’s center was where we would park and begin our hike.
My evening walks did little to prepare me for the uphill adventure of Crowders Mountain. I had already broken into a full sweat, and that was just walking from the parking lot. The trail was well maintained, and I don’t think I saw as much as one squirrel the entire time. I guess I would not get to use my ghetto version of bear spray.
Erica let me use one of her hiking sticks, which at first I loved because it made me look authentic, but I quickly appreciated the practicality of its use. The kids ran ahead while Erica and I made our way up slowly. The last part of the trail was the worst -- a nearly 45-degree incline. You know you are out of shape when an elderly couple passes you and, adding insult to injury, shouts, “Keep going; you’re almost there!” If I had a brand new hip, I’d make better time, too.
Sometimes it was hard to enjoy the sounds of nature over my wheezing
and labored breathing. One guy was actually running the trail. I wanted
to trip him but my legs were too sore to extend.
We finally reached the top of the trail, and there we found a small cluster of rocks we had to climb to reach the summit. We had finally made it.
What, no burning bush?
The view was breathtaking. Oh, did I forget to mention that I have a fear of heights. Once the novelty wore off and I had taken a few pictures for proof of my adventure, I sat with my back facing the horizon so I did not succumb to vertigo and ate my vacuum-sealed, predator-proof sandwich.
Children are fearless. Erica’s kids were scampering about the summit like sure-footed mountain goats while I hunched close to the ground like a drunken sloth, trying to maintain my composure while screaming like a little girl in my head.
Our descent went much more quickly. Erica and I enjoyed lively conversation, which was only occasionally interrupted by the screaming argument between my butt, knees and thigh muscle about which was the sorest.
It was dusk and the temperature had dropped significantly by the time we made it back to the car and headed back down I-85. I watched Crowders Mountain shrink in the distance, but I had conquered that mountain and, in doing so, gained a new level of confidence that I would be prepared for any new challenges on the road ahead. Heck, and if things got too rough, I still had a full bottle of bear spray to even the odds…smile.
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