Good friend of the podcast, Liz, is guest-writing blog posts for us this week, about her experience on the Foothills Trail. Check back each day for more stories from Liz!
Saturday, October 24th, it all began..er…again. My hiking partner and I found ourselves in familiar territory as we drove the 5 hours from Raleigh to Flat Rock State Park to meet Taz for a shuttle. It seems we had not gotten our fill of the Foothills Trail during our last expedition. You see, in July of this year, we made a foolhardy attempt to conquer the Foothills Trail in 5 days. Spurred on by our “COVID-gains” (increased physical fitness due to the inability to participate in normal life and a resolution to just be outside) and a swollen sense of “we got this”. We most certainly did not have it. Our failed attempt found us tuck tailed and literally limping off the Foothills Trail on day 3, only 30 miles in. Chastened and little wiser, we made a plan to return but this time, complete the trail in 8 days.
Taz, the trail angel godfather, was exactly as I pictured him. A lovely retiree who spends his time advising the eager hikers about to tackle his trail. Maybe if he had shuttled us the first time, we would have been more successful. It was a lovely warm, sunny autumn day as Taz picked us up from Flat Rock and drove us the hour to Oconee State Park. We made several pit stops, one to hide our mid hike resupply at Whitewater and a couple parking lot drive-bys to see if anyone needed a rescue. We said our goodbyes in the parking lot and he drove off. Leaving us there, 76.2 miles from our car.
Day 1 was a beautifully sunny and warm autumn day. We passed many happy hikers near the trailhead, likely staying in the campground for the Halloween festivities…a glimmer of normal in these weird times. We were jubilant at first, making conversation about everything and nothing. As is the norm with long hikes, our conversation eventually subsided with the occasional burst of one’s thoughts and fervent discussion. We’ve done this a time or two before. Night one was not exciting. It was the pause before the big, glorious Chattooga. We found a mediocre camp site that was at least flat. Over dinner of Ramen Bombs, we shared speculations of what laid ahead of us. “Do you remember how hard ‘insert generic section of stairs’ was? I remember my feet were so done by then”. As the rain rolled in, we hunkered down in the tent and mentally prepared ourselves for the next day.
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