Category: Travel

Never did I ever think I would have backpacking on my bucket list. Yet I have this crazy inner battle that encourages me to step outside my comfort zone and force myself to grow. It’s a weird thing that I can’t fully explain but wholeheartedly endorse. Part of it comes from a song lyric from Cruxshadows that grabbed me long ago and drives me: ”Look at your life, who do you want to be before you die?” It’s embedded in the goth version of a birthday song, so maybe not cheery, but it hits me at my core. So I fight my inner being filled with self-doubt and anxiety, and I push to be the confident adventurous person I want to be. The other part comes from knowledge that God created so many amazing things, people, & places on this Earth; I want to experience as much of it as possible. 

My dad loved backpacking and my boys did plenty of it through Scouts. I enjoy tent camping and day hikes, but never even considered pioneer camping, much less backpacking. It seemed unapproachable, undesirable, and beyond my physical ability. So how did this happen, you ask?? Back in late October, Thom & I went for an impromptu drive to chase the sunset, so to speak. I watched the sun set through the trees while we drove along the curvy roads of GA 60. As the light was nearly gone, we pulled over to a little parking area to enjoy those quiet moments between day and night. I was intrigued by this parking area in the middle of nowhere and had the realization that the AT (Appalachian Trail) probably crossed through the area. I pulled out my flashlight and investigated the area until I found a trail sign indicating we were at Woody Gap. The sign noted that we were 20 miles from Springer Mountain. I can’t explain it, but something took root in my mind as I remarked that Springer was the beginning of the AT and maybe I could do 20 miles. 

I promptly texted Brandon and asked if he wanted to hike the first 20 miles of the AT. He quickly responded “Sounds like a party.” Over the next few days, we decided we needed a test-run backpacking trip (as maybe 20 miles on the AT for a first time was not the best idea). We quickly honed in on Cumberland Island for a first trip due to mostly flat terrain and multiple options for stops/routes. I’ve been there for day trips before and loved it. Brandon went as a little guy and didn’t remember it at all. Last year we talked about planning a family trip to Cumberland, but that had fizzled out. I knew that December/January were the best months for Cumberland (due to ticks, mosquitos, etc) and that lined up well with us having time off from school & work. So, I put a bunch of gear on my Christmas list and we started planning.

Upon making reservations on Cumberland, there were only two spots available and they were for the Hickory Hill camping area. It’s listed as 5.5 miles from the dock, so we knew we were in for a minimum 11 miles. It was both exciting and intimidating to study the map and look at possible treks over our three days on the island. The closer we got to the trip, the more anxious I felt. Some well-intentioned friends questioned the whole thing, but others were encouraging and supportive. I knew Brandon had lots of experience backpacking and he thought I could do this, so I leaned into his encouragement. We headed down to St. Marys on December 27th and had a big meal and a hotel stay the night before. The next morning, we checked in at 8am and prepared for the ferry ride over to the island.

This is a good point to reveal a few things that already went sideways. First, I made an error in packing. I bought a second pair of cargo pants at the last minute, so at home I pulled out my backup leggings and replaced them with the new pants. When I double checked my backpack in the hotel, I realized I had not pulled out my black leggings but had instead pulled out my black turtleneck (my only long sleeve shirt). So, I got myself an early souvenir at the ferry check-in: a long sleeve shirt. Additionally, the forecast had changed a bit as we approached the trip, but things were still looking like the averages we expected: low chance of rain, lows in the upper 40s and highs in the upper 60s. The day before our trip, the forecast shifted significantly to be wetter and colder with high winds on days two and three.

We pressed on and boarded the ferry for a 45 minute journey along the St. Marys River and across the Cumberland Sound. The water was shockingly still, it was chilly, and the cloudy skies looked ready for rain. Despite the nerves and the conditions, it was an enjoyable ride filled with bird sightings and even a few dolphins swimming ahead of the boat. We got off the ferry at the Sea Camp Dock amongst a driftwood beach, went through camping orientation, participated in the raising of the flag, and began the adventure.

Based on the updated forecast, we decided that we’d better head over to the beach on our first day since it was likely the only day without high winds. (If you’ve been to a windy beach, you know that the sandblasting you receive is not enjoyable.) We headed off toward a lunch stop at Stafford Beach. The temperature was quite comfortable (low 60s) but it drizzled rain off and on throughout the day. We made it over the access trail to the Parallel Trail and were barely underway when the chest strap on my backpack broke. This was the strap that kept should straps flat against my chest, so while it wasn’t the end of the world, it certainly made for some extra difficulty over the next few days. We pressed on and, unlike our normal day hikes, we fell into a comfortable silence. It wasn’t long before Brandon stopped and pointed at the bushes. He heard and then spotted the first of many armadillos we would see during our days on Cumberland. They were funny little creatures scurrying along through the brush in search of bugs. If they spotted you, they would gallop away for just a moment before returning to their work. The island was spectacularly beautiful; we wandered among live oaks, Spanish moss, palmettos, ferns, and a wide variety of mushrooms. We encountered spaces where the jungle seemed to end and a pine forest would start (almost like someone drew a line in the land). We would go a little ways and it would suddenly change back. We encountered many branches stretching across the trail, some where you would have to climb over them and others where you would have to crawl under (which is challenging with a 35 pound bag on your back). As we crossed over to Pratts Trail, we decided to take a snack break at one of these areas with a low branch inviting us to take a load off. Our break tree also had a funny little branch with a “face”–there were fun details everywhere if you took the time to look. A mile later, we were at the Stafford Beach Campground where we could take our packs off, refill with potable water, and use a “real” bathroom.

After a short rest and water, we headed down a boardwalk and over the dunes onto the beach. Our exhaustion vanished and the sun came out for awhile. We were the only people in sight on the massive natural beach. We wandered for a good hour gathering shells and enjoying the sea air. Brandon found a bivalve-type shell that he thought might have an oyster (but only had a tiny crab). We took pictures of our findings but left most of them (as they surely wouldn’t survive the backpack). We did bring back two of the coolest (empty) whelks. Although we could’ve stayed all day, we knew there was still a little bit to go before making camp. We went back to the Stafford Campground bathroom area and enjoyed the chance to sit on the decking and have some lunch. (Every day we had bagel sandwiches with Goober Strawberry.) Once fully revived, we headed back over to the Parallel Trail towards camp.

Exhaustion quickly caught up to me after the excitement of the first stretch and the natural high of the beach excursion. We also discovered that we had an extra mile than expected upon realizing our initial planned trek in was not the advertised 5.5. miles but it was actually 6.4 miles using the trails (apparently the 5.5 is if you went on the service road). 

We enjoyed lots of new sights on the last stretch of the day: An oak with a horizontal low limb that stretched almost like a board over 25 feet, a field covered in tiny little moss balls, plants in a sunny area that looked like we jumped ahead to spring, a shady area with lots of golden trees that felt like we traveled back to fall, and wild horses. The horses were eerily quiet and would just come out of the trees and onto the trail in packs. There was danger hidden behind their beauty, so you just had to wait for them to move on. They were also way bigger than you would think–many of them would be approaching eye-to-eye with Brandon (who’s 6’6″) and many were quite muscular. 

While all this was amazing, it was fighting against my discomfort. Brandon taught me how to alternate my weight distribution between the shoulders and the hips, but I found myself constantly adjusting, questioning if we missed a turnoff, and wondering if I would make it to camp. I finally halted us and tossed the dang backpack on the ground. I know, stopping just makes it harder, but I felt done. I was pondering just setting up camp right there in the middle of nothing because I didn’t know if I could go further. Brandon was patient and encouraging while I had some water and a brief mental breakdown. Then we heard the most awful howling & screeching noise I’ve ever heard. I knew it must be the wild boar and it didn’t sound terribly close, but it was enough to motivate me to put the backpack back on and hustle away. Ironically enough, we rounded two more turns in the trail and found ourselves at our camping area, Hickory Hill.

Campsite is some loose terminology for this area of the wilderness. There were a handful of semi-cleared spots in the general vicinity. Tired as we were, we knew we had to set up camp since darkness would come early. We found a spot (just beyond the camp sign) that had: no tree stumps, no anthills, no animal footprints, and was surrounded by a low canopy of bent tree branches. So, we set up the tent and Brandon rigged up the bear bag. Then we discovered a big mistake in our day. A hiking crew that we had run across back at the Stafford Camping area came by and asked if we left a large Berry water bottle. Yep, we left our biggest water vessel 3 miles back. Sadly, but understandably, no one brought it with them, and we weren’t trekking 6 miles roundtrip at dark to get it. This led Brandon to promptly crash laying half in the tent for a bit. I already had my moments of frustration, so I left him alone and scoped out our area to be familiar with the nearby trail crossings and to find the “perfect” bathroom spot that I would inevitably need. (More on that later) We didn’t have the luxury of chairs, so I sat on a nearby log until that got uncomfortable and then just sat on the ground. I was mesmerized watching an armadillo scour the bushes all around our camp until I realized the sounds of the forest were turning to evening sounds and the sun was nearly gone. So, I woke Brandon up to have dinner while there was some light. Our little camp stove worked great and he made some delicious chili ramen with beef jerky pieces. Thanks to Alex’s suggestions, we took a little chocolate (a box of Raisinets) and thus had a little something sweet both nights. We took it as a good sign when I got a heart-shaped one! 

As the sun set, the clouds went away and the temperature went down. Since you can’t have fires in the wilderness section, there was nothing to do but go in the tent (at like 5:30pm, lol). The nearby group went on a night hike over to stargaze at the beach, but I couldn’t fathom the 2 mile roundtrip in the cold dark. We spent awhile smashing mosquitos (they apparently were around in the cool weather and filled up the tent while we were setting up). Then we sat talking with the flashlight until sitting on the ground became tiring. Then we settled in way too early for a way too long night that was chillier than expected at 40 degrees. While physical discomfort was part of the scene, we made the best of it with some great conversations. We reminisced over the highlights (and low points) of the day. We congratulated ourselves on 8 miles of backpacking that day and talked about plans for the next day. We marveled over the fact that there were mushrooms of every color and noted that some of them were reminiscent of the Last of Us, which sparked a whole conversation about the what-if of some apocalyptic event happening from our mushroom exposure that day. After the Covid experience on my cruise in February 2020, it feels like any crazy thing could happen. We finally fell into that realm of half sleep and nonsense talking to your tent mate. I think we both woke up dozens of times in the night to animal sounds, moonlight, the cold air, and the sound of big winds moving in. It wasn’t so much as restful as it was a time to be tired in other parts of your body. Yet we had completed day one and had each other, so it was good in a different way.

Side Story: If you’re squeamish or not a fan of bodily function discussions, just don’t read this last section. Come back later and read about day two. Otherwise, I have to address the elephant in the room. First, because anyone close to me knows it was my biggest worry. Second, because maybe my experience will help someone else freak out less. I’m not so girly that I’ve never peed in the woods. However, I generally try to avoid that experience at all costs. Until recently, I’ve never had to experience anything more than peeing in the outdoors. However, I was hyperfocused on the disasters that could be part of having to handle all of nature’s functions out in the wilderness. I asked women hikers I knew, and I dove into the Reddit holes of women in the wilderness and decidedly wasn’t ready for all of the stuff some women were embracing. However, one suggestion of a Kula Cloth was great. This is an antibacterial cloth with a little hook to put your finger through that you can easily wipe with after peeing. It clips back on itself and clips onto your pack. It keeps you from having to dig/bury toilet paper or from being unclean for days (leading to chafing or UTIs). It stayed with my daypack that had toilet paper ziplocs, women product ziplocs, a trowel, extra headlamp, and hand sanitizer. So, I wouldn’t call that fun, but it worked. I also discovered that leaning my back against a tree was super helpful: it gave support as all my old joint/bone injuries showed up and it helped prevent too much “splatter”. (Brandon was intrigued by all of this and remarked that guys have this process so much easier). I was still worried about number 2, but thankfully (?) I never had to deal with that. Due to my sulfur allergy (and the sulfur content of water in the area), my Reddit friends had suggested two Immodium before heading out on the trip…I think that stopped number two for a few days inadvertently. I was most freaked out about period issues as (of course) my period decided to be late in December despite being regular for years. I only had to deal with this the first day and it was minimal so thank goodness for ziploc bags to pack trash out.  I had been desensitized a little bit on this one before heading on the trip. My November period brought the adventure of a car ride with the only bathroom for miles being closed, and the unfortunate adventure of absolutely having to change a tampon in the woods. I wasn’t prepared for that horror, but I learned that I could survive it. For the record, I still am not thrilled about the outdoor bathroom but it won’t keep me from backpacking again. For your comic enjoyment after enduring this paragraph, here’s a picture of our “Pee Tree” near camp–trail side for Brandon and hidden side for me.