I am not an outdoorsy kinda gal. I hate bugs and sweating. I don’t really like to get dirty or mess up my hair. OK, so I own an orange and blue Trek mountain bike, a matching orange bike helmet, a pair of hiking boots and a Columbia fleece vest. So I own a sleeping bag, a tent and a Jeep Liberty. I give the appearance of being outdoorsy, but I’m really not. Or so I thought.
Over the weekend, my husband and I went camping in the mountains of Western North Carolina. We each took Friday off from work and headed to Chimney Rock Park. We spent about three hours walking the trails around the park, taking photos and enjoying the breathtaking scenery. We had left the heat of Charleston behind and were soaking up the pleasant temperatures.
That evening, we headed to Pisgah National Forest where we picked out a campsite for two nights. We had driven through this campground before, but this was the first time we had spent the night here. We knew they had restrooms and assumed they had showers. Hmmm….we all know where assuming gets us. This was going to be a true camping weekend.
That evening we snuggled deep in our sleeping bags, using the dog for extra warmth. The 50-degree temperatures were chilly but a welcome breath of fall air. The next morning we awoke to a cool morning and the quiet campground.
By late morning, we were hitting the bike trail. My husband picked a bike trail marked on his fancy new National Geographic map. The trail in one word: uphill. I’m pretty certain I pushed my bike way more than I rode it. We went up 1,200 feet – yes, that’s right – 1,200 feet. I was huffing like a 500-pound woman who had walked to the mailbox and back. (It seems hitting the gym three to four times a week might not be enough.)
Every time I came to the top of a hill – there was another hill. I was beginning to think we were on a hiking trail and someone forgot to tell me to leave the bike at home.
The hills were rugged, covered in rocks and trees roots. Even coming downhill was tough because the path was so rocky and rough. When we finally came back down the mountain, we were able to ride a little more, but still had to cross Fletcher Creek several times. To see exactly where we were, go to http://www.mtbikewnc.com/bestrides/brfletcher.html. (Note: despite the photo of the rattlesnake, we never saw a rattlesnake, thank goodness!)
The entire trail was just over 8 miles, so not incredibly long, but the whole adventure was almost six hours. Needless to say, we were quite exhausted. And a nice hot shower would have been wonderful. Oh, wait, no showers at the campground. Well, how about washing off with ice cold water in the bathroom sink – not exactly the same.
Even though the trail was incredibly challenging, I felt accomplished. Even though I was so worn out, I was practically in tears by the end of the trail, I felt accomplished. Not too many people would tackle something like that.
I had conquered a mountain and, in the process, I think I proved myself a real outdoorsy kinda gal.