Loving NE Georgia: A Backpacker’s Tale (Part 5)

After Ralph and Jay dropped me off I donned my bulging pack and headed down Glore Rd, trying to be quiet and invisible. It was like entering another world. The road was deeply rutted from the passage of countless four wheel drives and years of rain; in places the road was ten to fifteen deeper than the surrounding landscape, giving the illusion of being in a tunnel. Trees formed a canopy overhead, blocking the sun and providing a shady, cool oasis. It had recently rained, and everything glistened with moisture.

My back protested with each step I took, yet I kept going, intent on getting as far away from civilization as possible. My earlier experiences in the mountains of Oregon had taught me how to “disappear” into the forest; if no one knows you are there, they can’t hurt you. I was worried about what Ralph had said regarding the possibility of stumbling upon someone’s moonshine operation or secret pot field, but figured that once I got to Toccoa Creek, I could find a place off the road to make camp.

Photo by James P. Blair (Available at Allposters.com)

I walked by several turtles, some with shells nearly a foot long, whom I assumed were laying eggs in the muddy red clay. Several times I came upon clusters of swallowtail butterflies that gathered in groups from two to six, intent upon some mating ritual that I could only wonder about. Abundant red headed Woodpeckers ravaged the trees with an incessant knocking sound and a couple of startled wild turkeys took flight as I stumbled down the path. Three times I had to wade through tributaries of Toccoa Creek as they flooded across the rutted road. Little fish fled terrorized from the shallows to cover as I crossed.  

I’ve measured it since; it was less than three miles – (but I would have sworn it was closer to six!), before, to my dismay, I came to a blacktop road. I walked a short ways in both directions; there were no houses or anything in sight. Red blazes around a few trees, accompanied by little signs, confirmed that I was in national forest. I back tracked away from the road, found a likely place, and set up camp.

One of the biggest problems with backpacking is that it’s very difficult to carry enough food. I did my research before leaving, and even tried to believe that one of my little packages of rice and seasoning, combined with a small tin of chicken, would be enough for dinner. It did make a nice snack, but my body was craving protein in much larger quantities. It was obvious that my two weeks of food would last no more than one. 

That night, about two hours before sunset, I sat by my campfire, having just finished my second dinner, when I heard a dog bark. I thought it curious, as I was pretty sure there were no houses or anything nearby, but I was much more concerned about blisters on my feet and the blazing pain in my lower back, so I paid it little attention. Suddenly a pack of seven dogs came tearing around the corner and into my camp.

Snarling Dog

The Alpha, some type of terrier, charged within a few feet of me, snarling and growling. The others waited behind him, looking as if they were just waiting for an excuse to charge. All were barking, snarling, growling. I looked around me; not a stick or rock or anything within reach. The Alpha took another step closer and crouched down, as if preparing to attack. I did the only thing I could think of: I jumped up, throwing my hands into the air in what I hoped was a menacing gesture, and screamed. “ArrrrrrgggggH!” The dog pack fell back a couple of paces. I noticed that some of them wore collars, and they all looked well fed. I began to rethink my assumption that this was a pack of wild dogs. Just then a woman’s voice called out, and I saw a tall blonde woman come along the road. “Sorry! Sorry!” she called to me, while calling to the dogs in Swedish. She hurriedly walked past my camp, continuing to call the dogs (which didn’t seem to be listening) in that other language. Once she passed, the dogs followed. I sat back down, trembling, while I listened to the gentle murmur of the nearby stream, the winds wafting through the trees, and my heart pounding in my ears. 

That was not to be my only scare of the day. 

After dark, I climbed into my tent for the second night of my journey and fell fast asleep. It was about midnight when I heard a roar of machinery. I leapt out of my sleeping bag and unzipped my tent just in time to see a 4 WD pickup literally in the air as it careened down the rugged road. By the scattered light I could see someone standing in the back, rifle in hand. Their horn sounded the rebel charge, and in a blink they were gone.  

I stayed there for a couple of weeks, and during that time nocturnal four wheel drives frequently came charging down the road. The old, unkempt road was so bad, I would have thought it impassable to any vehicle, but nevertheless, almost every night one or two vehicles went by in one direction or another.

During the following week I realized my food situation was critical. Worse, I had already burned through most of my money, and I had serious doubts about how I was going to make it to the next month. 

I spent the days hiking along the various old roads and trails that ran through the forest here. Most were overgrown roads that just abruptly ended in the middle of nowhere. One led to a little cemetery with three graves from the 1800’s.  There were huge mounds of blackberries bushes anywhere the sun managed to get through the forest, and I ate them by the handfuls. Several times while hiking I came across large cat prints in the mud, and looking for snakes with every step became second nature. I quickly learned to always carry at least three liters of water; it really sucked to run out on top of a mountain, far from any streams!

To bathe I used the hydration pack in my backpack (some call it a water camel) hung from a tree after letting it lie in the sun a couple of hours to warm up. There was something about the soap or shampoo that always attracted yellow jackets, and it’s amazing how intimidating one little bee can become when you’re stark naked! (Face it: there are some places you don’t want to be stung!)



I spent all day just to end about a mile from where I started from!
(Blue is portion hiked, Red with Ralph, Green hiked from Glore Rd)



My food dwindled at an unsustainable rate, and even though I tried to ration it, it was obvious it would be out soon. I had less than ten dollars, and I was losing a lot of weight.