This once was a road — I think.
The man who goes alone can start today, but he who travels with another must wait untilthat other is ready.
— Henry David Thoreau
Waldo and I have to wait for a few days because of temperatures in the 80s and some periods of light rain. We won’t melt in the wet, but I really don’t like to live with a swamp-dog, so we wait until things are dryish. Today, the temps are forecast to be in the low 60s, the sky cover is scattered and the winds are light. It’s a beautiful day for a hike in the woods, so we’re going. We only have a limited amount of time until it’s going to be way too damn hot to go for long walks, let alone hikes, so we can’t squander what we’re given.
Looking at the trail app, I find a place to park somewhere around 3.5 miles from where we left off last time. It’s just the two of us today — Phyllis is busy elsewhere and Christine can’t go, so we have to keep the hike short. The terrain looks, on the topographical map, to be fairly flat, so 7 miles (round trip) should be fairly easy. The place I found to park, off Bragg Road, is at the end of a short rutted and rocky dirt track. There, a cable sags between two posts and a large blue plastic barrel. The path past that stretches out northward, through a small grassy meadow. The track is wide enough to accommodate a car (and looks like it once may have) and it runs up a gentle slope. There are many damp, muddy places we have to work around, but it’s not hard picking my way around them and I keep my boots dry. It does mean I have to pay attention to where I step, though. There are also a lot of rocks underfoot and I’m watching the ground closely.
After right around 2 miles, we come onto a small lake, off to our left. Its surface is placid, with foliage growing all the way to the water’s edge. There are no ducks on it and I see no one fishing. By this time, the trail has morphed into a narrow, smooth path, carpeted with needles and leaves, winding through large hedges of 6-foot-high mountain laurel. The trail breaks out onto a clearing next to the lake. In it is a wooden picknick table, a small log shelter and, to one side, a pitched tent. The people belonging to the tent are nowhere in sight, so we continue on.
We have to climb up and down some hills, nothing particularly challenging, until we’ve gone about 3.5 miles. Yeah, that’s not a typo. Today’s trek is a little longer than I expected. At that point, we have to scamper down a bit of a steep slope to get to our turn around point. The last part follows what looks like an old road, maybe used for logging. It goes straight downhill, across a bridge and then onto Route 12, where we ended our last trek. The distance is 4.2 miles, making for a 8.4-mile roundtrip hike. Further than I planned, but I’m feeling pretty good and most of the way is fairly flat, so I’m not concerned.
We stop at the turn-around point, I pull out Waldo’s water bottle and give him a good draft. He’s clearly grateful and laps down almost a liter. Walking in the woods is thirsty work. He seems happy and is enjoying the hike. We haven’t come across any animals, not even a squirrel, but I’m sure there is a lot of animal spoor to keep his nose busy and his interest engaged, just the same. We rouse ourselves and head back up the hill for the return trip.
Going back up the hill is sweaty work, requiring not infrequent stops for me to rest my tired old muscles, but it doesn’t last long. Once on the flat(ish) part, we make good time and are soon back at the lake. There, we come across a man, in his late twenties, and his dog. The dog, named Trevor, is about Waldo’s size and full of energy. Trevor is only a year old and stuffed with puppy romp and nonsense. Waldo is tolerant and lets Trevor bounce around and over him. “I saw your tent on our way up here,” I say. “How long are you staying?”
“Just overnight,” the man says. “It didn’t take as long to get here as I thought it would.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty flat.” Then I notice his tent is pitched in the shelter. “Wasn’t your tent pitched over there?” I pointed to where I’d seen a tent before.
“No, that must have been the people Trevor and I passed on our way up here.”
“Oh, I didn’t know the spot was that popular of a camping spot. Well, enjoy,” I say. “It’s forecast to be really hot tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” he says, “I saw that.”
Waldo and I say our goodbyes to Trevor and his dad and head back into the fields of mountain laurel. Before long, we’re back at the car. My AllTrails app says we did 8.4 miles in 4:26:29 with 577 feet of elevation gain. I’m feeling tired, but nowhere nearly as exhausted as when Waldo and I trekkcd over the Mount Watatic ridge. We head home to rest up for the next leg of the trail.
Now, we just have to wait for this next heat wave to dissipate.
First time we’ve seen anyone camping on the trail.