What – me lost?

A couple of weeks ago I was conducting a bird point survey for the Forest Service across the Toecane Unit of the Appalachian Ranger District. About a quarter of the points are concentrated on Mt. Mitchell and Roan Mountain. The rest are spread across the unit.

I was trying to finish the survey. I had five points left near the shelter on the Appalachian Trail at Yellow Mountain and two more about 30 miles away in Mitchell County. The survey has to be conducted between daylight and 10 a.m. as nesting birds become very quiet by that time of the morning.

Needless to say, I was in a hurry. Three of the points at Yellow Mountain are near the road. The other two require a short hike along the AT. It was a beautiful morning, the birds were plentiful and singing and things were going well. I finished the five points in about an hour and a half. I figured I would be able to make it to the two points on Locust Creek Road in time.

I headed back up (I guess down – south) the AT. I was listening to birds and planning my strategy for the next two points when I realized I had been on the AT for awhile and had not come to where my vehicle was parked. Then it dawned on me – the trail to the shelter is a short spur off the AT. I must have passed it.

That is when I committed one of the most grievous trail sins. I’m a woodsman, right? I have a compass and a GPS. There’s no need to retrace my steps. I’ll just bushwhack back to where I need to be. After all, there are two more survey points waiting.

Now, all hikers repeat after me, “When I find I’m lost on a trail, the thing to do is turn around and backtrack until I come to a place where I am certain of my whereabouts.”

I entered the coordinates of the survey point nearest my vehicle into my GPS and hit the “go to” button and struck out through the forest. Well, anyone who has tried to navigate with a GPS under dense canopy knows that satellite reception can sometimes become sketchy.

I had an idea of the bearing from the last GPS reading and time was wasting. I got my compass out and struck out northwest. Up and down a couple of ridges and around a couple of boulder fields and there from a ridge, I could see an opening. That must be the field at the shelter.

But as I got nearer the opening I saw a road and a house. “Wow’” I thought, “I must have gone too far south and somehow managed to make it back to Roaring Creek Road. I’ll just have to jog back up Roaring Creek and the FS road to my vehicle if I’m going to make it to Locust Creek in time to survey.”

I stepped out of the woods, across the road from the house. There were three vehicles in the drive – all with Tennessee tags. The road dead-ended at the house. I wasn’t at Roaring Creek, I wasn’t at the AT shelter, I wasn’t even in North Carolina.

I slinked back into the woods. I would never make it to Locust Creek in time to survey. I sat on a rock beside a wet-weather spring to assess the situation. How did this happen? Let’s see, it was inattention, impatience and perhaps a little over-confidence. The things that always get people lost in the woods.

That’s when I knew this was “Naturalist’s Corner” fodder. I’ve done columns for Smoky Mountain News before about getting lost and/or being lost, and this experience reminded me they are still relevant. I will write about some safeguards next week. And maybe I will listen to my own advice.

For me, that day, I had a couple of safeguards. I had my GPS and my compass. I once again entered the coordinates of the point nearest my vehicle into the GPS. This time I waited until I had good satellite reception. With the GPS and the compass I got a bearing that would take me back to the AT.

Ironically, I hit the AT within 100 feet of the point where I began my bushwhacking odyssey. This time I paid attention. I backtracked on the AT and after about a half-mile I came to the spur trail to the shelter.

When I began my two-hour stroll to Tennessee and back I was about 10 minutes from my vehicle.

(Don Hendershot can be reached at ddihen@earthlink.net.)