“Bearly” alive in the Smokey Mountains…
How beautiful are the Great Smokey Mountains? A part of my heart lives there, and when I return, I know that my spirit is there, soaring high.
It all happened one May weekend when my friend Susan and I left the kids with their grandparents and traveled northwest to enjoy the beautiful mountains. Susan had booked a B&B long before Airbnb existed.
The small stone inn reminded me of something you’d see in England, and the scenery was peaceful and breathtaking. Nestled into the side of a hill, long ago cleared for pasture, the inn seemed to rise out of the earth itself to say, “Welcome, weary hiker.” The hill was dotted with sheep lazily grazing within their fenced pasture. A more picturesque scene could not be had.
We checked in, unpacked our bags, and enjoyed a lovely lunch on the porch. I’m a hiker and lover of wildflowers. A trail led from the property and eventually joined other trails, forming a network of trails that would take you miles away. Susan stayed behind to read, and I took off on a solo hike to see the wildflowers in bloom. I took one bottle of water with me, nothing else. I planned to hike for four hours, so I didn't need anything else.
The inn owners had given me directions for the loop trail and a source of profuse flowers. “Go to the first fork in the trail, turn left, and go over the footbridge.”
The wildflowers did not disappoint! Hundreds of wildflowers, left and right, filled the forest floor; I was in heaven. Before cell phones, I didn’t have a camera with me, so I was alone in nature, soaking up the beauty and reflecting on the world's wonder.
I really have no idea how much time had passed when I realized I’d never seen the fork or the bridge. I decided I must not have come to it yet and kept going and going. I finally saw another hiker; he was a trail runner. I stopped him and asked him how far I was from the road where the inn was located. He said, “A long way! You’d be better off continuing and coming out at the parking lot. It’s closer.”
He continued his run, and I pondered my dilemma. If I headed to the parking lot, I would have no way of contacting Susan for a pickup. It seemed best to me to turn around and head back down.
Oh, that’s right. I failed to mention that I had been climbing a mountain all this time. By now, my water was gone, the sun was setting, and I guess I had about three hours to return to the inn. But what’s a girl to do when she finds herself alone in the middle of the wilderness? I was still energized and thrilled to be in the Smokeys!
The day started turning into evening, and soon, it was dark. I couldn’t see anything but shadows, but I kept walking. I dare not stop. Once I got to the part of the trail that parallels the river, I felt it would help keep me on the trail or not. I was concerned I might miss my step and tumble down the steep hill on my left.
Two issues arose: a blister on my heel and fear. I did not exactly panic, but I could have ended up there. I decided to start singing out loud. “I love to go a-wandering,”
I love to go a-wandering,
Along the mountain track,
And as I go, I love to sing,
My knapsack on my back.
Chorus:
Val-de-ri--Val-de-ra-
Val-de-ri--Val-de ha ha ha ha ha ha
Val-de-ri--Val-de-ra.
My knapsack on my back.
I sang this over and over and over as loud as I could, limping along with a painful blister and legs that were getting tired. It was now so pitch black that I had no idea how I knew where to walk. God was watching over me, for sure.
Just before 8 p.m., I reached the inn and was greeted by Susan and a Park Ranger. The inn owners had rallied him to search for me. He told me he had decided to give me until 8 and then start his search.
What a relief to be back in civilization again. That night, I slept like a rock!
The next morning, as we joined other guests in the dining room, the owner approached our table and pulled up a chair. He wanted to hear all about my adventures. I explained how I obviously missed the fork and the bridge and was high on the mountain before I realized I was in trouble.
“Oh my gosh,” he exclaimed. “You were in bear country! That’s a densely populated area for the black bear. You are lucky to be alive!”
I gazed out over the fenced pasture, once again focusing on the grazing sheep, and said a prayer of thankfulness.
Lucky I was, and lucky I am, and so blessed to be running Louis Page and serving customers like you. So, what do you want for fencing today? Are you fencing in sheep or goats? Or you are fencing in your apple orchard? Head over to Louis Page and browse our large and varied array of fencing.
Call Terry at 978-486-3116 (or Tap to Call) and tell her about your project. She takes great pride in knowing our products and will search the world to find what you want.
Happy wandering!
Warm regards,
Debbie Page
CEO, Louis E. Page Inc–Woman-owned business and Family-owned since 1893. (True! That’s 131 years owned and run by our family)
