Mile 365. Bear food.

My alarm wakes me up at 5:00 am.    It’s my last big push before I get off trail for five days to celebrate friends in Asheville and NYC.

I make the decision to slack pack.   Here, I hire a shuttle driver to pick me up, keep 90% of my gear in the back of his truck, and drop me off at the top of today’s 5200-foot mountain so I can hike the majority of the 21 miles down-ish.   It’s a pricey-but-worth-it decision that allows me to get in big miles with the least amount of wear & tear on my body.  

For breakfast, I wolf down two double-decker moon pies.   This is a chocolate covered, marshmallow sandwich calorie bomb - a southern delicacy and my childhood favorite.   It’s going to be a good day.

The spring is back in my step; and I’m feeling back to my old self.    Roots, rocks and feet dance together in a rhythmic syncopation.   Miles pass by effortlessly.

A section of the trail acts as a bear food court, a concentration of the best Tennessee bear fare and worthy of Minnie Pearl’s “Come and get it” announcement.  Distinct bear graffiti on live trees are clear warnings to other bears, “Cross this line at your own risk.  This is MY territory!”  Decaying trees turn into grub buffets, with hungrily torn wood and bark scattered in multiple directions.    And fresh scat become leftover buffets for scrangly little black flies.   

It’s well understood that east coast bears are oversized raccoons.   All they want is food.   And they are definitely more afraid of us than we are of them - especially if we make a loud noise and wave our arms.

They’re clever little rascals, though.    Even the most cleverly designed, National-Park-sanctioned bear hangs and bear canisters are no match for a hungry bear.    They’ve been known to hang upside down, using the bear cable as a circus tightrope, to grab a “safely hung” bear bag.   And bear canisters can be broken into by a bear or tossed down a mountain side never to be seen again.   All of this happened to four of my friends just this week and in this area.    We just laugh it off as an accepted risk and good gossip here on the trail.

My favorite places to camp now are stealth sites - areas that are away from shelters and tucked away in unexpected spots off the trail.   If it’s an unexpected campsite for a human, it’s also an unexpected food site for a bear.   We both win.