Personal Narrative: A Personal Experience Of A Backcountry Journey

Despite the feeling of seclusion, I quickly exchanged my runners for my hikers and tallied my equipment, the bulk of it already neatly cached in my backpack. It was one by now and, even though we were running quite late, I felt assured that both of us had prepared our backpacks with the diligence needed for our survival. Even though this was only a two-night excursion, it was our first backcountry venture, twenty miles long, into the largest section of backcountry remaining in the eastern US.

Our backpacks were bloated and heavy. In addition to our trustworthy steel water bottles, we each carried a personal water filter kit, in addition to a water pack, better known as a hydration bladder in hiking jargon. The water filter in particular, which initially seemed like a novelty

Both of us also each carried two bear bells and, in case the bear bells did not work, we each had a whistle, and in case the whistles did not work, my daughter had her trekking poles and I had my old cross-country ski poles.

At best, there are some open pit toilets, but there are no privies at any of the Smoky Mountain backcountry sites, so to conform to standard backcountry etiquette, we carried a trowel to be used when, where, and how required. I carried compact campers toilet paper whereas my daughter, adamant that waste paper would increase our carbon footprint, insisted she would use leaves, hopefully of the non-toxic variety. If things went wrong in that area, I had a basic medical kit, which, in the event of a true emergency, would be useless.

To top our loads, we each carried a traditional pup tent, compact sleeping bag, sleeping mat, and, as a bonus luxury at my daughters urging, an unusually soft compressible pillow. We tried to distribute the loads as fairly as possible but, being the stronger person with the bigger backpack, I was assigned to carry the cooking utensils as well as the lighting