A Trail of Rocks

“A Call of the Wild”

The shoes are always the last thing to pick up. He knows just right where they are and what condition they are in, usually there is some kind of dried mud and hardened grass plastered to the sides and bottoms of them. He stores them in the garage, away from the inside of his parents’ neatly organized home. His pack is weighted down with the camping essentials. Camping during the summer months in Georgia typically calls for a lighter pack. The less the better. His tent is ultralight weight, which leaves him room for things such as a blow-up sleeping pad, a change of clothes, a lightweight sleeping bag and most importantly water.

            His chiseled arms and worn out callused hands reached for the shoulder straps of his 65-liter backpack and lofted it into the bed of his 2017 Chevy Silverado truck. He laced up his boots and slid into the driver’s seat and prepared himself for the 4-hour drive over the winding mountain roads that led him to Linville Gorge. Weekends suddenly became a quick release of freedom for Sean Freeman, the new bright-eyed summer intern at an engineering firm in Atlanta, Georgia. His 9-5 office job had him seeking out the wilderness anytime he could. The call of the wild became relentless in its pursuit and so he insisted.

            The scent of petrichor drifted up with the fog from the saturated forest floor after the midday rain storm. The rocks turned from a heather gray color to a dark charcoal creating contrast to the moss that has anchored itself to the moist surface of the rock. The mountain laurel trees have structured themselves into tunnels that have surrounded the trails. The ferns grow outward, taking advantage of the open space of the trail. The roots protruded the surface of the ground, which looked like the veins of the forest floor. The rocks buried deep underneath the ground have become visible in certain areas where erosion and evolution have occurred over centuries time. Small openings in the canopy of trees offer beautiful but not vast views of the gorge. The trail forges itself down, toward the direction of the river.

“The Rock Block”

            The Babel Tower trail was rated under the term “difficult” on a popular app, AllTrails, that shows all the trails in the U.S. and the logistics of each one. The description read, “In the spring wild flowers grow at trailside, and the views of the river at the tower are breathtaking. You are standing on a ledge about 400 feet above the river.” The trail was a constant motion of stepping over rocks with each step. You could hear the constant static noise of the river but could not see it yet. Sean and the group of friends he was accompanying for the weekend had made it about halfway down the trail. The rocks had turned into boulders and the only way to trudge forward was by climbing them.

            Remembering the call of the wild in his head, Sean strapped his pack up tight and began to climb. Staying near to the rock and scouring for hand holds and stretching his legs to meet the foot holds challenged his limitations. His fear was elevated but no one would ever have known that. His movements were fluid and his mind focused. He then stood on the top of Babel Tower, staring down 400 feet to the river that dissected the gorge in half. Vast landscapes surrounded him in every direction.

“The Destination”

            The condition of the trail was harsh. The rocks that covered almost every inch of this hike became slippery from the rainfall, the trees saturated and wet, slumped down and out into the clearing of the trail made it hard to fit, steep decent and mangled boulders created barriers for this footpath. The trail was clear but did need to be maintained at certain points. The formations of the cliffs bulged out beyond the dark green veil of the forest. The peaks of this rugged scene became a high point for adventurers who were looking to quest.

            At the top, everything was stripped. Peeled back for the view of a lifetime. This was the first time that Sean unlaced his boots, since he had been home. This was home for the night, on top of a chimney-like cliff. The evening was spent playing cards, cooking the only food that was carried inside the packs with a small bunsen burner stove, and watching the stars rotate above their heads. The quietness was the answer to the call of the wild for Sean. His mind and spirit were at ease, but it did not take long for him to start brainstorming aloud about his next ‘fix’ with this addiction for something far wilder than Atlanta, Georgia can offer.