Day Two on the Foothills Trail: 22 miles and the tears to prove it.

I found myself deeply regretting the shorts I wore to bed. At the same time, I was more than grateful that I had the good sense to come down bloated. On top of that, I was too afraid to put on my one wet shoe, a reminder to pay attention as gravity strained my water bottles.

When the fog lifted from my sleepy mind, I decided that not only would I walk in sandals, but I would also be more than capable of walking 22 miles in them.

I have never been strictly opposed to walking in sandals; However, I usually only do it when my feet swell from walking. After big miles, trail runners can feel a little restricted. That morning, however, my feet felt great and I was eager to get moving, but not in a wet shoe.

It was 8 in the morning when I finally found the will to leave my sleeping bag and pack things.

At 9 in the morning I was already back on the road.

I rearranged my water bottles to the side of my backpack so I could prioritize being able to reach my coffee without taking it off. I was worried I would regret choosing coffee over water, but honestly, it was a great idea. You’d be surprised how much time and energy it takes to put on and take off my backpack. In a perfect world, once it’s comfortably on my back, I wouldn’t have to take it off again until I got to camp. That’s why I try to keep everything I might need within reach.

The day before, I started to get really comfortable with the Far Out app, the app I used for my map. Not only was it great for following the trail and keeping track of my mileage, but it also identified viewpoints, tricky intersections, water sources, campsites, and more. The app was even able to tell me that there would soon be bear-safe trash cans along the way! With that knowledge in mind, I filled my pockets with my trash bag and started my day.

Less than half a mile into my day, I came across the leading trail to King Creek Falls.

The notes on the Far Out app said it was only 0.2 miles away (so a little less than half a mile total) and well worth the time and energy. Although the hike had a bit of an uphill climb, I hardly noticed it. I’m a big fan of waterfalls, and this was the first one I was really excited to see along the route. The app commenters were right; It was a beautiful stop. I was honestly expecting something smaller, and this view only made me more excited for what was to come.

Some time after King Creek Falls, I passed a hiker named Jay. I actually met him on the first day, but this was the first time I stopped to chat with him for a brief moment. As I walked away, I wondered how Adam was doing on his hike.

I had no idea that this would be the last time I would see anyone since my first day.

The trail felt especially bumpy on the second day. My feet were in excellent shape, my legs were strong, and my attitude was euphoric. I climbed past the Whiteside Mountain overlook, past Hiker’s Peril waterfall, and before I knew it, I was crossing into North Carolina.

I would cross state lines quite frequently during this trip, but this was the only time I really noticed it, other than my last day.

I started to really enjoy the solitude on the second day.

Do you know what I didn’t enjoy? The fact that I forgot my jerky sticks and my M&M pretzels in my car. On a scale of tragedies experienced on this trip, that ranks right below the wet shoe incident from the night before.

14 miles into the day, I arrived at the lower viewing platform of Whitewater Falls. I was especially excited to see this waterfall because it’s the tallest east of the Rocky Mountains, and I think it’s pretty cool. The trail leading to the falls only added 0.2 to my day, but it was straight forward.

I would have hiked that trail several times, just to see that waterfall; It was THAT amazing.

I stopped there for a moment to take in the view and put my trail shoes back on. However, after a good ten minutes, I decided that I was getting too comfortable and had miles to walk.

I moved forward and went a full 5 minutes before stopping again. As much as it hurt to take off my pack again, I knew the key to my success on this trail would be hydration.

I dropped my backpack and started filtering the water.

I treat the water twice: first I filter it with my Sawyer and then I use chlorine tablets. After my water run, I had to wait an hour before I could drink it, as the chlorine tablets need time to disperse in the water.

At that point, I was getting anxious about my speed. Originally, I planned to camp at Whitewater Campsite, which would have been about a 16-mile day. The night before, I had changed the destination to Coley Creek Campground, which would have made my day just under 20 miles. I was also toying with the idea of ​​riding the mile or so to Camp Glenn Hilliard. After all the spur trails, my day increased to 22 miles.

Although I had decided to run the 22 miles from the beginning, I somehow got a little confused about how many miles I had covered that day. The Far Out app tracked my mileage, but if I accidentally removed it from my home screen, I didn’t know how to get it back, so on that particular day, I wasn’t really paying much attention to the actual miles I was achieving.

I was almost surprised when I arrived at camp.

Mainly because I felt great and I didn’t think I had walked that far.

Unfortunately, the campsite was already occupied.

Two gentlemen were sitting and relaxing when I passed. They had told me that the next spot up ahead was probably occupied by a separate group they had passed earlier, and they offered to let me take a corner of their spot. I was exhausted, and although I was uncomfortable with the idea of ​​camping near strangers, they seemed pretty normal, so I accepted their offer.

However, before I had a chance to start setting up camp, I heard one of them from a distance.

«Oh! I almost forgot! There’s another spot about 0.2 miles back on the waterfall trail! You might want to try that if you can’t find a flat spot for your tent.»

I was immediately overcome with relief. Like I said, they were pretty nice, but I like my privacy.

I didn’t even bother to strap on my backpack as I backtracked down the trail in search of the spot.

The site was exactly where they told me it would be. It had clear access to a stream and behind the site you could get a glimpse of Hilliard Falls. As it was getting dark, I hurried to prepare everything. I usually like to do one task at a time. It keeps me organized and prevents me from losing things.

But how hard can it be to keep track of things when all you have is what you can carry on your back?

Apparently, a lot.

After setting up my tent, I filtered more water while cooking dinner. It was getting dark and I wanted to save time. I was so focused on getting everything done as quickly as possible that I had no idea how tired I was.

I finished preparing my dinner. However, before I could sit down to eat, I realized that I had never put lids on my water bottles. How foolish of me! I cleaned up the pieces of my items that were scattered across the forest floor and secured one of my water bottles. When I drank the second bottle, I felt my heart stop.

One of the caps on my bottles was missing.

Instantly, I panicked.

The worst part is that I knew I needed to calm down. I knew I was just tired and excited, that’s what is expected after a big day. I looked under the leaves, searched in all my pockets and in all the hiding places in my backpack. My brain kept repeating, «There’s no way I’m getting to Table Rock with just one water at a time.»

This was the kind of stupid mistake that ruins trips. The fear of failure was overwhelming.

No matter how many times I told myself I was crazy, I couldn’t calm down.

It was getting dark. I took out my flashlight and continued searching until I stood there, dumbfounded. How is it possible for something to disappear into thin air? I began to accept that I would be leaking a lot in the coming days, when an idea suddenly occurred to me. The water bladder I use for filtering came with a lid, a lid I never unpacked.

As luck would have it, the silly little orange cap I had left at the bottom of my bag matched perfectly.

I wiped the tears and snot from my face. I said a silent prayer that said, “Dear God, please let my neighbors be far enough away so they don’t hear that,” and started eating my now-cold dinner. The whole time, I tried to get the «you’re officially a litterer, leaving bottle caps in the wild» feeling out of my head.

After cleaning up and securing my food bag, I started to get into my tent to go to bed. However, a reflection caught my attention, something shining against my headlight. A stone’s throw away was my bottle cap, as if it had rolled out for a nighttime walk.

At that moment I was laughing at myself so much that anyone would think I was crazy.

But hey, I’m human and emotions are difficult.

I never used that bottle cap again. I kept it in my pocket for the rest of the trip. A gentle reminder that maybe you shouldn’t multitask after the big days.