A Walk in the Woods

Left to right: me, Beau, Trent, Mike (kneeling), Billy, and Andy in front of Charit Creek Lodge.

This blog posting is based on a recent real-life event. The names have been changed to protect me from the wrath of my friends.

Throughout my entire life, I’ve had a love-hate relationship with nature. On one hand, I love being outdoors, traveling the world, and gazing at the marvelous wonders of God’s creation. On the other hand, I’ve always hated up-close encounters with mosquitos, poison ivy, and the occasional venomous snake.

Don’t get me wrong—I’m no pansy, no stranger to sleeping on hard ground. As kids, our family camped in a tent all the time. We spent many a weekends and summer vacations “roughing it” at the various state and national parks. On top of that, nearly ten years in the military hardened me to the rigors of outdoor latrines, forced road marches, and barely palatable meals out of a pouch.

Even now, I still don’t mind at all carrying a heavy pack and eating beef jerky during the course of an arduous hike up a mountain. But at the end of the day, I’d much prefer retiring to a big bowl of lobster bisque, a pulsating hot shower, and some smooth satin sheets at your neighborhood Embassy Suites—if you know what I mean.

So, you can understand my hesitancy in signing up for an overnight stay at the Charit Creek Lodge in northern Tennessee. The Embassy Suites it’s not. Like many other accommodations run by the National Parks Service, it’s a mere couple of bunk-bed cabins in an isolated clearing out in the middle of nowhere. You have to hike in from a designated trailhead, there’s no electricity, internet, or cell service on site, and many hungry bears supposedly roam the surrounding trails toiling for food.

There are eight of us preparing for this sojourn for the soul, mostly acquaintances from church looking to reconnect with each other and disconnect from life’s stresses for a mere couple of days. Shortly before we embark, however, two guys drop out due to sore back issues, making me question whether my bad bout with plantar fasciitis should make me pull the plug as well.

Despite my lingering reticence, I decide to go for it and head out on the three-hour drive to the remote vantage point along the Big South Fork of the Cumberland River. My five other fellow hikers arrive shortly thereafter, locked and loaded and raring to go.

Mike, our fearless leader and trip organizer, is the antithesis of myself. He loves being out in the elements more than life itself. Don’t be fooled by his calm and disarming grandfatherly appearance. Inside, he’s as energetic as an ambitious young Sherpa, looking to summit the next Mount Everest in the blink of an eye.

We all fall in step onto the meandering forest path. Beau, an accomplished trail runner, leads the way. He could cover this ground in no time flat but takes pity on the rest of us huffing through the dense forest foliage. Fortunately, Beau gives us plenty of rest breaks as we admire the towering rock cliffs and rhododendron blooms engulfing our senses.

Speaking of senses, I fall in behind Billy, who’ll talk your ear off. At seventy-eight years young, he’s still going strong—hiking these trails while guys half his age relax on the couch and suck air. You talk about the ultimate flex. And I thought I was keeping myself in relatively decent shape. Go ahead, Billy, kick sand in my face.

Andy and Trent complete the ranks. Every group like ours needs an Andy—an experienced paramedic at your beck and call who’s ready to treat the inevitable twisted ankle or surprise bee sting anaphylaxis with equal aplomb. Our group is blessed also with somebody like Trent—agreeable and amenable and SO DARN NICE. If you can’t get along with Trent, you’ve got a big problem.

We arrive at the lodge in plenty of time for dinner. Gary, our host, runs an impressive one-man show. This evening, he’s the concierge, housekeeper, and chef all rolled into one. And boy, can he cook. I was expecting spam and celery sticks. Instead, we get roasted pork tenderloin, a scrumptious bean casserole, macaroni and cheese baked with love, and biscuits to die for. Throw in some chocolate cake for dessert, and we’re definitely in culinary heaven.

What’s more, I find out that Charit Creek Lodge has running water—hot showers and flush toilets included in the nightly rate. HALLELUJAH! That indoor toilet seat never felt so comfortable. Now, just find me a way to snuff out snoring from my bunkmates, and I’ll check out a very happy man.

Honestly though, as great as the scenery, food, and accommodations were on this trip, the best part about this awesome experience was the fellowship involved. There’s something to be said about camaraderie and esprit de corps—especially among a group of such godly and spiritual men friends in such an austere and natural setting. Sitting in those rocking chairs on our moonlit cabin porch, we had some insightful and brutally honest discussions regarding our faults, our failings, and surviving some rather horrific life’s challenges.

But through it all, God also showered us with wisdom, humility and compassion toward each other. As iron sharpens iron, we also sharpened one another with our stories of survival and triumph. Our Lord reminded us that although the gate to eternal life remains narrow, many great saints have already blazed a wide path for those of us who wish to follow through together. It’s a distinct honor and privilege for us to plod on through.

After some gully-washing thunderstorms and a hike to the magnificent twin arches the next day, I headed back to civilization with a sense of renewal and encouragement. I guarantee you all six of my brothers did likewise. We all understood how we’d just been enormously blessed.

If you’re considering a similar type of “retreat-type” experience in the near future, don’t hesitate to hold it at the Charit Creek Lodge http://www.ccl-bsf.com/. Mosquitos, thunderstorms, snoring bunkmates—and bad feet—be damned, a walk in the woods always works wonders for your soul.

Dr. John Huang is a retired orthodontist, military veteran, and award-winning author. He currently serves as a freelance reporter and sports columnist. He is the author/coauthor of four books, Cut To The Chase, Kentucky Passion, From The Rafters Of Rupp, and Serving Up Winners. You can follow him on Twitter @KYHuangs.