Johnny Molloy, Author at Blue Ridge Outdoors Magazine

Leaning against the mountain, I watched the dark clouds gathering. Precipitation had always been a force in shaping these old mountains, and after a lifetime of outdoor adventure, I realized that these mountains had also shaped me. I didn’t always follow the outdoor path. While at the University of Tennessee, I didn’t exercise, drank heavily, and ate badly. The natural fitness of youth melted away in a merry-go-round of beer and pizza. Then a newfound friend and experienced backpacker, Calvin Milam, suggested I go to the Smokies with him. I was the epitome of ignorance: a suburban Memphis punk who had never camped out a day in my life. Everything was new – the weight of the pack on my shoulders, the pounding on my feet, the slow travel, the seemingly ceaseless climbs. But I was up for the challenge. For most of us the competition stops after high school—but not for those who explore the outdoors. I was still seeking to compete against myself and push my boundaries. In fact, I had chosen our hike, the unmaintained Porter’s Flat Manway, after consulting a hiking guide to the Smokies which stated, “This is the most difficult trail in this entire guidebook. Don’t do it!” Away we went, up to the crest of the Smokies, the sweat of a late summer afternoon pouring down my temples, the searing sensation in my calves following each step, the wondering when it would be over. It was just like running wind sprints in basketball practice. I hated it. And I loved it. Then the rain came. We donned our ponchos and continued, a combination of sweat and shower soaking my entire body. At the Porter’s Flat campsite, the maintained trail ended. We forged on. The manway was marked with rock cairns, little piles of rock left by previous hikers to show the way. It was starting to get really hard. Did I have it in me? The trailbed steepened, but the rock cairns were still there to guide the way. Then we came to an open jumbled rock field rising up several watery ravines. No cairns were visible. The two of us vainly searched the sloping mountainside for a marker. I hadn’t thought to bring a compass. So we headed straight up the steepest ragged gulch. This was more challenge than I bargained for. I became dizzied and unbalanced due to my heavy pack. But I collected my composure. Perched almost 5,000 feet high, we alternately climbed, slithered, and crawled upward until the painful toil of every muscle screamed out. At last, we had reached the top. At the trail shelter later that evening, I reflected on my freshly learned lessons about backpacking. The most important one has remained with me for over two decades: A positive frame of mind is of paramount importance in the wilderness. I try to be one with mountains and read their moods and adapt to whatever comes my way, using whatever resources I have at the time. My mind is always a resource. That’s why I rely on it as my most trusted piece of equipment. There are many physical reasons to get outside, too. On the trail, calories are furiously consumed. The legs get an absolute workout, toting body and gear. Setting up and operating in camp, gathering wood, bending over to erect your shelter, and scrambling over rocks and roots all work your muscles in ways no machine can recreate. Like the rain clouds overhead, the ever-changing natural gymnasium of the great outdoors continues to shape both my body and spirit. Johnny Molloy, the author of over 40 outdoor guidebooks, resides in Johnson City, Tenn., though he averages 180 nights per year camping out. Learn more at johnnymolloy.com.

Johnny Molloy

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Johnny Molloy

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