Big Pond Turtle

The hike to find ‘Ephraim’s Place’, an elusive, supposedly scenic, view overlooking the Nolichucky River Gorge from the furthermost southern ridge on Unaka Mountain, was a bit of an adventure.  Situated along the Tennessee—North Carolina border, my plan was to hike up to the southernmost Unaka Ridge via Curly Maple Gap and the Appalachian Trail from the trail-head at Jones Branch.  Despite having gotten up early, it was already quite hot by the time I started trekking up the trail into Jones Branch; fortunately the woods were shady and still holding in some of the coolness from the previous night, and I was able to reach the shelter at Curly Maple Gap in good time.  There, I was greeted by a black dog with white markings (which reminded me quite a lot of my old dog, Buford) along with three section hikers, ‘Duct tape’, ‘Chainsaw’, and ‘Bug’.  I spent some time in friendly trail-conversation with them before hiking up to the old gap-trail that intersects the Appalachian Trail at Curly Maple Gap.

Indian Pipe (poisonous)

Turning south upon this trail, I began the long, steady ascent to the top of the ridge.  After about half a mile, or so, I saw a boot track in a marshy place on the trail, and since I didn’t think anyone ever walked this trail, I had to wonder if I was somehow walking in circles.  Past experience on this end of Unaka Mountain has proven to me how easy it is to get lost there—it is like the ‘Bermuda Triangle’ of mountain ridges, or so it seems at times.  Before long, however, I encountered a fellow hiking down the trail, he seemed to be as surprised to see me as I was to see him.  Anyway, I soon found out that this fellow, Wade Franklin, lives near Martins Creek Falls, where the gap-trail begins in Erwin (to see Mr. Franklin’s Flickr photo page, click ‘here‘).  He informed me that I was only about a quarter mile from the top, which was good news.

View of The Bald Mountain Chain

The view from a prominent knob on top of the ridge wasn’t nearly as good as I had anticipated, having grown up in trees along the state line; I believe the view would be much better during the winter months, when the leaves are off the trees. I did, however, salvage a view of the river gorge and the mountain ranges to the south by descending off the edge of the ridge (onto the North Carolina side) where I found a small, and steep, open area.  It was difficult terrain to negotiate, but I managed to get a couple of photos across the gorge of Flattop Mountain and the Bald Mountain Chain, including the Hogback Ridges in the distance, all while trying to swat sweat bees and the kamikaze eye-gnats that can be so irritating.  I had thoughts about moving down the ridgeline to the actual place that is designated on the map as ‘Ephraim’s Place’, but I saw a couple of ‘No Trespassing’ signs, and even though I was technically on the state line, the boundary between the private land of Tennessee and the wilderness area of North Carolina, I thought (unhappily), perhaps I should consult the Forest Service, or current land owners, as I try to be respectful of property rights. One would think that would be the end of the adventure, but to my complete surprise, when I had returned to Curly Maple Gap Shelter, sitting at the picnic table was my friend and former thru-hiker (1997, I think) John ‘Haney’ Tackett (‘Nice Guy from Alabama’), whom I had met on the trail to Curly Maple Gap just last fall while taking photos of the autumn colors.  I stayed at the shelter and talked with him for at least two hours.  When I finally did leave to hike back to the car at the Nolichucky River, the entire walk back I just had to smile and wonder ‘did that really just happen?’  I mean, what are the odds of running into ‘Haney’ twice on the same trail section—the only 2 times he has been there in the last year?  Anyway, meeting the 3 section-hikers, Wade Franklin, and having the unexpected opportunity to converse with my trail-friend ‘Haney’ certainly did brighten my day considerably, and took much of the sting out of not getting to go to the increasingly elusive ‘Ephraim’s Place’.

Yellow Fungus found on Flattop Mountain

There was another extraordinary hike to write about:  The hike to ‘Joe Lewis Fields’ on Flattop Mountain.  Having failed to get a view from the ‘Ephraim’s Place’ on Unaka Mountain, I decided that perhaps I could get a somewhat similar view of the Nolichucky River Gorge from the fields atop Flattop Mountain.  I had been there once before, probably 20 years ago, having climbed up there from ‘Lost Cove’ (a deserted mountain community) during one of the trail club’s (Rat Patrol Hiking Club) adventures ‘back in the day.’  I parked the car at just below a meadow in ‘Devil’s Creek Gap’, near the intersection of several trails, including the Appalachian Trail, The Devil’s Creek Trail, and the Lost Cove Trail (and of course the Forest Service Road (#278) I drove in on).  Beyond the meadow was a gate that blocked the road access onto Flattop Mountain, but that wasn’t a problem since, no longer having a 4-wheel drive, I had anticipated walking from there anyway.

Butterfly in meadow on Flattop Mountain

It is a long story, about how I saw several wild turkeys, and passed by a couple more nice mountain meadows, and yet was never able to find the ‘Joe Lewis Fields’, instead only managing to wander around lost over the Flattop Mountain, so you should hopefully consider it a ‘mercy-edit’ for me to boil all that down to just this one sentence– okay, that is not possible, but I did try.  Although it was quite interesting being lost upon this mountain, and witnessing some of the amazingly twisted trees that still stand there, it was also quite humbling, and the realization of walking around with a map and a compass in my hand is almost always ‘a bad thing.’  Fortunately, along with the safety features of telling someone where I was going, and not panicking, I had paid close attention to my route on the way up to the top of the ridge, always veering ‘up and to the left’ at every split in the ever-diminishing trail, so on the way back down, I did the exact opposite (heading due south) and before too long was able to find the 4-wheel drive trail, connecting with it just above the 3rd meadow.

Twisted Gnarley Tree on Flattop Mountain

Once again, one would think that would be the end of the adventure, but it wasn’t.  For some reason, I decided to take a short-cut through the last meadow, stopping a couple of times to take photos of meadow flowers; somehow I managed to pause in this capacity only a few feet away from a creature, who’s sharp, loud cries startled me quite a lot.  Thinking that I was about to be eaten by a hungry mountain lion, perhaps, I turned to see what at first glance appeared to be a baby fox.  The second glance, however, revealed an abandoned, scared and skinny orange tabby kitten.  It took a couple of minutes to coax the poor kitty out of the meadow-jungle, where I could grab a-hold of him.  The ride back to town was also an adventure, having to keep the windows up (the a/c is broken) while having a kitten climb all over me and the steering wheel.  Fortunately this kitten, who has since been named ‘Shere Khan’ for his tiger-like features and tiger-like gait, was adopted by a friend of mine just a day later.  Anyway, from these two adventures, I learned that sometimes finding what you aren’t really looking for is sometimes better than finding the things you were actually trying to find.

Shere Khan (kitty found on Flattop Mountain)

There was another hike on the opposite end of Unaka Mountain, in which I walked in from Iron Mountain Gap to the Shelter at Cherry Gap.  It had been a few years since I had been there, and I was seeking a little more variety in my hike locations.  Also, I was aware of the new Appalachian Trail relocation last year, and really like what the Konnarock Crew and the ATC have done with the trail through there—it is so much nicer than the old trail.  I was about halfway to the shelter, walking along the top of the ridge, when a big rain storm blew in quite suddenly.  I had seen an overhanging rock ledge just a few minutes before the storm hit, and re-traced my steps back to there; of course, I was already soaking wet by then, but didn’t mind because it was altogether refreshing, but sat under the rock ledge for the rest of the rain shower, nevertheless.  The storm blew over rather quickly, and I continued on through the fresh breeze to the shelter just beyond Cherry Gap, where a group of Boy Scouts from Columbus, Ohio were already making camp.  I returned to the Iron Mountain Gap along the rain-soaked trail, at times walking within a cloud—it was very peaceful and the air was cool and fresh.

Rock Shelter

The hike from Sam’s Gap to Hogback Ridge Shelter was also a good time.  The trail was still wet from a recent shower, but mostly what I remember about this leisurely walk was finding a patch of delicious wild strawberries on my way back.  They were awesome.

Lil Brown Mushrooms near Hogback Ridge

Just one other mountain trek to document here:  a loop hike over Buffalo Mountain.  I had the intention of taking photos of ‘pink lady slippers’ (exotic wildflowers) but never did find any.  Having heard reports of rattlesnakes being spotted up there, I was also somewhat hoping to get a photo of one of them, as well, but again, did not see any.  Instead I hiked up to the summit and around to the White Rock Cliffs, stopping occasionally to eat ripened blueberries.  The blueberries in the higher elevations were much better, as the berries on the lower portion of the park trail were inexplicably crunchy—perhaps they were over-ripe.

Blueberries on Buffalo Mountain

View from White Rock Cliffs on Buffalo Mountain

I want to thank Rat Patrol for sending in all the cool photos of  the Trail Days Parade, and all the other photos, as well, and hope that he and his ribs are healing and able to get back out on the trails before long.  I also want to express my condolences to the friends and family of ‘Brother Dave’ Jackson, who was a one-of-kind bluegrass aficionado, and friend to many.  Also, condolences go out to the friends and family of a great family friend and neighbor, Dr. Mark Airhart.  I would also like to pay my respects to the family and friends of Senior Airman Benjamin White, an American Hero, who was killed in action last month in Afghanistan…none of us should forget the sacrifice this young man made for our country.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~boulderman   7/7/2010

TRAIL DAYS…

First off, there was ‘Trail Days’, the hiker festival in Damascus, Virginia.  I didn’t get over the mountain until Saturday afternoon, and missed out on the parade, but did receive reports about it, including ‘the good, the bad, and the ugly’.  It is not unusual for some of the hikers in the parade to dress up in strange costumes, like the fellow who wore a trash can that one year, or ’Pirate’, an infamous trail-hiker, who is known for some of his ingenious and creative getups, but having heard of the fellow wearing a pink tutu (not sure who he was), I wasn’t very upset about missing out on the parade, after all.  I also missed out on the hiker’s talent show.  Oh, well…

Trail Days 2010

Camping for the 3rd year in a row at ‘Hoppy and Birdy’s’ place on the outskirts of town, I enjoyed seeing several trail-friends, many of whom I haven’t seen since last year’s ‘Hairnt-fest at Hoppy’s.’  It rained awhile that afternoon, cooling things off and making for nice nap-weather, at least until I realized that part of the soothing ‘dripping’ sounds I was hearing were actually rain drops somehow leaking through one of my old tarps and into my shelter.  The wind blew off another tarp, so I had to re-adjust everything to make the shelter more satisfactory; ‘stealth-tarping’ can be like that sometimes.

Hoppy and Birdie's front porch

Speaking of ‘stealth-tarps’, the inventor of the Appalachian stealth-tarp, Strider (the Trail Legend of ’93-‘94), was there at Hoppy’s, and I got to talk to him about stealth-tarp designs, and such, including the time he couldn’t find his stealth-tarp at Whistling Gap—now that is true stealth!

I did take my guitar with me this year, having promised ‘Paw Paw’ that I would play him a song (he requested a song last year, but I didn’t have a guitar).  I never did see Paw Paw, however, which was unfortunate, because he is such an awesome fellow and a good friend, but did play guitar for quite a while both nights that I stayed in Damascus.   Paw Paw’s son, ‘Matt-man-du’ was there, however, and we had a good time jamming by the side-door.  His request—the ‘…beat the $#!% outta you’ song (aka ‘the Industrial Strength Love Song’)–seemed to get the evening started off on the right rowdy footing, and before long, many people were gathered around Hoppy and Birdy’s side-door singing along.  Rat Patrol, Donny Reb, and a couple other quality musicians joined in with the impromptu jam session, despite the light rain that began to fall.

Bol'Dar jamming

Sometime during Saturday’s live music session, (I’m not sure where I was) one of the musicians (Donny) took a moment to get on his knees and propose to his girlfriend—she said ‘Yes’. ..I can’t believe I missed that.  One of my favorite moments of the evening was when Hoppy turned and looked at me and said ‘See what you’ve done?’  I wasn’t sure if I should apologize, but he and everyone seemed to be having a good time, so I took the phrase as a ‘good thing’.  Another quality moment was when I had just finished a song, looked up, and the ‘Mailman’ was there, saying ‘Welcome home.’  I did feel welcome and right at home, and very grateful to have so many good friends around.

Donny Reb proposing marriage

“Lowrider’, who had been working near the Gazebo all day, made an entertaining and dramatic entrance, wearing his funky, colorful suit and an ‘Elvis’ cape, and took group photo’s of most everyone by the side-door.  Later still, we were all entertained with the rather amazing ‘fire art’ of ‘Turbo Joe’.  It was pretty awesome.

LowRider and Bol'Dar

Turbo Joe doing his Fire Art

The next day, Sunday, I spent some quality time talking with ‘Okeepa’, and helped to carry water up to Birdy’s chicken coop.  I was impressed by the ingenious anti-raccoon fencing she had installed (there had been several incidents last year, with not only raccoons, but with a rude dog that attacked her rooster, ‘KFC’).   While we were feeding and watering the chickens up behind the barn, the turkey that ‘Strider’ and ‘Hoppy’ had been deep frying was finished, and I was told to help myself, if I wanted.  It was a funny thing, by the time I walked into the kitchen, the turkey was only a skeleton, as if someone had vacuumed the meat right off the bones.  That’s hikers for you!  You just got to love it.  I couldn’t help but laugh to myself, remembering the scene from the movie ‘Trinity’ (the ‘spaghetti western’), where Trinity’s family was devouring a turkey buzzard like savage beasts. Obviously, someone had ‘had a li’l run-in and, uh, ran out’.

Birdie and Okeepa

It soon became an incredibly lazy afternoon, however, and many of the campers left for home, wherever that may be. We all said our ‘Hairnt-byes’ to them, and the front lawn began to thin out.  Hoppy and Birdy both took naps on the front porch while it rained, and I was seriously thinking about packing up and driving back over the mountain, when finally Birdy got up, inspired to drink some Irish coffee, and told me I wasn’t going anywhere.  I was glad that someone made the decision for me, as I can be rather indecisive at times, and determined that since I wasn’t going anywhere, I could start on the noble occupation of drinking beer again.

Hoppy and Birdie asleep

The Sunday night party was less populated, but just as much fun as the Friday night party, and I got to play more guitar under Johnny Reb’s tarp in the ‘island’ part of the front lawn.  I couldn’t help but laugh when Birdy slipped and fell in the mud, not once but twice–I was glad I stayed an extra day.

After helping with the clean-up crew on Monday, sorting the aluminum cans from the actual trash, and after having a cup of coffee or two with the rest of the clean-up crew, I finally packed up and went back to Tennessee.  It was good to see so many trail-friends.  Many Thanks To Hoppy and Birdy for all the hospitality!

There was another brief camping expedition at the ‘Big Bone Lick State Park’ in northern Kentucky.  Having stayed there for a night, I can say that this campground is the quietest campground I have ever encountered.  Being Mother’s Day weekend, the campground was completely full, but despite that fact, that night it was eerily quiet.  There were no babies crying, people snoring; not even the dogs would venture a bark.  The next morning, when the Sun began to rise, it seemed as if even the birds were hesitant to sing.  I would have liked to have hung out there longer and seen more of the park, but I was traveling on someone else’s schedule.

THE HIKES…

There were just a few hikes to mention.  The first was a hot, yet windy hike over the Beauty Spot section of Unaka Mountain.  The views were very good from the bald.  There was another hike from Spivey Gap to Whistling Gap (and back); it was a beautiful day and I met several thru-hikers (and a couple of section hikers) on the trail.  There were many wild flowers blooming, including the mayapples, which made the air smell more like perfume.  I enjoyed cooling my feet off in the Spivey Creek before heading down off of the Mountain.  The last hike of May was a leisurely climb up Cliff Ridge above the Nolichucky River Gorge.  During this hike, not only did I see one of the largest birds I have ever seen in the wild, but I also encountered a camouflaged lizard.  Also, I didn’t realize it at the time, but I also came into contact with some nasty, leg-chewing chiggers.

View from High Rocks

OTHER STUFF…

I want to take a moment to ‘con-hairnt-ulate’  ‘Jonny Bluegrass and Mermaid’ for having their first child, a baby girl named ‘Vivian’.

Jonny with baby Vivian and Ruth Buzzy

I also want to wish a speedy recovery to the ‘Web Wizard’, who somehow managed to crash a motorcycle and cracked a few ribs and injured his arm.  Also, I hope ‘Legs’ has recovered with his accidental fall into ‘some kind of ornamental palm tree’ with sharp, needle-like leaves that kept him from coming to ‘Trail Days’ this year.

More adventure soon, I hope…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~boulderman   6/10/10

View from Sampson Mountain of the Clarks Creek Valley

The Waterfall Hikes…

The first adventure was a trip to Simmons Branch with ‘Rat Patrol‘ and ‘Tyler’ to check out some waterfalls.  Actually, it was Rat’s idea that we should go there, having scouted out the Lower Simmons Branch Falls during the frozen winter months. He had also studied the map and mountain lore of that area; all I had to do was go.  It sounded like a fairly easy, low-stress, expedition for a Good Friday morning, and since I had never been to these falls, I was quite content to let Rat lead the way.

Simmons Branch falls (lower)

The Lower Simmons Branch Falls (35-feet) were very nice, with a fair amount of water flowing off the top and down into an interesting fractured arched-rock strata framed with moss and laurels.  After taking a few photos, we climbed around the steep hillside on the left to the top of a prominent rock ledge, where we stopped and ate a snack.  From there we followed an old road bed, which quickly disintegrated, and we found ourselves climbing down a steep embankment back to the creek,  a little ways above the lower falls.  The valley had widened here considerably, and the trail, following the creek, was uncomplicated, gradually ascending the valley to the fascinating Middle Simmons Branch Falls.

Simmons Branch Falls (middle)

The ‘middle set’ of Simmons Branch Falls is actually three falls in one.  The ‘triplet set’, are said to be 55-feet in height, but I think they are somewhat taller.  According to local legend, there was a three-tier set of falls which the Indians of this area used to bathe in; this set of three-falls-in-one resembles that place perfectly.

From there, it was just a short trek up the creek to the Upper Simmons Branch Falls—another very impressive (75-foot) waterfall on Rich Mountain. After resting awhile, and taking a few photos at the bottom of these majestic falls, I decided to climb them. It was a fairly steep climb, but worth the effort.

Simmons Branch Falls (upper)

On the way back, after finding a better trail back to the old 4-wheel drive road, we located the ‘Eastern’ Branch of Simmons Creek Falls.  Simmons Branch is surprisingly rich with waterfalls.

Eastern Branch, Simmons falls

There was another ‘waterfall’ hike; again inspired by ‘Rat Patrol’ (he is very good at devising and organizing hikes).  Once again, he found another waterfall in the area I have never visited—Elk River Falls.  This waterfall is quite remarkable, and very easy to access (you can drive right to the top of them).  Also known as ‘Big Falls’, this waterfall is 45-feet tall and has a large green pool into which the substantial river flow drops down into over an enormous, solid rock.

Elk River Falls (Big Falls)

From there, it is only about a mile and a half hike up to ‘Jones Falls’, an awe-inspiring 100-foot waterfall.  The trail to these falls is only 100-feet off of the Appalachian Trail, which passes through that area to and from Roan Mountain.  While we were there eating lunch, we met a few hikers, a nice woman hiking the A.T. named ‘Red Hat’, and a friendly couple with a pair of Australian Cattle Dogs.  Rat mentioned that there was another, smaller, set of falls above these amazing 100-footers and we decided to see what they looked like.  After a steep climb up and around the falls, and a bush-whack back to the creek, we managed to find these obscure cascades.  From there we decided to do a loop hike back to the car, which challenged our map skills, as the trail we were to take was poorly marked and buried in laurel hells in places.

Jones Falls

Sampson Mountain Hike…

Looking back, I am not sure why I decided to climb Sampson Mountain that day. Perhaps it was indecision that put me there, or maybe it was just a bad decision.  It could have been because I was bored and forgot how much pain Sampson Mountain could inflict upon someone, but in any event, my logistics were off by a of couple  ‘clicks’ and I ended up scouting out an old roadbed that began leading up into, what I have been calling ‘the cleft’ in the main Sampson Ridge-line.  To be more accurate, it is the steep hollow that eventually cuts the gap in the ridge-top just southwest of what the genius mapmakers have labeled ‘Flattop’.  Of course, ‘Flattop’, besides being a reference point on the map, is actually an exaggeration or myth, perhaps some kind of mapmakers’ evil humor.  Not only is nothing around there ‘flat’, but there is also an elevation change of nearly +2200-feet (height above Clarks Creek where the ‘trail’ begins)—it is a steep climb.

Rocks on Sampson Mountain.

Starting out, the remnants of the old roadbed were clearly visible, and the terrain wasn’t very steep as yet, but before long, the road disintegrated and was just a small creek buried in laurel hells.  I thought I saw a seam on the point of the ridge leading up on the right side, and following the path of least resistance, began climbing the ridge.  I probably should have turned around, since my legs were getting shredded by the sharp, dense undergrowth (it was a hot day and I was wearing shorts), and my arms, legs, and everything else were getting chewed up on by ‘vampire’ gnats, but the higher I climbed the more amazing the views became.  I knew it was going to be a rough hike, and was starting to feel a bit foolish and somewhat discouraged when the turkey buzzards started flying over me, but knew if I could just get to the top of the main ridge-line, there was an ‘easier’ trail that I could take back to the road on Clarks Creek.  The thought of going back through what I had just climbed up did not appeal to me at all, and I eventually reached the top of the ridge, and walked it the rest of the way up to ‘Flattop’, where I could access the ridge-trail down to the top of the next big hollow.  I really wanted to go over and sit on what I call ‘the big rock knob’, (a huge rock on the next peak southwest of ‘Flattop’) where the view is mostly unobstructed; I could look across ‘the cleft’ and see it shining in the Sun.  However, it was late-afternoon Sunshine that was reflecting off of the rock, and I had no intention of still being on the mountain after dark.  Also, my shins ached with much pain if even a flower petal were to bump into them, so I started off the mountain.

View from Sampson Mountain

The top of ‘Hell Hollow’ is an interesting place; it is a low spot on the ridge just northeast of that beastly, mythic place known as ‘Flattop’.  There actually is some flat area on top of the ridge, as it curves around the top of the large mountain hollow, enough for several people to camp, if they had the guts.  And how could anyone forget the gnarly, old tree that stands at the top of the hollow, like the soul of ‘hell hollow’ itself.  Admiring the old tree, I broke off the top of the ridge and began my descent into ‘hell hollow’, where the Sun had already set behind the tall, steep ridges.  This was a real blessing, because before long the ‘bloody flying orcs’ finally called it a day and quit biting on me, and there was still plenty of residual sunlight filtering into the hollow from above.  It took awhile, but I made it back to Clarks Creek without incident other than residual pain.  I still had a mile of gravel road-walking to do to get back to the car; it was getting rather dark by the time I got there.  There is a pretty good chance that will be going back to the ‘big rock knob’ on Sampson Mountain sometime fairly soon, it is unlikely I will ever climb that beastly ridge ever again… though some of the views were really good.

View from Sampson Mountain, Looking toward Buckeye Falls

More Trail Adventures…

There were 3 more Appalachian Trail treks in April.  The first one was an afternoon hike up to Jones Branch Falls with one of my brothers.  He said he had never been to Jones Branch before, and I gave him the option of whether to hike to the shelter or the falls, and he chose the falls.  I told him that the trail to them was ‘a bit rough’, but I don’t think he believed me (he will next time, maybe).  Anyway, the falls are always nice to look at, but obviously they are more impressive when there is a higher volume of water flowing.

Jones Branch Falls

Small falls before Jones Branch falls

I also did a 6-mile trek on the ‘Flint Gap’ section of the A.T., and another 6-miler on the ‘Big Bald/Sam’s Gap section’.  It was hot and dry nearly every trip out, and with the leaves of the trees still dormant in the higher elevations, it seemed more like August, and the threat of forest fire was substantial.

Devil Fork Gap

More adventures later…

~~~~~~~~~~~boulderman          5/10/2010

Back to Buckeye Falls…

A couple of days after getting back from Buckeye Falls (see previous blog), I showed the foggy waterfall photos that I took from the ridge to my trail-hiking buddy, ‘Rat Patrol’—he said he ‘fell out of (his) chair’ when he saw them.  It was soon apparent that he wanted to go back and view the falls from that vantage point for himself.  After counseling, we made plans to leave on our expedition early on a Saturday morning (March 6th).  The weather cooperated, and despite being plagued by insomnia, we were on the trail by 8 a.m.  His son Tyler, who had never been to the falls, also went on the adventure.

Buckeye Falls

It was a cold, but sunny, morning and the creek crossings were a little easier to traverse than they were just 11 days earlier when I had hiked up the creek solo.  There was snow on the ground, and the further in the valley we went, the deeper the snow became.  The trail wasn’t easy to follow, but it was made a little easier to navigate by tracing the paw-tracks of a large cat-like animal that had wandered up the valley since the snow had fallen.

Everything went pretty well, and since it was ‘Rat Patrol’ who had first taken me to see the incredible waterfalls back in 1987, I must say it was rather rewarding to be the one to lead the way for him and his son (who wasn’t even born the last time Rat Patrol had been to Buckeye Falls) up the steep ridgeline to where a view of the falls, and the sheer cliff wall adjacent to the falls, was attainable.

Buckeye Falls

Having been in a dense rain-cloud on the previous trip up the ridge, I was well compensated for the effort, viewing the falls again without obstruction, for the most part.  I was also surprised at how well one can view the end of the Clark’s Creek Valley, where Sampson Mountain and Rich Mountain butte together.

Butte end of Clarks Creek

The trip back down the ridge was quite an adventure, because of the steep inclination and the boot-deep snow.  We all had traction issues, and at times slid out of control down the point of the ridge.  The thorny briers and shrubbery, however, held us back somewhat (the only time I have found a use for these strong, rope-like, thorns) and we reached the base of the ridge without too many injuries.   Rat made the comment on the way back that the ridge hike up the steep Buckeye-ridge made the ‘Meat-grinder Ridge‘ seem like a piece of cake; it was pretty extreme.

Buckeye Falls

The Sill Branch Hikes…

There were two hikes into Sill Branch in March.  The first one was a solo hike to both the upper and lower falls in the rain.  Worth mentioning, besides the enjoyable nature and scenic beauty of the falls themselves, and the view over to the Sill Branch Overlook, was the dreadful and degraded condition of the trail to the upper falls.  There was one cluster of fallen trees in particular on the trail that necessitated climbing around the entire mess, which is easier said than done on that steep side-hill.  There was a rather thin vine that I used to pull myself up (‘Batman and Robin’ style) to a level where I could finally get around the massive cluster.  If the vine had broken, I would have fallen backwards for 15 or 20 feet, but I was lucky that it was strong enough hold my weight.

Sill Branch Falls (upper)

The second hike was with ‘Rat Patrol’ and Tyler to the Sill Branch Overlook—the cliffs on the northern end of the Sill Branch Valley which we have nicknamed ‘The Monkey-Head Rocks’.  Upon closer examination, however, some of the cliff-rocks more resemble Picasso-like abstract art-faces, giant birds, Sphinx-heads, and other monstrous creatures.  Then again, there are one or two that look like ‘Monkey-heads’, if you have an imagination.  It was very sunny out on the overlook-rocks, and we cooked beneath the March Sun, at least until we found a nice shady place right on top of the line of cliff-rocks with a nice breeze, and a view of the lower Sill Branch Falls.

Bol'Dar on the Monkey-head 'Sphinx' rock (Sill Branch Overlook)

A funny thing happened on the way back from the Overlook, when ‘Rat Patrol‘ fell in the creek!

Trail Maintenance Trip…

There was one volunteer trail maintenance trip on the Appalachian Trail; Rat Patrol was dropped off at Big Bald and came down the trail section (Little Bald to Spivey Gap) while I went in from Spivey Gap, cutting and dragging what fallen trees that I could out of the trail.  I thought that I had had a rough time, what with all the cuts, scrapes and bruises, until we met up later at ‘Whistling Gap’ and I heard his story.  After a brief counsel, listening to Rat’s ordeal of (trying) to walk in waist deep, crust covered snow, we hiked out the Forest Service Road that runs below Whistling Gap back to Spivey Gap.

tree fungus near Whistling Gap

The Appalachian Trail Hikes…

There were two other hikes on the Appalachian Trail; a 6-mile solo hike to Curly Maple Gap and back, and a hike (with the ‘Rat Patrol family’) to Laurel Fork Falls.  The hike to Curly Maple Gap was uneventful, for the most part, but I was happy to see that the trail crews responsible for that section of trail had cleaned up all the winter storm damage (many fallen trees) out of the trail—they really did a great job, hats off to those folks!

First moth of 2010 in Jones Branch

The hike to Laurel Fork Falls was pleasant, although quite chilly in the morning, and genuinely hot in the afternoon.  I expected to see a lot of people on the trail (that is a very popular section), but was amazed at how many people we encountered during the hike, including another trail crew, sawing blow-downs out of the trail.

Cascades along Jones Branch

Laurel Falls

Thanks to Dave, Melissa, and Rat Patrol for all their impressive additions to the Trailstealth photo gallery.  More adventures soon, I hope…

~~~~~~~~~~~Boulderman    3/31/10

Likewise, it is difficult to comprehend what the ancient-complexions of specific places within the range itself must have once appeared, such as the phenomenal ‘Buckeye Falls’ on Rich Mountain, part of the Unaka Range.  It is unimaginable to know just how tall and how sheer the cliff that these amazing waterfalls now navigate must have been like millions of years ago.  Even today, at an estimated 600 feet tall, Buckeye Falls is technically the largest waterfall in North America east of the Rocky Mountains.

Buckeye Falls

Situated within the reclusive Sampson Wilderness, Buckeye Falls is the most impressive, yet desolate, waterfall I have personally witnessed, and consider her (I always refer to waterfalls in a ‘feminine’ manner…) stunning and ‘untamable’.  I have never heard who was the first person to ‘discover’ the immense cliff with falling water, or why ‘she’ is so inappropriately named, but I imagine Native Americans were most likely the first people to scout the deep hollow long before recorded history in North America.  I cannot help but wonder what name these first Appalachians had for the cliffs.  Perhaps they were regarded as ‘sacred’, which is what I like to think.

Fed by two springs near the top of Rich Mountain, that soon combine into one small stream, the colossal size of the sheer rock facing fairly dwarfs the size of the water source as it eventually ends up at the base of the falls.  The enormous size of the rock-cliff at the base obstructs the view of the upper levels of the falls, so that the only complete view must be taken at a distance from one of the two immediate ridges that fork their way around the narrow, yet steep-sided mountain valley.  I have, however, seen fairly good photos of the upper levels of the falls taken from a vantage point on Chigger Ridge (on Rich Mountain), but the ridges that wrap around the Buckeye hollow, like two talons on an giant eagles claw, apparently obscures the enormous rock wall which are the lower levels of the intriguing waterfall.

Buckeye Falls

I have read that a good amount of the water actually becomes a vapor during the long, free-falling phases of the streams journey (there are several ledges where the water freefalls, between 50 and 75 feet at a time, that allow this water to vaporize into the air) and ends up at the base of the falls as a heavy mist instead of flowing water.

Caution should always be the first priority when visiting these dangerous falls.  I do not recommend anyone to try to climb the cliff, because it is far too dangerous.  That would be a really bad place to break a leg!  Without ropes and heavy-duty climbing equipment, there are only two feasible routes, and that would be the ridge climb on either side of the falls, starting back at Clarks Creek, and not the falls themselves. Of course, you should expect these routes to be overgrown and very steep.  During the winter season, beware of large chunks of ice falling from the cliff facing, which can also be hazardous.  In the summer, of course, pay attention for snakes, bears and other wildlife.

Buckeye Falls

Anyway, I first visited the falls during a ‘Rat Patrol Hiking Club’ adventure hike way back in 1987, and have had several more interesting adventures there since then, but none recently.  Actually it has been 16 years since the last time I had seen the amazing waterfall, so I decided that I would hike out to Buckeye Falls—a 3 ½ mile trek—and climb the left ridge in an effort to get a view of the falls from there.

Buckeye Falls

It was raining steadily almost all day, and the creek crossings were difficult to navigate as the creek is running fairly big right now, thanks to the recent melting snow and rain. I somehow managed to fall into Clarks Creek about a quarter mile before I reached the entrance to the Buckeye Hollow, so I was quite wet by the time I had climbed the ridge.  The ridgeline was very steep, by-the-way, but I did eventually get a nice view of the ice-covered cliff-walls.  As soon as I got there, however, a cloud moved down from the mist-enshrouded mountain tops and somewhat hid the upper levels of the waterfall in the dense fog.  I also noticed that sound had a way of playing tricks with my ears on that side-ridge, where I thought I heard voices more than once, which is completely unexplainable.

The climb down the steep ridgeline was almost as brutal as the ascent, perhaps more-so, since it is easier to bruise a big toe while descending.  By the time I returned to the Clarks Creek, my toes, and feet in general, were getting quite sore and my quadriceps and all the other ‘Gittyup and Go’,’Whoa Nellie’ and even the ‘Granny Gear’ –leg muscles were either smokin’ hot or leaking oil–maybe both.  Anyway, it was kind of cold and my balance was a bit off kilter on the 3 ½  mile return hike, so I mostly just splashed my way across the creek-fords fairly quickly, knowing there was a dry pair of shoes waiting for me back at the trail-head.

In retrospect, after the cloud oozed down the mountainside and lingered in front of the upper levels of the waterfalls, it seemed to me like ‘Buckeye’, a totally inappropriate name for a waterfall so wild and untamable, is actually a shy, reclusive waterfall, still existing in relative solitude in among the ancient mountains of the Unaka Range.  Even so, despite the cold and rain, I enjoyed my time viewing the somber waterfall, and considered the adventure a success.

There are only a couple other hikes to mention; a afternoon trek up Cliff Ridge on the Appalachian Trail, with nice views of the Nolichucky River, and an interesting snow-hike on Buffalo Mountain.

Many thanks to the Web-Wizard for adding the ‘Trail Stories’ pages back to the website, and for all the other website management there is to deal with.  Also, for more ‘stealth-approved’ adventure blogs, check out Rat Patrol’s blog at Rattreks.com if you want to; he has been doing quite a lot of interesting waterfall and snow hikes lately.

More adventures soon, I hope…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Boulderman                    3/2/2010

Indeed, it is still winter, and the mountains here are covered in snow right now, and a couple of days ago when I started to write this (Groundhogs Day) the clouds were so thick on the mountains that they were completely buried beneath them and I couldn’t even see the closest one.  It is very scenic, however, if you can get up into the mountains, but that can be a bit of a problem; and with the intermittent melting snow waters, rain and more snow, the creeks and waterfalls are moving at a fairly high volume.  With that in mind, my trail hiking buddy, ‘Rat Patrol’, wanted to hike out to a few of them and take photographs.

Dick Creek Falls

The first ‘waterfall hike’ was a 5 1/2 mile trek out to Dick Creek Falls on Unaka Mountain and back.  It had been over 20 years since the last time I had visited those falls; I used to camp near there in the summertime with friends, and swim in the cold pool of water beneath the falls–that was very refreshing, as I recall–but I wasn’t very tempted to jump in on the mid-January Saturday afternoon while we were there.  The weather was quite cool, and there was a layer of slushy snow in the trail from Rock Creek Park, where ‘Rat Patrol’, his son Tyler, and myself began our hike, all the way through Dick Creek Gap, beyond the ‘Rattlesnake Ridge’ trail, and to the well-hidden waterfall.  We had met a couple of friendly hikers on the way who were on their way back from the falls, so it was easy to follow their boot tracks in the snow, and avoid getting lost.  The falls are not very tall, only 22 feet, but they are pretty attractive, especially with a healthy flow of water plunging off the top and ice clinging to the sides.  On the way back we (inadvertently) decided to hike up the Rattlesnake Ridge Trail for a little while before returning to Rock Creek Park.

Rock Creek Falls (upper)

The next ‘waterfall hike’ was to the ‘Rock Creek Falls’—two impressive 50-footers on Unaka Mountain.  Although there are other – falls on that network of streams, these seem to be the largest and most visited ones.  Indeed, on the day we hiked up there, the entire creek looked like a cascading waterfall.  Again, it was ‘Rat Patrol’, Tyler, and myself, hiking out of Rock Creek Park for a 5 mile, round trip, hike; the weather was cold and quite windy.  There were several creek crossings we had to negotiate, which weren’t very easy because of the depth of the water, and we had to do some log-walking in places (I actually fell in on the way back).  We also ran into the same friendly hikers we had met the week before…again returning from the falls to which we were going.  The falls themselves were remarkable, if not spectacular, with much water flowing off the tops, and ice clinging to the cliff walls nearby.

Rock Creek Falls (lower)

After that trek, I decided to go out for a solo hike into the Sampson Wilderness one afternoon.  The plan was to hike up the Big Pine Ridge Knob—the one we have nicknamed ‘The Volcano’—and then out the narrow ‘land-bridge’ to the next knob on Big Pine Ridge, the one we call ‘The Pyramid’.  From there, I could either find a way down into either Sill Branch or Devil’s Fork, or continue hiking up the ridge beyond the cliffs that overlook the Devil’s Fork until I reached the old roadbed that connects with Sill Branch to the left and the road to Bearwallow Gap on the right.

Big Pine Ridge

It was another ‘extreme’ hike for me; while the weather was sunny, and a little bit cool, the trail was extremely rough, if not non-existent and very steep in places.  For long stretches at a time, with every step I took, I was either stepping over, under, or around some logs, while plowing my way through the hardwood saplings that are growing in on top of that part of the ridge as thick as grass, it seemed.  It was pretty frustrating, actually, as I kept tripping over blackened logs and getting swarped in the eyes and face with branches.  Whatever trail used to be up there between the knobs is now completely buried in fallen logs, saplings and stickers.

The Volcano

The hike didn’t start out too bad, having parked at the Sill Branch trailhead, but I had to really pace myself to get to the top of ‘The Volcano’ because of the sharp inclination from the Sill Branch side, but I gained quite a bit of altitude in only a half mile, or so.  The views from the top were very good, since I had a direct line of sight to the Sill Branch Overlook, the Sill Branch Valley, Devil’s fork, Longarm Ridge, the Longarm Valley, and I could even see over the top of the Longarm Ridge to view much of Sampson Mountain.  The trail over the narrow ‘land-bridge’, the connecting piece of mountain between the knobs, was as I described before, and by the time I reached the top of ‘The Pyramid’ I was very tired, and considering dropping back down into Sill Branch where I would come down right where the right fork splits again.  However, the moon was just rising over the ‘Meatgrinder Ridge’ and I could see the cliffs that overlook Devil’s Fork just up the Big Pine Ridge a ways, and having never stood on top of them, I was very tempted to continue on to them (I didn’t get the ‘Boulderman’ name by sniffing daisies, you know).

Moon over The Meatgrinder Ridge

Standing in the snow at the very edge of the cliffs overlooking Devil’s Fork is not the safest thing I have ever done, as one slip there could have been my last, and it is quite possible that no one would ever find me.  I was careful, though, if not just a little bit scared, and could look right down into the impressive Devil’s Fork Valley where so many cascading creeks and waterfalls reside.  Some people think that I am crazy, risking my life to take photos from rocky cliffs and such, but when you think about how many people slip, fall and subsequently die in their bathtubs every year, it is a risk that I am willing to take, experiencing what is left of the wilderness and enjoying the divine natural world while I still can.

Cliffs on Big Pine Ridge

In the end, despite being exhausted, I finished climbing the ridge to the old roadbed and followed some coyote tracks in the snow back to the south fork of Sill Branch.  From there, I followed the steep trail down, arriving back at the car just about dark.  It was a rough 6 mile hike, but worth the effort, I believe.

View from Big Pine Ridge

The very next day, my trail-hiking buddy ‘Rat Patrol’ called me wanting to go take more waterfall photos.  I was still tired and sore from the previous day’s hike, so I suggested that we go to ‘Red Fork Falls’ on Unaka Mountain.  Red Fork is a very impressive 100 foot waterfall when the water levels are up, like they are right now, and the trail down to them isn’t very far.  It is a bit steep, however, and quite slippery when the rocks are wet or iced over, so we proceeded with caution down to the bottom of the falls.  The water shooting off of the top was extraordinary, forming a large ‘rooster tail’ as it fell to the rocks below, churning in the deep pool at the bottom, and the sound of the water was so loud, I could not even hear what Rat was saying from only a few yards away.  There are more falls and cascades along the ‘Red Fork’ stream, both above and below the main falls, and they all were kicking butt that day!  It was a fun, and rewarding hike.

Red Fork Falls (upper)

More adventures soon, I hope…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Boulderman

Bol'Dar on Longarm Ridge

The first trip was a nice walk to the falls on Jones Branch near the Nolichucky River.  Fresh storm damage to the Appalachian Trail was obvious as soon as I entered the woods, with several large branches piled up and blocking the trail.  Not only were there large branches, but entire trees had fallen during the recent snow storm, including a 80-foot-tall oak tree that fell right beside the trail, leaving a 15-foot divot where the roots had been, another 60-footer that fell across the trail, and a large pine that fell right in the center, blocking about 50 feet of the trail.  There was also laurel thickets pushed over and across the trail, and evidence of recent flooding where the snow-melt waters had eroded certain portions.  The water levels were still quite high; the Jones Branch stream was moving briskly, and water was even springing up out of the ground in places.  At the second creek crossing, I had to do some slippery log-walking (something I used to enjoy) to avoid getting my feet wet.

White Fungus on log with nuts

The trail was so littered with trees, limbs, and debris, that it took a lot of extra time to maneuver around all of the obstacles and move forward up the valley–so much time that I had doubts whether I would be able to reach the beautiful stair-stepping waterfalls, but I persevered and reached the base of the largest set, leaving boot tracks in the snow.  I felt very blessed to be standing at the secluded waterfalls, and to be a creature of this marvelous planet, as I continue to be amazed by the wonders and the beauty of Nature.

Jones Branch Falls (right fork)

Next, there was an ‘extreme hiking’ trip up the very steep ‘Longarm Ridge’ of Rich Mountain, in the Sampson Wilderness, and back.  Indeed, it was a monstrous climb to the top of the ‘jump off’—the knife’s edge ridge top with a cluster of white pine trees upon it.  I had to pace myself, enduring several scrapes, scratches, and bruises, but managed to reach the top, where I was rewarded with stunning views everywhere I looked.

Cliffs on Longarm Ridge (Jump Off)

To one side was the entire Sampson Mountain and the Clarks Creek Valley, while on the other side was the entire Devil’s Fork Valley, The snow-topped Big Pine Ridge, and the entire Longarm Valley.  I could also see parts of Embreeville Mountain, the infamous snow-topped ‘meat-grinder ridge’, and parts of Sill Branch.  The ‘Volcano’, the knob on the far end of Big Pine Ridge, with cliff faces, ledges, and a massive rock spine was right across the deep valley from my vantage point on the Longarm Ridge.

Longarm Ridge Valley

The Longarm Ridge, a well-named behemoth, continued to snake out, around, and above me to the top of Rich Mountain, much like the Big Pine Ridge, except that the Big Pine Ridge has several ‘fingers’ which spread out as they fall in toward the Clarks Creek Valley, forming the many ‘forks’ of the Devil’s Fork Valley, while the Longarm Ridge is more singular and continuous.  The view was amazing.

Also amazing was the extraordinary and surprisingly thunderous echo of the Devil’s Fork Creek.  After descending back down from the extremely steep ‘jump-off’ ridge trail to a relatively flat place on the ridge, the cumulative sound of the water flowing across the valley was phenomenal.  I had to stop and listen to the sound for a while, despite the growing darkness.  The rest of the way down the ridge was relatively non-eventful, considering how intense and invigorating the scenery and the trail were that day.

More adventures soon…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Boulderman  1-11-10

Inspired by ‘Rat Patrol’ to hike up to the upper Devil’s Fork Falls, as we used to do with the hiking club quite often back in the late 80’s and early 90’s during the ‘waterfall tour’ hikes (which began in Sill Branch and ended at the foot of Longarm Ridge, some 9 miles later, after viewing at least 8 waterfalls and countless cascades) I met up with him and his son, Tyler, around noontime on a Saturday in mid-November.  In the ‘old days’, we used to take various people up there to the gorge-like upper falls just to blow their mind, which happened every time without fail.  After looking through the photos of trips past, it is amazing to think that we actually took his dog, Schwartz, down those rough, steep and narrow trails in the Devil’s Forks.

Lilybeth Falls

I was a bit surprised to learn that Rat had not been back to those falls since that time, after the hiking club dismantled and both he and I discovered the smoother trails on the Appalachian corridor and trail maintenance, nearly 20 years ago.  It had been a few years since I had been up there, also, so I decided to go with them.  Tyler, of course, had not even been born when those ‘Rat Patrol’ ‘waterfall tour’ adventures took place, and so it was perhaps Rat’s way of showing him the true wilderness that still exists not so far away.

Anyway, the plan was fairly simple; we would hike up the old Longarm Trail, which is regularly traveled by horses now, and well-beaten, and then take the old road (about 2 ½ miles up Rich Mountain before you get to Bear Wallow Gap) that traverses the meandering hollows of the upper Big Pine Ridge all the way to the to the last fork (another 1 ½ miles, approximately), the left branch of the Devil’s Fork.  From there we would follow the creek down to the upper falls, known as ‘Lilybeth Falls’ I am told (I never called them that, though I like the name).  Then we would climb down the cliff there, and then another cliff, where the ‘Devil’s Slide’ plunges through the ‘gorge’.  Then we would have to negotiate several more drop-offs, waterfalls and cliffs to climb down.  Perhaps you are sensing a theme?  Yes, there would be a whole lot of ‘climbing down’ cliffs and falls!

Lilybeth Falls

The adventure began well enough, the weather was very nice for hiking, and though we didn’t break any land-speed records, we made it up the mountain, beyond the upper ‘Longarm Falls’, (upper part of these falls seen here) and to the ‘Big Pine Ridge Road’ without any problems.  From there, however, we encountered a trail buried in ‘blow-downs’ where we found ourselves having to climb over, around and sometimes–crawling on our hands and knees–through giant clusters of fallen trees.  It was not just trees, either, but also stacked masses of fallen laurel hells blocking the trail, intermingled with briars, all of which combined to make our traveling slow and sometimes even painful.  I categorized the trail as ‘difficult to impassable’.  We persevered through the fallen jungle of debris, never-the-less, until we finally reached the last (north) fork of the Devil’s Fork Creek, and began our descent to the upper falls (‘Lilybeth Falls’).

Damage along devil's fork trail

Despite the years, we traversed our way down the rain-swollen creek beyond a couple of impressive cascades and found the way to the cliff above the falls without any problems.  There was a mutual feeling of accomplishment, standing above the raging waterfall, made that way from the remnants of tropical storm Ida passing through the area and dumping between 4-6 inches of rain a couple of days earlier.  We took a few moments to allow ourselves to be overwhelmed by the sheer 80-foot drop-off and the strength and power of the impressive waterfall.  However, what with the rough, nearly impossible trail and the early late-autumn sunsets, darkness was already approaching as we made our way down the ‘secret’ trail above the falls, climbing along a ledge in the cliff-face, and found our way to the bottom.  Maneuvering down the upper falls was rather intense, having to hold on to overhanging rocks for balance while skirting beside the vigorous flow of water shooting over the falls, and trying to negotiate the slippery, wet rocks, some of which were covered in leaves.

Ledge at top of Lilybeth Falls

In those deep mountain hollows, it stays fairly dark on the brightest of days, and by the time we found a way around and down the impressive ‘Devil’s Slide’, which was not easy, but easier than climbing down the actual ‘slide’ (something I done before, but do not recommend because it is very dangerous), the light was very dim, indeed.  At one place, just below the slide, we had to lower ourselves down the nearly vertical cliff-wall using live laurel branches, so we felt a little like monkeys swinging from branch to branch to get to the next level down.

Cliff between Lilybeth falls and Devils Slide Falls (find Bol'Dar)

From there, we had another steep drop-off to contend with, the small falls above the place where the raging right fork joins with the left fork just above the 50-foot ‘Middle’ Devil’s Fork Falls (I am told these have been named ‘Josiah Falls’ for some reason) having to jump from one level down to where the two creeks become one.  Finding a way down these falls—the middle (‘Josiah’) set–was quite difficult, not just because of the darkness, but because of a large oak tree that had fallen on the side of the falls that blocked our descent.  We ended up sliding down the cold, wet rock facing in the dark to the base of the middle falls.

From there, the trail was much easier, at least until we reached the ‘Pine Ridge Falls’, but we still had 2 miles of walking to reach the trail-head. Climbing down the Pine Ridge Falls is difficult to do in the daylight, much less the darkness, but we did have flashlights, and fortunately, there weren’t any accidents.  From there, rest of the trail to our cars wasn’t bad.

The 7-mile hike over Rich Mountain with ‘Rat Patrol’ and Tyler, and climbing down the incredible ‘Devil’s Fork’ series of waterfalls was rather intense and amazing, especially since no one was injured (seriously) despite the difficult conditions of the adventure.

There was another journey to the ‘middle’ Devil’s Fork Falls with Rat Patrol, in the daylight, where we were able to photograph the middle set—the ‘Josiah’ Falls—as well as the ‘Pine Ridge Falls’.

I also undertook a rather strenuous hike on Unaka Mountain in late November, where I was scouting a way to the cliff near the North Carolina/Tennessee state line above the Nolichucky River.  I had inexplicably been given some inaccurate directions and limped out in the darkness with a re-tweaked hamstring but a better understanding of that end of the mountainside.

Some other stuff to report:  There is a strong rumor that Hoppy and Birdie are engaged to be married; congratulations to them.  Also, it is www.Trailstealth.com’s 2nd birthday–as always, many thanks to the ‘Web-Wizard’ for all his hard work designing and code-slinging, website management, and also for donating not only his time, but much of his fascinating photo collection.

More adventures later…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Boulderman      12/12/2009

Autumn colors near Curly Maple Gap

Anyway, if we can just skip the long introduction, there is several trail stories to write about, including a maintenance trip to Big Bald with ‘Rat’ and Doug, a pair of Unaka Mountain hikes, a couple of Sampson Mountain Wilderness hikes, trips to Sam’s Gap, Spivey Gap, and Cliff Ridge.

First of all, the maintenance trip went well, for the most part, I thought.  There was a lot of early morning driving going on, but clear skies made for sunny and warm conditions, despite the widely scattered patches of snow, and we (Rat, Doug, and myself) managed to clear several fallen trees out of the trail and dig out quite a few water-bars that were clogged up on the trail between Big Bald and Spivey Gap. Not only did we get something accomplished, but we also had excellent views from the summit of Big Bald that morning and fair views from Little Bald and High Rocks later on that afternoon and evening.

View from Big Bald

The ‘Konnarock Crew’ had recently built a new rock stairway leading up High Rocks that was very nicely done, by-the-way.  We talked a while with a couple of south-bounder thru-hikers –‘Bacon’ and ‘Gooch’ from Wisconsin–at the High Rocks, before hiking into Spivey Gap where we had a car waiting.  Thanks to Doug (who now maintains the trail section from Big Bald to Little Bald) for driving us up and around the mountain.  That saved Rat Patrol and I at almost 3 miles of walking and a couple of big hills to climb.

The Unaka hikes were very nice, not only because the autumn leaves were beginning to flourish in beautiful colors and both the Jones Branch and Martin’s Creek were flowing vigorously, but I also met an interesting fellow from Alabama, named ‘Haney’.  The trail is more than just dirt and rock, you know.  Anyway, as I later found out, after trading a couple of stories, Haney had hiked the entire Appalachian Trail after his retirement in 1997, where the population of hikers had somehow named him ‘Nice Guy’ because they had accidentally forgotten his real name, apparently.  However, it is quite easy to see how he received this well-deserved name.

Haney from Ala.

As I recall, it was raining off and on that day and the trail was wet with fallen leaves and mountain mud, while the clouds gathered and shredded in among the brightly colored mountain ridges.  I had just turned the corner on the big switchback, away from the Jones Branch, to begin the mile-long, side-ridge ascent toward ‘Curly Maple Gap’.  I looked up from the trail and there was Haney, just standing there in the rain with a pleasantly amused expression.  At first I thought he was a ‘south-bounder’, because October is generally the time of year that they pass through this area on their way to Georgia from Maine, but instead, I found out that he was section hiking from Sam’s Gap to the ‘Greasy Creek Friendly Hostel‘ just north of Iron Mountain Gap.  That intrigued me, of course, since not only didn’t I know that there was a hostel in that area, but I apparently had somehow just missed meeting him a couple days earlier near Sam’s Gap. Also (having witnessed the unhappy group of hikers with their custom Gore-Tex rain-suits on Snowbird Mountain back in August) I couldn’t help but be intrigued by his blissful attitude.

Indeed, despite the chilly rain and clouds, only a plastic rain poncho for his pack, and an umbrella for himself, Haney exuded happiness, and his agreeable nature seemed contagious.  Perhaps being married to the same woman for 52 years will make you that way, or having children to love unconditionally, but it was also obvious that he truly enjoyed life and communing with Nature.  I talked with him all the way to the shelter at Curly Maple Gap, and another hour after that, perhaps, listening to his amazing stories, and trying not to laugh while he choked down his Spam dinner, until it seemed like I wouldn’t get back to the river before dark.

Bearded Whiteblaze

At 73 years young, I take my hat off to Haney, not only for his physical prowess, but for his gracious attitude, as well.  I remember what Sam Waddle, the legendary trail maintainer of the ‘Jerry Cabin‘ section of the Appalachian Trail for 27 years, told ‘Rat Patrol’ and myself one time while we helped him on his trail section; When we had climbed out of his old jeep and hiked up the last hill to the trail, he paused for a reflective moment, and said ‘Boys, you’re standing on Holy Ground’–It is nice to know that he isn’t the only one who feels that way.  I remember giving Haney some of the drinking water in my pack and walking away somewhat reluctantly, down the hill from the shelter in the rain, realizing I had been in the company of the truly blessed—and I felt blessed as well, enjoying the autumn rain and fresh air as if discovering it for the first time.  It was a very scenic and well-spent 6-mile hike.

The Sampson Mountain Wilderness hikes were also very nice, with impressive creek cascades and festive autumn colors, particularly the hike I took up to one of my favorite waterfalls in the area.  It isn’t very easy climbing up to the wilderness falls, but their seclusion is part of their charm, I suppose.  The falls are also very steep and majestic, and somewhat imposing, if you should want to climb them, but all in all, they are an awe- inspiring place to spend an hour or two, regardless of the season.

Wilderness Falls

There was a 6-mile hike on the Appalachian Trail from Sam’s Gap, where I found a couple of apple trees just off of the trail, and an old, run-down shack near a spring, and a small pond in another location.  The weather was marvelous, as were the autumn colors.

apples near Street Gap

The 6-mile hike from Spivey Gap to whistling Gap and back was quite memorable.  Not only did I meet an attractive, young south-bound thru-hiker from
Pennsylvania–her trail name is ‘Threshold’– near High Rocks, but I also had a rather unusual bear encounter not far down the hill from there.  I first saw the bear as I rounded a small ridge-point of some side-hill trail as I descended down toward Spivey Gap.  I was only 25 to 30 feet away, but the bear somehow didn’t seem to notice I was there, for some reason, perhaps distracted by the people with the dog that I met a little while later.  Anyhow, despite knowing that the ‘new’ batteries that I had found for my back-up batteries were no good, and the camera was powerless, I attempted to get a photo anyway, but it was useless without ‘real’ batteries.  Meanwhile, the bear, despite looking right at me several times, still did not seem to notice me.  I stood there in the trail watching the bear for a few seconds before looking down at my camera and saying ‘…dang’.  At which point, the bear heard me, and with a very startled expression sprang off into the draw and up the hill, completely vanishing and invisible within 5 seconds, as if by magic.  Anyway, it was an exciting moment, being the second bear encounter for me this year.

View of Nolichuckey from Cliff Ridge

The hike up Cliff Ridge from the Nolichucky River toward Temple Hill was notable not only for the nice, pre-autumn, views of Unaka Mountain and the Nolichucky River Gorge, but for the ‘gorgeous’ copperhead stealth-snake I found in the trail on my way back down from the top of the ridge.  Besides being poisonous, copperheads are very well camouflaged among the mountain dirt and rocks, but fortunately for me, she was still moving and I saw her as I rounded a corner on the ridge-top. I was able to get a few photos before she bolted like lightning out of the trail—she probably thought that I was about to perform a ‘Steve Irwin’ maneuver, or something.  Although I had no problems with the mountain snake, it is always a good reminder to watch where you are walking in the backcountry.

On a personal side-note, I want to say ‘congratulations’ to ‘Jonny Bluegrass’ and ‘Mary Monkey’ who are expecting their first child, which is due around ‘Trail Days’ next year, I am told.  I first met them while they were ‘Children of the Trail’, hiking the Appalachian Trail in 1993.  They are wonderful people and it is nice to know that there will be more ‘Children of the Trail’ on the trail in the future.  Also, congratulations are due to ‘Okeepa’ and Bev, who were recently married.  I hope everyone is sending many positive thoughts their way, as well.

‘Stay tuned’ for more Appalachian wilderness adventures…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Boulderman 11-8-09

We rendezvoused at ‘Hairnt Quarters’ shortly after noon on September 9th, the day after his birthday, and drove over the mountain into Virginia to meet up with friends there.  After a brief stop at the ‘Backbone Rock’ to take photos of the falls, we arrived in Damascus and found ‘Legs’ a short time later at Hoppie and Birdie’s place.  Gecko found us soon afterward, and drove Rat, Legs, and myself to the Appalachian Trailhead at Fox Creek in his Chevy truck.  From there we began our trek southward towards Damascus.

We didn’t go far the first day out, as it was already well into the afternoon when we started, and it is always a good idea to get acclimated to the trail the first day or two, and not overdo it, and perhaps injure yourself.  Our packs were not light, but not as heavy as usual; mine weighing in at 40 lbs, Rat’s at 42, and Legs’ pack about the same.  Anyway, the three of us decided to camp at Old Orchard Shelter the first night out.  Rat was showing off his new titanium-coated cook-pot and his ‘sham-wow’, while Legs rehydrated after drinking beer most of the day, carrying a cup all the way to Old Orchard.

The night was coming on quickly, and we had good views of the sunset over Iron Mountain in the distance, when Legs first discovered the large owl hanging out in the tree right beside the shelter.  I have never seen an owl so self-assured and fearless, staying in the nearby tree watching us even after we obviously had noticed her, and attempted to take photos, even.  There was also a bat that flew around the shelter—we were grateful for the protection of the hunters, realizing that it wasn’t likely that the mice or mosquitoes would be bothering us there.  Sometime after dark, I noticed a light coming down the hill toward the shelter; it was a hiker named ‘Super Dave’ (we later re-named him ‘Double-D’, although I can’t recall exactly why) that had walked all the way from ‘Elk Garden’ that day, after getting caught up in a torrential rainstorm the night before.  We made room for him to camp with us inside the shelter, then the rain began, and the snore-fest ensued soon afterward.  It rained all night.

We got a late start the next morning, but managed to hike through the tenacious cloud and wind that gripped the mountain, and over Pine Mountain, through Scales, and on through the meadow/ridge into the Little Wilson Creek Wilderness, eating delicious blueberries and petting wild ponies along the way.  We ended up at the Wise Shelter, having walked 6 miles, and decided to camp there for the night.  Again, the rains fell and lasted all night, and it actually got quite chilly.

The next day, we started off for the spectacular Wilburn Ridge in the Grayson Highlands.  A few F-15′s’s, or some such military aircraft (they were like rockets with wings), flew up the valley and beyond the mountain, which somewhat startled and impressed us.  Since it was September 11th, we were a bit concerned until we eventually heard other aircraft flying around (Rat, who was ahead of me and higher up on the ridge than I, claimed that they were doing ‘barrel-rolls’, but I have my doubts).  The weather had cleared and we were blessed with spectacular views all day.

Climbing the majestic Wilburn Ridge is awe-inspiring and somewhat spiritual in nature, reminiscent of Stonehenge, or some ancient Scottish wonderland.  Onward and up through the Highlands we ascended, marveling at the remarkable scenery.

It had been 12 years, perhaps 13, since the last time I had hiked up and over the ridge, and I remembered that it was very impressive, but I forgot just how amazing.  Everything was going quite well, the sun was out and the views were extraordinary–the only bad part of the hike that day was that Legs wasn’t feeling well, and decided to walk down into Massie Gap and catch a ride back to Damascus.  Rat and I, however, went on over the ridge and through the thickly-grown alpine fir trees on Mount Rogers, getting our first glimpses of White Top Mountain in the distance.

We took several breaks along the way, one on top of Wilburn Ridge, to take in everything we had walked that day so far, another on top of the incredible cliff (which gave me vertigo) approaching Mount Rogers, and another at the Thomas Knob Shelter for snacks and water.  We decided to continue hiking on from there (a 6-mile trek that day) to see many more wild ponies and astonishing views, before deciding to make camp beside the Virginia Highlands Horse Trail near Deep Gap.

Although we missed our trail-friend, Legs, we set up our tents and cooked a fine trail supper, enjoying a restful evening.  The night started out well; the stars were plentiful and bright, but the rains came later, and we both had to get up and fortify our little shelters with tarps.  I was actually sleeping under a rain fly, as the tent I sometimes carry is way too heavy for backpacking, but with the extra tarps, everything, including myself, stayed dry. Rat didn’t seem to have any problems either.  Sometime during the night, we were visited by another owl, which perched in the tree above me and hooted for quite awhile, but both of us were too tired to get up and appraise the night bird’s stealth.

We had a bit of trouble finding water the next morning, but I still had a few ounces left when a nice couple in Elk Garden gave us both a bottle each.  We found a spring about a quarter mile up the hill, on our approach to Whitetop Mountain.  2009 has been a great year for hiking, I must say, even with all the rain, as the springs everywhere, even on the mountain tops were running quite well, even late into the summer season. After enduring years upon years of drought, it is nice to have the luxury of not having to carry the extra poundage of water up steep mountain slopes.  Water is quite heavy.

On our ascent up White Top Mountain, we re-entered the balsam jungle, and then skirted the summit through a colorful, flowering meadow and took a break out on ‘Buzzard Rock’, where we enjoyed a marvelous view of the Iron Mountain Chain, the deep valley, and could even glimpse the trail ahead of us.

From there, we descended down the mountain, crossing ‘601’, where we re-filled our water bottles at the spring box, before trekking through a nice farm where we encountered a bull and a few curious cows.  I was astounded at the size and age of the locust trees there—some of the oldest and largest I have ever seen.  Anyway, we continued on beyond Highway 58, enduring a few steep climbs, to the Lost Mountain Shelter where we set up our tents and tarps in the pines behind it, since they were still wet, having walked 11 miles that day.  I arrived just before twilight, and Rat dragged in about 10 minutes later, looking rather tired.  The weather was great, and it did not rain that night.

The next morning was beautiful, also; Rat was the first one to get up and start moving around, as the sun rose through the trees on Lost Mountain. I was a bit surprised by his readiness, expecting to be able to sleep in for another hour, or so.  But, he was motivated to start hiking, and we both knew we were still about 15 miles from Damascus, where we intended to be by the end of the day.

After the first 3 miles, we met up with the Virginia Creeper Trail, and began walking on it, traversing over several trestles, while dozens of bikers effortlessly passed us by.  We found an impressive set of cascades and waterfalls with a nice swimming-hole, and having been out on the trail for several days, I was very tempted to strip down, rinse off, and swim.  But, we were on a tight schedule, and we returned to trekking– all set and motivated for the ‘Death March to Damascus’ when one of the bikers traveling up the Creeper Trail told us of a bearded guy in Taylors Valley who was waiting for us with beer!  Legs!  Rat poured out his water and blasted off, like an F-15 over Mount Rogers, and that was the last I saw of him until I reached Taylors Valley, two miles later.  Legs saved me a PBR, another thing for which I was grateful for–besides saving us both 7 more miles of walking.

We visited a few friends at the Lazy Fox while waiting for Rat’s girlfriend to arrive, and later ate a good meal at Quincy’s while we were still in town.  Good times with good people…

In the end, we had walked approximately 33 miles over the most awe-inspiring trails; the Virginia Highlands are so beautiful!  As Rat had commented while hiking over Mount Rogers; ‘It is like walking through a (Bob) Ross painting…’ I would go back tomorrow, if I could.  Surely it will not be another 12 years before I return there—at least I hope not.

For another perspective on this remarkable hike, check out Rat Patrol’s personal blog ‘here’.

To view the Virginia Highland photo gallery, go ‘here‘.

More adventures soon…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Boulderman