Ferns along the trail near Curly Maple Gap

After the excellent camping trip in Georgia and the subsequent wedding party in Virginia, I wasn’t able to get out and hike and camp as much as I would have liked to; I did, however, manage to get to woods on occasion.  Because I am still way behind on the trail-blogs, which is a bit embarrassing, I only plan on writing about the more memorable, significant hikes in any depth or detail until I am a bit more caught up.  I hope everyone who reads the blog will understand, and also check out the new photos in the gallery, as well, since they tell the story better than I can, in most instances.  With all that in mind, because of work and a couple other issues, there really weren’t very many summer hikes to speak of.  The most significant and enjoyable hike was the one from Sam’s Gap to Big Bald and back.

View of Big Bald in the clouds

Big Bald…

It was a last minute decision, going to Sam’s Gap that morning.  The clouds were thick and the trail was wet, but I thought that by the time I reached the summit of Big Bald, the sky would have cleared and views would have been possible, if not incredible, but the clouds remained anchored to the mountaintop and it also rained for a while, which wasn’t as bad as it sounds, since the temperature remained on the cool side.

Bee Balm growing along the trail to Big Bald

I accidentally caught up to a few section hikers at the campsite/meadow, about two miles in from Sam’s Gap, but I don’t think they saw me, since the clouds were very thick and visibility was very limited, and I was ready for a break.  I watched them disappear into the cloud bank, while checking out and photographing some of the beautiful flowers that were blooming in the meadow.  I did, however, catch up to the hikers, and even pass them, later on up the trail.

Tiger Lily in Meadow near Sam`s Gap

Blue Heal All

While the rain and clouds obscured the views from the mountain, the trail itself was quite nice, in a subtle, understated sort of way, featuring a lush, green liveliness and occasional pockets of alluring mountain laurel blossoms within the cool fog.  The mountain mud of the trail was soft on the feet and the temperature was very agreeable for hiking.  The wind was blowing rather vigorously, particularly upon the summit, and despite not getting any views (other than clouds), being summertime, the relative coolness within the cloud was very much appreciated by me.

Mountain Laurel Blossoms in the rain

The section hikers eventually caught up to me on the summit, and seemingly had a difficult time understanding why I would walk so far for a view from the summit when the mountain was obviously entrenched in clouds and rain.  None of that bothered me, however, and I was quite happy just to be out on the trail, breathing fresh air and getting some much needed exercise.

Cloudy trail near Big Bald

The clouds did finally lift from the mountaintop, at least on the lower elevations; the meadow near Street Gap was uncovered when I passed through there on my way back to Sam’s Gap, but apparently the summit of Big Bald, which can be seen from the meadow, remained in the clouds the entire day.  All things considered, it was a great afternoon to be out on the trail, and I believe the exercise did me a lot of good.

Yellow Coral Fungus

Roan Mountain…

I met up with my hiking friends, ‘Rat Patrol’, and ‘Fireball’ on a early August morning for a day of hiking on Roan Mountain.  I really love Roan Mountain and consider it to be a true wonder of Appalachian Nature.  I have been going up there ever since I was a young boy, and have had many adventures there.  It is somewhat painful to write anything negative about the mountain, since I do love it so, but to be honest there were some strange things going on there that day.

View of Round Bald

The parking area at Carver’s Gap was nearly full when we arrived, which was to be expected, since it is such a popular place, and that was no big deal. Once out of the car, noticing the newly constructed bathrooms (something Carver’s Gap has needed for quite some time) we also noticed something rather peculiar clustered to the walls of the new structure—upon closer inspection we discovered that there were thousands of dead flies encrusted on the walls and roof like barnacles.  It was a bit eerie and really quite disgusting in appearance.  Having an aversion to such creepy weirdness, I think we were all fairly well grossed out by the odd stalactites of dead flies before we ever even got out of the parking lot.

Butterfly on Ironweed on Roan Mountain

The 1.7 mile hike up to the High Knob Shelter went well enough, but again, similar to the bathroom at the Carver’s Gap, the shelter was obscured by clusters of millions of dead flies; they were hanging thick and heavy from the woodwork, darn near everywhere.  There were even dead fly-stalactites hanging in the fir trees around the shelter and also swarms of still living flies, which would buzz around like biblical locusts every time anyone approached the fire pit just in front of the shelter.

Dead flies on shelter pole

Ridge Spine near Roan High Knob

Usually I like to go in and check out the shelter, since it is very old and has a history onto itself, but on this day, I didn’t feel the desire to do so, since it appeared rather gruesome.  Somewhat nauseated by the scene, we retreated to the High Rock, the summit of Roan Mountain (elevation 6285’), where we felt slightly more at ease and a bit less repulsed.  Lunch was consumed in the shade while sitting on the High Rock.

Roan High Knob

[Note: we later found out from a retired entomologist that this ‘dead fly phenomenon’ is not so unusual after all, and that the flies in question had been afflicted with a ‘summits disease’ caused by a fungus, which causes them to seek the highest elevations available, where the fungus can spread more easily, and the flies subsequently die in large masses.]

Lyons Turtlehead on Roan Mountain

There were a lot of other people on the trail this particular day; not only were there large tour bus loads of people hiking up on the balds, but the High Knob Trail was pretty much overrun, as well, with people who had drove up to the gardens, I suppose.  It was kind of crowded, considering.  Because of this we soon relinquished our seats upon the rocky summit and moved on up the trail, so everyone could have a turn on the summit rocks.

Spiderweb near the Roan High Knob

While on the way to the old hotel site, further up the mountain trail, the clouds burst open and the rains came.  Although it didn’t rain for very long, it did rain hard enough to soak the forest and leave pools of water in the trail. The clouds remained thick on top of the mountain and the temperature was very comfortable and cool, thanks partly to a marvelous breeze.  While we were there, taking a short break, we encountered a fellow who seemingly decided to follow us around for some unknown reason, which was kind of creepy.  Maybe he thought he could score some moon pies, I don’t know, and none of us dared to ask.  Anyway, feeling somewhat encroached upon, we decided to walk out to the ‘Sunset Rock’, a nice place which overlooks the Tennessee-side of the mountain (which wasn’t very far away) only to discover the view was completely obscured by the thick, rain-induced fog.  Despite the beclouded, gray view, I enjoyed the overlook rock, partially because of the surreal-like foggy scene, but mostly because of the marvelously cool breeze.  Our friend, ‘Fireball’ actually got cold while we were there.

Cloudy Trail on Roan High Knob

Sunset Rock

Cloudy view from the Sunset Rock

Other than a brief encounter with a mostly naked day-hiker, the hike back to Carver’s Gap was mostly without incident; the rain had reasonably diminished the number of people out and about on the trail.  The other fellow, the day-hiker who we stumbled upon earlier, was nowhere in sight, thankfully, leaving our now diminished snack supply secure from any potential moon pie absconders.  Overall, it was nice to be out on the trail getting some much appreciated fresh air and exercise, but could have done without the disgusting diseased flies and other strangeness.

Spruce Thicket Trail…

I went with ‘The ol’ Albatross’, aka ‘Dave, the waterfall guy’ to view the cascades on the Spruce Thicket Trail.  Dave, a waterfall aficionado, had not yet visited the Spruce Thickets before and was wanting to do so.  It had been over 20 years since my last trip to the Spruce Thicket Cascades; the trail has changed a whole lot since then.  Not only has the trail-head been moved (because of private property) so that it now branches off of the Bullen Hollow/Margarette Falls Trail, but the trail itself has been washed away in some places and grown up with trees in others.  It wasn’t a very long hike, and although it was just a bit difficult to navigate our way to the cascades, we did manage to get there without getting lost.

Spruce Thicket Cascades

Cascades, Spruce Thicket Trail

Being August, the cascades were probably not as robust as they were in April, but being a fairly moist summer season, by comparison to recent years, the cascades did display a good deal of charm.  Dave has taken up photography, to go along with his waterfall devotion (he has viewed waterfalls around the world), and it is fascinating and inspiring to watch the exhaustive perfectionism and effort he puts into his hobbies.  It could take him 5 minutes, or longer, just to set up his tripod.  I applaud his efforts and have learned a few things from him.

Cascades, Spruce Thicket Trail

Cascades, Spruce Thicket Trail

The trail eventually diminished into nothingness not far above the cascades and we turned around–it turned out to be a rather easy hike and a nice day to be in the woods.

A Few More Hikes…

There was a 10-mile hike from Spivey Gap to the summit of Little Bald and back, which was fairly uneventful.  I did happen to see a few grouse and experience a summer rain storm along the way, and was also grateful that the weeds had been cut out of the trail on Little Bald (they can get pretty thick there).

Trail Below High Rocks

Mountain Laurel blooming near High Rocks

There was also a hike up the Longarm Branch Trail to the top of Rich Mountain and back; I decided to walk up there and attempt to find my trail hat that I had inadvertently lost when we had hiked to the Chigger Ridge Overlook in March.  While I eventually did find the old hat, which was somewhat miraculous, on the way back down the mountain, the most exciting and memorable part of this hike were the 2 separate bear encounters I had along the trail.  One was quite large.  I heard a third bear, but didn’t actually see it.  Of course, that was the day I forgot to take my camera.

Sun drenched clouds obscuring Rich Mountain

There was another hike out of Sam’s Gap, going south over Hogback Ridge to Rice Gap.  The temperature was very suitable for hiking, thanks to the clouds and rain.  I met a few friendly section hikers along the trail, and the view from the ‘little rock knob’ was quite scenic, mostly because the clouds were hanging low in the valley, filling in the spaces between the various lower-elevated knobs and ridges.

View from bluff along the Hogback Ridge Trail

There was also a hike to the summit of Buffalo Mountain by way of the Lone Oak Trail; the blueberry bushes were ripe with berries, but the trail was very much overgrown on top of the ridge.  There were also hikes in Jones Branch, Indian Grave Gap on Unaka Mountain, and 2 more hikes out of Spivey Gap. The most memorable part of these hikes were getting rained on and the spectacular blooming mountain laurels.

View from Buffalo Mountain (looking towards Unaka Mtn)

Snail on moss in the Devil`s Creek area

View from near Curly Maple Gap (Unaka Mtn)

Bumblebees on Tall Bellflower (near Spivey Gap)

Some Other News…

It is regrettable, but there has been another death within the circle of hiker friends.  Stevie, aka ‘Hale Hound’, friend and lifetime member of ‘The Boones Creek Bunch’ died last March.  While I don’t know all the circumstances surrounding this tragedy, I do know that everyone who knew Stevie are very upset by his passing.  I didn’t know Stevie quite as well as some of the other Boones Creek Bunch, possibly because he was kind of quiet, but from my personal observation, he seemed like a really good person who passed away far too young.

Various photo`s of our beloved friend Stevie Hale aka: 'Hale Hound'

~~~~~~boulderman

Last May, I drove down through the Nantahala Gorge to Northern Georgia.  My friend, ‘Grasshopper’, had been wanting to do some camping, and it seemed like a great opportunity to just relax and check out some Georgia trails and waterfalls.  I had just a little trouble navigating my way through Ellijay, but the rest of the drive went fairly smooth, ending up at the campground on Carter’s Lake.  Grasshopper had gotten there before me and had already set up her tent.  I was feeling a bit cooked by the time I arrived, not having any air conditioning in the car, but the weather at the lake was nice and the campground was quiet.  We spend the rest of the evening getting acclimated to our camp, which was quite easy actually, partly because it had running water, electricity, and 2 conveniently located bathhouses (with hot water).  While I am not accustomed to so many comforts and luxuries when I camp, I have to admit, they were very nice to have.

Carters Lake, Georgia

Anyway, we were up early the next morning and soon on the road to find some trails to hike and some mountain vistas and waterfalls to admire. Driving eastward toward Black Rock Mountain, we saw quite a lot of storm damage around the area–remnants of the tornadoes that struck the U.S. in April.  Not only did we go to Black Rock Mountain, but we also went to The Glen Falls Trail, The Chinquapin Mountain Trail, a couple of scenic overlooks, and at least one more waterfall.  The Chinquapin Mountain Trail was the place we spent the most time on; it was very nice, featuring a small, shady creek, mountain vistas, and several wildflowers.  By the time we arrived back in Ellijay, we were kind of tired and it was already getting dark, so we decided to just buy a pizza and take it back to camp with us.

Black Rock Mountain, Georgia

Chinquapin Mountain Trail

The next day, we made plans to go see the Amicalola Falls at the Amicalola Falls State Park to the south.  The waterfalls there are pretty awesome…and since we weren’t in nearly as much of a hurry as we were the day before, we walked around some of the park trails while we were there.  It is a fascinating place, and I hope to go back again someday.  While driving through the area, we stopped off and looked at the rather infamous ‘Tate House’, which besides being haunted (I am told) is constructed out of pink marble that was quarried nearby. The house and the gardens are quite impressive.  After some discussion, trying to decide if we should hike to some more waterfalls, or not, we eventually decided to return to Carter’s Lake early and cook some seasoned tilapia over our campfire.

Amicalola Falls

Amicalola Falls

Old truck found in the Amicalola State Park

The next day, perhaps I was lazy, but I just felt like hanging out, walking around the lake (our campsite was positioned right above Carter’s Lake) and doing camp stuff, like sawing wood for the campfire we would have later on.  Grasshopper went into town to shop and returned a few hours with a whole bunch of shrimp, which we cooked over the fire, seasoned with garlic and butter.  It rained off and on, but that in no way spoiled our relaxation, or our delicious dinner, and we sat about the fire for quite a while enjoying our peaceful encampment above the lake.

Carters Lake, Georgia

Hoppy and Birdy’s Wedding…

About a week after returning from Georgia, I drove north to Damascus, Virginia for my friends, Hoppy and Birdy’s, wedding.  It was nice to see that quite a few of my trail friends were able to be present, and it was a lot of fun catching up with them throughout the day and evening.  I don’t suppose you could say that it was a ‘traditional wedding’, although there were some traditional elements about it, but I must say it was the most fun I have ever had at a wedding.  To be honest, I don’t usually like going to weddings, but this was more like a fun gathering where two people just happened to be getting married.  The dress code was relaxed and there was plenty of good food and beverages to absorb.

Hoppy and Birdy's Wedding

The day was sunny and warm, so most of the people were staying in the shade of the big trees while children played about the freshly mowed field.  There wasn’t a ‘set-in-stone’ time for the wedding–that was casual, as well, so there weren’t any scheduling issues to contend with.  I don’t recall what time it was when Hoppy came strolling up the hill in his tuxedo, but by the time Birdy arrived in her wedding gown, everyone was ready to go ahead and get them married.

Hoppy and Birdy's Wedding

It was rather fascinating seeing Hoppy in a tuxedo and Birdy in a wedding gown; while I already knew that these two people truly love each other and wanted to spend the rest of their lives together, it was nice that they allowed us all to share their happiness for a day.  They are awesome people.

Hoppy and Birdy

Hoppy and Birdy

Josh Holland performed the ceremony with them in a shady alcove in the green meadow, amid a chorus of ‘Hairnts’.  After the wedding vows, the much anticipated after-party began.  There was an entire hay wagon overloaded with choice food to consume, including a pork loin that Jeb had smoked for about a day, or so, and also Rat Patrol’s famous ‘trail beans.’  There were also several other freshly grilled meats, cheeses, potato salads, and casseroles to sample, and of course, cake. The cake, which was a ‘tie dye cake’, following the theme of the wedding, was delicious.  I cannot remember everything there was to eat, but it was all good, and there was plenty of it.

Hoppy and Birdy's Wedding Cake

Hoppy and Birdy's Wedding

Later on, after darkness fell, there was more entertainment when the late night fireworks began, and even a bon fire to stand around after that.  What a wedding it was.

Fireworks

Bon Fire after Hoppy and Birdy's Wedding

More adventures soon, I hope,

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

‘The Waterfall Tour’…

‘The Waterfall Tour’ is the name ‘Rat Patrol’ came up with over 20 years ago to describe the loop hike from Sill Branch around to Devil’s Fork, stopping at every waterfall along the way.  Although some of the trails were primitive, even back then, during the old ‘trail club days’, this was a very popular hike, and we walked it several times with many people; some of these adventures were ‘epic’.  Originally, when the loop hike was first conceived, it was a 12-mile hike to see 5 major falls bordering the Sampson Wilderness Area, but after learning the mountains a little better, we found enough shortcut trails to lessen the mileage to around 9.

Middle Devils Fork Falls aka Josiah Falls

Perhaps you may remember the blog about ‘The Devils Fork Falls’ (published December 2009 on this website) where Rat Patrol, his son Tyler and I hiked around and down the waterfalls in Devil’s Fork, accessing them from the ‘Longarm Branch Trail’.  If you don’t remember (or haven’t read it yet), don’t feel bad, because I don’t remember it that well myself, except for the unbelievable log-buried trail we took over ‘Big Pine Ridge’ and how we climbed down the last 2 waterfalls and hiked out in the dark.

Log buried trail across Big Pine Ridge on the 'old route' in 2009

While wanting to hike the ‘tour’ from Sill Branch to Devil’s Fork and see all the waterfalls in there, without having to deal with that beastly trail over Big Pine Ridge, Rat and I studied our maps to find a better way.  Rat is very good at translating maps, whereas I now rely not only on maps, but more on my ‘trial and error’ experiences, as well as the photos I have taken from various ridge-tops.  The photos that I had taken from Longarm Ridge and Big Pine Ridge Knob (as well as some of the photos from Sampson Mountain) were very helpful in plotting the new route we planned to take, lessening the trail mileage to around 5 1/2 (difficult) miles.

The Big Pine Ridges and the Devil's Fork Valleys as seen from Longarm Ridge

While we were both in agreement on the route up and beyond Sill Branch, we did have several discussions about exactly which hollow we would take to descend into the Devil’s Fork, or even if we should attempt to hike down one of the steep, super-gnarly ridge-fingers, instead.  Eventually, after more map and photo study, we had a plan.

'Sidewinder Cascades' along South Fork of Sill Branch

One of the fun things about the ‘Waterfall Tour’ is taking people who have never been there (on the top of the upper Devil’s Fork Falls, aka ‘Lillybeth Falls’),  to the very edge of the cliff overlooking the falls, where by all appearances the trail, and possibly the entire world just ‘dead-ends’, pointing to the bottom and telling them we are going to climb ‘down there’, and watch the bewildered expressions on their faces.  Indeed, it is a long way down–straight down.

View from the top of cliff above Lillybeth Falls

Our latest ‘victim’, Tyler probably remembered the abysmal trail over Big Pine Ridge and climbing down the waterfalls in the dark, as well, and decided not to attend the hike, apparently, but ‘Dan-o’ and ‘Fireball’, who had been hiking with Rat and I a few times, did.  So anyway, about 9 am on a morning in April, we left a car at the Longarm Branch Trail-head and began our loop hike by walking down the gravel road to Sill Branch.  Bypassing the upper Sill Branch Falls trail, we climbed the steep, yellow-blazed south fork of Sill Branch to the old roadbed below ‘California Fields’, which is named on the map as being ‘Willard’s Hump Road’.  From there, we hiked on to where this ‘road’ met with ‘Forest Service Road 190′ at a place known as ‘The Big-R Curve’.  We took a short snack/map study break at the ‘Big-R Curve’, wanting to make sure we descended off of the ridge in the right place.  We found the hollow we had intended to take, and began our trail-less descent into Devil’s Fork.

Chosen route for the descent into the Devils Fork Valley

We hadn’t gone very far down when we encountered a rather significant cascade and a cliff.  Being early April, the water levels were elevated, even this high up on the mountain.  While the cascade was unknown to us, the cliff, I was informed by Rat, was the same cliff we would have fallen off of if Kep’s truck hadn’t of been caught by that little tree when he accidentally drove off the forest service road in the pouring rain many years ago (it is a long, twisted story, so I will leave it at that).  The way to the bottom of the cascades and beyond was very steep, as well, what I like to call a ‘knee-knocker‘ trail, because tendons and ligaments tend to get sore and ache on extreme descents, such as this one.

Cascades discovered along the Upper Devils Creek

Continuing our steep descent, following the creek, the valley we had climbed down opened up and joined a larger valley, still well above ‘Lillybeth Falls’.  This place was more familiar to Rat and I, as we had always went down to the falls through this part of the valley, accessed by the now tree-buried trail over Big Pine Ridge.  Despite a tricky place in the trail, or two, we didn’t have any trouble getting to the top of Lillybeth Falls (aka, Upper Devil’s Fork Falls).

Water Log in Upper Devils Fork Valley

After Rat Patrol shocked Dan-o and Fireball with the usual ‘We are climbing down there’ routine, we decided to eat lunch on top of the impressive waterfall/cliffs, before meandering around and down the hidden ‘ninja trail’ to the base of the falls.  From there, we continued our descent to the ‘Devil’s Slide‘ and the adjoining cliffs–which are actually two cliffs which allows the creek to form a rather large, open ‘gorge’ where the ‘slide’ is.  It is much too dangerous to climb down the Devil’s Slide when the creek is ‘up’, as the rocks are steep and slippery, but there is a safe place to slide down the cliffs to the left.

Cascades just above top of Upper Devils Fork Falls aka Lillybeth Falls

Upper Devils Fork Falls aka Lillybeth Falls

There was only one noteworthy ‘slide’ incident:  On the next level of cliffs–below the “Slide’ and just above the ‘Middle Devil’s Fork Falls’ (aka, ‘Josiah Falls’) –”Fireball’, who admittedly has trouble on steep descents, slid too far too fast and almost wiped me, and her, out while I was standing on a narrow landing just above another drop-off into the rocky creek. I was attempting to ‘coach’ her down to the landing, but Instead of sliding down under control and grabbing the laurel limb, as I said, she slid down out of control and allowed the laurel limb to grab her.  After that, Dan-o had to do a monkey-swinging maneuver to get around her and help her down the last 3 or 4 feet to the narrow landing.  I pretty much stayed well out of Fireball’s ‘wipe out zone’ after that, which annoyed her, I suppose, but made for a few good jokes later on.  Anyway, after crossing the creek (there is a split in the creek right above ‘Josiah Falls’), there is another steep, cliff-like encounter we had to deal with by sliding down to the base of the falls beside a massive fallen tree.

Devils Slide Falls

Falls on South Fork of Devils Fork Valley

We were all ready for another break after all the cliff-sliding maneuvers, and we enjoyed the ‘middle set’ of falls for quite awhile.  The trail from there is quite mellow, compared to what we had encountered already, except for a tricky place at the top of ‘Pine Ridge Falls’.  It is not so bad climbing around and down this rocky obstacle if you have done it a few times before (Rat, Tyler and I climbed down it in the dark the last time we hiked through here), but for someone who hasn’t encountered this seemingly impossible narrow, rock passage before, it can be a bit unnerving.  Since it is the only way down, even people with acute acrophobia must deal with it.

Middle Devils Fork Falls aka Josiah Falls

All told, It was an incredible day of hiking; all of the waterfalls and cascades were fascinating and overflowing, while the cliffs were as primitive and alluring as the day they were formed thousands, if not millions, of years ago.  We walked (perhaps limped a little) down the trail and back to the car like conquers, victorious explorers from a lost world, tired but happy.

Cascades below Middle Devils Fork Falls (aka Josiah Falls)

Pine Ridge Falls

Lower Longarm Branch Falls

Jones Branch Falls and Overlook…

On a sunny, warm day in late March, ‘Fireball’ and I went out for a hike in the ‘Jones Branch’ area.  Although Fireball had hiked through here on the Appalachian Trail, she had never been to the Jones Branch Falls, or the Jones Branch Overlook, which is not surprising since neither of these places is well known, and the trails to them are quite primitive.  Anyway, to make a long story short, we hiked up the Appalachian Trail to the waterfall trail.  The last tenth of a mile to the falls is a trail-less bush-whack, but we made it through the dense laurels without too much difficulty.  We reached the ‘lower’ set of falls first, a 10-foot plunge off a solid rock into a small pool in the midst of a thick stand of laurels.  The main set of falls is just above and beyond.  Although the path to them is appropriately rough, I really like these stair-stepping falls on Unaka Mountain.  I remember when I first found them, quite by accident, several years ago; there has always been something about their seclusion and primitive nature that I found alluring and inspirational, and still do.  These falls seem to have a spirit of their own, and I have always felt privileged whenever I visit with them.

Lower Jones Branch Falls

Jones Branch Falls

Just above the stair-stepping cascade is a fractured rock cliff-facing, the water cascades through a double-walled ‘chasm’ at the base of these cliffs and shoots out, following a recess in a seam of rock, for the most part, before dropping down the moss-covered wall, which is the main part of the falls.  We climbed to the top of the falls so that Fireball could see the cascades and the chasm, which is pretty well hidden from below.

The Chasm - Jones Branch Falls

Jones Branch Falls

I’m not sure how, but I allowed her to talk me into climbing above the chasm with the cascades, following the creek further up that particular valley, and try to access the Jones Branch Overlook from there.  Having done this one time several years ago, I knew that it was possible (the Overlook is on the prominent knob in between the north and south branches of Jones Branch).  Supposedly, there used to be an old roadbed that went up and down that stretch of valley, and while it is still intact near the top of the knob and can be seen descending in switchbacks, it disappears before it gets near the creek in the bottom of the valley, apparently, since we were unable to find a trace of it, even.  Although we failed to locate the old roadbed, we did see some other interesting things on our way up the creek-bed, such as a rather remarkable rock-spine, along with some gnarly trees and twisted vines.

Jones Branch Overlook

View from The Jones Branch Overlook

View from The Jones Branch Overlook

The ascent up the side of the knob to the Overlook Rock was a bit strenuous, but we eventually got there.  We enjoyed the view from the prominent rock for a while before climbing the rest of the way up the knob to the old roadbed, which took us out to the other roadbed that intersects with Curly Maple Gap just above the shelter.  From there, we followed the Appalachian Trail back down to the Jones Branch Valley, stopping only briefly to soak our tired feet in the cold water, before finishing our journey at the trail-head near the Nolichucky River.

Little Bald Mountain…

On a warm day in April (it was Easter) I started out at Spivey Gap and hiked up to the summit of Little Bald and back.  Along the way, I encountered at least 20 northbound thru-hikers, several of whom decided to camp at Whistling Gap.  Anyway, what was really impressive to me was how the entire forest floor on Little Bald was carpeted in red trillium, trout lilies, and spring beauties.  It was a rather incredible sight.

'The Bluff' that overlooks the TN side on the summit of Little Bald

Red Trillium

Trout Lillies

Old Forge Loop Hike…

In mid-April, I made plans to go mountain hiking with ‘Fireball’, and we ended up going into the Old Forge Area.  Unable to drive to the trail-head at Jennings Creek, due to a locked gate (the Forest Service was building a new bathroom at the campground that day, apparently) we decided to park by the gate and walk the extra mile of gravel road to get to the Jennings Creek Trail.  The sky was threatening rain and the air was rather cool when we began walking, but by the time we reached the first creek crossing on Jennings Creek, we were warm and the sky appeared less threatening.  The creek was deep and cold and the cascades along the trail were very appealing.  We chose to stay on the ‘Big Jennings Creek Trail’, which is the larger of the Jennings Creeks on the way in, but planned to walk the ‘Little Jennings Creek Trail’ on the way back down the mountain. Anyway, the creek-crossings were somewhat difficult because of the high water levels, but that is a good thing, since it is the creek that is most scenic through the lower section of trail.

Cascades on Jennings Creek

Cascades on Jennings Creek

Further on, we encounter a rather large brown and yellow mountain snake that was stretched out in the middle of the trail.  After admiring this creature for a short while, we continued on to the ‘Cowbell Hollow/Poplar Cove’ trail intersection…basically the ‘Big Jennings Creek Trail’ becomes the ‘Cowbell Hollow Trail’ right there and begins to head up the mountain, while the ‘Poplar Cove Trail’ hooks back to the left toward the Horse Creek Campground.  Taking the ‘Cowbell Hollow Trail’, we began our ascent up Round Knob.  With the help of a few switchbacks in the trail, we were able to get a pretty good view of the Coldspring Mountain Ridges and the Jennings Creek Valley.

Brown and Yellow Mountain Snake

View from the Cowbell Hollow Trail

View from the Cowbell Hollow Trail

The air on top of the ridge was much, much colder for some reason, and by the time we had reached the picnic area at Round Knob, we had to put on all the warmest clothes we had with us at the time.  The dramatic change in climate did provide some amusement, however, when we listened to the people who were filling several gallon jugs at the spring.  Having driven up from the valley, they were still dressed in t-shirts and short pants, and were freezing.

Wild Iris

Cascades on Little Jennings Creek

To make a long story a bit shorter, we hiked back down the mountain using the ‘Little Jennings Creek Trail’, allowing us to loop back to Old Forge without hiking the same trail twice.  The Little Jennings Creek was overflowing it’s banks and there were several nice cascades to look at along the way.

Cascades along Little Jennings Creek

Cascades along Little Jennings Creek

Cascades along Little Jennings Creek

Gentry Falls…

At the end of April, Dave, ‘the waterfall guy’, had a plan to drive up to Johnson County, near the Tennessee, North Carolina, and Virginia state lines to view a pair of waterfalls.  Having never been there before, Rat Patrol, Fireball and I decided to ride along.  It was a fairly long, but comfortable enough drive up past Mountain City, where we saw plenty of storm damage from the tornadoes that blew through the region.  After only one wrong turn, we found the trail-head for the Gentry Falls.

Gentry Creek Falls

Cascades along Gentry Creek

It was warm and sunny, and the trail to the falls was fairly easy to navigate.  The path was well traveled up the long, open valley, and there were blue blazes painted on the trees.  The pathway to the falls was slightly uphill through the spring flora and with several creek crossings.

Lower part of Gentry Creek Falls

Lower part of Gentry Falls (Photo by RAT)

After about 2 miles of easy trail and rock-hopping the creek crossings, we reached a giant boulder.  Just beyond this ‘dinosaur boulder’ were the Gentry Falls—two sets of admirable 40-foot waterfalls.  It hadn’t taken very long to walk up to the falls, and since we had some time to spend, I decided to climb both sets of falls to get another perspective on them.  It was just a bit tricky, but not too difficult.  Rat decided to climb up there, as well, and we determined that the trail continues on beyond the upper falls on what appears to be an old railroad grade.

Upper part of Gentry Creek Falls

Upper Part of Gentry Falls (Photo by RAT)

Cascades that lead to top of the Upper Gentry Creek Falls

The return trip back to the trail-head was a long, downhill slope just about the whole way, and the only rough spot along the trail was where I slipped on a wet rock while attempting to cross the creek and fell in.

Ferns and Flowers

More adventures soon, I hope…

~~~~~~~~~~Boulderman  11-17-2011

In late February, I met up with fellow hikers Rat Patrol, his son Tyler, and Fireball for a Buckeye Falls adventure.  In case you have forgotten, or perhaps have not had the opportunity to read the hiker-blog about last year’s Buckeye Falls expedition yet (there were 2 of them, one was a solo hike), as a reminder, Rat, Tyler and I climbed the left ‘Buckeye’ ridge to get a view of the ‘big picture’.  That was a steep, gnarly climb and descent, especially with the slippery snow, but the view of the falls from that distance was rather incredible.  Having already accomplished that, and having not gazed up at the falls from the base in nearly 16 years, I was wanting to go there and experience that perspective.

Buckeye Falls

The water levels in Clarks Creek were high–which is good for waterfall viewing—thanks to all the snow-melt waters and the recent rains.  Crossing the creek, however, which you have to do several times to get to Buckeye Falls, was quite challenging when the creek is that swift and deep.  ‘Rock-hopping’ was not an option, and so while the others chose to get their boots wet and ford the cold, deep waters, I attempted to at least keep my boots and socks dry by taking them off before wading across, but that was rather time consuming.  It really was nice to have warm, dry feet for the 1st mile, or so, but I eventually fell in the creek anyway, and it became pointless after that.  It was good while it lasted, but it became painfully obvious that there was no way to get to the base of Buckeye Falls without getting wet when the creek is high.  Clarks Creek, by-the-way, was rather scenic in its own right, with whitewater cascading down the valley with a greater velocity than usual–water was flowing out of every hollow.

The Expedition Crossing Clarks Creek On The Way To Buckeye Falls

It took awhile, but we eventually reached the turn off for the falls; the water flowing out of the Buckeye Hollow was more than I ever recall seeing before, forming a small waterfall where the Buckeye tributary joins the Clarks Creek, deep in the Sampson Wilderness.  Meanwhile, the ascent up to the base of the falls was rather brutal—very steep with many obstacles to have to maneuver around, but the view of the water shooting off the top of the falls, getting airborne before cascading some estimated 600 feet down the solid rock wall was mind-blowing.

Confluence of Buckeye Creek and Clarks Creek

I should caution anyone who should decide to visit these falls (they do get some traffic from now and then) to not attempt to climb them because it is very dangerous, and that would be a very bad place to break a leg, perhaps, if not worse.  I have gotten lucky over the years, I suppose, but I have also had several close calls–just about every time I have been up there.  The danger is not just from the likelihood of yourself falling and getting injured, but in the wintertime falling ice from the cliff wall could be extremely hazardous, as well.  Just being there is dangerous, basically.  Even on this year’s expedition, I had a potentially painful near trip and fall on the way back down from the base, so expect some hazard if you should ever go.

Buckeye Creek

To get back to the adventure, the 4 of us eventually congregated on ‘the island’, a small patch of ‘soil’ at the base of the falls between the 2 channels of water, and took awhile to absorb the amazing scenery, while the cold melt-waters of the falls cascaded down beside us.  Even though seating was limited on ‘the island’ and comfort was not an option, especially after cooling down and allowing leg muscles to stiffen, we must have sat there for over an hour enjoying the scenery.  While we were there, Rat and I toasted ‘Paw Paw’ and ‘O’Keepa’ (friends of ours who had passed in the recent few months) with the Makers Mark he had carried up there without my knowing.  It was a surprise and a rare treat, and even made some of the chill from the wind and muscle pain dissipate somewhat.  Not only for those reasons did I enjoy the shots of Makers Mark beside Buckeye Falls, but I think Paw Paw and O’keepa would have appreciated that kind of respect.

“]

Buckeye Falls (zoom of top) photo courtesy of RATtreks.com

Rich Mountain Fire Tower…

In mid-February I decided to hike out of Allen Gap in an attempt to get to the Rich Mountain Fire Tower (and back).  It was a cool morning, but I stayed quite warm and comfortable in an old sweatshirt, ascending the ‘Buzzard Roost Ridge’.  A lot of memories kept popping into my head, beings how this was the trail section I used to maintain for the Carolina Mountain Club (from 2001 to 2007).  I could see logs that I had cut and dragged out of the trail, and remembered all the trouble spots which made whacking the weeds difficult.  There were also places along the way where I had cut back the laurel limbs and other brush, and tread-repair places that I had dug level that still looked fairly well-groomed considering.   There was also the slippery rock incident that dazed me when I fell on it while moving a log out of the trail.  It was somewhat amazing, the clarity, remembering all those things as if they had happened only yesterday, even though I hadn’t walked this trail since I ‘retired’ in October of ’07.

View from Rich Mountain Tower

There were other memories, as well, some good, some bad; there was no way I could ever forget walking up behind that humongous black bear that time, or the other time I nearly cut into a rattlesnake with my swing-blade while cutting weeds one summer–it had flopped over at my feet and corkscrewed it’s way into a hole beneath some leaves before I even had time to blink.  One of the better memories was catching the sunset several times from the top of the ridge on the way back to Allen Gap after working on the trail all day…one of the bad ones was getting stung by bee’s at ‘Deep Gap’…oh yeah, and that gnarly thunderstorm that shook the ground while I walked off the ridge, soaking wet, carrying a metal swing-blade.

Sunset on way back to Allen Gap

I hadn’t intended on thinking about any of that stuff, being more intent on making new memories, instead.  I did eventually tear myself from the past somewhat, and began noticing things along the way I hadn’t realized before; I knew that the top of Buzzard Roost Ridge was rocky and had cliffs along the backside down into Deep Gap, but I never realized how far the ridge went out the other way, overlooking Paint Creek.  While ascending Spring Mountain, looking over at the ridge from the opposite side of the huge hollow, (the Appalachian Trail does a ‘horseshoe’ through there) I became fascinated with just how gnarly, and rocky that ridge is– there were primordial-looking cliffs and a large bare-rock knob.  I mentally chastised myself for not knowing about this rocky phenomenon already, but forgave myself after I justified that the leaves were usually on the trees, and would have been blocking the view, whenever I was working on the trail, and it would have been more difficult to see.  Either way, I made a note to myself, and am hoping to go up there (in the wintertime) and walk out that ridge and explore the rocky knobs and cliffs someday.

View of Buzzard Roost Ridge

I suppose a geologist would also find this part of the mountains very intriguing, since there are several different types of interesting rocks; while some of the boulders near the shelter appear to be conglomerates of broken crystalline rocks, re-formed with limestone/sedimentary stone in between to form a natural concrete, the boulders on Buzzard Roost Ridge are quite strange in their formations, broken and streaked with minerals, I think.  It is difficult for me to imagine all the geologic processes the mountains have gone through over the last billion years, or so, but I do appreciate them when I see them.

Rocks Along Buzzard Roost Ridge

Although I have walked it several times, the trail (south) beyond Spring Mountain Shelter is less familiar to me, but I noticed a definite ‘rollercoaster-like’ trend, along with a few nice views of distant mountains and also some gnarly-looking trees.  There was even some snow.  I did contemplate turning back around when I reached ‘Hurricane Gap’, 2 miles beyond the shelter, but I was determined to climb the steep mile-long hill to the Rich Mountain Fire Tower and get a panoramic view.  After battling some acrophobia, treading lightly up the weather-worn wooden steps of the tower, I acclimated fairly well and enjoyed the panoramic view of the mountains.  It was quite a bit colder on top of the tower, but I had carried some warm clothing with me, which I was in the process of putting on when I was surprised by a young woman who had climbed the mountain from the ‘Hot Springs’ (southern) side.  Having someone to talk with was nice, and helped to ease the acrophobia somewhat, I think, and it was fun showing her where I live by simply pointing at a distant mountain (Unaka) in the north.

View from Rich Mountain Firetower

Anyway, it was getting late and I had a long walk back to Allen Gap.  I re-filled my water bottle at a spring below the tower and kept a fairly brisk pace in an effort to avoid having to hike in darkness.  By the time I had passed by the shelter, however, my hamstring on one leg was rather sore and the knee on the other leg felt like it was sprained.  I was having flashbacks of limping out in the darkness after working on the trail when I was the maintainer, almost always bruised and bloody, and even received a nice view of the sunset as I re-ascended Buzzard Roost Ridge.  I was too late to get a view of the sunset from the northern side of the ridge (where I remember the best sunsets being) and it began to get dark as I descended down into Allen Gap.  I only had to walk in the dark for about 10 minutes, which wasn’t bad considering it was a long, 14 mile walk to the tower and back.

Spring Mountain Shelter

Chigger Ridge Overlook…

On a cool morning in mid-March, Rat Patrol, Fireball and I began our quest for the Overlook on Chigger Ridge.  Having seen photos in old books looking over and down on Buckeye Falls from this elusive place, it had been on the list of places to go for quite some time.  Starting out on the Longarm Branch Trail, we took a short side-trip to Pine Ridge Falls before climbing the rocky trail beyond Longarm Branch Falls to Bearwallow Gap.

Pine Ridge Falls

After a lunch break at Bearwallow Gap, we continued on a swampy trail (an old roadbed actually) to the west over the top edge of Longarm Ridge toward Chigger Ridge.  The old roadbed dead-ended below the Chigger Ridge and we were left to our own devices and our maps to find the way from there.  After climbing the ridge, we accidentally made a wrong turn down a ‘spur’ ridge-top (Rat had another name for it) threading our way through some thick, inflexible laurel hells, thinking that we were on the main ridge.  There were signs of bears everywhere.  We eventually realized our mistake and climbed back up through the tenacious laurels and bear scat to where we made the wrong turn.  After studying the map again, It wasn’t looking very good for us, as it looked like we would have to climb all the way to the top of the mountain, veer to the west some more, and then descend down Chigger Ridge to the knob with the overlook on it.  Time and distance were going to be an issue, but while we were climbing the spur ridge, I noticed an animal trace leading off to the right at a fairly level slope that took us directly to the top of Chigger ridge and just below the Overlook.  This ‘gap trail’ saved us an unbelievable amount of time and effort, and is the best shortcut I think I have ever found.

Tree clawed by bears

After a short climb up a knob on the ridge-line, we found the overlook and received an unbelievable view of Buckeye Falls, Wilson Knob, and the entire butte-end of the Sampson Wilderness (where Rich Mountain and Sampson Mountain join together).  Although the sky was cloudless, quite unsuitable for descent photography, we stayed on the overlook enjoying the incredible view longer than we probably should have.  Although we took a shortcut down Longarm Ridge on the way back, bypassing Bearwallow Gap, we ended our 12 mile hike walking back to Longarm Branch in the dark anyway.

View of Buckeye Falls from Chigger Ridge

View of Buckeye Falls from Chigger Ridge

View of Buckeye Falls from Chigger Ridge

Rocky Fork Pond Adventure…

In early March, I met up with ‘Fireball’ to hike up to the Pond on Higgins Ridge.  I had attempted to find this pond many—perhaps 15 or 20–years ago, only to find a place with massive bulldozer tracks, and an overflow drain sticking up out of the ground where a pond used to be. I suppose it was my bad luck to venture up there looking for the pond at the same time the Forest Service, or whoever was in charge of that project, decided to drain and bulldoze it.  Disappointed, and confused, I never went back.  However, I was informed that the pond was indeed there now, and ‘Fireball’ had just hiked up there a few weeks earlier with one of the local trail clubs in the snow.  Having never actually seen the pond with water in it, it was decided that we would hike up there.

Cascades along Rocky Fork

The weather was cool and windy, threatening rain, when we started out in Rocky fork that morning.  The creek was flowing quite briskly beside the trail, and the vibrant cascades were altogether appealing.  We began our ascent up ‘the high road’ toward Wilson Knob and Frozen Knob, dealing with a sharp, cold wind on the ridge-top, and even some rain.  After reaching the gap at the top of the mountain, we veered to the east, skirting below Frozen Knob, toward Higgins Ridge, and then after locating the right trail, descended to the pond.  It was impressive, as ponds go, larger than I expected.  The low clouds pushed by the cold wind obscured the sheltering ridges and sent ripples across the pond’s surface, giving the place a somewhat magical appearance.

Pond above Rocky Fork

Pond above Rocky Fork

As remote and secluded as the pond is, it was somewhat unexpected to hear people hooting and hollering on the far side; apparently the pond has become a camping/party place for some of the rowdier sort who have found a way to drive their 4-wheelers up from Higgins Creek and Birchfield Camp Creek.  We decided to give them their space and ate our lunches in peace on the other side of the pond before returning to our trail back toward Frozen Knob and Rocky Fork.  There were many enjoyable views of a cloud encrusted Flint Mountain on the long descent back into the Rocky Fork Valley, including an interesting perspective of the ‘Stonehenge cliffs’ on Whitehouse Mountain.

View of 'Stonehenge' Cliffs on Whitehouse Mountain

Whitehouse Cliffs aka 'Stonehenge'

It was getting rather dark by the time we returned to the car with only a couple minor injuries, mostly just muscle strains and pains, but there was also a good feeling of accomplishment after the somewhat strenuous 12 mile mountain hike.

A couple More Day Hikes…

I did a couple of solo day hikes to briefly mention—the first was a trip to the Wilderness Falls.  Having been somewhat disappointed by the diminished water flowing over the falls when Rat Patrol and I took Dave Aldridge (the waterfall guy) up there last autumn, I wanted to return and view them when more water was flowing.  The falls are much more impressive in the wet season, and when I was there, ice was clutching the cliff rocks, and it began to snow.

Wilderness Falls

Wilderness Falls Side View

Part of Wilderness Falls

Lower Wilderness Falls

I ventured up Sill Branch on a solo hike as well; the creek was flowing very nicely that day and since it was also very cloudy, the conditions were quite good for playing around with my camera, trying to capture some of the beauty there.  Sill Branch is a very attractive creek when the water levels are up, revealing multiple cascades, and the waterfalls (Lower Sill Branch Falls) were inspiring.

Lower Sill Branch Falls

Thanks again to the Web-Wizard for continuing to work on, and improve the website; I hope everyone enjoys it as much as I do.  Even so, if you have any questions, comments, or just want to say hello, feel free to click on the ‘contact us’ link.  Speaking of links, Dave Aldridge (the waterfall guy) has recently started his own website (with a little help from the Web-Wizard) where he plans to display his extensive collection of waterfall photos from around the world.  He is an amazing fellow, and I encourage everyone to check out ‘The Old Albatross’, and of course Rat Patrol’s website, as well, ‘RATtreks.com’.

~~~~~~~boulderman  8-19-2011

Margarette Falls…

In mid-January, I was contacted by waterfall enthusiast and aficionado, Dave Aldridge; he had been studying maps and making plans to find the ‘Bailey Falls’ in Greene County, and asked if I could go along.  As it turned out, I wasn’t busy that day, and having never been to Bailey Falls, decided to hike with him in an attempt to find them.  We drove to the trail-head just beyond the old ‘Shelton Mission’ about mid-morning of the 20th, and began our quest, hiking up the cold creek trail into ‘Bullen Hollow’.  As I just mentioned, it was a chilly morning, particularly in the mountain hollow, and there was still quite a lot of snow and ice in the trail and along the creek-banks.  Even so, quite a lot of the snow had melted down over the previous couple of days, and the cumulative snow-melt had made the water-level and overall flow of the creek rather substantial, making every cascade along the way appear like a waterfall unto itself.

Margarette Falls

Dave, a retired engineer, had brought along his new hypsometer, and was measuring the heights of any significant cascade, waterfall, or cliff-ledge (there were several of each) all the way up the hollow.  Before we had gotten too far, however, we encountered three gentlemen from the National Forest Service, who were working, putting the finishing touches on the new pedestrian bridge that spans the creek in a place that appears to be vulnerable to flooding, making it much easier to access the upper part of the ‘Margarette Falls Trail‘ (‘Bailey Falls’, as it turns out, is well beyond the Margarette Falls).  Anyway, Dave, among his many talents, is a gifted conversationalist, and having known and worked with a few of their colleagues, took a few minutes to tell a few jokes, while I admired the new fiberglass bridge.

Margarette Falls (from above)

The trail beyond the bridge was quite slippery, but the raging creek was inspirational, with several small waterfalls and many nice cascades to admire as we continued on up the snowy creek trail that skirts below sheer cliff faces, some over 200 feet tall.  As fascinating as all the small falls and cascades had been, they all paled in comparison to the ‘mighty’ Margarette Falls.  What with all the significant snow-melt waters arching and plummeting over the top-edge   (Dave calculated the actual height at 68 ½ feet tall) and the way a good quantity of that water was somehow funneled along the length of several rock-ledges on the pathway down, and falling again, spreading the water out darn near as wide as the falls are tall, gave the Margarette Falls a beautiful appearance.  I was really impressed.

Cascades along the Margarette Falls Trail

Dave and I took a short lunch break here, soaking in the beauty, while the cold wind from the waterfall quickly chilled us down after our mile and a half hike to get there.  I was still entranced by the falls, taking photos (and ultimately a video) and such, when I noticed Dave climbing a steep and rocky path (you couldn’t really call it a ‘trail’) that was leading up the right side of the falls.  I caught up to him pretty quickly, and we continued on up beyond a prominent rock ledge, and after climbing over this solid stone obstacle, made our way back to the left, to the top of the Margarette Falls.  What we couldn’t see from below was the long cascading ‘rock-chute’ that quickly funneled water down, feeding a small 10’ falls that was just before the main fall.  The rocks were much too icy and slippery to stand upon the top of the falls, although I did find a perch above that had a similar view.  Moving around the rock-chute and the top of the falls was kind of dangerous, given the icy conditions, but we were cautious.

Cascades Along the Margarette Falls Trail

Dave and I contemplated our next move, which tested our determination, and will to find the elusive Bailey Falls.  Inevitably, we decided to risk a slippery creek-crossing over a particularly icy, mossy, and extremely slick boulder in the creek just above the rock-chute and the fast moving stream of water.  We climbed up a steep hillside and maneuvered around beneath some fractured rock ledges, and made our way up the remarkably narrow creek-valley to what we thought were ‘Glen Falls’, which was where a tributary-creek joined the main creek from the opposite side of the Bullen Hollow.  According to the map and the information we had, Glen Falls was only supposed to be 8-foot tall, but with the raging ‘white-water’ snow-melt flooding down the mountain, the cascades above seemed to definitely be part of the falls, and Dave (with his hypsometer) measured them at 28 feet tall.  [Note: I have since learned that this cascade/waterfall is unnamed, and is not ‘Glen Falls’, which is further upstream, apparently.]

Cascades above Margarette Falls

From here, the creek-valley narrowed down even more, being only about the width of a one lane country road with rock cliffs on either side.  Judging by the map, we were within about a 10th of a mile from Bailey Falls; however, it appeared, what with the wider (and deeper) than usual creek, we would have to wade through the cold water to get there.  My feet were already fairly wet, but Dave’s feet had somehow remained dry, and the thought of wading through the icy waters, and walking back down the waterfalls and the trail with cold, wet feet made Dave cringe, so we decided to turn around and perhaps come back one day with extra socks and shoes.

Creek Along the Margarette Falls Trail

With some difficulty, we climbed back along the fractured-rock wall, across the slippery creek-boulder, and back to the top of Margarette Falls.  From there we cautiously made our way back down the slippery rock pathway to the base of the incredible Margarette Falls.  We took another snack break here in the cold mist and wind, admiring the beauty of the waterfalls and the way they contrasted with the tall, rugged cliffs that towered above us.

Cliffs near Margarette Falls

On our way back to the car, we encountered (for the 2nd time) the Forest Service people still working on the bridge, and (after Dave conversed for a while longer) helped carry a couple of buckets of tools back to their tram-like transport vehicle with a large wheel barrow-like bucket on it.  Back at the car, we had no regrets, despite not quite getting to ‘Bailey Falls,’ and I considered it a surprisingly impressive adventure.

Devils Creek (part one)

I had been wanting to go see the waterfalls on Devils Creek for quite some time; it had been over 20 years since the last time–which was also the first and only time—I had seen them.  When I mentioned my plan to visit the falls on Devils Creek to my hiking buddy, ‘Rat Patrol’, and he also became inspired to see them, so we began planning an expedition.

It is not very well known that Devils Creek (sometimes called ‘Stateline Creek’, since it is the border between North Carolina and Tennessee for a significant stretch up that steep, cliff-lined valley) has some very nice waterfalls and cascades, along with a couple of deep pools near the entrance to the valley.  It seems to me that we (our hiking club back then) found them by accident one time on our way hiking back from ‘Lost Cove’.  I sort of assumed that no one ever spoke of them because the river rafters, kayakers, and canoeists wanted to keep them secret for their own personal swimming pool usage in the summertime, but now I also think that the reason why they are seldom seen or spoken about is because of the railroad, which runs up and down the river gorge; they probably don’t want a lot of people walking the 2+-mile stretch up the tracks, because it is somewhat dangerous..

Mossy Rock

Our plan, however, which was flawed, (okay, it was my plan) was to avoid the train tracks by accessing the Devils Creek Valley from above, descending from the ridge-top on an old logging road near Devils Creek Gap that I had found on a previous adventure.  The problem with ‘the plan’ was that the Forest Service road that leads into Devils Creek Gap was buried in snow and is closed during the winter, which meant we had to walk an extra 2.1 miles of trail from Spivey Gap just to get to Devils Creek Gap (which we could normally drive to).  On top of that, we had gotten a late start, and didn’t even set a boot upon the snowy trail until nearly 11 a.m.  On the plus side, the snow was hard and crunchy, which made for good traction for boot-treads, and we were determined to have fun hiking the trails, regardless.

Swampy Area Along the Appalachian Trail

Anyway, to make a very long story a bit shorter, we hiked way down into the Devils Creek Valley, and made some interesting discoveries in regards to the creek and the mountains, including a long cascade that disappeared into the laurel thickets of the steep mountain hillside.  The trail became very rough, if not non-existent, after awhile, and we had to make our trail through the snow, following the path of least resistance. There were some places we encountered where the snow was over knee deep, and there were a few times where we stepped into a snow-filled crevice and fell, and we suffered a few shin bruises as a result.

Long Cascade found in Upper Devils Creek (photo by RAT)

In the end, we weren’t able to reach the big waterfalls near the river, because we began to run out of daylight.  We realized this while taking a break beside some nice cascades along the creek, a few yards away from a place where some bears (difficult to believe that they were out and about already, but that valley is a bear reserve) had stomped and wallowed around in the snow.  We could not have been very far above the waterfalls we had hiked down to see, but since we didn’t leave a 2nd vehicle in Chestoa, we had very little choice but to abandon our quest, for the time being, and traverse back to Spivey Gap.  The extra 2.1 miles of trail (4.2 actually, since we had to hike back over it again to get to the car at Spivey Gap) was just too much to overcome and still be able to view the waterfalls near the river.

Upper Devils Creek

It was a long, steep climb back to the top of the ridgeline, and the Sun was already sinking low on the horizon before we even made it back to Devils Fork Gap.  We were getting rather tired, but made it back in time to get a good view of Little Bald Mountain, Whistling Gap, and High Rocks (a wonder in itself, since it usually stays well hidden among the mountains) from the ridge-top trail on Flattop Mountain, as well as a very inspiring view of the Sun setting behind the ‘Hogback’ Ridges, with Viking Mountain and Coldspring Mountain well off to our right.  The last mile and a half, or so, was achieved in the dark over some very slushy, snow-slippery trail.  We ended up hiking approximately 9 miles, a good portion of that was over some very rough trail.

Cascades along Upper Devils Creek

While I was a little disappointed that we didn’t make it to the falls, I was pleased with the discoveries that we had made along the upper portions of the Devils Creek Valley and the lessons learned during the exploration.  Also, the view of the Sunset from the Flattop Ridgeline was very inspiring, and made the adventure worth the effort after all.

Sunset from Flattop Ridge (photo by RAT)

Devils Creek Falls (part two)

8 days after the failed attempt to view the Devils Creek Falls along the North Carolina/ Tennessee border, I met up with ‘Rat Patrol’ about mid-morning, February 6th, for another try.  This time, however, instead of walking in from the top of the valley, we chose a more direct route, following the train tracks up the Nolichucky Gorge.  It is about a 2 mile rail-hike (perhaps a little further) to the Devils Creek Valley from the parking spot at Unaka Springs.  Hiking up the tracks, we could see the valley from a long way off.  We could also see many interesting rock-cliffs along the river gorge.  We were fortunate, and didn’t have to dodge any trains on the hike in, and made it to Devils Creek in good time.

First set of falls and cascades on Lower Devils Creek

Rock Cliffs of the Devils Creek Valley

Immediately upon entering the valley, we were impressed by the cascades closest to the river.  The water levels were up, partly because of the snow-melt waters still flowing off the mountain ridges.  The further up the valley we went, the more waterfalls and cascades we encountered.  They were more and more spectacular, it seemed, as we went, highlighted by a very impressive, twisted, double-waterfall below sheer rock cliffs, with a deep pool in between the two falls.  We took a sandwich break right on top of the double-set of falls, admiring the scenic valley.  We ventured a little further up the valley, despite the trail disappearing, and found another very pretty set of waterfalls.  The light in the valley was getting rather dim by this time, and we decided to begin hiking back.

Double Falls on Devils Creek

Cascades found on Lower Devils Creek

We had to get off the tracks a couple of times and wait for a train to go by, but we still made it back to the car at Unaka Springs by twilight.  It was nice to see the falls again after 20 years, the expedition was a huge success.

A Couple More Day-hikes…

I went hiking in the Laurel Fork Gorge in December; the creek was raging after all the recent rain and snow that we had had.  The footbridges were covered with ice, and the footing along the trail, especially on the steep descents, was very slippery.  The waterfalls, however, were quite fascinating, as a lot of water was being pushed over the top edge of the falls.  I went on to the shelter, by the blue-blazed trail, receiving good views of the incredibly large rock-cliffs that are on the knob across from the waterfalls.

Laurel Falls

I also went on a day-hike in the ‘Old Forge’ area in February.  Again, the water levels were high, and the waterfalls were nice to look upon.  The wind was very intense that particular day, as I recall, pushing the trees darn near sideways as I walked below them.  The creek crossings were difficult to maneuver, without getting wet, but this made for some impressive cascades up along the Jennings Creek.  I encountered an owl sitting on a branch, but it flew away before I could get a photo.

Cascades on Jennings Creek

Waterfalls at Old Forge

Paw Paw…

The Appalachian Trail family lost an amazing fellow and friend in February.  Affectionately known as ‘Paw Paw’ by his friends and family, Paw Paw was a true trail legend, and a inspiration to many of us who hike the trails.  Not only had Paw Paw survived Pearl Harbor, World War II and the Korean conflict (he was wounded in that one), but he also hiked the entire length of the Appalachian Trail 3 times—the last time at the age of 83, which is nothing short of amazing.  He was a very popular fellow, and I always looked forward to seeing him at ‘Trail Days’ in Damascus (Virginia).  Good times always followed him around, it seemed.  He was a credit to his country, and to the entire human race.  So long Paw Paw, happy trails, my friend.

Alvis L. 'PawPaw' Kinney

~~~~~~~~boulderman 6-14-2011

‘Bastard Bear’ is a descriptive adjective (that can reasonably be confused as being a noun) I use to describe a particularly steep, or difficult hill-climb, or anything formidable and tough to manage, really, and has now recently been associated with a ‘low trail gear’ for climbing even.  I remember the first time I ever heard the phrase being used; it was Dave (‘Nurse Without A Purse’) Bigard in May of 1991, while hiking the Georgia and Southern North Carolina section of the Appalachian Trail.

View looking South from first 'white blaze' on Springer Mountain, Georgia

Some background information:  ‘Rat Patrol’ and I met Dave near Stover Creek Shelter on our 1st day of 12 out on the trail.  He went on to Hawk Mountain Shelter that afternoon, while we camped in the soft pine needles next to the creek (before the big flood that swamped our tents).  We accidentally caught up to him again the next evening after we had hiked 16 miles, mostly in the cold, pouring rain, the last 2 miles in the dark.  Anyway, it was at the Gooch Gap Shelter that we became friends with the ‘Nurse Without A purse’ (‘NWAP’ for short) and another cool hiker/adventurer named ‘Dr. Faustus.’  While the shelter had been full the night before, and Rat and I camped out in the rain again…the next morning I woke up with a pond inside my tent, and we both were still exhausted from the 16 miles the day before, so we decided to take an entire day off, trying to recuperate and dry out somewhat, watching it rain the entire day and night from inside the shelter.  Dave and Gwen (‘Dr. Faustus’) had decided to stay at the shelter, also, and we soon became ‘the gnarly family’, hiking the rest of the way to ‘Rainbow Springs’, NC, together.  There are many stories I could tell you about that trip through Georgia, like how Dave carried ‘a bear horn’ and fired it off every night before retiring to his sleeping bag, or how I had 30 pounds of trail mix, or even how Dr. Faustus kept us all entertained and inspired; every day was a new adventure, but to make a very long story a bit shorter, I will get back to the ‘Bastard Bear’ part of the story.

The 'Gnarly Family' at GA/NC state line on the Appalachian Trail 1990

I don’t remember exactly where we were, perhaps we were climbing up ‘Little Bald Knob’, or ‘Timber Ridge’ out of ‘Coleman Gap’ on our way to ‘Carter Gap’ (where we camped that night), taking advantage of the short break in the rain, when we met up with a ‘troubled youth group’ (‘The Cherokees’) and their counselors, while they were taking a break on the steep hillside.  My feet were covered in blisters, so it was difficult for me to hike, but somehow I had kept up with Gwen and witnessed Rat and Dave climbing the hill…as Dave approached the group of kids, he exclaimed something to the effect that ‘This hill is a Bastard Bear!  My ***hole is pouched out so far, you could cut lock washers!’  Several of the youth group broke out into laughter, of course, and one or two of them were laughing so hard that they fell over and were rolling around on the ground in the rocks and dirt on the trail.  I probably would have fallen over, too, but that would have required effort, and I was in too much pain, apparently, and couldn’t afford the extra energy it would have taken to get back up.  Anyway, it was really funny, as you can imagine.  I can still see the image of that boy rolling around on the ground laughing so hard he could barely breathe; it is so vivid in my mind that is somewhat surreal.  Anyway, that is how the phrase ‘Bastard Bear’ became a descriptive adjective.

Whitehouse Mountain and Cliffs

Whitehouse Mountain Cliffs…

The latest adventure in the Rocky Fork area, to Whitehouse Mountain, was very exhilarating and spectacular, and even contained a few epic ‘bastard bear’ elements and ‘extreme hiking’ moments.  Participating in the incredible hike, besides myself, were ‘Rat Patrol’, Melissa, and ‘Dan-o’.  We met up on a chilly Saturday morning and began our hike at the gate in the Rocky Fork Recreation Area.  Mel and Dan had never been there before, apparently, and were reasonably fascinated by the beautiful cascades on the creek and the inspiring views of the Flint Mountain Cliffs that are visible on your left as you walk the creek trail up into the impressive network of ridges and valleys.  The stream was moving quite briskly this day, and there was snow and ice along the banks of the stream and on the trail.

Cascades along Rocky Fork Creek

Walking beside the Rocky Fork Creek is scenic and easy; the trail is smooth and wide, but we soon turned off this valley trail, and began our hike up the unmaintained trail that leads up and around ‘Whitehouse Mountain’ (I have no idea why it is named this, or even if this is the correct name, since there isn’t any definition or designation for this knob on the topography maps…) to the gap behind the large knob.  Rat and I had already scouted out this trail about a month ago when the autumn leaves were in ‘bloom’, and had also already found the primitive trail that leads to the red-blazed ridge-top.  This was steep and slippery, and we had to negotiate both snow and briers to get to the ridge-trail.  The trail up to the top of the ‘Whitehouse’ knob is just as steep, if not steeper, and rockier, and Rat climbed slowly in what he called his ‘granny gear’, but we soon learned that there is a gear even lower than granny gear, whereas ‘granny gear’ supposedly incorporates both feet and a slow steady climbing technique for maximum traction, ‘Bastard Bear Gear’ combines both feet, both hands, both butt-cheeks, or any other body part that will assist in getting you up (or down) a snowy, steep hill.

Steep Red-Blazed Ridge-Top

The views from the top were incredible, perhaps even better than the last time we were there, since all the trees had by now lost their leaves.  As I said before, in the last blog, it is amazing just how much one can see from the top of the knob.

View from Whitehouse Mountain

View from Whitehouse Mountain

View from Whitehouse Mountain

View from Whitehouse Mountain

After taking a break and enjoying the mountain scenery, we decided to climb down off the top of the knob to what Melissa described as ‘the abyss’, where we found the tops of the amazing cliffs that overlook the Rocky Fork.  Having descended the mountain perhaps 3 1/2 10ths of a mile, and having negotiated pathless boulder-piles with scrub-trees and more briers, eventually ‘stair-stepping’ down in giant steps to the end of the world, basically–at least as far as Whitehouse Mountain is concerned.  It was very inspiring and breathtaking, perhaps even spiritual, walking out to the edge of the cliffs for the first time ever; not just the feeling of ‘vertigo’ or ‘humility’, but an indescribable, ephemeral feeling that made me take a few moments to contemplate my existence.

Standing Near the top of 'Stonehenge'

Sitting on the top of 'Stonehenge'

Directly across from where we stood were the cliffs on Flint Mountain (that we had walked under earlier) and wayyy down below, after a sheer drop of a few hundred feet was the Rocky Fork Creek in the bottom of the valley.

Flint Mountain Cliffs as seen from 'Stonehenge'

Rat had nicknamed these giant pillars of fractured rock ‘Stonehenge’ many years ago, perhaps when we first began exploring the Rocky Fork with the hiking club in 1988.  The name indeed seems appropriate for these fascinating cliffs; while they are not only a ‘phenomenon’, like the British Island ‘Stonehenge’, but are a ‘natural phenomenon’ as well.  To give the name even more meaning, a couple of weeks earlier, while hiking back from ‘Long Branch Falls’ in the late afternoon/early evening, the Sun was setting in the Flint Gap, and I could see the tops of the ‘Stonehenge’–giant pillars of rock—glowing in the sunlight.  It was a privilege for me to stand upon the fragile cliff-tops, and judging by their expression and amusement, I think that Rat, Dan-o and Melissa felt rather privileged, as well.  It was the first time that I had hiked anywhere with Mel and Dan, and while it is difficult to imagine a better adventure, it was nice to have had them along, and look forward to hiking with them again sometime.

Pointy boulder on the edge of 'Stonehenge Cliffs'

Vertigo being near the edge of 'Stonehenge'

The hike back up the Whitehouse Knob was ‘extreme’, and there were a couple more ‘bastard bear’ moments (without the ‘lock washers, thankfully), both ascending and descending the secluded, snow covered, slippery knob.  I am quite sure that I wasn’t the only one to receive deep scratches or bruises–what Melissa calls ‘merit badges’—but for me, it was well worth a few cuts and abrasions, and I hope to return to the phenomenal cliffs someday.

View from the top of 'Stonehenge'

View from the top of 'Stonehenge'

If the finding, and standing upon, the ‘Sill Branch Overlook/Cliffs’ was like ‘walking on the moon’, standing on ‘Stonehenge’ was somewhat similar, if not even more-so, since they are even taller, and there are even more cliffs across the valley to admire, as well.  There is something primordial about these majestic giant pillars of fractured stone–beyond words and my ability to describe them, except, perhaps, to say ‘…what a bastard bear’.

Middle Wilderness Falls

Wilderness Falls…

On a late November morning, I met up with my trail-hiking buddy, ‘Rat Patrol’, and his waterfall-seeking friend, Dave Aldridge.  We met Dave and one of his friends last January when Rat, Tyler, and I were hiking to the ‘Dick Creek Falls‘ by way of the Rock Creek Recreation Area on Unaka Mountain (perhaps I mentioned this in a previous blog).  Dave and his friend, Lou, were actually on their way back from these secluded waterfalls, which he found using his GPS device, and although we had a good idea where to find them, it was much easier just to simply follow Dave’s ‘star pattern’ boot-tread through the snow.  We actually bumped into Dave and Lou again about a week later on our way to ‘Rock Creek Falls‘–again they were on their way back, while we were on our way in to see them.  Anyway, meeting Dave was very lucky, indeed, since he has been an avid waterfall hunter for quite some time now, visiting and photographing waterfalls around the world.  While ‘Rat Patrol’ has been very enthusiastic about photographing waterfalls for his website, Rattreks.com, Dave’s association has helped fuel that compulsion, and inspire Rat into new waterfall territories, even, and they have been on several waterfall-hunting trips together.  However, I dare to say, that the association has been somewhat mutual, since Rat and myself know of many waterfalls that Dave (or darn near anyone) has yet to find.  In fact, on this particular day, we took Dave to some ‘unchartered’ waterfalls in the Sampson Wilderness Area that relatively no one even knows about, much less visits.

Lower part of Wilderness Falls

Before we took him to these secluded 150′ waterfalls, we walked up the ‘Longarm Creek Trail‘ to show him the upper Longarm Falls, which he had never seen before.  I have been visiting these falls almost as long as I have lived in Tennessee.  The day we were there, however, there wasn’t very much water flowing off the top, so it is difficult to fully appreciate their splendor, although we could respect their rugged appearance and significance, as they are at least 60-feet tall.  Having seen these falls in flood stage several years ago, when they more resembled a river, and large rocks were being ejected from the top (I saw one rock kick off the falls, collide with a boulder at the base of the falls and split in two) I realize their potential, and respect and admire that latent power, regardless, but they do appear more impressive when larger amounts of water are flowing off the top, but that could be said for any waterfall.

Upper Longarm Branch Falls

The weather was unseasonably warm, and the trail was somewhat steep and rocky, but no one was in a hurry; we stopped occasionally to admire some of the attractive cascades on the Longarm Branch, or take a photo, perhaps.

Cascades along Longarm Branch

Cascades along Longarm Branch

On the way back from the upper Longarm Branch Falls, we decided to take Dave to some waterfalls I accidentally found a few years ago.  I had walked by that particular hollow with the waterfalls in it for 20 years, or more, perhaps, suspecting but never realizing that there was anything in that hollow worth looking at.  The ‘trail’ to the falls is quite primitive, and is essentially non-existent when you get close to the base of the largest waterfall—the one I had nicknamed the ‘Wilderness Falls’ over a year ago (since they didn’t already have a name).  Anyway, although the trail was rough, we did eventually pass the respectable lower falls and then climbed the steep hillside to view the enormous cliff face with the creek descending off the top.  Again, there wasn’t much water flowing that afternoon—in fact , in the 7 or 8 times that I have visited these substantial waterfalls, that is the least amount of water I have ever seen dropping over the cliff’s edge—but nevertheless it was an impressive sight.  Despite the extremely steep and formidable landscape (there isn’t really a trail beyond the lower part of the falls) Dave seemed to enjoy the extraordinary falls, and thanked us for sharing them with him.  While we were there, we had Dave (a retired engineer) get a GPS reading from the base of the falls.  With this reading, he submitted the information to the Forest Service, and now ‘Wilderness Falls’ is on the Tennessee Landforms waterfall map.  It is the first time that I have gotten to name a waterfall, so I am pretty excited about that.

Sunset near Devil Fork Gap

Devil’s Fork Gap/Divide Mountain Hike…

I decided to go out for a Sunday afternoon hike in mid-November.  I wasn’t sure where to go, but I eventually ended up hiking north out of Devil’s Fork Gap.  It had been several years since I had hiked through Sugarloaf Branch, and I noticed a few ‘new to me’ trail re-locations and switchbacks that I suppose made it somewhat easier.  I actually almost missed a turn in the trail as I ascended up the hill because I am so accustomed to following the creek draw up to the gap at the top of the ridge.  As it turns out, it really wouldn’t have made very much difference, since the trail still goes through the gap, but I was interested in seeing what the ‘new’ trail was like.

Remnants of old homestead in Sugarloaf Branch

After ascending the branch trail (with the new switchbacks) to the Sugarloaf Gap, I made my way out to the northern end of Divide Mountain, skirting around below the ridge-top to the large, interesting boulder with the small spring that originates just above it.  I have heard someone call this seemingly misplaced boulder the ‘fish rock’, and I suppose if you look upon it from just the right angle, perhaps it does somewhat resemble a large fish, but to me it looks more like a large fish with its head cut off.  Regardless, it is nice to have names for such unusual, perhaps unique, boulders and such, because it can improve communication along the trail by giving names to otherwise inanimate places.

Fish Rock

Anyway, I studied the trail map through this area, and noticed some inaccuracy as to where the Appalachian Trail goes through that area, which was surprising.  Also, apparently much of what I had hiked over is technically called ‘Divide Mountain’, even though ‘Sugarloaf Mountain’ is right in there as well, which I find rather confusing, and I am not even sure what to call that one ridge-line I hiked over.  Anyway, I did go just a bit further around the point of the ridge, and got a view of Big Bald in the distance—understandably, Big Bald, elevation 5516’, is visible from darn near anywhere in this region.  It was getting late in the afternoon, and I began hiking back toward Devil’s Fork Gap.  The Sun began to set as I was trekking back down the Sugarloaf Branch part of the trail, and I was provided with some good views over toward Flint Mountain, since the softening sunlight helped with the quality of visibility.

View of Flint Mountain from trail through Sugarloaf Branch

I encountered a family, a mother and 3 children, on the last hill-climb of the day for me; they were walking down the hill toward the ‘Boone Cove Road’ that I had just crossed a few minutes before, and I suppose that they must live there somewhere.  Although it is somewhat unusual to see such young children on the trail (one of them was only an infant and was being carried ‘papoose style’ by the mother), what was really unique was the ‘russian-blue’ cat that was walking with them, and ran down the trail toward me, as if in ‘attack mode’.  At first I thought it was a small dog, in fact, and I was a bit shocked when I realized that it was actually a cat. You just don’t see hiking guard-cats like that very often.

Grave-site near Sugarloaf Branch

Sunset at Devil's Fork Gap

Anyway, by the time I reached the top of the last ridge (another part of the elusive, transient ‘Divide Mountain’), the full moon was coming up over the ridges in the east, and from where I was, I was looking down to see it rising up above the mountains, which was astonishing in itself, but also, the Sun setting on the other side of the ridge, in the southwest was very scenic—I mean it was incredible, especially when Viking Mountain is serving as a backdrop to such beauty.

Fourth set of unlisted falls in Long Branch

Long Branch Falls…

There was yet another hike in the Rocky Fork Recreation Area–a waterfall seeking journey on the ‘Long Branch’ creek.  It was a cool morning, but overall, the weather was really nice, and I met up with ‘Rat Patrol’ and his son ‘Tyler’ to find the falls.  As many times as I have walked up the ‘high road’ in the Rocky Fork, I had never adventured into the ‘Long Branch’, but passed it by many a time saying to myself, ‘I wonder what’s up in there?’  As it turns out, there are some pretty nice waterfalls and cascades in that long valley.  The water levels were pretty low on the day we hiked up through there, but I still enjoyed being out in the woods, exploring new trails, and climbing new (to me) waterfalls.

Lower Long Branch Falls

Lower Long Branch Falls #2

The falls themselves, as I said, are quite ‘nice’, in fact on the day we hiked up there, all they really needed to be ‘super-nice’ was a lot more water flowing off the tops. The largest waterfall was also the furthest away waterfall, and the most difficult to get to, as well.  Again, these falls would have been impressive with a bit of rain, but looked more like a large (30-foot tall), wet rock, with a bit of water trickling off the top.  We found an old road bed, now overgrown in small pine trees, and after getting stung by a yellow jacket or two (Tyler got stung, also), followed that old road bed back down toward the larger trail we had left to find the upper Long Branch Falls.  We had to drop down off of this overgrown trail at a ridge-point, and found another old road bed below that one that led us out of the narrow draw that the falls are situated in.

Third Set of Unlisted Falls on Long Branch

Upper Long Branch Falls

Despite being a bit disoriented and unbalanced because of the bee sting, and perhaps the antihistamine that I took to combat the effects, we made it out of the Long Branch without any problems, and hiked back through the Rocky Fork creek trail.  I mentioned this before, in the ‘Whitehouse Mountain’ part of the blog, but I was very fascinated by the Sun setting in Flint Gap, and the way it illuminated the amazing ‘Stonehenge’ cliffs.  It was an impressive solar–cliff alignment, to say the least.

Longarm Ridge

Longarm Ridge…

There is only one other hike to mention, the steep ‘bastard bear-like’ hill-climb up the northern end of Longarm Ridge.  This is a particularly desolate part of the world, and judging by the complete lack of a trail on top of the narrow ridge-top, I don’t even think the animals travel over this part of the ridge, except maybe a few birds.  While, I am always intrigued by the cumulative sound of the roaring Devil’s Fork creeks, which can be heard quite clearly while climbing the northern end of Longarm Ridge, this ‘trail’ is basically just a ‘bushwhack’.  The only reason to be up on top of this end of the Longarm Ridge, that I can think of, is to study the surrounding landscapes, particularly the ‘Big Pine Ridge and Devil’s Fork Valleys’ part of Rich Mountain.  One can also get a good view of the ridges of Sampson Mountain from there, as well.

'Trail' on top of Longarm Ridge

View from Longarm Ridge

View from Longarm Ridge

More adventures later…………….Boulderman     12-16-2010

Unaka Mountain

Camping On Bald Mountain

On a mid-October morning, with a 50+ pound backpack, I began my ascent out of Spivey Gap toward Big Bald.  The autumn leaf colors had begun to take hold on the mountain slopes, bringing them to life in one last blaze of glory before they are released from their boughs and fall to the ground.  I hadn’t gone far, not even a quarter mile, before I was passed on the trail by a southbound ‘thru-hiker’, a fellow who went by the name of ‘Bunyip‘, and his puppy-like dog, ‘Grayson’.  They were moving at a much brisker pace than I was, and soon disappeared in the higher elevations of mountain scenery.  The weather was a bit breezy and cool; the further up the mountain ridges I went, the cooler and windier it became, so much so that I had to put on a sweatshirt by the time I reached ‘High Rocks’.

View from High Rocks

I descended the trail into ‘Whistling Gap’, somewhat hoping to hear the bell-like tones, as the name implies, when the strong wind whistles through the gap (I had heard this phenomenon once before while sitting in the gap one springtime a few years ago; apparently, when the conditions are just right, the wind ‘whistles’ through the gap, forming bell-like tones as it rushes through the tree limbs, conjuring images of ice cream trucks, xylophones, and merry-go-rounds…) but the bell-like whistling must be a rare occurrence, and I didn’t hear any bells when I hiked through there that day, despite the turbulent wind rushing through.

Deer browse field near Spivey Gap

The climb up ‘Little Bald’ was a bit painful, thanks to all the winter-gear and heavy tent-weight I was carrying, but there were patches of autumn colors that kept me inspired as I ascended above 5,000’ of elevation.  The views from the bluff near the summit were quite good; the autumn colors in the valley below were pretty, but not quite to their peak yet.  This was the first time I had visited the summit of Little Bald in 2010—I couldn’t remember a year that I hadn’t been there at least once since 1990, and I lingered awhile at the bluff, enjoying the moment.

Bluff on Summit of Little Bald Mountain

A few minutes after I topped the summit (elevation 5,185), an incredibly large (and loud) cargo plane flew over—not sure what that was about, but it almost had to have been a military plane.  Anyway, I continued on out the ridge toward Big Bald.  The wind continued to gust and grow in intensity.  It didn’t take me very long to reach the camp-spot above the blue-blazed water trail, where I decided to set up camp; I had always wanted to camp there, right on top of the ridge.  The wind played tricks on me as I attempted to set up the behemoth-like tent that I had carried, at least until I could stake it down.  Getting the rainfly in place over top was also a bit challenging, given the temperament of the wind, but I managed to fasten it on before the wind could blow it away.  After putting on some warmer clothing, I ventured down the blue-blazed trail to get some water, hoping that the spring wasn’t too far down the steep mountainside, and that it was still running this time of season.  I was pleasantly surprised to find a piped spring that was flowing fairly well about a 10th of a mile down the hill.  I filled my water-bag full and returned to the ridge-camp, and prepared to cook an early supper.

Campsite on Ridge near Big Bald

Soon after I returned from the spring, I was somewhat surprised to see two women hiking down the ridge toward Little Bald.  Being already late afternoon, perhaps early evening, I thought it was way too late for anyone to be hiking through to Spivey Gap, which they apparently were planning to do.  I could see that they were not prepared for such a journey, having only wind jackets tied around their waists, while one of them was carrying a half quart of water, or thereabouts.  They didn’t have backpacks, which probably meant that they didn’t have flashlights either, which they would definitely need if they were hiking to Spivey Gap.  Fortunately, one of them asked me how far it was to Spivey Gap.  When I told them it was at least 5 ½ miles, they seemed a bit surprised—apparently someone had misled them into believing there was some sort of magic shortcut that they could take.  Anyway, after a few minutes, they eventually made the right decision, and returned to Wolf Laurel, passing by my camp a second time while I was filtering some drinking water for the night, and boiling some water for tea and supper.  I am glad nothing bad happened to them; they seemed very nice.

Chickory

The night was quite cold, and despite being tired, I had trouble sleeping, especially since the wind was raging the entire time.  There was a ½ moon hanging in the sky, along with Jupiter.  After the moon set below the horizon, the stars were incredibly bright, and the most beautiful I had seen in a long time.  Being up on the ridge near the 5,000’ elevation level gave me the extra advantage of viewing more stars, as I could actually see stars along the horizon below my line of sight.  I thought that was rather neat.  I would have stayed out star-gazing longer if it hadn’t been so cold, and eventually, I retreated into the relative warmth and comfort of the sleeping bag and tent, with the ground as my mattress.

Puffballs on Big Bald Mountain

The wind did eventually calm down by the morning, but It was still quite cold; I had somehow hyper-extended an index finger during the night, which, with the cold weather, made it somewhat difficult to do even simple things, like breaking down the tent and tying my boots.  I decided to cook up some tea, warming my hands over the alcohol flame.  I was still breaking down the camp when I saw 13 section hikers, who had obviously camped in or around the shelter the night before (it was less than a ½ mile away from my camp), hike past, heading north.

Closed Gentian

I felt better after eating breakfast and drinking some warm tea.  I finishing breaking down the camp, and decided to hide my loaded backpack behind a tree, and walk up to the summit of Big Bald, carrying only a camera and some water.  It was about a mile and a half to the summit.  On the way, I passed by the ‘Big Bald Banding Station’ near the big rock in the area known as ‘Big Stamp’, which I believe must have gotten it’s name from the early Native Americans as they followed the buffalo herds that used to live in the east; the buffalo had predetermined trails (which the early European settlers followed and turned into wagon roads) and stomping (aka ‘stamping’) grounds.  Anyway, the banding station has been catching and banding birds on Big Stamp for 32 years now, studying the migration patterns of a wide variety of bird species.

Banding Station on Big Stamp

The summit of Big Bald (elevation 5,516’) is the ‘top of the world’ around this area, only the summit of Roan Mountain is higher in elevation, and the views from Big Bald are always awe-inspiring (unless, of course, it is buried in a bank of clouds).  Although there was a dark haze to the east, presumably city/valley smog, the views from the summit were very good.  It is a somewhat magical feeling, standing on top of the world, with a 360-degree view, looking down upon nearly everything from horizon to horizon—the only exceptions being Mount Mitchell in the southeast, and Roan Mountain to the northeast.

Looking North toward Big Stamp, Little Bald, etc

View Eastward to North Carolina (Mt. Mitchell visible)

View Southwest, looking over Flint Mountain and the Rocky Fork Area

I returned to my camp and gathered up my heavy backpack, deciding to hike back toward Spivey Gap.  I met several people that afternoon, including a pair of section hikers from Arkansas doing the entire Appalachian Trail, one section at a time.  I met them at the bluff on Little Bald, and was glad to point out certain landmarks for them–mountains where they had been, and other mountains where they will be going, which for me always make the place where I am even more memorable, hopefully that had the same effect for them, because Big Bald and Little Bald are indeed special places to be.

Summit of Little Bald

All in all, the camping trip was a success, and I will long remember not only the beautiful views from the mountain top, but also the incredibly crisp, clear starlight, and the raging wind storm, along with some of the nice people I met along the way.

Gnarly Log found on Big Bald

Whitehouse Mountain Trek In Rocky Fork

There was another incredible hike in the Rocky Fork area of Unicoi County.  Just 3 days after the camping trip to Big Bald, I met up with my hiking buddy, ‘Rat Patrol’, and we drove out to Rocky Fork, stopping off first to view the Devil’s Fork Falls (not to be confused with the Devil’s Fork Falls in the Sampson Wilderness Area, but a different set with the same name near Flint Mountain).  Rat had been there a few days earlier, but said he missed seeing the upper falls and cascades, and wanted to go back.  The falls and the associated cascades are pretty nice, even in low-water type conditions, and they are very close to the road, which is convenient.  However, its proximity also allows for quite a lot of trash to be thrown down the embankment into the creek and along the sides, which is a shame.  Perhaps some of the trash floated down stream during times of flood, but for whatever reason, there was everything to see down the steep embankment from television sets, to water heaters, to old car doors, even.  We dropped off the road and down the steep, rocky bank right below an old hornets’ nest; we also had to watch where we stepped and put our hands because there was some broken glass to negotiate as well—it was rather difficult getting down and back up this perpendicular and rugged slope, but we managed to do it without injury.

Devil Fork Falls (lower)

Devil Fork Falls (upper)

Falls found above Upper Devils Fork Falls

Second set of falls found above Upper Devils Fork Falls

We returned to the vehicle and drove into the Rocky Fork, parking just below where the old cabin used to be (the chimney is still there in the field).  We hiked in beneath the impressive cliffs, and enjoyed the beautiful waterfalls and cascades that are all along the stream, and also the colorful autumn leaf colors.  We did a whole lot of hiking in the Rocky Fork with the now defunct hiking club in the late 1980’s and early ‘90’s, but we had never taken the trail that leads in behind the first knob—I am told that it is known as ‘Whitehouse Mountain’.  I just always thought of that particular knob as the one with the gargantuan cliff-rock that is right over your head (on the right side of the trail) as you walk up the Rocky Fork Creek Trail.  For years we have called that giant cliff-rock ‘Stonehenge’– it is quite prominent.  Indeed, I could see it when I was standing on Big Bald a few days earlier.

Cascades along Rocky Fork Creek

We found the concealed trail without any problem and followed it up between the two knobs, eventually reaching a gap behind the ‘Whitehouse’ Mountain.  From there, we followed a steep, nearly invisible trace up to the right, ascending the knob.  Before too long, we reached a red-blazed boundary trail that followed the spine of the ridge straight up to the top of the knob. It was extremely steep, and became very rocky, especially near the summit.  We gained a lot of elevation in a very short distance, and were somewhat amazed by the size of not only the adjacent knob that we had hiked beneath on our left, which rose up into a huge and colorful volcano-like knob (looking at it from below belies its tremendous size), but also we were impressed with the size of the Whitehouse Mountain Knob that we had climbed–in other words, without boring you with specifics or unnecessary math, ‘it was a steep climb.’

View from summit of Whitehouse Mountain just above 'Stonehenge' cliffs

Even better, the view from the top of the Whitehouse Mountain Knob was much better than expected.  You can see darn near everything there is to see in that part of the world from up there.  The view from the top of the rocky knob really was quite surprising.  It was a warm day, and a thirsty climb, and we stayed up on top of the summit for quite a while soaking in the various landforms and the beautiful autumn colors.

View from Whitehouse Mountain

View from Whitehouse Mountain

View from Whitehouse Mountain

View from Whitehouse Mountain

View from Whitehouse Mountain

View from Whitehouse Mountain

View from Whitehouse Mountain

While we were there, a large black winged, white-breasted hawk landed in a tree not far away—it was so large, in fact, that for a moment or two, I thought it must have been an owl.  It was obviously startled to discover 2 hikers on the knob, and flew off into the Rocky Fork Valley, screeching as if annoyed.  I had somehow misplaced my hiking stick on the ascent to the knob, but found it in a brushy place next to a fallen log along the rock spine on the return trip.  Hiking up the Whitehouse Mountain was quite a scenic adventure, and I look forward to returning there sometime in the future, as well as hiking some of the other trails in the Rocky Fork area.

Asters

Some Other Adventures

The Boulder-Garden Camp…

The Boulder-Garden Camp

There was another camping trip; a peaceful night at the ‘boulder-garden’ camping place above the rock stairway up the hill from Spivey Gap (on the Little Bald Mountain side).  I set up camp early, and despite it being quite warm, I started a small fire in the fire-pit, mostly to drive off the irritating kamikaze eye-gnats and bloodsucking mosquitoes, but after the sun went down behind the ridges, it was nice to have a comfortable fire to sit beside.  It was a beautiful night, and the moon was exceptionally bright.  The sound of the acorns falling out of the trees was a bit of a distraction, and kept me awake for a while.  I could also hear the train traveling up and down the river gorge several miles away.

Fire at the Boulder Camp

Temple Ridge…

View of Nolichucky Gorge from Cliff Ridge

There was a day-hike to the high knob on Temple Ridge, by way of the Cliff Ridge Trail (which is also part of the Appalachian Trial).  I hike this section quite a lot because it is fairly close by and easy to access.  The views of the Nolichucky River Gorge and Unaka Mountain are pretty good, and the trail is well graded and switch-backed, for the most part, so I can get some good exercise and fresh air without having to drive very far.  I met a southbound ‘thru-hiker’ on the ridge, a fellow by the name of ‘Better Late than Never’ who was carrying at least a half-case of Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer.  I forget exactly how much beer he said he was carrying, but it was a lot, considering how heavy beer is when you have to carry it up a big hill, like Temple Ridge.  I suggested that he started to carry liquor instead of beer, since it is easier to tote around, but he obviously really likes his PBR.  I never thought I would meet anyone who like Pabst as much as my hiking buddy ‘Legs’, but ‘Better Late than Never’, I think earns that distinction.

Patriotic Flag on Temple Hill Ridge

Iron Mountain Gap To Cherry Gap Shelter And Back/Northern Unaka Mountain…

Autumn View from Unaka Mountain

There was another day-hike on the northern end of Unaka Mountain, from Iron Mountain Gap to the Cherry Gap Shelter.  It was a breezy, yet pleasant day for hiking.  The autumn colors were still ‘blooming’ in the lower elevations, and were still fairly nice in the higher elevations, even though many of the leaves had already been blown off the trees and were now lying in the trail, and on the ground.  I really like the trail through this section of the Appalachian Trail, especially since it was partially relocated about a year and a half ago.  It is also fairly easy for me to access.  On this particular cloudy afternoon, I didn’t see anyone on the trail, but did watch 4 or 5 hawks playing ‘chase’ in the wind.

Cherry Gap Shelter

Jones Branch To Curly Maple Gap Shelter, And Back…

Jones Branch Overlook

I realize that I write about Jones Branch and the Southern end of Unaka Mountain quite a lot, and I do hike there often, mostly due to its close location, but also because of the peaceful creek trail, the surprisingly scenic waterfalls and cascades (in the high-water seasons), and also because of the scenic Overlook. I wasn’t looking for anything to write about, or photograph, but was just out for some fresh air and exercise.  The weather was nice, and I was completely surprised to discover that the old Curly Maple Gap Shelter had been refurbished—it is now ‘the new Curly Maple Gap Shelter’–a double-decker shelter with a large rain-porch.  I really have to give a lot of credit to the Eastman Hiking Club and their trail crew for doing such an incredible job rebuilding the shelter; it is pretty awesome what they did with that old block shelter.

Note from Webmaster: If you would like to read more details about the rebuilding of the Curly Maple Gap Shelter, and see before and after pictures taken during the construction, please download a small document file here.

New and Improved Curly Maple Gap Shelter

As always, thanks go out to my trail-hiking buddy, ‘Rat Patrol’, not just for hiking with me, but for donating several of his photos for the Trailstealth Photo Gallery.  Also, many thanks to the Web-Wizard for his substantial time and efforts in keeping this website moving forward.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Boulderman    11/11/2010

RAT on Max Patch (9-9-2010)

I began loading and unloading my backpack days in advance, tweaking and re-tweaking just about everything, trying to get acclimated to camp life; finally the day arrived, I tossed (well, ‘heaved’ would be more accurate) the pack into the back of Rat Patrol’s car, and we were on the road to Hot Springs.  We arrived around 2:30 in the afternoon, but had to wait around a few hours before we could get a ride to the Appalachian Trail-crossing just South of Max Patch.  We climbed up the impressive bald mountain just about as the Sun was setting, and the views from the summit were incredible.  Fortunately, we hadn’t planned on hiking very far the first day out on the trail, anyway, and we set up camp just before dark about a quarter mile off the summit on the Northern slope under the trees.

Ascending Max Patch

It was a bit difficult to sleep that evening, mostly because of the ‘1st night out in the woods camping adrenaline’, but there was also the sounds of the raucous, loud cicadas reverberating in waves, and the occasional cluster of acorns falling through the tree leaves.  I also remember listening to an owl off in the distance, but that was rather pleasant by comparison.  Just before dawn, there were some coyotes howling, and a little while later, I heard at least a dozen large birds, quail perhaps (judging by the sound), flying off from the ridgeline nearby—apparently they had camped with us on the ridgeline, without our knowing.

Bol'Dar hiking across Max Patch (9-9-2010)

After breakfast and breaking down the camp, we were on the trail.  I hadn’t gotten very far (just to the bottom of the first hill) before I stepped in a hole, sprained my left ankle, and fell to the ground.  It was a bit sore, being the ‘high ankle sprain’ kind, but I walked it off and continued on to the ‘new’ Roaring Fork Shelter, where I stopped for a snack at the awesome picnic table there.  Rat arrived a short time later. After the snack break, we continued on toward Lemon Gap; we hadn’t gone far, however, before I inadvertently stumbled again, this time twisting and spraining my right foot and ankle—it was quite painful, and I had to take a few moments to ‘rub a little dirt on it’ and re-tie my boot before continuing down the trail.  We met a couple with a boxer at Lemon Gap, who had passed us while we were getting water at the ‘old’ Roaring Fork Shelter site, and stopped to talk with them for a couple of minutes before climbing Walnut Mountain, where we set up our tents just above the old shelter near the summit.

Old wooden stairs beside Roaring Fork Creek

Sometime during the night, a pack of dogs arrived—I could hear them stomping around outside my tent—I was a bit sleepy and wasn’t quite sure what they were at first (and didn’t really want to know), hoping that if I didn’t pay any attention to them, perhaps they would go away and leave us alone.  That was not to be, however, and they became very annoying, barking and stomping around.  It seemed like they would never leave.  Eventually, I guess they finally left, but just before dawn, a big rainstorm came, swamping my tent as the water somehow found its way underneath.

Walnut Mountain Shelter during the rains

It was still raining quite persistently around noontime, and, having ‘tent-fever’ by then, decided to get up and move around anyway.  My rain gear mostly consisted of an umbrella, and as I walked down past the shelter I noticed that the couple with the boxer were still in the shelter (they had stayed there the night before), but they left soon after.  When I became aware of their evacuation, I told Rat, who was still holed up inside his tent, and we both decided to sit inside the shelter and cook up some breakfast while the rain was still falling.  The rain finally slacked off around 2 pm, but Rat’s back was very sore, and he was still having pain from the motorbike accident, and he had already made the call to have a ‘zero mile’ day.  Perhaps I could have convinced him to walk a few miles, if I had wanted to try, but I was a bit tired, having gotten very little sleep, and the truth was, my right foot felt like it belonged to Frankenstein, and my right ankle was still very sore, so as it turns out, there wasn’t any discussing whether we should hike or not—it was Rat’s call, anyway.

Strange variety of Bee Balm on Max Patch

I did, however, decide to move my tent about 75 yards further up the hill to a nice, level camp-spot that made my previous camp seem more like ‘the ghetto’.  Rat moved his tent, as well, and we spent much of the afternoon drying out our equipment and resting in the comfortable hammock that I had carried–It was very relaxing, and a great way for me to elevate my foot.  I decided to cook an early supper, which turns out to have been a good idea, because not long after dinner, a huge storm blew in from the Tennessee side, the remnants of tropical storm Hermine.  First the sky grew dark, and the wind began to pick up, as we could hear thunder off in the distance.  Soon after, we could see flashes of lightning from our vantage point on top of the ridgeline.  We ‘battened down all the hatches’ all we could, so to speak (I fastened a plastic rain poncho outside of the tent door, which obviously saved me a lot of problems later), and braced for the impending onslaught.  I was already in my tent, but could see Rat was still outside facing the storm, like that guy on the shrimp boat in the ‘Forest Gump’ movie, while lightning flashed three quick bursts, like x-rays, all around us.  I told him he better get in his tent, and thankfully he did, just as the wind, which had been blowing in on a straight line, began to play tricks with the walls of my tent, causing them to vibrate as the wind now seemed to be swirling as it passed over the mountaintop; it was kind of scary.

Lyon's Turtleheads

That was just the beginning, however, as the rain began to pour down upon us, as if propelled out of a cannon, while the lightning flashes lit up everything, and the thunder rumbled like the voice of an angry Mayan storm-god. It was all very loud, and this went on for a couple of hours, I suppose, if not longer, with the rain and thunder returning in powerful bursts.  At one point, we both heard a large tree fall not far up the hill above us.  I don’t mean to carry on about the storm too much, but it was very, very intense.

Clouded Summit of Walnut Mountain as seen from near the shelter

Eventually, there was a lull in the storm, and we had a chance to survey our situation; there was a small pond just outside my tent door, and the rain poncho I had placed in front of it was covered in mud.  I was really thankful that we had re-positioned ourselves up the hill to the new camp-spot (what Rat had called the ‘hiker relocation program’) and had taken all the precautions that we did to ride out the ferocious storm.  I heard Rat over in his tent say something about getting stung by a yellow jacket, and later on mentioned something about a mouse trying to chew its way inside of his tent, which somewhat surprised me, being at least a hundred yards away from the shelter, where most mice tend to gather, and, after he had banished it from his residence, predicted that it would heading my way.  A couple minutes later, something was indeed shaking the walls of my tent, perhaps stress-testing the tent-walls to find the best way inside.  I forget what exactly I did to dismiss the critter, perhaps I shook the tent wall, but what was interesting to me was how a minute or two later, I heard the flutter of birds wings flying off from just outside my tent and just knew that an owl had eradicated the pesky mouse for us.  Owls are our friends.  Although I had hiked this section of trail several times, mostly in the ‘90’s, I had never camped on Walnut Mountain before, staying only long enough to eat lunch, but I feel that I more than made up for that affront by camping out two nights there.

Camp #2 at Walnut Mountain from the 'Ham-Cam'

The rest of the night was uneventful, and when the morning broke, it was difficult to tell, because it was still rather dark as a thick bank of clouds rested upon the mountain top.  It was also quite windy.  Anyway, we ate breakfast while breaking down the camp, packing up everything as it was (soaking wet), which made for a heavier than expected pack-weight.  Surprisingly, my ankle felt quite a bit better, and after we were on the trail for a while, we descended out of the thick cloud into Kale Gap before beginning our ascent on Bluff Mountain.

Face Rock seen while ascending Bluff Mountain

The climb up Bluff Mountain, something that I was somewhat dreading, because of my memory telling me how difficult a climb it is, was much better than expected; in fact, the ascent up this large mountain was quite scenic and enjoyable—getting a fresh start on it in the morning after a whole days rest is much preferable to trying to climb it at the end of a long day of hiking.  There were interesting looking boulders all along the trail, and the wind was very refreshing once we reached the main ridgeline, as we re-ascended into the cloud-bank.  I decided to stop and take a break at the rocky summit (elevation 4,686’); the circular mound of boulders reminded me of something out of a ‘King Arthur’/Merlin the Wizard’ story, and I enjoyed taking off my boots and allowing my feet to breathe, while eating a snack and waiting on Rat to catch up.

Rocks on the summit of Bluff Mountain

The descent off of Bluff Mountain was long and steep, even with all the new switchbacks that have been installed in the last decade.  I was out of water, and since there wasn’t supposed to be any good water sources between Bluff Mountain and the Deer Park Mountain Shelter, I ‘tanked up’ at the ‘Big Rock Spring’, making my backpack even heavier—it was a bit uncomfortable with all the wet equipment and the extra gallon and a half of water.  Normally, I wouldn’t carry that much water, but I didn’t expect to make it all the way to Deer Park Mountain Shelter, and was hoping to find a good campsite somewhere beyond ‘Garenflo Gap’.  Rat gathered water as well, telling me that he had gotten stung by bees 2 more times.  A little while later, I met a friendly southbound ‘thru-hiker’ by the name of ‘Jinglez’, who informed me about the water situation between Bluff Mountain and Hot Springs.  I suppose I should have asked her about potential campsites, but it completely slipped my mind.

View of Northern side of Bluff Mountain from Lamb Knob

Finding a decent campsite was somewhat of a challenge, but I eventually found one on the ‘land bridge’ between ‘Lamb Knob’ (which had a few nice views looking back toward Bluff Mountain) and ‘Canebrake Ridge’.  I was mostly set up, and had stuff drying in the warm late afternoon breeze when Rat Patrol finally arrived; he was expecting to have to walk another 2 miles to the shelter, but I figured, what with all the extra weight we were carrying, that 9 miles was plenty far enough for the day.  Although this was the day that we had intended on getting to Hot Springs, as it turns out, that was the most peaceful night that we spent on the trail; the weather was very nice, and no animals bothered us…we were even treated to a beautiful new moon and plenty of stars that were visible through a break in the tree-canopy.  I slept like a rock.

Deer Park Mountain Shelter

The next morning, while we were breaking down the camp, we were passed by nearly 20 friendly day-hikers on their way to Hot Springs.  We passed 4 more on our way down to ‘Gragg Gap’.  We weren’t in any hurry, having only 5 miles to go until the end of the trip, so we walked up the side-trail to Deer Park Mountain Shelter, and took a snack break there.  The rest of the hike to Hot Springs was relatively uneventful, as no one sprained any ankles, or was stung by bees.  All in all, it was a good hiking trip.

More…

5 days before leaving for Max Patch, Rat, Tyler, and I went for an 8+ mile day-hike up the ‘Fork Ridge Trail’ to Coldspring Mountain, and out to the ‘Big Rock’…and back.  Although it was rather steep in places, I was mostly impressed with the Fork Ridge Trail.  It was better maintained, in fact, than the Appalachian Trail was through the ‘Meadow / Bassette Knob’ section, which was completely grown up in head-high stickers and weeds.

Green Dragonfly hovering over Deer Pond on Coldspring Mountain

There was a bit of an incident on the way to the mountaintop meadow, when I fell off a large, perpendicular boulder that I was attempting to climb.  I fell several feet on top of some angular big rocks that were below and ended up upside down, wedged in between a few gnarly azalea bushes.  Although I did sprain an ankle and get somewhat bruised and scratched up, I did managed to avoid any serious, lasting injury.

View of Tennessee Valley from Big Rocks on Coldspring Mountain

The views from the mountaintop trail and the Big Rock were pretty good, although it was very hot and quite hazy, which isn’t favorable for getting quality photos.  It was nice, however, to be standing on the Big Rock, the summit of Coldspring Mountain (elevation 4,838’).

Orange Yellow Mushroom Fungus

There is one other hike to briefly mention:  The hike to the summit of Unaka Mountain (elevation 4,957’), which is a beautiful, and peaceful, place to spend an afternoon.
Now that autumn has arrived, I expect to be out in the mountains quite a lot, and have several trips planned already.

Summit of Unaka Mountain

Okeepa

Sadly, my trail-friend  ‘Okeepa’  passed away on September 28th, at the age of 40.  He had battled cancer for the last 3 years, and was still optimistic about his chances when I last talked with him at Trail Days in May.  He was a very intelligent fellow, having earned a Master’s Degree in Biology from William and Mary College, and also knew a lot about music; in fact he knew a lot about many things, which made him something of a ‘renaissance man’.  He and his wife, ‘Bev’, were  accomplished adventurers.   Among his noteworthy adventures, Okeepa had hiked the entire length of the  Appalachian Trail in 1996, which was when he received his ‘Okeepa’ trail-name.    He was well liked by everyone , and while it is sad to know that he is gone, it is perhaps comforting to realize that he lived a good life and is now off ‘on his next great adventure’.  He will be remembered as much as he will be missed.

Jeffery Douglas 'Okeepa' Hager - 1970 - 2010 R.I.P. (photo by Lowrider)

More adventures soon…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Boulderman    9/23/2010

Jones Branch Overlook…

I suppose the most ambitious trail escapade of the summer (so far) was the hike to the Jones Branch Overlook, a quite scenic cliff-boulder overlooking the peaceful Jones Branch, where the Appalachian Trail ascends/descends the southernmost ridges of Unaka Mountain near the Nolichucky River.  From the secluded overlook, there are also some very good views beyond the river gorge, out to the Bald Mountain Chain of the Appalachians.  I accidentally found the overlook a few years ago, perhaps after a Jones Branch Waterfall adventure, and have been going back every year since.  My hiking buddy, ‘Rat Patrol’ had had never been there, however, and despite some sore ribs from a recent motorbike accident, decided to brave the elements (mostly heat and ‘bugs’) and check out the overlook.

View from the Jones Branch Overlook

The plan was fairly simple:  We left a car at the trail-head near the Nolichucky River Campground, and drove up and around the mountain to ‘Indian Grave Gap’, where we began our hiking journey.  The first 4 miles to ‘Curly Maple Gap’ went rather quickly, and without too much misadventure. Then we began our side-trip to the overlook, ascending the old gap trail to the fork, and hiking out the seldom-used trail on the large, rugged knob that is positioned between the north and south forks of the Jones Branch.  We had to descend the face of the knob (it was very steep) about a tenth of a mile (perhaps a little further) to get to the rock overlook. The views were nice–Big Bald was visible when we first arrived, but a cloud rolled over the mountains from North Carolina, and obscured part our view to the south.  This same cloud tried to rain upon us, but it was so hot at the time, that the raindrops mostly evaporated before reaching us, showering us in a cool, refreshing mist, instead.  We lounged about upon the exquisite rock cliff, listening to the relaxing sounds of the waterfalls far below us, for as long as time would allow, and then retraced our steps back up the steep face of the knob, and (after investigating some of the other intriguing cliff-boulders that inhabit the side of the knob) made our way back to Curly Maple Gap.

Bol'Dar on the Jones Branch Lookoff

We met a thru-hiker at the shelter there, a fellow named ‘Heavy Metal’ from Detroit, and we stopped for a while to talk with him before descending the Appalachian Trail into the Jones Branch.  I couldn’t resist climbing up onto the large boulder-spine that buttes out of the side of the ‘Johnson Rock Ridge’ since ‘they were there’; Rat was a bit reluctant to follow, but managed to climb up and get one last view of the mountains before climbing back down.  I inexplicably ‘wiped out’ on my way down off of the rock spine, and sprang a leak in my arm.  It was nothing serious, however, and we continued on down the trail, finishing our 11-mile hike at the river, where Rat’s car was waiting for us.  Somewhere along our trek, I apparently encountered a herd of chiggers, which was rather unpleasant, but not earth-shattering.

Flint and Coldspring Mountains…

There was another rather ambitious hike to Coldspring Mountain:  In early August, I drove up to Devil’s Fork Gap along the Tennessee—North Carolina state line.  The air smelled just like perfume at times, as I began hiking the Appalachian Trail south towards Flint Gap and Coldspring Mountain.  I had hoped to hike all the way to the ‘Big Rock’ on top of Coldspring, but having gotten a late start (which isn’t very unusual) only made it as far as the Shelton Memorial.  The climb out of Flint Gap up the Coldspring Ridge has always kicked my butt—even 20 years ago when I had slightly more spring in my step and a bit more endurance.

Flint Mountain

It was a really hot day, mid-90’s, I would say, but I did fairly well, at least until I eventually ran out of steam about a football field down from the top of the ridgeline.  After a sandwich break and some water, I made it the rest of the way to the top, and on to the Shelton Memorial, where I rested some more and enjoyed the peacefulness of the Civil War Graves Memorial site.

Shelton Graves / Memorial

I can’t help but wonder how and why these young men, kids really (one of them was only 13 years old), were killed, who they were and what they were like. It seems like such a waste, ambushed and killed for no good reason, in the prime of life.  Surely the ambush party could have done things differently, but I suppose we will never know the whole story of what happened that night on the mountain.  One thing is for sure–it wasn’t good.  There are some very old trees nearby that may have been saplings 150 years ago when all that bad stuff was happening there—and they are still standing as witnesses…if only trees could talk.

Roan Mountain High Knob Trail…

Near the end of July, I went up to Roan Mountain and hiked up to the summit from Carvers Gap.  Somehow, I had strained a calf muscle a couple of days beforehand, so I took my time climbing the hill, enjoying the scenery as much as I could.  It was a nice day and the views across the gap to the balds were pretty good, although there were several noisy people yelling back and forth, which I could hear all the way across on the High Knob.  I also encountered several hikers on the way up the trail and a cool stealth-rabbit that decided to pose for my camera.  The air smelled fresh, having rained just before I arrived, apparently, and the balsams always seem to smell good, as that is their nature.

Round Bald

It had been quite a long time since I had visited the shelter (the old Fire Warden’s cabin, back when there was still a fire-tower there) at the High Knob, and was glad to see that it had been repaired—the floor was rotted out and mostly gone the last time I remember staying there.  It looked to be in pretty good condition; however, there were an inordinate number of flies clustered in front of the shelter for some strange reason, which would rise up and buzz around if disturbed from their headquarters around the fire-pit.  The rocks above the shelter, the highest point on Roan Mountain (elevation 6,285’), made for a pleasant lunch venue before hiking back down the trail to Carver’s Gap.  I saw a few deer in the State Park as I was driving through there, but couldn’t stop to take any photos, since there were a couple of cars behind me at the time.

Waterwheel at Roan Mountain State Park

The Spivey Gap Adventures…

There were 3 hikes starting out of Spivey Gap; the first trip in mid-July found me waiting out a fast moving rainstorm beneath the colossal ‘High Rocks’ on the Appalachian Trail.  I was rained on again before I could get back to Spivey Gap, but it felt refreshing, and I didn’t mind at all.  The second trip, in mid-August, was interesting, as I decided to trek up the old Forest Service Road (the Pisgah National Forest Service does a good job maintaining their forest service roads) to Whistling Gap.  I saw a grouse pretending to be wounded, and while checking that out, I walked up upon a rather large wild turkey, which sprung out of the brush beside the freshly mowed meadow, and somewhat startled me. With a perfect camouflage, I never would have seen her if she hadn’t of jumped out of the brush—they are very ‘stealth-like’ when they want to be.  Anyway, I hiked on to the Whistling Gap and enjoyed the peace and serenity there and also re-discovered the mysterious ‘rock mound site’, which I haven’t been able to explain as yet.  Perhaps it was an old homestead at one time.  Despite the road having been mowed, my boots were water-logged by the time I returned to the Spivey Gap, and they needed a few days to dry out before the next trip.

View from below High Rocks

The 3rd, and most recent trip to Spivey Gap was a rain adventure out to ‘Devil’s Creek’ and ‘No Business Knob’.  I met a friendly, young woman, with her 2 dogs, on a section hike near ‘Devil’s Creek Gap’, and watched her disappear into the thick cloud that engulfed us before descending down the old trail into Devil’s Creek.  It was already raining somewhat beforehand, but I hadn’t gotten very far down the trail before the rain began pouring down upon me, as if out of a bucket.  I was trying out an old umbrella as a rain deflector, which was a bit awkward, but stayed fairly dry huddled up beneath it, hoping to wait out the storm.  After 10 or 15 minutes crouched beneath the umbrella, however, my knees began to complain, and I eventually decided that since it wasn’t going to quit raining anytime soon, to put on a raincoat (which wasn’t much help) and continue hiking down into the Devil’s Creek Valley.

Devils Creek Valley from No Business Knob

The trail wasn’t maintained, and there were several large patches of stinging nettles, which are unpleasant (I was wearing shorts), and also areas where the laurels have taken over the old roadbed.  After about a mile of this wet, amusing trail, when the laurel hells and nettles began to appear even thicker, I decided that this hike would probably be better in the winter, when the nettles (and perhaps a few other creatures) would be in hibernation.  Anyway, I hiked back up to the Appalachian Trail, and wandered out toward the shelter on No Business Knob, hoping to get a view of the river gorge.  I guess my adventure level was still a bit low, however, and, having seen a rock ledge above the trail, decided to climb up the pathless ridgeline to get a better view.  I didn’t climb to the top of the knob, but did climb high enough to get a quite good view of the Spivey Gap area and Flattop Mountain, although the clouds were way too thick to see Little Bald, or Big Bald in the distance.  Of course, the shredded clouds floating up the valley and ascending the sides of the mountain was a good part of the charm—it looked rather amazing.

Sampson Mountain Wilderness…

I don’t go into the Sampson Mountain Wilderness as often as I used to in the summertime; it can be rather depressing to see the creek in such a state of decline, and summer is also when the blood-sucking, and kamikaze eye-orcs, become thick as clouds.  It can be rather irritating.  Despite all that, I took a hike up back into the wilderness one day in early August.  The creek was barely running, and I did get a few gnats in my eyes, but there was no danger of getting my feet wet at any of the creek crossings while I walked out toward Buckeye Falls. I didn’t go quite that far, however, but I did make a few notes concerning old roadbeds leading up onto Sampson Mountain for possible future exploration, but the thing that impressed me the most about this hike were the tall, colorful cardinal flowers that were blooming next to the creek in places—they seem to thrive there.

deep pool in Clarks Creek

A Few More Hikes…

My friend, ‘Grasshopper’, was in town for a few days and we went out for a couple of mountain hikes.  We managed to get soaking wet on the trail near Sam’s Gap (well, mostly I did, since she had a raincoat), but it was refreshing, and we  succeeded in having fun anyway.  We were also rained on during a hike up to Sill Branch Falls, but again, we had quite a lot of fun, at least until the lightning and thunder made us retreat to the car.

As always, many thanks to the Web-Wizard for all the good work on the website.  .   Likewise, thanks to Rat Patrol for all the impressive Roan Mountain photos, and everyone else who has sent in photos, or takes the time to read this trail-blog, especially if you read it all the way to the end.

More adventures soon, as we prepare for the 2010 version of ‘Rat’s Birthday Hike’…not quite sure where we are going yet, but it should be an adventure.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Boulderman      8-24-2010

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