Crooked Arm Ridge Trail, 2007

Just after noon on the last Saturday in May 2007, I pulled out of Columbus, Mississippi, headed for the Smoky Mountains and the Cades Cove area. My goal was to hike a ridge I had not hiked before ... the Crooked Arm Ridge Trail on the north side of Cades Cove.
After a frustrating drive around the Cades Cove loop (way too much traffic and people stopping all traffic to see any wildlife ... rumors of a bear will stop traffic for 45 minutes), I spent the night at the CC campground where I had made a reservation many months ahead. I did get some shots of cabins and such around the Cove. I have driven this loop many times, and during the middle of the day it is almost unbearable with the traffic. I swear I will never drive it during the day again, but I often do because the scenery is so lovely. The best time to drive this is early in the morning. Memorial Day weekend is NOT the time to try to get around CC or to catch an empty slot in CC. Camped next to a "mountain photographer" who had more gear (including a Range Rover decked out with every gadget known to man) than should be allowed--proving that the photography business must be doing very well.

Monday morning I headed up Crooked Arm Ridge Trail with my immediate goal of turning down the Scott Mountain Trail after a little over two miles, to Turkey Pin Ridge campground for the night. I wasn't sure about the subsequent nights ... figured I'd decide that when I got up the next morning. Since it was only a few miles, I figured that even an old man could survive the climb, even though trail descriptions speak of dozens of switchbacks and lots of dust. The Crooked Arm Trail is not wonderful. It is a horse trail and the hiker is constantly having to watch his/her step. Horses are the scourge of any hiking trail, and this one was not exception. Also, once, when passing a horse train, the wrangler asked me to hike 50 meters off the trail so I wouldn't "scare the horses with my pack." Dang! I thought about Robin and Little John on the log, but decided to take the high road ... One would think that mountain trail horses ought to be used to hikers with packs ... however, I obliged and moved up the side of the mountain off the trail. The wrangler--a real mountain woman, if I've ever seen one--did nod a thank you to me.

I took it easy up the trail and around the switchbacks ... saw a 3-foot rat snake that was still limbering up from the cool night before--cool for a snake, but not particularly cool for me. I stopped often trying to get a view of the Cove, but couldn't get a good vantage point from this trail. I did get some nice shots of a flame azalea, some mountain laurel, and a couple of other wildflowers. I took a picture of a sourwood tree, since it is used for several things by mountain folk.
When I arrived at the Scott Mountain trail, I turned right and headed down it, not sure how far I would have to go for the Turkey Pin Ridge knob. It must have been only a few hundred yards, because I hardly had time for my mind to escape the present as it often does when I hike alone. Suddenly, the trail marker for the campground appeared and I turned off the trail for this little campground. I was glad to see a cable system for raising packs and food bags, since the ranger at CC had warned me about bear sightings.
The campground turned out to be a delightfully grassy knob above a bare area in the lower saddle area. The bare area had a well-used fire ring, but the grassy knob wasn't heavily used for some reason--although much more attractive to me. I quickly threw off my pack and started pulling my gear out for afternoon coffee and a power bar. After setting up my tent, I pulled my sleeping pad out and leaned it against a nearby log to read Bill Bryson ... always entertaining.

After an hour or so respite, I decided to hike back to the Crooked Arm trail and head farther up to the ridge where old topo maps show a fire tower. I hoisted my entire pack up on the cable system, took my fanny pack with camera, and headed out. After a couple of hours of photographing blossoms and interesting lichen, I got to the place where there had once been a fire tower looking over both sides of the ridge ... nothing left except the four concrete corner post foundations. I sat there for a few minutes and rehydrated, then headed back down the trail. Not a terrifically memorable dayhike, but nice enough to think about sometime.
I returned to my campground late in the afternoon thinking that I needed more water before dark. I checked my topo to see that it showed a stream down the Scott Mtn trail, but I couldn't tell how far. Luckily for me, it was only a few hundred meters down the trail. My SweetWater system quickly filled four water bottles for the night and morning, and I headed back up the trail.
Sometime around 9PM or so, two guys came down the trail and decided to camp in the lower area of the campground. The were hammock guys, and found trees to string their gear up ... looked comfortable to me! I felt badly for them in that I had brushed my teeth that night down in their area, spitting my toothpaste in their fire ring. I hoped that they would not be bothered by critters. I was quickly back to sleep and didn't even hear them come up and run their food bags up the cables. Sometime early in the morning, while it was still very dark, I heard the unmistakable noises of a bear coming up through the woods. I listened as he snuffed around my tent, then over to my water bottles, as I hoped that I hadn't gotten any toothpaste on them the night before. When I heard him/her turn over a bottle, I shouted for him to go down the hill and bother the hammock sleepers ... he seemed to mind my command voice, and rambled down the hill. Shortly thereafter, I heard the guys whacking the ground underneath their hammocks with their trekking poles. It must have worked--he went on down the hill. Fortunately, for them and me, we had put all of our odorous stuff up in packs and food bags. I was quickly back to sleep with a little smile on my face thinking about the toothpaste in the fire ring.
Tuesday morning brought

Borden Creek, Sipsey Wilderness - October 2008

First weekend in October ... I thought it would be a little cooler. It was cooler at night ... the bag felt good, but it was sweaty hiking during the day. I arrived at the Borden Creek trailhead about 1:00 AM on Saturday (that is not a misprint). I have a good headlamp and the campsites aren't very far down the trail, so I left Columbus about halftime of the football game and arrived at the late night hour.

Because there were seven or eight tents (Boy Scouts, church group, or something) on the main (east side) Borden Creek trail, I crossed the bridge and headed down the west side of the mostly dry creek. I would have gotten to a campsite without waking anyone of the other campers except for the large white dog in the first campsite. He came loudly barking as I neared his master's tent in the middle of the trail, so I went down the embankment into the creekbed to get around the dog and tent. Climbing back up the trail to a few fading barks, I headed on down until I camp to a level campsite on which to quickly pitch my tent for the night. Like a good watchdog, he barked a few more times as I took my tentpoles out and lenghtened them.
It was good to finally lie down and listen to the night sounds ... which included a large owl with a deep hoot. Of course, I didn't SEE the owl to know that it was large, but I concluded that from the deep hooting when he was marking his hunting territory for the night. I hear owls almost everytime I go anywhere in the wilderness, but they rarely sound as mature as this one ... and he was closeby.
Saturday morning brought a beautiful sunrise down along the creek. I fired up my Jetboil for coffee and surveyed the land of which I hadn't seen much from the night before. While looking around I noticed a fairly high area up above the trail which looked as if it might level out for a campsite. When I walked up the hillside, I found a firering and level area for a nice campsite looking over and down on the trail and Borden Creek. The firering didn't appear to have been used in quite a while, but the campsite was off the well-used trail, so I would have some privacy when people went down either side of the creek.

I quickly moved my pack, my tent, and my coffee up the hill to my new campsite for the weekend. At one time I had planned to pack back up and go on a mile or two down the trail, but shortly before arriving had decided to set up a base camp near the bridge where I could dayhike anyplace up or down Borden Creek. Getting my camp organized, I decided to hike down to the intersection of FT 209 on the east side. cross the creek, and come back up the west side to my campsite.
If you haven't been down the Borden Creek trail, you might night know about the Fat-Man's-Squeeze through the "cave" on the trail.One does have to turn sideways to make it through. Packs have to be held low or dragged through the crack in the rocks.I have observed several Scout Masters along Sipsey trails who would not be able to make it through the Squeeze.
The bluffs on both sides are wonderful with ferns, moss, lichen, and such all over them. It was fun trying to get a few camera shots with the sun moving from one side to the other. I spent a few hours on the trails just taking some photos and nodding to others who passed along the way. Both sides of the trail are fairly easy and can be hiked in street shoes on a dry day. I saw fathers and mothers with stairstep children, even some carrying small babies, so you know the trail is fun for children and adults.

I love to see families out in the woods. Does my heart good to know that some parents are teaching their children an appreciation for being out. My hope is that the parents had used bug repellents on their children to keep the abundant mosquitos and chiggers at bay. I had my trusty 100% DEET, so nothing got near me ...

Sunday morning I decided to explore a new (for me) trail: Braziel Creek. After finally finding the trailhead for this one and crossing Borden Creek, I traveled northwest along Braziel Creek. This is a very, very nice trail which changes altitude along the way ... up across the side of a ridge and back down along the creek. I had my camera out and got some nice shots of fall colors in the leaves that had fallen in the water. There was not much water in Braziel Creek, but enough to trickle along. I must have hike about two miles up the creek before I turned around. The amazing thing to me is that I did not see a campsite/fire-ring along the entire two miles of the trail. I saw where I might pitch a tent, but I didn't see an established campsite. Maybe not many folks go up this way ... I dunno ... just didn't see any campsites ... which, of course, made me want to return and find the solitude there along a beautiful stream.

I did pass one older couple coming south on the trail. They weren't very talkative ... nor was their large, slobbery dog, so we nodded and move on in opposite directions. This trail connects to a trail in the north part of the wilderness. I might try to come in from that direction when I have more time.

Before I left Braziel, I filled my water bottles that I had carried empty on the hike. The water seemed a little less silty and easier on my SweetWater filter. The water was not cool, so I assumed that the springs loading the creek were well up the watershed.

Monday morning I was up early to clean my campsite. This was one of the better campsites I have found in the Wilderness. Generally, most of the campsites are overused, but, since this one was off the trail by 40 yards, it wasn't overused. The only negative is that the floor of my tent was not quite level, so I slid downhill a bit--not much, but some.

About noon, I girded up my loins, got my gear in my vehicle and drove out of the wilderness back into "civilization." Oh, for a few more days and nights in the Sipsey Wilderness. I think if I ever retire, I will spend much more time there. That big hoot owl and I should get together more often.

Sipsey Wilderness - November 2007

I love to hike in November in the south ... almost no bugs and no poison ivy ... and not so much sweat. I got some time around Thanksgiving, so drove up to the Thompson Creek Trailhead (again) and headed in. Wasn't sure where I would pitch my camp this time, but thought I would check out some new places.
Decided that it might be nice to climb up on top of the bluffs over the Eye of the Needle, so found the crack in the rocks and scrambled up. I had climbed up on this bluff once before after my son told me where he and a friend had scrambled up. The notch looks like a butt crack, as you can see, but is the easiest way I could find to get up ... and there is a little trail up the side, so it's obviously where others have scrambled up.

It was late in the afternoon when I got started, so I knew that I would need my headlamp before I got to the level spot on the bluff. This was a pretty good pull up the side of the bluff, and I ended up climbing up a section and then pulling my pack with some small rope I had. Took a while to get up that way, but I was determined to pitch my tent on the top.

One should always be prepared for the dark ... while I was getting my headlamp out of my fanny pack, the case opened up and one of the batteries fell on the ground in the dark. Fortunately, I knew it hadn't gone far and I used the light from my Indiglo Timex to see well enough to find the battery ... getting my headlamp on made getting through the pine thicket much easier.

I have pitched my tent so many times, I can do it with my eyes closed, so that was not a problem. Then I boiled some water, hydrated my Turkey Tetrazinni, and had a delightful evening before turning in. Evening time is always good for me. I love to take care of my pack, tie my food up over a limb--something I do no mater where I am--brush my teeth and turn in. Getting in my tent at night is always a soul experience for me ... not sure exactly why, but it is always good for me.
My goal the next morning was to get to the confluence of Bee Branch and the Sipsey. Twenty years ago, my friend Paul Baird always talked about camping on the Bee Branch. I haven't yet hiked along it, but was determined to find it. I followed FT 206 until it hit FT 209 and, after a few miles, found the confluence.

In my hikes into the Wilderness, I have seen many evidences of feral pigs, but I have never run into one ... until this day. While I was hiking along the Sipsey, I saw a movement and, looking down near a riverside campsite, saw a large black pig ... he looked at me ... I looked at him ... he grunted ... I swallowed ... he started walking away ... I walked on down the trail.
I hiked to the intersection of Bee Branch and main channel of the Sipsey and found it disappointing ... not much water in Bee Branch (I even jumped across on old legs). Hiking back toward my campsite, I spotted Mr. Porker and followed him for a while. He was mainly checking in with all the campsites to see if sloppy campers had dropped any morsels for him to clean up--he seemed to be a real pig about the leavings (sorry about that!). I kept trying to get a good shot of him with my point-and-shoot camera, but all I could get was his backside. Eventually, he went up the hill off the trail and I was able to get by him and shoot back at him from the front. He kept a warry eye in my direction, and finally just lay down in the leaves to see if he could out-wait me ... I blinked before he did and went on down the trail.

On the way around FT 206 or 209 or whatever it is following around the Sipsey, I ran into a fairly large bluff in which someone had spent a weekend building a throne-type chair out of sticks, twigs, and vines facing a fire ring. My mind conjured up interesting scenes at night with shadows from the fire on the walls of the bluff. I think there's a picture here somewhere ...

Quarter of a mile or so I ran into a guy and two girls who had been camping near the riffles at Eye of the Needle. Incidentially, they guy had the longest dreds I had seen since the 60s, when I passed them at their campsite, wondered how he would hike with such long dreds. Passing them on the trail I noticed that he had the dreds piled up on top of his head ... I swear, it must have been ten pounds of hair. Dang! that was a lot of hair. Interesting, but way too much trouble while backpacking ...

Okay, so, other than the pig, not much exciting about the trip. Camping on the top of the bluff at the Eye of the Needle was pretty cool. And waking up Sunday morning with someone with a deep baritone voice singing hymns was intresting, also. It was early morning and his voice echoed up and down the Sipsey River Valley. Wish I had the voice to do that, because hiking and camping is a spiritual experience and sometimes I can't find an adequate way to celebrate the joy, freedom, security, and comfort of being in the woods.

At least I was able to pass that along to my son ...

Mt. LeConte via Boulevard Trail 2008

I am a public school educator and after the high school graduation each year I head out on a "walkabout." A walkabout is a term I picked up in Australia to describe an event when men take off into the outback for a week, month, year, or more. Usually, they come home ... I certainly always will ...

Looking at the picture, you're probably wondering how an old man lived after carrying such a load up LeConte. My son constantly gives me grief about lightening my loads, but I generally overprepare and, therefore, have fewer difficulties along the way. I packed in a tent--although I had reservations in shelters--just in case my old legs quit on me and I had to bivouac somewhere along the way. (Was camping down near Ravenfork many years ago when the mice ate my fish-smelling bootlaces and, thankfully, I had packed in a second pair.)

It was a very hot day at the end of May when I left Newfound Gap heading up the AT to Ice Water Springs. The clouds occasionally covered the trail, but mostly I hiked in the sun. And, of course, it was Memorial Day weekend, so the parade of day hikers blew by me with looks and mumbled comments about my load. Several asked if I were a through-hiker, but didn't know that through-hikers wouldn't survive carrying the load I was carrying. The Memorial Day parade continued all of the way up to Icewater Springs. Most were heading to Charlie's Bunion, which must be a mess these days. I picked up some trash along the way ... powerbar wrappers and such.

When I got to Icewater Springs, I refilled my water bottles and sat to rest at the already crowded shelter. While I was there, three guys came in and dumped their packs. They were hiking the Smokies Crest Trail from Shuckstack to Davenport Gap ... seemed to be enjoying each other's company and the long weekend hike ... it was their 2nd full day on the trail.

Thirty-five years ago, I picniced at The Jumpoff on the back side of Mt. Kephart, so I wanted to see that again. Instead of leaving my pack at the shelter, which I would have normally done while day-hiking, I decided that the Memorial Day Parade might bring in some looking to pick up a few camping supplies, so I figured to hump my pack up to Kephart and leave it there while I went down to The Jumpoff.

Isn't it interesting how the mind mis-remembers things over time ... I remembered The Jumpoff much differently than it is, but recognized a view between a couple of trees. In case you've never been there, the view looks west across to the north side of Charlie's Bunion. I remembered that view of Charlie's Bunion as much more "buniony," but it appeared pretty green these days. It's behind me here in this picture ... bad angle, but didn't have much to strap my camera to that would get the right angle.

The sunset was nice from Kephart, and I stayed late to get some pictures before stumbling back down to the shelter at Icewater.

Monday morning was smoky ... imagine that! ... as I headed down the Boulevard Trail on my way to LeConte. Okay, even though it had been more than twenty years since I had hike down the side of Kephart on the Boulevard Trail, I hadn't mis-remembered that it takes about 45 minutes to get down and is not fun climbing back up on the return trip. I was already dreading the hike out ...

The trilliums were pretty along the way and I got several shots of that delicate flower. The trail was beautiful along the way, as usual, and not nearly as crowded as the AT, of course. I met a father an his son somewhere along the way. They had been at the lodge up on LeConte and were hiking back to Newfound Gap. The Boulevard Trail is a very nice trail and not overused like most of the Smokies trails, although I've hiked it five times.

I stopped for lunch at the trail u-turn at Anakeesta Knob. I think I've stopped there and watered and gorped each time I've hiked the Boulevard. It's a good spot to water before the hump up the side of LeConte. I'm sure it's a familiar site for those of you who have hiked the Boulevard. While I was sitting there enjoying my gorp lunch, a single woman with a hydration daypack scampered by. She looked as if she were out for a Sunday stroll ... I was already pretty tired looking, I'm sure. She said, "See you at the top ...."

Hiking up the side of LeConte, my age was telling and seven women blew by me heading to the lodge. They all said they were staying in the shelter, but , since they had only daypacks or hydration packs, I thought they meant the lodge ... and, indeed , they were NOT staying in the backcountry shelter.

When I reached the side trail to Myrtle Point, I stopped for a photo. I was happy to know that I was only a mile or so from the shelter and my bed for the night.

When I passed the cairn on High Top (the highest point on LeConte), I was a little amazed at the size of the rock pile. When I first added my pebble in 1956, it was a very small pile. It is a huge pile now, as you can see in the photo.

The shelters on the AT and on LeConte no longer have the chainlink bear cage. The roofs are much improved and the shelter now has a space in which to cook and eat out of the elements when it rains ... as it so often does in the Smokies. In the old days, we put our packs inside the shelter and closed the gate to the cage. The bears came by to look in at us as if we were the ones in the zoo cages ... Now the park service has put up wires and pulleys so you can get your pack out of reach while staying in the shelter. Of course, now you are totally at the mercy of your fellow shelter-mates, trusting that they will not keep any food on the bunk next to you that a friendly yearling might want to grab during the night.

As usual, no bears around the shelter, but the mice are still in abundance. All the more reason not to keep foodstuff in the shelter ... the critters are plentiful and active. I felt a few run across my bag during the night, much as I had the previous times in a shelter. If you stay in a Smoky Mtn shelter, you can just be prepared, because there WILL be mice ... I remembered them being tiny, and my memory served me correctly this time.

Sipsey Wilderness, Alabama - July 2008

It was hot! Hiked in on a Friday afternoon from the Thompson Creek trailhead (FT 206) and got to the riffles on the Sipsey River on the east side of Ship Rock about 8:15 or so, and decided to cross the river and set up camp on the south side. Got my tent up first and then sat down to fix supper on the best fire-side log in the Wilderness. Can't take credit for it ... already there ... and much appreciated!

It was dark by the time I pulled out my Jetboil, but I tried to cook as much as I could in the dark. I used my headlamp with the red filter when I had to see something small. Turkey Tetrazini ... um-mm, good ... and a little fruit of the vine I had packed in ... nice dinner in the woods anytime, but especially when the woods weren't crowded. When I am in the woods, I am so relaxed and comfortable. It's not like I don't know that there are critters, but in northern Alabama there aren't many that will do serious damage. A shout will send most of them away.

Okay, let's talk about the scarcity of people in the woods in July ... bugs, chiggers, spiders, sweat, and heat ... must have kept most people out of the Alabama woods that weekend ... I took only a sheet that I usually use to cover my car ... all I needed on my pad to soak up the sweat until about two in the morning ... perfect conditions for an old man. Nobody around but the critters and the woods ... why wish for more!

Saturday morning was fairly cool -- for a while. I hiked up the Sipsey to where the Parker branches off and looped to catch the north end of FT 201. That is a pretty nice trail up through the laurel to the top of the bluffs. I reversed and came back to the campsite to resupply on water , then hiked south along the Sipsey until I intersected FT 209 where it crosses the Sipsey. I decided to hike up to the top of the bluffs on 209 until it intersects 201. When I got to 201 I decided to hike on it back down to the Parker and back to my campsite.

Along the way I remembered that a biology teacher colleague of mine was not familiar with the Big Leaf Magnolia, so I strapped my camera to a tree and snapped a pix.

Unlike the more common Southern Magnolia, the Big Leaf Magnolia is deciduous and when it drops its leaves the forest looks as if someone threw newspapers all over the forest floor. I have seen these trees in the Smokies, but only occasionally. In the Sipsey Wilderness they are ubiquitous.

Sunday morning was a lazy one. Hearing a lot of thunder, I expected rain during the night--and, in fact, moved my tent out of a little sink hole--but I got no rain .

One mystery ... across the Sipsey from my campsite was a yellow tent that was there when I got to the riffles Friday evening, and there when I left about noon on Sunday ... never saw a soul over in that campsite ... didn't smell any dead bodies, so assumed that someone simply wanted to reserve their space for the week ... they needn't have worried ... too hot for most campers.

Sunday morning, on the way out, I was hiking slowly, just wishing my weekend could last a day or two longer, when I saw a movement in the leaves. After closer inspection, I saw that the movement had a hour-glass design on its back and said to myself, "Careful, Dave, that looks like a copperhead." It was a pretty big one for a copperhead, but was moving a little sluggishly. I messed with it for a while and got it to coil and pose for a picture. He/She was not amused, but didn't object too much.

The remaining hike out to the Thompson Creek trailhead was uneventful except for the pile of clothes at campsite #1 ... someone left sweat pants and two blankets piled up by the fire ring ... a start of a good story about the teenagers boy and girl who were camping together when the girl's father showed up and snatched her back to his car at the trailhead ... or the guys who were camping and a copperhead slithered into their midst causing a hasty retreat ... whatever ... my trip was certainly worth all the sweat ...