Spring Camping in the Sipsey Wilderness

I had listened to the weatherman talking about some possible storms for the weekend, so I thought, "What a great time to get into the woods!" Seriously ... I know some would think that is absolutely the best time to stay home, but I'm a little strange that way. The storms weren't due for until the next day, so that would give me a day to get to a bluff or a cliff overhang of some kind and be able to stay dry. Besides, some of the wildflowers would be blooming, so I really needed to get my lens to the woods to capture some of that wild beauty.

Since the next morning was supposed to be sunny and cool, but the rain was supposed to move in the next afternoon, I had the great idea to wait until my wife got home from work, tell her goodbye, and head to the woods for a night time hike-in. 

For some strange reason, when I know the trails I'll be hiking and I know in the general area I'll be setting up camp, I love to hike in at night. There is an added mystery to the woods hiking at night. A night hiker has to pick his/her steps a little more carefully, listen to the night sounds a little harder, and feel the comfort of what he/she cannot see in the surrounding woods. There are feral pigs, coyotes, a few deer, a turkey or two, and of course, opossums, armadillos, and always the sounds of owls declaring their hunting territories. I think the experiences and mysteries of the woods are illuminated by hiking at night.


So, I left the house about 6:00 PM or so and arrived at the trailheads of FT 208 and FT 206 about 9-ish ... a perfect time to begin a trek into the Sipsey Wilderness. I needed a base camp and knew of a little bluff down the trail that would give me some shelter if the rains moved in the next night, so I headed that way. I stopped a couple of times along the trail and turned off my headlamp to marvel at the beauty of the forest at night. It's amazing how some of the landmarks that are so familiar during the day look entirely different at night. I found my landmarks and after negotiating a creek crossing or two, arrived at the bluff which would be my home for the next three nights.


I contemplated building a small fire in a fire-ring, but decided to spend my time setting up my camp. I pitched my MSR Hubba-hubba and thought about not putting on the fly so I could see the moon and stars which were glorious. However, since the late night weather was a little iffy, I decided just to put on the fly and roll back the vestibules. I love to lie in the mesh tent on a crisp, clear night when I can see the sky. One of the great things about my trips into the Sipsey Wilderness with its steep walled canyons is that I can usually find a bluff large enough to sit under and cook. I have no problem pitching my tent out in the rain, but I prefer not to have to arrange some type of shelter under which to cook, or, even worse, to cook under the vestibule of my tent. Thus, I usually have in mind a bluff or two I can get to for a base camp. I can think of seven or eight bluff overhangs where one can seek shelter from a storm. I'm sure there are many more.

It didn't take me long to snug my down bag around me and fall asleep. I had on some new down socks I'd just purchased, so my toes were warm. I had on my little fleece hoody, so my ears were warm. And I had on my favorite Buff, so my head was warm. The sounds of the nearby creek were my "white noise," and I knew I'd sleep soundly. I'm sure I had a smile on my face when my eyes closed for the night.

The next morning I awoke with the sun shining on my tent. It had been after midnight when I'd finally crawled in my tent, so I slept later than I usually sleep back in the world. It was crisp and sunny and an ear worm of Willie Nelson's "Good morning, America, how are you?" boiled out of my brain as I looked at the woods for the first time in the daylight. Good grief, it was all green. (Well, duh! I had last camped before anything had leafed out, so the spring colors were new to me there.) The woods look so luscious in the spring when I've been camping all winter with bare trees. 

Ah, camp coffee on a beautiful morning. Does it get any better?. I quickly fired up my Soto Regulator stove and had water boiling quickly. After savoring half a cup of Via I pulled out a breakfast of eggs, ham, and various peppers. When I opened my little cook kit box, I was shocked to see that my spoon was broken. Granted it was a 15-year old polycarbonate that had seen a lot of trips and scooped a lot of meals, but I still had never thought about it breaking (unless I stepped on it or something). I always thought that polycarbonate stuff was virtually unbreakable. Anyway, I struggled to eat my breakfast holding the fat part of my spoon with the tip of my thumb and forefinger and knew that I didn't want to eat like that the next three days. Something had to be done ...

My cooking area under the bluff

Okay, so I had to be my own MacGyver and make a spoon from something I had available. After looking around at my stuff, I decided to take my hiking water bottle--actually a 20-oz green tea bottle that I carry on my pack strap--and cut it to make a spoon. I really didn't want to tear up something that would cost me to replace, and I had several other bottles back in my camping gear tub. I cut and I trimmed and I tried it out. I trimmed again and tried it again. Finally--tah-dah, I had something that would work to eat the remainder of my meals without dumping most of it on my old grey beard. It wasn't beautiful, but it would work to shovel some food into this old mouth.

My MacGyvered spoon

After breakfast I decided to take a wee walk in the beautiful sunny and clear morning. A few wildflowers were blooming along the trail, though I had already waited too late to catch the flame azaleas. The mayapples were not yet blooming nor were the trilliums. I don't know the names of many of the wildflowers, but I do love to look at them. I guess I should get a Wildflowers of Northern Alabama book and take it to the Wilderness with me, but that may be too much information for my old brain.

Afternoon brought increasing clouds and I thought the rains were on their way. However, it sprinkled for about ten minutes, then stopped. I spent most of the afternoon trying to pull some dry wood up under the end of the overhang so I could have enough for my evening fire. I don't have to have a fire, but I do love one when I can build one. 

For the evening meal I pulled out my WhiteBox alcohol stove and decided to heat my supper water with it. I hope to section hike on the AT in a couple of months and I'm still trying to decide whether to take my Soto Regulator and a couple of canisters or my WhiteBox stove and a bottle of alcohol. So, for base-camping when I only hike in a couple of miles, I'm hauling in both to play with. I have a 1.5L MSR Titan titanium pot in which I boil, and I eat in the nestled 1.0L titanium pot. It works out well, but I can't decide on which stove I like best. I have figured out that the alcohol stove takes just under two oz of fuel to bring the l.5L to a complete boil (in warmer weather), so I can figure out how much alcohol to take for the number of meals I have to prepare. The 1.5L is a lot of water, but I have enough for a freeze dried meal, a hot cup of tea/coffee, and enough to rinse my eating pot. I've also figured out that one small canister of fuel will produce a boil six times for my 1.5L pot (in warm weather). I am NOT going to carry both on my section hike, but I have yet to decide which to carry.


That night the temperature was considerably warmer, so I wouldn't need quite so many layers in which to sleep; but the warmer weather portended of things to come. After I fell asleep I was awakened by someone shining a flashlight into my tent ... wait ... no, it was not a flashlight. I was awakened by the sounds of a foraging feral pig about 20 yards from my tent, but sounded as if he was chomping on the rain cover on my pack. I was  pretty sure he didn't have a flashlight, and, after yelling at him to get away from my stuff, I realized that the light was actually lightening coming in from the west. The lightening got closer and the thunder rolled up and down the canyons of the Sipsey Wilderness. I lay there and watched and listened to about 45 minutes of lightening and thunder followed by a brief shower ... and then it was done. The next morning I could tell that it had not rained long, but the completely overcast sky told me that the rainy weather was probably not over.

I cooked oatmeal that morning and ate with my new spoon. After scraping the corners of my mouth for the tenth time, I decided to trim the spoon down a little more. I had trimmed it the night before, but had not quite gotten it where I wanted it.

I took a couple of hikes that morning and afternoon, but didn't get too far from my camp expecting the rains to begin at any time. I camp a lot and always read the forecasts before I hit the woods, but because predicting the weather is not an exact science, I've tried to learn to read the weather better, but I don't seem to be having a very good record. I would have taken bets that it was going to rain several times that day--and it did sprinkle a little--but the storm that I had thought was going to come in never came through.

Dinner that evening was country music on the iPod, chicken fajita wraps with some fresh jalapeños, some good Tillamook Extra Sharp Cheddar, and some strong lemon zest tea ... and, at a break in the music, I sang the Jalapeño Chorus, thanks to Handel's composition which I once sung, and I could almost heart the harmony part. Fortunately, no one was around to hear it, but I may have served to scare the pigs away. I wished I had had something sweet for desert, but I hadn't planned well for needing sweet after a Mexican dish. I had also wished for an adult beverage, but because the Sipsey Wilderness is within the Bankhead National Forest where they frown harshly on such things, I didn't pack that in ... however, I could almost imagine the taste of a margarita or a glass of sangria. Too bad they don't make exceptions for old men camping by themselves ... what could it hurt?

It was really muggy during the night and I woke up to a couple of long rolls of thunder up the river canyon. It rained sometime during the night but was not raining when I woke up. After a breakfast of Four-Cheese Potatoes with lots of jalapeño bacon bits, I started to gather things together and pack up for the trip out. Just as I was struggling to get my tent fly folded the sky opened and the flood began--just in time for the hike out ... well, that's spring camping in most of the country.

I got my gear packed up and thought about sitting under the bluff for a while to see if the storm would blow over. The thunder and lightening had started up again in earnest and I was a little concerned about using my trekking poles on the hike out. Oh, well, I thought to myself, the Sipsey Wilderness isn't the worst place I could think of to get zapped ... not that I was hoping to turn in to a crispy critter that day, but figured the lightening was more likely to hit one of the hundred thousand oaks, hickories, magnolias, or pines which were way above my head, so I headed out to my car. It rained most of the way and as most backpackers know, when it rains while you're hiking you're either going to get wet from the outside or from the inside, if not both. Fortunately, I had brought dry clothes into which to change and drive back. Once on the way out when the rains let up a little, I pushed the hood on my jacket back and looked back on the forest behind me and thought, Wow! God really did well in dressing up this forest! Its beauty almost takes my breath away.