Sipsey Wilderness Hiking Odd-n-Ends

Recently, a fellow hiker wrote me to say, among other things, that I hadn't written anything in my blog since 2015. My response was that, besides being a lazy writer, I hadn't really had any new experiences in the Sipsey Wilderness. Since my first trip into the SW in 1995, I've hiked/camped there more than 70 times. I usually hike/camp alone and, in recent years, taken to hammock camping to shorten my back's warm up time in the mornings.

I love that wilderness area and try to camp there every month of the year ... except when it gets really buggy in July and early August. Lately, I've started trying to camp during the week instead of weekends because of the large crowds that gather there most weekends. One week my vehicle was only the second car at the Thompson Creek TH, and the other vehicle was that of a day-hiker. When I hiked out on Saturday morning there were 28 vehicles parked up and down the road at the TH. Some of the vehicles had horse trailers, so, though I had planned to hike up FT 208, I changed my plans so as not to have to hike in the muck left by the horses.

And speaking of FT 208, about half a mile up the old road, most of the road has slid down the hill with trees and soil. The last time I went up that way, you had to hike on that old concrete drain to get around the slide area.

Which leads me to another story ... One night when I was hiking in on FT 208, my headlamp reflected on, what appeared to be a big golden eye ... I mean, seriously, a big golden eye ... I crept closer and closer and it turned out to be a Whip-Poor-Will. He flew away, but I hoped he wasn't going to light near where I was camping for the night. Once over near Ship Rock I had to get out of my hammock during the night and throw sticks and rocks at a Whip-Poor-Will who was driving me crazy. He finally flew off far enough for me to get back to sleep.

LNT means everyone must pack out their junk ... I recently found two make-shift hammocks still hanging, full of leaves (so I know they had been there for a while), made from those 10X10 poly tarps you can buy at most big box stores. They had been hung with paracord and it took me a while to get them down without damaging the trees; and then I had to pack them out for the lazy coots who left them there.

Shocking information: soft drink/beer cans will not burn! Do not throw them in your fire ring and expect it to disappear. Why do I feel stupid saying that and then see so many drink cans in a fire ring?

Question: How does the NFS determine where/how many campsites to allow along the trails? One day I was leaning against a bluff enjoying the afternoon sunshine and the rent-a-rangers came along and rolled the rocks of a fire ring of one of the more popular campsites down in the creek. At another campsite just down the trail, they didn't disturb the fire ring and it was in an area with two more nearby campsites and it is an area the fire wood has been picked over terribly. The area looks like the woods around a shelter on the AT after the bubble has gone through. I can't think of a reason to destroy one site and leave another. Their logic eludes me.

Several years ago I bushwhacked up the tributary to Borden Creek--you know the one that everybody hates to cross on FT 200? I thought I went about a mile and a half or so up the draw and came upon the remains of an old moonshine still right by the creek. About a month ago I bushwhacked up the same tributary and couldn't find the remains of the old still. Curious, huh?

There is a campsite a couple of miles up White Oak Creek that the boy scouts used to frequent. I've been up there a couple of times over the past year and can tell that the scouts haven't been up there lately. It's a pretty good group camp site with lots of wood and right by WO creek. I guess the scout masters who knew how to get there have moved on. Too bad, because it's an area way away from crowds and a good place for scouts to earn a coup of knot-tying merit badges ... however, it is in an area with a lot of coyote traffic, so maybe the scouts got nervous and decided not to go back ...

Has anyone hiked all the way up FT 207? If you have, please leave me a comment and tell me how it was and if there are any good campsites along the way.

Later on ...

Random Thoughts on the Wilderness Experience

I saw a quote by John Muir the other day that really grabbed me. It was, 

"So abundant and novel are the objects of interest in a pure wilderness that unless you are pursuing special studies it matters little where you go, or how often to the same place. Wherever you chance to be always seems at the moment of all places the best; and you feel that there can be no happiness in this world or in any other for those who may not be happy here."   

A bluff near FT 206

 The part of the quote that says, "... it matters little where you go, or how often to the same place ..." is particularly meaningful to me because since 2007 I've camped in the Sipsey Wilderness in the Bankhead National Forest of north Alabama more than 50 times ... I've gone there in each of the 12 months of the year at temperatures between 14º and 97º ... and each time I go, I have a different experience; sometimes very memorable, and sometimes not so memorable, but always glad to be in the woods ...


I've gone by myself most of the time, but occasionally with groups--usually students. I took students in at midnight one night and asked everyone to turn off their headlamps and hear the thousands of night sounds. The students were in awe of the dark night ... that is, until a large barred owl roosting above us screeched like a banshee and flew off through the night. (I think some of them might still be screaming!)




Sometimes there are leaves on the trees and sometimes the hardwoods are barren. I think I love the woods more when there are no leaves on the trees, but when the wildflowers are blooming it takes my breath away because of their beauty. I see blooms each spring that I haven't ever seen before.


Sometimes it's pouring rain, and sometimes I have to work hard to fill my water bottles because it's been so dry. I have about five bluffs I like to camp under when I know there is rain in the forecast. I love to sleep in a tent or hammock in the rain, but cooking in the rain is sometimes too fiddly. Sitting under a bluff and watching it rain nourishes my soul and refreshes my spirit. 

Camping near Borden Creek

Sometimes the trails are cleared of blowdowns, and sometimes I have to scramble over, under, and through fallen trees. I once went to Big Tree and had to fight through a recent blowdown that was not fun to negotiate--remnants were still there months later. After the tornadoes of several years ago, the woods changed dramatically from all of the damage. I still struggle to see the beauty that existed on FT 206 years ago.

Waterfall on FT 209

Sometimes the trails are crowded with hikers and backpackers, and sometimes I've not seen a human the entire four or five days I've been there. One Sunday morning when I was hammock camping on Ship Rock I woke to a professional-quality baritone voice singing, "How Great Thou Art," and echoing up and down the Sipsey canyon. Once I ran into a couple of college students who were carrying their gear in big, black garbage bags because the owned no packs ... they thought they were lost, but they were only 100 yards from where they wanted to go. Once I ran into a little old lady who was trying to hike on every trail in the Wilderness, but had gotten lost when she missed a trail intersection. I was happy to set her on her way up 206 where it crossed the creek. She called me her trail angel.

Waterfall on FT 209

Sometimes I hike on well-maintained trails that have been cleared for horse-riders, and sometimes I bushwhack several miles to my campsite. Once I thought I would take a "shortcut" to my campsite and ended up bushwhacking an extra four and a half miles because I was on a bluff 300' above my trail and couldn't find a place to get down. I never feel like I'm lost in the Sipsey Wilderness because I know the map so well I can find my way back to a main trail or road from anywhere.

I've hiked into the Wilderness early in the morning, and I've hiked in after midnight. During the hot summers, it's much more pleasant to hike at night. I've bushwhacked through briars and deep grass, and I've bushwhacked with snow on the ground.



I've seen deer, feral pigs, snakes, mice, squirrels, and have had a pack of coyotes howl no more than 40 yards from where I was camping. I was frightened the first time I ran into a very large coal black feral hog--the kind with tusks and all--right on the trail I needed to go down. I've run into so many of them over the years that I've learned how not to surprise them and how to shout and scare them away--so far, a confident shout rules the day. 

Big Tree

Now, in all honesty, when I was sitting by my fire one night and an alpha male coyote howled the traditional wolf-sounding howl just 40 yards away, and then his little pack of five or six (it sounded like a dozen) took up the howling and yipping, I leaned up and put a couple of more sticks to build up the fire. I usually hear the coyotes up on the ridge tops, but they must have been hunting down by the river. It made the hair stand up on the back of my neck for a few minutes ... at first I thought, WOLF!, but then I thought, there aren't any wolves in Alabama (are there?). Coyotes are generally skittish and this guy and  his pack moved on down the trail. (And, yeah, you're probably thinking of the Stephen King novel ...)



On one two-day trip I saw four copperheads in the trail, but now that the pigs have gotten more numerous, the snake population is smaller, I think. (I always think of the snake-eating pigs in the book/movie Lonesome Dove.) I never kill any snakes I come across ... they help to control the mouse and frog population ... and copperheads are, for the most part, non-aggressive. Watching a snake once, I learned the snakes have a reverse gear in their crawling muscles ... I came upon a large black runner crossing the trail ...black runners generally don't do the zig-zag movement some other snakes to, but just move in a straight line (sometimes very fast) ... When I saw him moving across the trail I stopped ... he stopped ... then when I moved, he put his crawl mechanism in reverse and backed right off of the trail ... it was pretty cool ... except he didn't have the beeper to warn others that he was backing up ... 

I always take ear plugs when I go to the Sipsey Wilderness because the cicadas and tree frogs are sometimes so loud they keep me awake.



I continue to be amazed at the number of people who do not want any part of a wilderness experience. Me? When I get in the wilderness I always wish I had a sign to put up on a nearby tree that says, Home.

The Woods in December - 2010 December

I took a couple of days off from work to get in to the woods, since it doesn't look like I'll have a chance to get back until January. I had just about decided to head in on Wednesday evening, which meant hiking with a headlamp (which I've done many times) and setting up my campsite in the dark. The hesitancy I had was that it was supposed to get into the low 20's that night and I wasn't excited about pitching my tent without building a fire. I figured I didn't want to stumble around looking for firewood at 10 at night ... too old for that in the winter.

So, I waited until Thursday morning and left early. It was a gloriously sunny day in the winter in Mississippi/Alabama. The sun was warming the woods and yet the crisp air was good for a hike. Perfect!

Because there was another front blowing through the south and a 90% chance for rain on Saturday, I decided to throw

down my gear under a bluff I frequent when there is bad weather on the way. The bluff faces south and is protected from those cold north winds; plus it's large enough for me to pitch a tent, build a fire, and hang my gear up under the overhang, so nothing gets wet.

When I got to the bluff--I call it Tick Bluff because two summers ago when I camped there I pulled ticks off of me all weekend--before I pitched my tent or unpacked my pack, I started dragging up logs and limbs for firewood. I wanted to get started in case the rains came earlier than predicted. After I got a pretty good pile of limbs and such, I pitched my tent where I had pitched it before. I found a plastic bottle nearby, so someone had been there, but it looked like day hikers had sheltered there and not camped over night. I had left a small pile of wood beside the fire ring a year earlier and it was there untouched. After getting my camp set up I decided to go for an afternoon hike and look for other bluffs suitable for winter camping. I covered several big bluffs where major rocks had broken off, but nothing that looked inviting. I went to one overhang that I had visited before where there was an old campsite. The fire ring looked 25 or so years old--built up three or more feet--but it was a campsite that should have been closed until it recovers from the abuse ... lots of garbage and tin cans around--what a shame.

I went by Auburn falls where the falls were icicles and took a few pictures ... quite beautiful. The sun, while not shining directly on the falls, was warming up the air, and I surmised that the icicles were not long with us this weekend unless the temp went back down.

Thursday night was probably in the lower 30s or upper 20s - just right for a good campfire and a warm meal. I didn't take a watch with me to the woods this time, so I thought it was about 8 PM, but when I turned on my phone long enough to see the time, it was only 6:40. I stoked the fire for another hour or so and decided to turn in.

For some reason, I floss every night when I'm in the woods. In all honesty, I don't always floss when I'm at home -- now, one has to ask, why does a person always floss in the woods? Anyway, I do ... and I brushed extra well. I slept well Thursday night, except that I had forgotten to put my extra insulated pad under my feet and when I scrunched down in my bag my heels went on the ground and I woke sometime in the middle of the night with cold feet. I know better and always take a couple of old insulated pads to sit on and put under my feet for just such times. I didn't make that mistake the next two nights.

I woke up when the sky was getting lighter and had to leave the tent for a few minutes (you figure it out), then got back in the bag for another 30-45 minutes. When it got full light, I was up and heating water for my Starbucks Via. Um-mm-mm good!

After breakfast, I decided to walk the bluffs from where I was around to Ship Rock to see if there were any more bluffs suitable for shelter in a storm. I found several places that were certainly large enough to get out of the rain, but they did not have spaces level enough to comfortably pitch tents ... one could make-do in a crisis, but one would not want to pitch there intentionally. A couple would certainly have been adequate with a hammock during the summer, but nothing where several tents could be pitched. (At this point I had decided to look for somewhere I could take my student Wolfpack for a weekend.) One big bluff looked as if it had a cave entrance and space for a couple of tents, but the water there was not potable. (Okay, so I'm picky ... however, after a study of the terrain, I have found a couple of excellent bluffs which not only offer shelter from the storms, but have good water nearby.) The biggest one had several level places to pitch tents and was not too far from a water source ... a possibility, but not a definite.

Slabbing the edge of the bluffs is not particularly easy ... lots of ups and downs often steep and rough on the ankles ... but if one is going to explore like this, winter is certainly the time to do that. The undergrowth is non-existent except for an occasional wait-a-minute vine, and often the forest floor is simply beautiful.

After covering a mile and a half of bluff edges, I headed down hill to the trail along the valley bottom. I returned to my campsite with ease on the trail. I had covered a lot of the bluff bottoms looking for a suitable campsite and had found nothing note-worthy. I always anticipate finding something really neat where no one else has camped before ... didn't this time -- maybe tomorrow ...

Friday afternoon was cloudy, and, anticipating rain the next day, I hauled and cut more wood for my fire. If I was going to be sitting under my sheltered bluff for 12 hours, I wanted to be sitting next to a nice warm fire. Cutting firewood with a small crosscut saw will always get one's BTUs generating under a jacket.

Friday night was warmer in the tent. After flossing and brushing, wisely, I put an insulated pad under my feet and one under my head. My Thermarest is 72" long and I am 73" long, so, if I stretch completely, something is going to be hanging off. I have this awesome new pillow I purchased from ENO, the hammock people. It's hard as the dickens to repack, but it is awesome for sleeping. It's big and soft and when I stuff my down vest up inside of it, um-mm-mm, can this old man saw some Zs on his new pillow! The night was pleasant and I fell asleep to the soft whoot of an owl prowling the forest looking for a mouse. Some of the owls in the Sipsey are very large and one can hear them flying through the trees because their wingtips hit the ends of limbs as they fly from tree to tree.

Saturday morning was much like the morning before. I got out of my bag too early because the large amounts of liquids I had drunk the afternoon and evening before. I had had several cups of Via de-caf and lots of flavored drinks to quench my thirst from sawing wood. You get the point ... and then crawled back in my bag, knowing that I would be unable to gain sleep again, but happy to be in a tent in the woods awaiting full daylight.

Breakfast was once again Mountain House Granola reconstituted with warm water instead of cold. Pretty good! I can't always find that MH granola--ought to learn to make my own--but when I do find it, I usually get several packs. It just hits the spot in the woods ... sometime that breakfast itch is scratched with oatmeal, and sometimes with grits, but I always scratch it ... and I remembered to take my vitamins.

Saturday morning I felt some fine misty sprinkles about mid-morning. Not so much that I didn't want to go for a walk. I climbed a ridge and sat under several young fir trees that made a shelter from the mist. I had a holiday flavored Cliff bar with some cheese sticks and some jerky, so I was looking for a place to chill. I crawled out toward the edge where I could see the forest floor and the trail for several hundred yards. Three guys with lots of blaze orange came by and stopped right underneath where I was sitting. I was about 200 or so feet above them, so they didn't see me. I'm not sure why they stopped where they did, nor what they did when they stopped, but after 20 minutes or so, they loaded up and hiked on toward FT 209. A day hiker in a red jacket passed them while they were stopped ... he was on his way in, so he needed to hustle or get caught in the rain. When I was finishing the jerky and some water, I noticed two dark movements on the trail. The first thing I saw was the large Standard Poodle--solid black--with red bows on its ears and tail; then I saw the woman dressed all in black trailing along behind, trying to keep up. She had the dog on one of those leashes that is on a reel and lets out or draws up with the push of a button (at least from 200 ft above, that's what it appeared to be). She was hustling on up the trail toward the trailhead with another 45 min to an hour to go. Really? A Standard Poodle with bows??? Really?

The rain was getting heavier, so I climbed down from my perch and headed back to my campsite. The rain set in and I started my fire with plenty of wood to keep it going for most of the night. I cannot tell you how wonderful and relaxing it is to sit under a bluff in the woods and listen to the rain and wind coming through. If a person cannot find the beauty of those sounds and sights, then we're on different planets.

Sunday morning I broke camp a little earlier than I had thought. Without a watch, one goes to bed a little earlier and breaks camp a little earlier than planned. As soon as I put on my pack, I noticed that it had started snowing. The flakes were tiny at first, but by the time I had gotten on down the trail toward the trailhead, the flakes were huge and coming down pretty well. Good grief, it was so beautiful! Sunday morning ... wilderness ... snowing ... hiking ... Thank you, Lord!

A Walk in the Woods - April 2010

I teach a high school class in epistimology and, in the course of our discussions, happened to mention that I occasionally go backpacking in North Alabama. After several weeks, I was approached by some of the guys in the class who expressed a desire to go with me to the Sipsey Wilderness sometime. I said, yeah, when the weather warmed up some, we could probably arrange that. It wasn't long before some of the female students said they wanted to go, too. I said, sorry, but I didn't have the skill set to teach females how to do some of the things they needed to do in the woods. Had they been experienced backpackers, I wouldn't have had a problem, but the first time out, they needed a mentor. I told them that if they could find a female to go with us, they could be included. Resourceful as they are, they immediately went to one of our other teachers who grew up camping in the Sipsey Wilderness and occasionally still goes there with her own family. She also teaches at the high school.

After several starts and stops, we planned for the third weekend in April--if the weather was not a torrential downpour. The weather was wonderful and we met the weekend prior to check everyone's equipment and see that everyone had at least a sleeping bag, a sleeping pad, and a pack. Tents were also scrounged up and, after talking about food, we were set for the following weekend.

The 8 students and 3 adults met in the parking lot about 7:00 AM figuring that it would take us a little more than two hours to get to the trailhead. We stopped once in Haleyville for a last visit to the porcelain facilities and arrived 10-ish for the trail. We gathered for a "before" picture and warned about watching where we stepped and what we brushed against. The weather is getting warm enough for snakes and the poison ivy is beginning to leaf. We headed in at the Thompson Creek TH and crossed the bridge for an adventure guaranteed to be remembered by students and teachers alike. The pace of the hike was not too fast for an old man and we made a couple of stops to adjust straps and waist belts. With borrowed packs, one doesn't get a tailored fit and hot spots develop sometimes.

When we got to the Auburn Falls jaunt on the trail, everyone took off their packs and began to explore. One of the students was standing on a small ledge near the bottom of the falls and suddenly looked down and jumped off quickly. I went over to see a 3-foot copperhead trying to hide up in a crack on the ledge. We took some pictures. When I looked where the young lady had been standing on the ledge, I saw not a pile of leaves she had seen, but another coiled copperhead, only slightly smaller than his friend. Fortunately, both snakes were still cold and docile, barely able to move in the shade on the chilly rock. We figured that the young lady had either been standing with her foot right up against the coiled snake or maybe on top of him. Nevertheless, he was too cold to move to defend himself and just lay there trying to see what was going on. After everyone in the group had a look at the snakes to see that nature had correctly colored them for camouflage, we put our packs back on and moved on toward Ship Rock.
There had been a dozen cars at the trailhead, so I wasn't sure we were going to get to pitch our tents at the Ship Rock campground--always a good first backpacking trip place to stay when it's dry--but, our luck held, and we found the campground vacant. The kids excitedly pitched tents--some quickly found poles and flys to be confusing--but all shared snacks and then went exploring. I warned again about putting their hands on ledges they couldn't see, and they remembered the Auburn Falls critters and heeded the warning.

We climbed through the Eye of the Needle and went down to the riffles in the Sipsey. The adults filled water bottles while the kids helped each other across the shallow rapids and explored the rocks and pools. The kids found a fish trap with a couple of small fish in it and a couple of the braver kids decided to get in the water. Now everyone was thinking swimming, so we headed back around the end of The Rock to find a sandy spot on the shore to swim. Most had water shoes and, after changing some shorts, we all headed back to a sand spot along the Sipsey.
The swimming was fun to watch. All of the guys and one girl all took a couple of steps and jumped in at the same time. The water was cold! They played around for 20 minutes or so and then got out blue and shivering. After warming up we hiked down the trail in a southward direction to where FT 209 comes down from FT 201 and crosses the Sipsey. Then we turned and retraced our path back to our campsite. Most of us lazed around and sat around and chatted; some climbed rocks and explored.

Supper was fun. Most of the females had purchased one of my freeze-dried meals and fixed those. They guys had thought freeze-dried was too easy and had brought all sorts of stuff. The microwave meals were the funniest. They tried to boil them in pots, or roast over the fire someway ... most of the guys ended up eating the left-overs from the girls. One of the girls had a freeze dried blueberry cheesecake, which she fixed and shared with everyone ... pretty good!
I had asked everyone to bring a poem, essay, book, song, or something they had written to share with the group around the campfire. It was an amazing event. The stuff they brought was touching, meaningful, funny, insightful, and wonderful. The read poems they had chosed, shared books they had written, adapted movie scenes for the occasion, and shared favorite children's books. It was a touching time. For me there haven't been many more memorable campfires in a long, long time. It did this old man's heart good! After the campfire, everyone began to get ready for bed ... but many lingered by the fire to chat with a friend, to tell stories, recount memories, or just to listen. And, of course, one of our group went up by the rocks to howl at the moon ... or whatever ...

I had brought my hammock, a bivy sack, and my sleeping bag, so I put those together and slept like a baby. The sleeping pad in my bivy sack kept me from rolling off; not that I would have had anywhere to roll in the hammock. It was the first time for trying that combination, and it all worked well. I was toasty in a 40 degree night.
Sunday morning's sounds were of someone getting the fire started back up. By about 8, most of the crew was up and beginning to gather around the fire. The talked about how they had slept ... most didn't sleep as solidly as they do in their beds, and some slept fitfully because they were cold or couldn't get comfortable on the hard ground. I had warned them that camping was not a theme park, and nights are one of the times when that awareness is most evident. After breakfast and a mass brushing of teeth, I asked them if they wanted to go up on The Rock ... of course, they did ... so off we went.
There is one seam where one can climb up the back side of The Rock. We pushed, pulled, shoved, and otherwise got everyone up that seam and up on top of The Rock. They loved the height and the view (although summertime is not nearly as good a view as winter when the leaves are all gone). The drop around the edge was at least 300 ft, so they posed for pictures near the edge -- not dangerously near, but near enough to feel brave.

The talk for the rest of the morning was how trying to figure out how to stay out in the woods and not go back to school the next day ... some wanted to stay the week. Of course, reality is reality, and we began to pack up for the hike back to the parking area. A brief respite was taken when another adult and her son came walking into camp. She had been one of our chauffeurs, but had not spent the night with us. The crew took her out to show her where we had played and explored, even climbing back up on the top of The Rock. She got a workout before we hiked out.

The ride back was uneventful ... except for the recounting stories and tales -- some of which got better and better with the telling. It was a good trip and I am happy because, as one of the young men wrote me, "now I understand why you love to go to the woods all of the time." Indeed I do ...

Sipsey Wilderness - September 2009

Another trip into the Wilderness on a not-so-perfect weekend ... however, it was either get in the woods or losing what little sanity I have left in my old head. I checked out of the office a little early and headed up to north Alabama to a familiar campsite. The forecast for the weekend was rain, and when there's a forecast of rain, I generally head to a large bluff down the Thompson Creek Trail (FT 206). I happened on this bluff in March of 2008 and have made it my weekend home four times. It's large enough to pitch my tent, cook my food, relax in my Trekker chair, and has a nearby water source. I have been there in storms and even my tent didn't get wet except for a little moisture that dripped from the ceiling of the bluff.
I got to the Thompson Creek trailhead about 4:30 and while I was packing up for the trip, began to notice an older blue pickup with a tarp on the hood and some other gear hanging from the rearview mirror. As I crossed the bridge over Thompson Creek, I noticed clothes strung out on a tree that had fallen over the creek and some stuff down on a rocky area on the up-creek side of the bridge. It was obvious to me that someone had gotten soaked with all of his/her gear and was trying to dry it by hanging it out. Unfortunately, the sun was not shining through a very overcast sky.

The trail was pretty muddy and I could tell that the Wilderness had experienced a torrential rainstorm the night before. The trail was wet enough to believe that the storm may have continued into the early daylight hours. About three-quarters of a mile on the trail, I met a guy carrying a plastic grocery bag full of water bottles and other gear and three long twigs or vines.He and I stopped to chat. He asked if I knew the weather forecast. I had checked in Haleyville and reported a 30% chance that night and a 50% chance on Saturday. I asked if the gear hanging out to dry was his. He said it was. I said that he must have gotten really soaked. He said that he had. He liked my pack cover (I had put it on rather than chance having to stop on the way in and put it on) and said that he needed to get himself one.

We didn't say much more, but I supposed that he had been camping the night before and had endured one of those blowing torrential rainstorms that come up and down the Sipsey valley and had gotten really soaked. I imagined that he hauled his heavy, rainsoaked gear out to his truck earlier and had gone back in for some things he left. He didn't look as if he were having fun camping.

I got to the bluff, set up camp, and fixed my beef stroganoff for supper. It hadn't rained on me yet, but I was ready for it. Water was dripping over the edge of the bluff and I caught enough to fill two water bottles for the next day. I have a SweetWater filtering system, but on short hikes I usually just boil my water to kill the critters.

The night was uneventful except for the humidity, which was oppressive. I took my lightweight bag, but a sheet over my pad was sufficient until early in the morning.

Saturday morning I decided to hike around to where FT209 crosses the Sipsey ... been there many, many times, but I always hope to see a pig or a flower or a bird (or once a guy with the world's longest dredlocks). I hiked around the end of The Rock past the riffles and on down to the 209 marker. The sky was overcast, but it never rained on me. Going, I went around the end of The Rock, but coming back I climbed through the backside of the Eye of the Needle, just to vary the trip.

The afternoon was spent reading Ruben Abel's Man is the Measure for a class I'm teaching and dozing in my comfortable Trekker chair. I hoped for a storm, but got nothing. The night wasn't really cool enough, but I was determined to have a small fire, so I cut some old blow-down limbs and such for a small fire. I had to sit back a ways because it was too warm under the bluff.

Sunday morning I packed up and headed back to my vehicle. I noticed a tent at the campsite at the bottom of the Auburn falls creek. Somebody had packed in a four-man carcamping tent and pulled a cube cooler on wheels (I'll let you think about that for a while and draw your own conclusions). I also passed two girls and a guy with five large, wet dogs. The dogs were having a good ol time in the woods, but I wondered what kind of vehicle they would have to load those big wet dogs up in. The guy in the blue truck was still there. I noticed a New York license plate and wondered what he was thinking about the Alabama wilderness.

A moore-or-less uneventful weekend in the wilderness. Just what I needed!

Sipsey Wilderness - May 2009

The goal for the weekend was to hike the East Bee Branch trail up to Big Tree and the falls behind it. This time I did not have a goal of having an easy, relaxing weekend. I knew the weather wasn't going to be wonderful, and it wasn't -- but it could have been much worse. Hiking in the Sipsey Wilderness during the late spring/summer/early fall is always going to be less than wonderful weather-wise, will always be buggy, and will make one glad that we have at least two seasons in the Wilderness. However, let me hastily add: being in the woods is sometimes more of a challenge than at other times, but it is always better than being back in the office taking phone calls.

I left Columbus after work on Friday and headed to northwest Alabama into the Sipsey Wilderness. I can usually count on a two-hour trip unless the traffic between Columbus and Vernon is thick. I opted for Plan B ... the "rain expected plan." I was going to go to the Rippey trailhead (Plan A - FT201), which would save me about 20-30 minutes, but not knowing how high the Sipsey was, and knowing I'd have to cross it, I decided to go in north of the Sipsey in via the Thompson Creek Trail. (As it turned out, I could have easily waded the Sipsey at the FT209 ford.)
The disappointing part of my decision was that I wanted to camp someplace different and closer to the Bee Branch-Sipsey confluence, but opted for the bluff near Auburn Falls in order to avoid the rain when it came. (I have now named that place Tick Bluff for obvious reasons ... the tiny critter season is in full swing. I am a 100% DEET user, though, which keeps the ticks and chiggers to a minimum, but my wife believes that the DEET has--as advertised--effected my brain functions ... others will vouch that I've been this way since long before the DEET era.)
I checked into Tick Bluff before dark and enjoyed a nice supper of beef stroganoff. I got in a little meta-cognition exercise time, so it turned out to be a productive evening. Because of the heat, I opted for no fire -- which I rarely have during the summer months, even though I love the idea of sitting be a campfire at night.
Saturday morning I slept late and, after wonderful coffee and blueberry granola, headed south east by the river for a rendezvous with the Big Tree. My GPS said it was about three miles to the Bee Branch, and judging by the time I walked, that seems accurate. I passed five college-aged backpackers when I got down to 206 when they stopped to wade in the Sipsey ... or something (didn't want to stare, but they picked a less than desirable spot just to look at the water. Maybe they were filling water bottles or something ...) When I passed the riffles around the end of the Needles Eye rock there were four guys in two tents camped there; and, once again, one of the tent-masters had pitched his tent on sand with the footpring tarp hanging a foot outside of his tent fly ... doesn't make sense to me, but maybe he/they like to sleep in a wet tent floor, or maybe he has his floors all seam-sealed and tested for leaks. Somebody please explain that to me ... maybe he had the floor of his tent sprayed with that rubber coating they use in the bed of pickup trucks ... whatever ... and maybe they were experienced campers that know something about camping dry that I need to learn. Anyway, two of the guys were fishing while two prepared the fire for a late breakfast ... hope they brought something as a backup.
Nobody was camped at the cave bluff between the FT209 ford and Bee Branch, so somebody could make that a dry camp when the rains came. And maybe it wasn't raining yet, but I got just as wet, because, buddy, it was humid. I don't know all of the outdoor tricks to predicting weather, but that was a pretty good sign that either a big rain was coming, or had just passed. I had not believed it to be quite so humid when I started and had only a 20 oz water bottle. I should have had a big one.
When I got to the Bee Branch confluence into the Sipsey it was too high to jump, so I went 50 yards upstream to the tree crossing. In case you haven't been there, this is a tree that has been used to cross Bee Branch for a number of years. It is flat on top and easy to balance on, even for a sweat-soaked old codger in muddy boots.

The east Bee Branch trail is a mess! It is a total mess! The short trip up to Big Tree took much longer than is should have because of all of the downed trees across the trail. I met up with some guys who had day-hiked from the Thompson Creek TH up the White Oak Hollow trail and around to the Bee Branch Ridge Trail (I think that's FT204 or something). At least one of them was very familiar with the east Bee Branch Trail and said it was the worst he had seen it in years. One huge beech tree and all of it's limbs had fallen across the trail and I elected to go up and around the stump. That was more of a diversion that I had thought it was going to be, and it took me longer than I had though it was going to take. I decided to climb through the mess on the return trip to, at least, make the trip shorter.

Big Tree was still there ... and the two waterfalls were both flowing over the edge. The five guys had me take some pictures of them reaching around the tree; and I got them to take a picture of me standing in front of the thing. I ate some gorp and a powerbar and decided to head on back. At the big beech tree covering the trail I met the four campers from the riffles area asking me how to get around/over the mess on the trail. One of them had on sandals, so I gave them both options. Shortly after I saw them, I passed one of the five college-aged guys asking if he had missed Big Tree. I pointed the way and gave him a brief lesson on the trail mess he would soon encounter. He didn't seem as if it were a big deal, so I said good luck and headed back to the Sipsey.
I was dragging a little on the return trip. The humidity was getting worse and I was running low on water. There were several tents at the big campsite near Bee Branch. A couple or three guys with single person tents ... They had evidently hiked in that afternoon. When I passed the big campsite at end of the point near the confluence of the Parker and the Thompson, I counted nine or ten tents and a big tarp ... a pretty large group about to get very wet. The four guys near the riffles still had their footprint sticking out from under their fly, so they were about to get wet, too. Hope their seam-seals held.

Got back to Tick Bluff and drank 64 ounces of cool water ... didn't have more purified, so couldn't do more then ... was really dehydrated. Finished off a bag of hickory-flavored jerky ... um-m ... so good after a long hike. About 3:30 PM or so the storm moved in ... and it came with a furry. Not as much wind as I've seen before in the Sipsey, but enough to bring the rain down furiously. The rains continued diligently for about two hours. Of course, sitting under my dry bluff I couldn't help but think about the people in the ten tents. I've been there before (many years ago at camp) ... everyone sprinting for their tents when the rain begins, trying to find someone enjoyable to spend some quality time with -- or, if you're an introvert like me -- trying to make sure you get your tent zipped up before some yada-yada person gets in with you for hours. The rains came down and sounded soothing. I sat in my Trekker chair for some time until my head snapped back ... at that point I gave up and headed for my tent for a late afternoon power nap.

Supper that night was a Polynesian Chicken with Rice ... or maybe something else Asian ... don't really remember ... not wonderful, but satisfying. I was intending to build a little fire for the cooler evening, but with the very hard and long rains, a small drip appeared on the roof of the bluff and dripped right into my fire ring. Certainly a helpful thing if I were going to bed or leaving the campsite, but a little frustrating that my stack of wood would go unused. Actually, I had left that stack of wood when I camped in April, so I didn't really spend any time cutting and breaking for the fire. And, actually, the evening had not really turned off as cool as I had though it would when the hard rains were falling, so the fire was not terribly missed. It will be there when I camp there again ... or for the next camper who stays under Tick Bluff. (I received a small thank you note from the ticks who had made their nest in the cut wood stacked up by the fire ... and I returned the favor by taking a small tick home with me on the under part of my arm below my elbow. However, he died an inglorious death in the swirling waters).
I slept a little more soundly Saturday night after the long hike, but still work up around 6:00 AM Sunday morning ... too early for a camper who doesn't sleep late most Sunday mornings. After another granola and grits breakfast, I cleaned up most of my gear and began repacking my pack. I couldn't really tell whether or not it was sprinkling, but I knew I was going to get wet from the overhanding brush along the trail, so I put my pack-cover over my pack and hiked out in my rain jacket. The trip out is always slow -- sometimes I really hate to leave the beauty and solitude of the woods.

Sipsey Wilderness - April 2009

Okay, I know I'm in a rut, but I couldn't help myself ... on a Friday afternoon in April, I headed out into the Sipsey Wilderness (and I know no one but me ever reads these things,but it helps me remember what I did when--you'll all understand when you get old ... oh, wait, I'm the only one reading this, and I AM old ... whatever ...). Storms were being predicted for the area, so when I got there I didn't find but one other car at the Thompson Creek trailhead. It was a pickup parked by an older Alabama couple who was dayhiking. I passed them a little ways down the trail and my load got heavier when they commented on how much stuff I packed in ... I crossed White Oak Creek, which wasn't as high as I though it would be, and started looking for the flowers. The couple were on their way out ... and soon I would be alone in the Thompson Creek area of the Sipsey Wilderness ... doesn't get much better for an old backpacking introvert.

As soon as I got out of my car I noticed the purple violets in the woods. I had thought that I was too late for the wildflowers, but maybe I was going to catch them on the tail end of the season. I kept my camera up front and headed out when I got packed. (I don't think I've said in my other posts, but I drive a Miata that won't hold my packpack when it is loaded, except strapped in the passenger seat. Most of the time I just load up the little trunk and passenger seat with my loose gear and load my pack when I get to the trailhead. I'm less likely to forget something if I throw everything in the car.)

But I digress ... (well, DUH -- I'm an English major!) ... I wasn't far down the trail until I started to get into wildflowers. I found both the purple and white varieties of the purple wakerobin, sometimes called Stink Willie, because of their smell. Both were abundant through the early part of the trail between White Oak Creek and Auburn Falls. I think these are trillium varieties in the lily family. I got some shots of a Longspur Violet (even in this picture you can see the long, slender spur that comes up from the back.) These delicate looking violets were growing along the trail, usually against some of the larger boulders.
Because the weather was heading toward the watershed, I decided to camp under a bluff near Auburn Falls. I figured that I would be able to drag in some wood before the rain set in and thus have a good fire at night. The bluff is fairly large--as you can see in the picture--and provides enough space to pitch a tent, build a fire, and cook, all out of the elements. There is even a small water trickle off the cliff above where one can catch water to cook with. I have camped under this bluff before, once arriving in the middle of the night; but today I would still have enough daylight to find some firewood for the night. The bluff isn't easily seen from any of the trails, so not many have camped there ... meaning, there is more firewood than is found around the more popular sites. The area around Ship Rock is pretty well picked clean by this time of the year.

Oh, and I might say that there must have been thousands in the Wilderness during spring break. All of the trails were worn more than I usually see them. Perhaps too many people are learning about the wonderful places to camp and hike in the Sipsey Wilderness. Several trees had fallen since I was there in January, and new trails around the fallen trees had been well-worn, indicating the number of people who had hike there. I surmised that several of the spring break hikers had been women, because most of the logs crossing the trail were gone around instead of over, indicating shorter legs.
I tried something a little different this time as to my sleeping arrangements. Usually, I pack in my REI Quarter Dome and zip in secure from the critters that will bite and sting during the night. This time I took the footprint and the fly for my tent, but took my bivey sack and a lightweight sleeping bag. Although rain was predicted, the temperature would never get below 40 degrees. That arrangement worked well for comfort, but I came out of the woods with several bites on my arms from sleeping with my arms outside of the bivey sack and sleeping bag. The bloodsuckers evidently were looking for early season feasts -- and found some. No bigness, though ...

At 1:40 AM I was awakened with a huge clap of thunder ... evidently, I had slept through the coming storm, and it was now on top of the Wilderness with all its fury. I lay awake listening to the thunder and watching the lightening flashes for a while. The were loud and bright, but I was safe and dry up under the bluff ... pretty neat watching the lightening flashes and knowing I was safe from their lethal work. I drifted back to sleep and was awakened at about 3:00 AM with another, stronger storm. The lightening was closer and very, very bright through my tent fly. I fell back asleep listening to the rain coming down hard.

When one gets in his 60s, one finds that he doesn't need as much sleep as he once did. I usually sleep about five and a half or six hours at home and I'm done ... wake up knowing that I won't get back to sleep. I guess when I'm in the woods, I'm overtaken by the peace and tranquility and I often sleep eight or nine hours. I had gotten in my bag about 9:00 PM that night and I slept until 7:00 the next morning. Unbelievable! ... and wonderful to wake up without an agenda.
After breakfast of oatmeal and coffee, I decided to take a little hike around the neighborhood. It had stopped raining before daylight, so the sun was out and, though it was very humid, it was just right for an old man to take a hike. I decided to walk down to where FT209 crosses the Sipsey, which would take me by Ship Rock/Eye of the Needle, the west end of The Rock, and by the riffles where many I camped the first time I came to the Wilderness in the 90s.

I walked around the end of The Rock and came to the camping area by the riffles ... a very popular place to camp because of the soothing sounds of the water going across the rocks in the Sipsey. There were two tents in the sand ... two tents with clothes lines between every tree around the campsite. On these lines were everything--and I do mean EVERYthing--owned by the campers. They had gotten soaked! I don't think they came in during the night, so they must have gotten soaked during the early morning storm. I immediately noticed why the campers in one of the tents had gotten soaked. They had put a polypropelene ground cloth under their tent with about six to twelve inches of ground cloth sticking out on the outside of the tent fly. In other words, every drop that had poured off of the fly had been caught by the poly sheet and channeled up under the tent ... and they were camped on very absorbent sand! Go figure!! I kind of felt sorry for them, and I kind of didn't ... nubie campers who had learned a hard lesson ... only maybe they hadn't learned it, because they hadn't tucked their poly sheet under the edges of their fly.

Okay, this story is going on too long ... I returned to my dry campsite about 1:00 PM, ate lunch, sat in my chair under the bluff, and watched another storm blow through the Sipsey watershed. I wondered (not long, but a few minutes) about the folks down by the Sipsey ... were they getting soaked again? It got so dark during the storm that an owl thought it was dusk and began to fly up and down the canyon hunting for his/her supper. Sitting in the dry watching the pouring rain is very peaceful. The trees were beautiful as they swayed back and forth into each other. More water poured over my little falls, and I contempleated the fate of the earth.

The last night was a good one ... a warm fire, a good meal, good company (remember, I'm an introvert, so the company of my thoughts is always good), and a warm, dry place to sleep. I did some reading in a Greg Isles book before turning out my light, but mostly I just lay there thinking about how much I love the Wilderness and the quiet.