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.

White Oak Creek Hollow, Sipsey Wilderness - November 2009

The weather was a little iffy, but I needed to get out of town, so the drive to the Sipsey Wilderness didn't seem like two hours. I left Friday afternoon, knowing that I would hike in after dark, but knowing that I didn't have far to go for my Friday night camping spot. I was aiming for a spot right next to White Oak Creek only 20 or so minutes from the Thompson Creek trailhead. When I arrived at the trailhead, there were only four vehicles, so I was pretty certain that those people would be over by Ship Rock or somewhere near the Sipsey ripples where the most popular campsites are.

However, as I approached the campsite on White Oak Creek, wouldn't you know that I spotted the campfire and a blue tent in that campsite. Consequently, I retraced my steps about 100 yds and went up in the woods to find a soft spot for my tent. One of the nice things about winter camping is that the woods are free of all of the undergrowth that discourages one from seeking a campsite in the middle of the woods. I found a soft spot in the leaves, pitched my tent, ate a sandwich that I had brought, brushed my teeth, and turned in for the night. It was only 10:30 or so, but I fell asleep almost immediately. Coming in, I had heard the coyotes howling over on the south side of the river, but by the time I got in my tent, I heard only a medium sized owl beginning to hunt for supper.

Saturday morning was crisp and clear ... a gorgeous Sipsey winter morning. When I got out of my tent, I chuckled to find that I had pitched my tent on a perfectly soft spot in the woods with two marshy areas on either side, right outside my vestibule. I didn't get out my Jetboil, deciding that when I found my weekend spot, I would heat water and have some coffee as a toast.

Since I was intending to stay three more nights, I was determined that there surely must be an overhanging bluff along White Oak Creek that would afford me shelter if the predicted rains arrived. I put water and snacks in my fanny pack and set out up the hollow to find the magic bluff. I had to circumvent the blue tent (still asleep?), so I went up the side of the bluff a little and found an old road that paralleled the creek. I always wonder when old roads were put down and what their purpose had been ...

About a mile up the hollow I found the perfect bluff. T

here was an old fire ring, but I didn't think the campsite had been used for years. I was perfect for staying dry while doing the campsite things, and with a little work, would even hold my tent from getting soaked in a storm. While I was looking around to see where to set up all my stove, etc., I saw a pile of porcine excrement, so I named the area "Pig S_ _ _ Bluff" ... and an editorial comment: sooner or later, the Forest Service is going to have to let hunters into the wilderness area to kill some of the feral pigs --

they are destroying many trails and spoiling some campsites. Last June I saw five piglets and a sow. If the sows are having two litters a year (minimum), then the pig population is increasing by leaps and bounds.

Anyway ... great place to set up my camp ... I quickly went back down the hollow to fetch my equipment and ferried it back to PS Bluff ... I was set for the weekend.

Since rain was predicted for Saturday night, I spend the better part of the afternoon gathering firewood (fairly dry) and pulling some logs under the bluff. I travel with a folding saw, so I would have an abundance of wood for the night's fire. There was a small stream about 30 meters from my campsite, so I began filling water bottles. While taking care of that, I made a pot of coffee and toasted my new living quarters.

Saturday night--or, rather, Sunday morning about 3:00 AM, it rained for a bit. I love to be in my tent sleeping when it rains ... something about the comfort of dry hearing the rain pelt down on the fly. As I said earlier, my tent was mostly under the bluff, so I only had rain on the outer edge of one of the vestibules, not on the tent itself ... but the sounds of rain falling in the woods is comforti

ng to me, also. By the time I got up Sunday morning the rain had stopped, but the sky was completely overcast ... still drizzling some, but not much. I was glad I had moved some firewood under the bluff.

About 9:00 AM I decided to go on a little walk. I had been up the unmapped White Oak Creek Hollow Trail going to Big Tree once, but was not sure which trail it connected with (in fact, my wife and I stumbled around in the woods on that ridge for an hour before getting my bearings and connecting with the shortcut to Big Tree. My plan this Sunday was to go up behind me and connect with FT208, follow it northeast until it connected with the mystery trail, connect with the top of the WOCH trail, and come back down to PS Bluff ... that was my plan ... uh, didn't quite work out like that ...

My problem was that I've been in the Sipsey Wilderness so many times that I get fooled into thinking that I know my way around like I know my neighborhood where I live. Well, my GPS told me that I was just south and east of FT208, so I headed up the bluff behind me ... and that was a correct estimation ... took me only a few minutes of bushwhacking to get to 208. I turned right and headed northeast on the trail to connect with the mystery trail that connected to the WOCH trail. I was strolling along 208 and saw a guy getting out of a 4- or 6-man car-camping tent--out in the middle of nowhere ... he surely was not by himself, but one never knows ... when I got to the intersection of FT208 and (maybe) FT223 (which goes north), I continued on 208, and shortly came to the intersection where FT224 goes to the right. WHAT WAS I THINKING??? I was wa-a-a-ay passed the intersection I was looking for ... way east of where that intersection might have been ... way passed any right-thinking person's plan to intersect with the mystery trail ... and to make matters even worse--without consulting my map, which I had in my fanny pack--I intersected with FT204 and turned on it ... Again: what was I thinking??? (or, maybe, more correctly, why wasn't I th

inking?) ... After a way down 204, I descended to a bluff where four guys were camping ... I asked the opening question, "Y'all get wet last night?" The pointed to several tarps and said that they had stayed reasonably dry. I said, "Where am I?" They pointed off the bluff at the tops of some trees and said, "There's Big Tree." And, sure enough, it was ...

Well, I had "overshot" my trail connections by about two hours and four miles ... okay, it was only noon, and if I went the long way, I could be back to my camp before dark ... I checked my GPS and saw that sunset that day was a 4:43 PM ... and remembered that, as I packed my fanny pack for the "short hike," I had packed rain gear, snacks, and water ... but no headlamp ... I mean, it was 9:00 AM when I packed ... okay, I was not in a panic because I knew that, ev

en if I had to sleep in the woods, I would survive ... uncomfortable for a few hours--but I would not die. And, so, with those realizations, I decided not to go back the long way, but to find the shortcut up West Bee Branch canyon and come out right beside the top to WOCH trail ... that is, IF I could find the West Bee Branch trail that I had come down one time about six months earlier ... "No sweat," he said ...

After bush-whacking for about two hours and trying to follow a fairly constant elevation, I saw a trail on my GPS ... and that trail led to the top of the WOCH trail (I had fortunately set a waypoint there on a previous trip). About 4:15, I finally arrived at the waypoint, but couldn't see the trail going down the hill ... kept looking ... kept think ... and finally saw a few footprints that could mean a trail ... after about 30 meters or so, I was sure I was on the trail ... meaning that I would not have to spend the night in the woods ...

I dragged into my campsite about 4:55 and my dogs were barking. My GPS said that I had hiked 13.1 miles ... and since much of that was bush-whacking, I knew they had reason to be tired. Another Sipsey adventure, and -- Hey! that's what gives us material for stories, doesn't it?

I went to bed early and got up Monday to another cloudy day ... it cleared up a little in the afternoon and I went up WOCH far enough to find a good summer campsite ... near a little waterfall ... marked it in my mind for warmer weather. Ate well and slept well Monday night and woke up to a clearer day to pack out ... I was sad to leave my little home at PS Bluff ... it had worked well, but would be there another thousand years. I figure I will be back before it goes away ... don't you think?

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 ...