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.

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 ...