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.

Bushwhacking to a new area (for me) in the Sipsey Wilderness

I had been reading some posts about the Clifty Creek falls area of the Sipsey Wilderness so I decided to try to find a base camp site and the falls. When I got out of my car mid-morning on a Monday, it was still raining, but not pouring. I had driven in the Bunyan Hill Road entrance to the north end of FT 200, where the bridge crosses Borden Creek. There is a gate at the bridge, so I parked my vehicle along the road with a couple of other vehicles. After changing from driving shoes to my hiking boots and getting all of my rain gear on--no small feat in a Miata--I headed up FS 224, formerly known as Bunyan Hill Road. Water was running down the gullies, so I had to be careful not to overtop my boots in the mud. That trail is also a horse trail, and since the horse people usually ride on weekend, this Monday's trail was severely mucked up.

After I had hiked up the trail a couple of miles to just east of the intersection of the FS 226 (old Cullman Motorway on some maps) where, judging from my GPS, the bushwhacking would be mostly downhill to where a feeder stream enters Clifty Creek. The first couple of hundred yards of the woods was thick with briars and blowdowns, so I had to be careful not to tear my pack cover. The going was slow and the briars were nasty. As I got to the feeder stream and the little valley began to widen out, the valley floor opened up some to make the traveling easier. The stream was pretty and growing from the rain and I soon came upon a small waterfall that was about ten feet high. After getting a photo there I worked my way along a steep hillside and down across the creek.

As the stream got even wider, I hoped that I was on the side of the stream where I could find a good campsite, because the farther down the valley I got crossing the stream was going to be problematic after the amount of rain that was still falling. Fortunately, I crossed to the south side of the stream before it got too wide and before I encountered another feeder stream coming in from a little valley to the north. Even in the rain the streams were beautiful in sight and sound. I love to find a campsite near enough to a stream to hear it running noisily throughout the night--doesn't everyone? And as these streams were growing from the rains, I was going to be able to hear running water from almost anywhere in the creek valley.

And because the rain was still falling, I began to look up on the sides of the bluffs to see if I could find a space large enough to get out of the rain for my cooking and relaxing by a fire. I had studied my GPS and topo maps and the area looked promising for a bluff. I can pitch my Tarptent Rainbow on almost any small level space, but I prefer to find a bluff under which to sit when I cook. Always more pleasant that way. I was prepared not to find a bluff, however, and wait out the rain in my tent if necessary. The forecasts had predicted an end to the rain late that afternoon and it did seem to be letting up a little.

I followed the feeder stream down to where it intersected with Clifty Creek and found a nice level campsite with lots of room for a group to camp--plenty of fairly level tent sites; however, I wanted to find a bluff if I could and began to backtrack up the draw to find an overhang large enough under which to sit. It was still raining and I was beginning to get wet inside my rain gear--which is usually the case, as most backpackers know. After about half an hour I found an overhang up the hillside. There was a good place for cooking and a great place to build a fire. Then I began looking around for a place not too far away to pitch my Rainbow. Well, that was going to be a problem ... the hillside in front of the bluff dropped down pretty steeply and the only place I could find was under the drip line of the bluff. I didn't really want to climb in and out of my tent with the bluff dripping on my vestibule. Then I remembered that I had brought along my 9x9 Noah's Tarp, so I pulled it out and strung it between two trees and pitched my tent right in the (former) drip line. Now I could get in/out of my tent without being dripped on.

I followed the bluff around the side of the hill and was able to pick up enough dry wood to build a pretty good fire until I could dry some other wood. I stacked some of the wet wood around my campfire to dry. I pulled up a couple of flat rocks to use as a cooking table and I was set for the three days.

I had recently purchased a Platypus Gravity System water filter and I went to the nearby small water fall to fill up my dirty water bag. After filling it, I filtered my water into a clean bag and then refilled the "dirty" bag. It took only about three minutes to filter four liters of water into the clean bag, so I pulled out my second "clean" bag and filtered another four liters. Then I refilled my "dirty" bag and figured twelve liters of water would be way more than enough for the next three days. I probably wouldn't take the Platy Gravity Sys if I were covering the miles, but for a base camp, it was perfect! 

I spent most of Monday afternoon/evening getting my base camp fixed up just right and heard my stomach growling for supper before it got dark. I started my fire and opened my MSR Titan 1.5L cook kit with the 1.0L pot inside a DIY cozy. Supper was done shortly and I wished for a bag of wine, but sadly, had to settle for decaf Via and cool water. I pulled out my Kindle and read a few pages in a Jeffrey Archer novel and decided I would read some more in bed. I brushed my old teeth and made sure the remaining coals of the fire were covered with ashes so that I might find a red coal the next morning. I climbed in about 8:30 or so and read for another 30 minutes before realizing that my Kindle had shut off and was resting on my chest. I listened at the creek gurgling down below and heard a distant owl hoot, and don't remember much after that.

The critter's nest

While brushing my teeth down the bluff from my campsite my head lamp shined up on a nest of some kind. It was made of pretty big sticks and there was no evidence of bird poop around, so I figured it was a critter of some kind rather than a crow or other bird. I looked at the nest over the next couple of days and, although it looked as if some of the sticks had been rearranged and more had been added, I never did see or hear a critter. The nest wasn't the kind of nest a bird would sit on but one something would tunnel into. It had a small opening and was about five feet off of the ground, so whatever it was climbed up there to get in the nest. Of course, the critter may have been hunkered down back in the back side of the nest, asleep. I kind of wanted to know what it was, but at the same time, didn't want to disturb it enough so that it would leap out on my while I was brushing my teeth.

Tuesday morning I awoke to a cloudy, but not rainy morning. I stirred my fire enough to uncover some red coals and with a little blowing and some dryer lint was able to get my fire going without a spark from my flint/steel. I was definitely cooler than the previous day, but not so cold that I needed gloves.

I cooked some oatmeal and made some good, strong Via and sat enjoying the view from my little home in the woods. I love the adventure of being alone in the woods. I guess I'm a throw-back to older days, but I am rarely uncomfortable by myself in the woods.


Tuesday, I had decided that my main goal would be to find a better way to get out of the woods than bushwhacking back up through the briars and inclines. Across the feeder stream by which I was camping I spotted some red markers tied on to limbs. These markers seemed to be marking an old road of some kind. Over the years I have found that the Sipsey if full of old logging roads and sometimes following them has been part of an adventure. (Once I happened upon the remains of an old still.) I crossed the stream and decided to follow it west--and up--to see if it led back to old Bunyan Hill Road/FS 224. I followed the old road about a mile and a half and could tell that it did indeed work back to an intersection with FS 224. It was not a particularly easy road to follow, but I was easier than bushwhacking back up the creek ravine down which I had come. If you've hiked in the Sipsey Wilderness you know what kind of old road about which I'm referring. It's a leveled out roadbed grown over by 30 year old trees. The roads could never actually be used as roads anymore, but sometimes make it easier to bushwhack. I knew that I could get back to my car if I followed Clifty Creek to an intersection with Brazeil Creek, and then Braziel Creek to an intersection with Borden Creek, and Borden Creek back to the bridge, but I estimated that to be about 4.5 or more miles, and I wanted to shorten my trip and experience a new part of the Wilderness.

After satisfying that I could follow the old road back to an intersection when I hiked out Thursday, I followed the sounds of water down another ravine to see if there was a waterfall there, but only found a noisy series of riffles amplified by the walls of the ravine. It was a beautiful little area, though, unspoiled by any trails except those made by coyotes, deer, and pigs (ugh!). I often follow game trails when I'm bushwhacking in the Sipsey. Most of them are easier ways to get around the woods. 

Let me interject here that I often bushwhack in the Sipsey. I almost always carry a GPS with waypoints set for my campsite and my car, and I always carry a topo map should something not look right on the GPS. And I have a pretty good sense of direction and knowing where I am in relation to the streams and creeks. I study maps of the area I'm going to hike in before I ever set foot on the trails. I often have to re-orient people I run in to that seem to be confused about where they are. I ran into three college students once near Auburn Falls that didn't have a clue where they were and had been hiking around for a day and a half trying to find Thompson Creek--that was about 75 yards from where they were standing. I showed them on my map where they were and they thanked me and headed off ... in the wrong direction! Oh, well ... some people get more of an adventure than they signed up for.

Clifty Creek Falls

Back to my narrative ... I headed back to my campsite and established where I would cross the feeder stream to keep from crossing two feeder streams when I hiked out in a couple of days. I also spent some time--as I often do in the Sipsey--walking along the bluffs looking for a good campsite under an overhang. My current campsite faced northeast and I wanted to find one that faced southeast if I could. Should a really cold front blow through when I'm back down in this area next winter, I wanted to be more protected than my current campsite might be. So, it was late afternoon when I finally got back to my campsite and I spent the remaining daylight gathering wood for the evening fire the next couple of nights. During the summer I never build fires, but during the late fall through early spring, I almost always build a fire if there is a good place.

Tuesday evening and night were uneventful except I woke up cold during the night realizing that the temp was dropping more than I had anticipated. I had enough sleeping clothes and a warm bag. I just had to put on another pair of socks, pull my hoodie up over my head, and zip up my bag ... which I did and was quickly back to sleep.

Wednesday morning I again used a little dryer lint to start my fire, which I needed to warm up the morning as I fixed my breakfast coffee. Getting water for my coffee I noticed ice in the bottom of my Platy bags--not solid ice, but enough to let me know it had gotten several degrees below freezing.

After a lazy breakfast I studied my topo map a little to see if I could see an easy way to hike up Clifty Creek toward the falls at the end of a canyon. I couldn't see anything particularly inviting, so I just decided to follow CC up its west side to see how far up I could get. After a half mile or so, it seemed that I had stumbled onto an old road that paralleled the creek. I followed it for a while until it seemed to disappear where the side of the ravine had washed out, then followed a game trail. The sides of the creek's valley got more narrow and more steep the farther up stream I went, but the sound of water falling was getting louder. The first waterfall I spotted seemed to come into CC from the west side feed into the creek and there was still a lot of water coming down the creek past that waterfall. It was a beautiful waterfall, though, falling about 100 or so feet in a noisy drop. I wondered if that was the CC Falls I had read about, but it didn't much look like the pictures I had seen on a Sipsey Hiking Club blog. A little voice told me that the main falls were up the ravine some more, so I kept hiking. Hiking now was pretty rough because the sides of the valley were so steep.

As I hiked I suddenly realized that I was hearing a bigger waterfall, and then I saw the end of the canyon and a larger waterfall that I recognized from some pictures. I'm not sure it was any more beautiful than the waterfall I had first spotted, but there was a lot more water coming over it than the first one. As I pushed on around the end of the canyon trying to get a good photo spot, I spotted a third falls coming over the edge of the bluff. So, three waterfalls at the end of Clifty Creek canyon ... not a bad spot to have a little picnic. However, after looking for a place to sit and be able to enjoy some jerky and juice, I spotted a sunny spot with some grass ... however, it was on the other side of CC. Making my way over was an adventure, but with the help of some large, house-size rocks and a fallen log, I made my way across, climbed up the steep side of the ravine, and flopped down in the bright sunshine. Ah, what a day!

Eventually, though, I had to make my way back down the creek and up to my bluff home. My old legs had gotten stiff and it took a few minutes to scoot back down the sides of the ravine to the creek, get across the rocks and log, and back up to the game trail on which I had traversed to the three falls. 

Eventually, I was able to find the old road bed and follow it most of the way back down to where the feeder streams flowed into the Sipsey. Right at that confluence of the feeder stream and CC, the campsite there was inviting and I pledged to return in the fall before the cooler nights came in. I tend to camp at the lower elevations and bottoms of the valleys during the warmer climes and up on the hillsides when it's cooler and the colder air is settling in the bottoms of the valleys. I learned that by camping in Colorado when I lived out there.

Wednesday nights supper was very pleasant as I reflected back on my three water fall find that afternoon. I'm pretty certain that only during the wetter periods would a person find all three waterfalls flowing. If you want to see waterfalls in the Sipsey you have to go in the late winter/early spring or after torrential rains. A lot of the smaller falls don't do their thing in the depths of the summer. The past couple of summers even Thompson Creek has dried up. White Oak Creek stayed dry for a long, long time.

Thursday morning I packed up and headed up the old road bed I had checked out on Tuesday. It was a pleasant and easy hike winding up around the hillsides until I got just past where I had turned around on Tuesday. As the road got to the top of the plateaus that led to the ridge line of Bunyan Hill Road, I found hundreds of blowdowns and struggled to keep on the old road. The previous year's two storms and tornados had really done some work to the large trees. It was not easy going and I had to use my GPS often to keep heading toward FS 224. Eventually, after many, many extra steps, almost like bushwhacking, I found 224 and wasn't certain that the way out I had chosen was any shorter, easier, or faster than just bushwhacking back up the way I had come down. However, as I journeyed back down Bunyan Hill Road to my vehicle I saw a lone wildflower and was again reminded of the immense beauty of the Sipsey Wilderness.

Wildflowers of the Sipsey Wilderness

These wildflower photos have been taken over the past four or five years around on the Thompson Creek, Ripey, Rampart, and Sipsey River trails. The flowers are most beautiful in April, but can be found earlier and later if one looks carefully.

A Walk in the Woods II - October 2010

Once again I was lucky enough to go camping with some of the greatest teenagers in the world ... and, yes, there are great kids all over the world, but these that were in my world this weekend are part of the reason I do what I do. I love 'em ... And, you're saying to yourself, so, get on with the story ...

Homecoming Week at our high school ... several of the campers

were sweethearts, princesses, escorts, and such, so we couldn't leave Friday until after the football game (which we won 39-6) and everyone had a chance to take a shower. Can you believe that kids went camping right after they were all loaded-up with beauty for their Homecoming presentations at halftime? Just before the end of the game, I observed one of our campers leaving the game with five very attractive young ladies ... he was 40 minutes late getting to the meeting place ... at his age, with those ladies, I probably would have been late also ... real late! (He said he went to get ice cream ... sure ... we believe that, don't we?) It was after 10:00 PM when most of them got to the rendezvous point and they looked tired and ready to get away from it all. We got away from our rendezvous point about 10:45 and were on our way in three vehicles. One of my colleague teachers has gone with us on both trips -- a long-time backpacker. She is a super art teacher and a very creative lady. I am thankful that she is willing to join us.

After dodging one large doe and a couple of raccoons on the road, we arrived at the trail head at exactly 1:00 AM and because we had already loaded our packs, we were crossing the bridge at the Thompson Creek TH shortly thereafter with headlamps blazing. We didn't have far to walk in the dark, but it was the first time the kids had had a chance to backpack in the dark. We didn't see or hear anything too frightening, so we got to White Oak Creek in about 20 minutes. I had chosen a campground that I have only seen people in once in my many trips. It's not in a great place because everybody who hikes in on FT 206 walks right by the campsite, but it was at the end of the White Oak Hollow Trail (unnumbered) that we would use to go over the "shortcut" to Big Tree the next day. As everyone was choosing a spot to pitch their tent, I was looking for two well-spaced trees between which to string my hammock. For kids who don't get a lot of practice, the tents went up amazingly fast. One of our students is kind of a 'take charge' guy, and he had everyone working to pitch tents, because they couldn't wait to crash in their bags after a long week and a long day.

Because it's only rained for about 45 minutes in the Bankhead Nat'l Forest over the past eight or nine weeks, the NFS has issued a burn ban in the

Wilderness and we were all disappointed that we couldn't have a campfire. White Oak Creek that would have put us to sleep babbling over the rocks was silent. It hadn't had any water coming down from the Hollow for six or seven weeks. It would have been perfect to hear water flowing in the creek and to be able to have a camp fire. However, had we been able to have a campfire, we might have stayed up even later. As it was, I snuggled down into my bivey sack at exactly 3:00 AM.

I woke up about 6:30 Saturday morning, but didn't get out of my comfortable hammock until about 6:45. Of course, none of the students were up. I got up and putzed around with my gear for a while and then got my Jetboil going to get some coffee water heating. I started my freeze dried granola re-hydrating and sat on a log thinking about the day. (FWIW, that Mtn House granola is really good.) The plan was to get the kids to Big Tree, do some water coloring with them and get back to camp before it got pitch dark. We had to make sure we had water bottles filled before we left.

The other teacher and her son were the next over to my area looking for some hot water for coffee and oatmeal. We had just enough to get both of those covered and knew we needed to get down to the water source before heading to Big Tree.

After the kids all got up and ate/drank whatever morning nourishment they had brought, we all went east to the next campsite to get down to a pool of water to fill our water bottles. The pool has a small spring keeping it filled, but the standing water is beginning to get a little filled with debris; enough to make me work on my filter when I got back home.

I had hoped to get off to Big Tree about 10:00, but it was closer to 11:00 when we left camp, but it was a gorgeous, sunny day, and I was glad to be in the woods on such a beautiful day. We headed up the White Oak Trail to FT 205 on the top of the ridge, stopped for water and a photo, then headed down the east side of the ridge to the Bee Branch watershed. The trail down is a nice trail, normally paralleling a stream with several small water falls, going through several hardwood stands before getting into fir forests and bluffs to scramble down. When the soil is dry (as it was this day), the scramble is not too difficult. When the soil is muddy, the way down is much more of an adventure to keep from slipping and landing hard on the big boulders of the stream. We had fun under the bluffs and fir shade, taking photos and eating snacks, but I urged us along to Big Tree.

When we got to the bottom of the trail where it empties into West Bee Branch, we turned south and went to the confluence of the West Branch and the East Branch where we intersected with the East Bee Branch Trail up to Big Tree. This trail used to be a beautiful little trail, but so many trees have fallen across it that it has become quite a scramble at several points. Actually, I went up this trail a year or so ago when one of the larger oak trees uprooted and fell on the trail. I almost never got my pack through all of the limbs, leaves, and up the muddy slope. The kids were excited, however, and scrambled up the canyon pretty quickly. When we first arrived a Big Tree, another family with kids was there and our students hung back a little to let the smaller children get out of the way.

Everyone counted coup on Big Tree and then we settled on the rocks to eat some lunch and drink some juice. I had predicted that--because of the extreme dry--neither of the falls would be running, and that was true, except from the tiniest dripping off of the right-hand falls. After we ate, the art teacher got our her art supplies and prepared them for us. As one of our students joyfully exclaimed, "Art supplies -- in the woods!" and, indeed, they were. After all of us had grabbed papers, paints, a pencils, and some water, we spread out around Big Tree to paint. Some sat on rocks, some disappeared to the bottom of the (non) falls, and one even held her paper up to the tree to trace the shadows of the leave on Big Tree (wish I had thought of that). We painted what we saw or what we imagined ... some heavy work and some minimalist work.

At around 3:00 PM, we packed our trash, our art supplies and headed up the side of the bluff to the trail that connects with FT 204. I had been on the north end of 204 connecting with 223, but I had never gone down 204 to the intersection with 209 ... I manipulated the students into thinking they had chosen that trail ... I later admitted my sin to the art teacher. Actually, the south end of 204 is a pretty trail to descend ... it intersects with 209 about a half mile east of the confluence of Bee Branch and the Sipsey.

We passed several groups of hikers/backpackers on 204 asking 'how much farther' to Big Tree. One of the groups was five day-hikers who had walked by our campsite about 8:30 that morning asking about the trail to Big Tree. They went down 206 to Bee Branch and should have taken an immediate left, but missed that trail and went on half a mile until they saw 204 go up the hill. It was about 3:30 in the afternoon, with another 30 minutes to Big Tree, then about four hours to hike out. I asked if they had headlamps, and they said yes, but they never came by our campsite that evening, so I don't know where they bivouacked, if they did. Anyway, it took us almost exactly an hour to get to FT 209. I had not been on that little section of 209, so it was nice for me to see that portion of the trail.

It took us 15 minutes to get to the bottom of Bee Branch, cross the log, and continue on to the 209 crossing of the Sipsey--where it goes up to intersect with 201. At that point, the trail continues on "not 206" through private land to a point where--supposedly--206 comes back across the Sipsey near the confluence of Parker Creek and Thompson Creek and continues west toward White Oak Creek.

That sounds confusing, but since the NFS can't number trails on private land, I call it "not 206" across the private land. Most people don't know it's officially not FT 206 ...

Okay, back to the story ... when we finally got back to the east side of the Eye of the Needle, the kids scrambled up the hill and through the eye. This leg-weary old man decided to walk the 10 minutes around the parrot's beak to the Ship Rock campground. The kids and the my colleague scrambled through quickly and got ahead of me by 1/4 mile.

(Okay, here's a diversion story ... while we were at Big Tree, five middle aged guys came up and ate lunch and took pictures and such. We chatted with them some and swapped hiking stories and left a little before

we did. . When the kids scrambled through the Eye, the five men were camped at the Ship Rock campsite (where these kids camped last spring) and had a fire in their fire ring. Our students were incensed that these adults would violate the 'no campfire' edict of the NFS. One of our students asked them, "Oh, did the Forest Service lift the burn ban?" One of the men replied that "they didn't know anything about the burn ban." Yeah, right ... a big sign at the trail head that one almost had to step around to get up the trail ... Hey, not that they'll ever read this, but, "Way to go, guys ... nice example for our younger campers.")

I was extremely proud of the maturity of our teenagers when not one of them asked, "Those guys had a fire, so why can't we?" I was extremely embarrassed at the immaturity of the five experienced hikers who built a fire even though they knew they shouldn't have. No wonder we picked up trash on every trail we traveled on ...

We hiked pretty quickly from Ship Rock to the Auburn Falls trail. At that point, the kids were desperate to get back to their camp, and started running. It's probably a mile or more from that point to White Oak Creek and they ran the whole way. This old man walked a fast pace, but he definitely did not run. Ah, youth!!

Dinner that evening was around the fireless fire ring. One of the guys put his stove in the middle of the ring and we lit tea lights around on the stones. It wasn't quite the same as sitting around the campfire, but we had good camaraderie anyway. We ended the night together telling stories about our childhood and such ... another good time together.

I went to my hammock about 10-ish or so, reminding the group that we had to get-up-and-get-around the next morning so we could break camp, hike out, and drive back to give them time to work on

an IB internal assessment that had due the next day. I thought would be early enough ... they got up about 8:45 ... oh, well ...

Hiking out of the woods is always a downer for me ... I love to be in the woods and would be there every week, if possible. It is a spiritual connection for me. It relieves my stress, gives me a chance to right my perspectives and realign my priorities. At the end of the trail near the Thompson Creek TH there is a hill I always think of as Disappointment Hill ... disappointment and headed back to civilization ... Alexander Supertramp: where are you?

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 ...