Sipsey Wilderness - June 2009

Okay ... It was hot! It was the Sultry South in all its glory! For some reason, I have to put myself through this every summer, at least once ... sweat, and more sweat ... but, I'm a Southern boy (well, I once was a boy ... ) and I feel the need to hike in the woods when nobody but me and the feral pigs are happy ...

When I turned east on Cranal Road, I felt the temperature cool a little in my mind, because I was headed toward the woods and streams that I find

comforting.Separated from my vehicle at the Randolph TH about 6:00 PM or so on a Friday evening.I was the only car in the Randolph TH parking lot ... not a surprise at 97 degrees on the church sign when I came through

Haleyville. After I tried to lighten my pack, I locked my car and headed north to the fork of the Rippey and Randolph trails. When I turned northeast on the

Randolph Trail (FT 202) I spotted some blackeyed Susans along the way and couldn't resist stopping for a picture ... It always takes me a little longer to get to my destination because I cannot pass up a flower ...

When I got to the Johnson Cemeteries, I found that someone had done a heck of a lot of work cleaning the east side and mounding up the graves between the head and foot stones. I don't know who did this, but they need an extra pat on the back for honoring the long-dead in that cemetery. I know it's somewhat dishonoring to the dead there, but I looked at those mounds and thought what a great place to take a group of kids in October and tell some spooky stories ... it was kind of spooky during the day.

Not too long after I started down the narrowed trail past the cemeteries I heard a racket of leaves and sticks andspotted five coal black piglets headed away through the woods. As I looked up the trail, I saw their mother run across the trail to them ... those little piggies were flying through the woods to get away from the crazy man hiking alone at 7:00 o'clock in the evening ... At 2.67 miles on my GPS, therewas a big old oak--barely alive--that marked the start downhill to the river. That old tree didn't have many leaves, but sure had a lot of fern-looking stuff growing on the limbs. I didn't remember themileage on the trail descriptions, but I knew I had to be less than a mile from the river ... I could smell it!

If you've hiked the Randolph Trail you know that there is a fairly good-sized campsite on the slope down to the river ... I hadn't been down the trail before, and, since dark was coming on soon, I checked out that campsite--decided that it wasn't very inviting--and then went on the trail straight down the hill to the river. What I didn't comprehend, but should have paid attention to--was that FT 202 cut back south to slab the hillside back to the waterfall on Little Ugly Creek. As I said, though, since I had never been on this trail before, I was hunting for a campsite down by the Sipsey River. I turned left at the trail crossing and followed 202 down to where it crosses the river and meets FT 209.

Finding nothing but sand and creekside undergrowth there, I went back along what I saw was 202 and found a nice level campsite along Little Ugly Creek -- a good water source, since I had already consumed most of my water supply hiking in. It was getting pretty dark, so I quickly pitched my REI quarter-dome and threw my pad in to self-inflate while I found something in the bottom of my pack to eat. I had sweated 10 lbs off my old body, I was sure, so I sat on the log by the fire ring and drank for a while.I had picked up some powered pomegranate green tea and decided to add it to flavor my water for supper ... I ate some beef jerky and a power bar and after securing my gear on a tree, decided to turn in. It must have been about 9:15 at that point.

When I hike in the Deep South during the summer months, I don't carry a sleeping bag--just a twin sheet that I spread on my sleeping pad. I had not put the fly on my tent so that the air would circulate

through the tent when it cooled down a bit in the early morning. I lay in my tent listening to a small owl staking his territory and to the small stream gurgling ten feet from my tent ... what a wonderful

way to fall asleep. I thought that the Whippoorwill and the reverse Whippoorwill (I never can remember what that bird is that sounds somewhat like a Whippoorwill, but isn't). Maybe someone

will finally read one of my blogs and comment on the bird that sounds like a Whippoorwill, but isn't ...

Saturday morning I woke up about six and lay there listening to the morning birds that were asleep when I lay down the night before. They were singing me awake that morning ... I've always wished I knew bird sounds better so I could identify the birds that live in the deep woods ... I know the Whippoorwill call because there was one down at my grandfather's farm in Walthall County, Mississippi, that used to keep me awake at night with its incessant cry. Before air conditioning we used to open the windows at night and turn on the attic fan to cool the house. The fan was loud, but the Whippoorwill's cry was penetrating and would drive me to bury my

head under my grandmother's feather pillow.

But I digress ... (Duh! I'm an English major) ... after a nice breakfast of French pressed coffee and freezedried granola with blueberries (I'm addicted!), I decided to cross the Sipsey and hike on 209 for a while. It was already pretty warm when I strapped on my fanny pack at about 9:00. The Sipsey was cool and the sandy bottom comfortable on my bare feet. Of course, climbing the steep and muddy northside bank, cleaning and drying my feet, and putting my boots back on was a little bit of a hassle, but I had that done before too long and decided to hike west toward Bee Branch.

Not far down the trail I came upon my first of four copperheads ... He was lying across the trail and I had stepped over him before I saw him between my feet. I am usually more observant than that, and scolded myself for not keeping a keen eye out for the critters. I passed the intersection where FT 204 comes down from the Bee Branch Ridge to meet 209. There is a nice post there for a trail sign, but no sign ... fortunately, someone with a ballpoint pen wrote a "204" on the sides of the post. It wasn't too long before I got to the big campsite at the intersection of the trail to Big Tree and 209. I've always come from the northwest to the East Bee Branch Trail, so I've never seen that campsite. It's a great campsite for a group of tents ... very spacious and level.

Why I decided to hike up the trail to Big Tree I don't know, but decided to go up to the intersection of that trail and the trail coming down off the top of the ridge along the West Bee Branch. The trails intersect where West Bee Branch and East Bee Branch join. It's a nice shady little area near a big boulder, so I sat down to eat a power bar and drink most of my water. After cooling off a while, I headed back toward the confluence of Bee Branch and the Sipsey. Along the way, I came upon the second of my four copperheads ... not a large one (oh, a couple of feet long, but not very big around). I encouraged him off of the trail with my hiking staff, and continued on ...

Heading back to the campsite I always hike a little faster--as my father would say, like a mule headed toward the barn after plowing all day--and it was only an hour before I got back to the 202 crossing. There are good signs here for those hiking either direction on 209. I went through the boots off wading and drying process and will have to admit that that Sipsey water felt wonderful on my feet.

When I got back to my campsite, I decided that, even though I felt like an afternoon nap, I'd better take care of 

business and fill a few water bottles for supper, breakfast, and the trip out Sunday morning. I took one of my closed-cell foam pads down by the creek and began pumping the cool stuff through my Sweet Water filter. I always carry in a couple of extra bottles to fill after I get to my campsite. During the winter I will just boil the water to kill the bacteria, but the cool filtered water hits the spot during the summer.

After changing into dry clothes and putzing around with my gear for an hour or two, I decided to see if I could drift off into a late afternoon nap ... which I did. It was hot, but my campsite was shady and I had drunk a lot of the cool, freshly filtered water to rehydrate and cool off. I could have stayed down for a couple of hours, but decided that I wouldn't sleep as soundly that night if I slept too much in the afternoon.

In the winter I would have been spending the evening gathering wood for my night-time fire, but I rarely build a fire in the summer, so I had extra time to mess with my gear and rummage through my first aid kit to see what needed to be replaced. I started the water in my JetBoil for supper -- a pretty good lasagna and meat sauce meal from the northwest freeze-dried company. The pomegranate green tea was especially tasty with the lasagna.

Sunday morning I woke up at first light needing to use the facilities (the woods, in this case) and spotted my third copperhead who was up really early ... or had been out all night snaking around the stream for frogs and such. Whatever the reason, he was up pretty early.

I took my time eating breakfast and packing my gear. I struggle to rush back to civilization from the peace and quiet of the woods. About 9:00 AM or so, I grunted to sling my pack on my back and headed up the trail the way I should have come down, had I not been in a hurry to get to a campsite Friday night. I cursed myself for taking the shortcut, because a few hundred yards up the trail there was the really nice falls that fed Little Ugly Creek. There were a couple of small, one-person campsites near the falls that would have been really nice for my two nights. Oh well, I didn't hate my campsite, but believe that I will have to go back down the Randolph Trail to that falls sometime. I almost always leave the woods seeing something that I wish I had seen on the way in and planning to return sometime ... that's always the best way to end a camping trip--longing to come back again and experience something you missed.

At the top of the elevation climb I came across the fourth and largest of the copperheads. He was about three feet and a fat one ... probably older and loading up on toads that live in all of the downed firs and pines. The weekend had taken its toll on my tired, old body and I hiked most of the way out with a slow, plodding gate. I was happy to get back to the old oak that marked the top of the

main elevation climb. There were a few other elevation gains, but nothing as steep as from the river to the tree. I got a picture of a small blue flower on the way out ... enough to make me smile and want to return.

Tumalo Mountain, Oregon - June 2009

This terrain, climate, altitude, views, etc. are a little different than north Alabama ... to say the least. My wife and I flew out to Portland, OR, to visit with our son and daughter-in-law. I was determined to bag a peak of some kind. After seeing a blurb in Backpacker magazine about Tumalo Mountain and searching Trails.com, I decided that even an old man could make it the mile and a half to the top.

We left my wife at the Barnes & Noble in Bend -- severely strained right thigh hiking in the Sipsey with me -- and headed west to the bottom of Bachelor Mtn and Tumalo Mtn, which are right across from each other. Since we believed that we would encounter snow, we were uncertain that we would be able to get to the top ... but we were game to try. When we got to the sno-park, I called my wife to say that there was a lot of snow and didn't know whether or not we would get up the mountain.

It was a very bright, sunny morning, and we had nothing but time. We walked on the snow mobile road a little and the snow was very hard packed, so we

decided to head straight up toward the summit and see how far we could get. The snow was about three to four feet deep, but very hard packed, so we didn't have any trouble digging our toes and edges in to walk up the steep incline. As you can imagine, the climb of about 1200 feet elevation gain in a mile and a half makes for a pretty steep climb. Since there was no trail to follow--but lots of old footprints--we just headed straight up ... thought about switchbacks, but decided shorter was better on the hard-packed snow.

About 200 yards from the top we found a false summit (which we had seen through the trees and thought we were at the top) and decided to lunch on a log. After some water, power bars, and GORP, we decided to head on the final 200 yards. Keep in mind that I'm an old man hiking at 7000 feet higher than I live and work, so my son and daughter-in-law were forced to be very patient. I

know they wanted to sprint to the top, but they waited respectfully.

The summit was well worth the sweat ... we could easily see Mt Bachelor to the south and the Three Sisters to the northwest. One of the peaks that we thought was on of the Three Sisters was a blown out volcanic remnant that my d-in-law had dubbed the Ugly

Sister, we later discovered was called Broken Top. South Sister was easy to see; Middle Sister was easy to see; but North Sister was almost hidden beyond Middle Sister, so we didn't see it until it was pointed out to us. I made far too many pictures from the top, but the 360-view was so wonderful, I couldn't stop pushing that shutter button.

About ten minutes after we got to the top a lone hike came walking in and offered to take our picture. We struck up a conversation with him and he pointed out several hikes around the area. He showed us the North Sister and told us that the Ugly Sister was, in fact,

Broken Top. He told us about a great hike to the back side of Broken Top to which a 4-wheel drive would get a person most of the way. He told us about hikes up South Sister and several others he had made. He told my son and d-in-l that their upcoming hike on the Wonderland Trail around Mt Ranier would be a spiritual experience for them.

After about 30 minutes of conversation, we said good-bye and headed down to the parking lot. I could have stayed on the top another hour, except for the fact that my wife was in a bookstore and surrounding shops and would be trying to personally restart the Bend economic downturn. The solo guy said although he had made this Tumalo Mtn hike several times, he always had trouble hitting the parking lot because you can't see it or any landmarks through the massive forest near the bottom. Don't know how long it took us to get down, but it was certainly easier than the climb up. I was worried about my 90-lb daughter-in-law digging in the snowpack, but she did fine. She is a crackerjack woman and could have sprinted up the mountain had it not been for the old man she had to wait on.

We missed the parking lot about 50 yds ... and the lone hiker-guy came in about ten minutes after we did. I'm always sorry when I get back to my vehicle that I didn't take a hundred more photos than I did ... well, that's always a good reason to return.

Tumalo Mountain was a good choice--if I do say so myself. Thanks to Backpacker magazine for the idea. Hiking with my son and d-in-law was special. I fear that we won't be doing too many more together ... We chatted with the lone hiker some more, ate some more GORP, and drove down the hill some more to see a trail head that he had mentioned--Todd Lake. The road in was still snow blocked, but some snowmobile trailers were parked there. Would have been nice to drive up on a snowmobile ... but I'm a hiker-dude ... what can I say?

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.

Sipsey Wilderness - December 2008

I headed out into the Sipsey Wilderness from the Borden Creek parking lot on the 29th of December 2008, heading down the west side of Borden Creek. I chose the west and less-traveled side because Borden Creek was up quite a bit (not dangerously so, but still crotch deep) and I intended to get to Fall Creek Falls without having to wade across Borden Creek at the confluence of the Sipsey. I must have walked a mile or so and came upon a crease in the bluff where I could hear water flowing.

I found a level spot up under the corner of the bluff and the crease where I could both see Borden Creek below and hear/see a small waterfall and stream that would be handy for getting fresh water. The bluff was quite high

 at that point and I found some wood up under the bluff that had dried out nicely for fire wood ... one old fir log would make excellent fire starter and fuel. I spent some time setting up my campsite and getting wood together to save myself from stumbling around in the dark that night.

The next morning I headed south down the west side of Borden Creek to connect with FT 209 to turn west and find Fall Creek Falls. Hiking was pleasant that morning and although I didn't see anyone for a while on my side of the creek, I did see several people on the east side. I even saw one guy fishing. I didn't see a stringer, so perhaps he was catch-and-release, or was not catching anything. When I got down the trail almost to where I believed it connected with FT 209, I saw two men approaching ... two

 men wearing farm overalls ... two men who looked very much like that guy in Deliverance ... However, as they passed--and didn't have much to say--I did notice that they had pretty good equipment ... pads, tents, good packs, etc ... I'll have to say that movie ruined me for seeing older men in the backwoods wearing overalls without forming judgments ... 

After connecting with FT 209 and turning west, I came upon a 40-foot falls that had a campsite right at the bottom and grafitti on the wall near it. I hate it when people feel obligated to write their name or girlfriend's name on rock walls near sites that people might enjoy ... It was a nice falls, but didn't seem to me to be what people had described as the big Fall Creek Falls; so, I hiked back to the trail and headed farther west. The next waterfall I came upon was back in a pretty little grotto. It was not a large fall, but the surroundings were nice. It had no grafitti.

The afternoon was winding down and I was about to head back to my campsite when I heard a large waterfall down the trail. Sure enough, it had to be Fall Creek Falls because of the amount of water coming over and the surroundings that had been frequently visited. If I had a GPS, I could have confirmed that it was FCF because some nice person had listed the coordinates on my map. (I do have a NUVI 350, but it only has maps of highways, etc., not topo maps) I took a lot of photos of the falls--I always take way more that I'll ever keep, but that's one of the nice things about a digital camera, isn't it?

I returned to my campsite just about dusk, sat by the fire and pondered the day. The next morning I woke to frozen water bottles, and worked to get some melted enough for my Jetboil coffee press ... I do love my morning coffee!

Crooked Arm Ridge Trail, 2007

Just after noon on the last Saturday in May 2007, I pulled out of Columbus, Mississippi, headed for the Smoky Mountains and the Cades Cove area. My goal was to hike a ridge I had not hiked before ... the Crooked Arm Ridge Trail on the north side of Cades Cove.
After a frustrating drive around the Cades Cove loop (way too much traffic and people stopping all traffic to see any wildlife ... rumors of a bear will stop traffic for 45 minutes), I spent the night at the CC campground where I had made a reservation many months ahead. I did get some shots of cabins and such around the Cove. I have driven this loop many times, and during the middle of the day it is almost unbearable with the traffic. I swear I will never drive it during the day again, but I often do because the scenery is so lovely. The best time to drive this is early in the morning. Memorial Day weekend is NOT the time to try to get around CC or to catch an empty slot in CC. Camped next to a "mountain photographer" who had more gear (including a Range Rover decked out with every gadget known to man) than should be allowed--proving that the photography business must be doing very well.

Monday morning I headed up Crooked Arm Ridge Trail with my immediate goal of turning down the Scott Mountain Trail after a little over two miles, to Turkey Pin Ridge campground for the night. I wasn't sure about the subsequent nights ... figured I'd decide that when I got up the next morning. Since it was only a few miles, I figured that even an old man could survive the climb, even though trail descriptions speak of dozens of switchbacks and lots of dust. The Crooked Arm Trail is not wonderful. It is a horse trail and the hiker is constantly having to watch his/her step. Horses are the scourge of any hiking trail, and this one was not exception. Also, once, when passing a horse train, the wrangler asked me to hike 50 meters off the trail so I wouldn't "scare the horses with my pack." Dang! I thought about Robin and Little John on the log, but decided to take the high road ... One would think that mountain trail horses ought to be used to hikers with packs ... however, I obliged and moved up the side of the mountain off the trail. The wrangler--a real mountain woman, if I've ever seen one--did nod a thank you to me.

I took it easy up the trail and around the switchbacks ... saw a 3-foot rat snake that was still limbering up from the cool night before--cool for a snake, but not particularly cool for me. I stopped often trying to get a view of the Cove, but couldn't get a good vantage point from this trail. I did get some nice shots of a flame azalea, some mountain laurel, and a couple of other wildflowers. I took a picture of a sourwood tree, since it is used for several things by mountain folk.
When I arrived at the Scott Mountain trail, I turned right and headed down it, not sure how far I would have to go for the Turkey Pin Ridge knob. It must have been only a few hundred yards, because I hardly had time for my mind to escape the present as it often does when I hike alone. Suddenly, the trail marker for the campground appeared and I turned off the trail for this little campground. I was glad to see a cable system for raising packs and food bags, since the ranger at CC had warned me about bear sightings.
The campground turned out to be a delightfully grassy knob above a bare area in the lower saddle area. The bare area had a well-used fire ring, but the grassy knob wasn't heavily used for some reason--although much more attractive to me. I quickly threw off my pack and started pulling my gear out for afternoon coffee and a power bar. After setting up my tent, I pulled my sleeping pad out and leaned it against a nearby log to read Bill Bryson ... always entertaining.

After an hour or so respite, I decided to hike back to the Crooked Arm trail and head farther up to the ridge where old topo maps show a fire tower. I hoisted my entire pack up on the cable system, took my fanny pack with camera, and headed out. After a couple of hours of photographing blossoms and interesting lichen, I got to the place where there had once been a fire tower looking over both sides of the ridge ... nothing left except the four concrete corner post foundations. I sat there for a few minutes and rehydrated, then headed back down the trail. Not a terrifically memorable dayhike, but nice enough to think about sometime.
I returned to my campground late in the afternoon thinking that I needed more water before dark. I checked my topo to see that it showed a stream down the Scott Mtn trail, but I couldn't tell how far. Luckily for me, it was only a few hundred meters down the trail. My SweetWater system quickly filled four water bottles for the night and morning, and I headed back up the trail.
Sometime around 9PM or so, two guys came down the trail and decided to camp in the lower area of the campground. The were hammock guys, and found trees to string their gear up ... looked comfortable to me! I felt badly for them in that I had brushed my teeth that night down in their area, spitting my toothpaste in their fire ring. I hoped that they would not be bothered by critters. I was quickly back to sleep and didn't even hear them come up and run their food bags up the cables. Sometime early in the morning, while it was still very dark, I heard the unmistakable noises of a bear coming up through the woods. I listened as he snuffed around my tent, then over to my water bottles, as I hoped that I hadn't gotten any toothpaste on them the night before. When I heard him/her turn over a bottle, I shouted for him to go down the hill and bother the hammock sleepers ... he seemed to mind my command voice, and rambled down the hill. Shortly thereafter, I heard the guys whacking the ground underneath their hammocks with their trekking poles. It must have worked--he went on down the hill. Fortunately, for them and me, we had put all of our odorous stuff up in packs and food bags. I was quickly back to sleep with a little smile on my face thinking about the toothpaste in the fire ring.
Tuesday morning brought

Borden Creek, Sipsey Wilderness - October 2008

First weekend in October ... I thought it would be a little cooler. It was cooler at night ... the bag felt good, but it was sweaty hiking during the day. I arrived at the Borden Creek trailhead about 1:00 AM on Saturday (that is not a misprint). I have a good headlamp and the campsites aren't very far down the trail, so I left Columbus about halftime of the football game and arrived at the late night hour.

Because there were seven or eight tents (Boy Scouts, church group, or something) on the main (east side) Borden Creek trail, I crossed the bridge and headed down the west side of the mostly dry creek. I would have gotten to a campsite without waking anyone of the other campers except for the large white dog in the first campsite. He came loudly barking as I neared his master's tent in the middle of the trail, so I went down the embankment into the creekbed to get around the dog and tent. Climbing back up the trail to a few fading barks, I headed on down until I camp to a level campsite on which to quickly pitch my tent for the night. Like a good watchdog, he barked a few more times as I took my tentpoles out and lenghtened them.
It was good to finally lie down and listen to the night sounds ... which included a large owl with a deep hoot. Of course, I didn't SEE the owl to know that it was large, but I concluded that from the deep hooting when he was marking his hunting territory for the night. I hear owls almost everytime I go anywhere in the wilderness, but they rarely sound as mature as this one ... and he was closeby.
Saturday morning brought a beautiful sunrise down along the creek. I fired up my Jetboil for coffee and surveyed the land of which I hadn't seen much from the night before. While looking around I noticed a fairly high area up above the trail which looked as if it might level out for a campsite. When I walked up the hillside, I found a firering and level area for a nice campsite looking over and down on the trail and Borden Creek. The firering didn't appear to have been used in quite a while, but the campsite was off the well-used trail, so I would have some privacy when people went down either side of the creek.

I quickly moved my pack, my tent, and my coffee up the hill to my new campsite for the weekend. At one time I had planned to pack back up and go on a mile or two down the trail, but shortly before arriving had decided to set up a base camp near the bridge where I could dayhike anyplace up or down Borden Creek. Getting my camp organized, I decided to hike down to the intersection of FT 209 on the east side. cross the creek, and come back up the west side to my campsite.
If you haven't been down the Borden Creek trail, you might night know about the Fat-Man's-Squeeze through the "cave" on the trail.One does have to turn sideways to make it through. Packs have to be held low or dragged through the crack in the rocks.I have observed several Scout Masters along Sipsey trails who would not be able to make it through the Squeeze.
The bluffs on both sides are wonderful with ferns, moss, lichen, and such all over them. It was fun trying to get a few camera shots with the sun moving from one side to the other. I spent a few hours on the trails just taking some photos and nodding to others who passed along the way. Both sides of the trail are fairly easy and can be hiked in street shoes on a dry day. I saw fathers and mothers with stairstep children, even some carrying small babies, so you know the trail is fun for children and adults.

I love to see families out in the woods. Does my heart good to know that some parents are teaching their children an appreciation for being out. My hope is that the parents had used bug repellents on their children to keep the abundant mosquitos and chiggers at bay. I had my trusty 100% DEET, so nothing got near me ...

Sunday morning I decided to explore a new (for me) trail: Braziel Creek. After finally finding the trailhead for this one and crossing Borden Creek, I traveled northwest along Braziel Creek. This is a very, very nice trail which changes altitude along the way ... up across the side of a ridge and back down along the creek. I had my camera out and got some nice shots of fall colors in the leaves that had fallen in the water. There was not much water in Braziel Creek, but enough to trickle along. I must have hike about two miles up the creek before I turned around. The amazing thing to me is that I did not see a campsite/fire-ring along the entire two miles of the trail. I saw where I might pitch a tent, but I didn't see an established campsite. Maybe not many folks go up this way ... I dunno ... just didn't see any campsites ... which, of course, made me want to return and find the solitude there along a beautiful stream.

I did pass one older couple coming south on the trail. They weren't very talkative ... nor was their large, slobbery dog, so we nodded and move on in opposite directions. This trail connects to a trail in the north part of the wilderness. I might try to come in from that direction when I have more time.

Before I left Braziel, I filled my water bottles that I had carried empty on the hike. The water seemed a little less silty and easier on my SweetWater filter. The water was not cool, so I assumed that the springs loading the creek were well up the watershed.

Monday morning I was up early to clean my campsite. This was one of the better campsites I have found in the Wilderness. Generally, most of the campsites are overused, but, since this one was off the trail by 40 yards, it wasn't overused. The only negative is that the floor of my tent was not quite level, so I slid downhill a bit--not much, but some.

About noon, I girded up my loins, got my gear in my vehicle and drove out of the wilderness back into "civilization." Oh, for a few more days and nights in the Sipsey Wilderness. I think if I ever retire, I will spend much more time there. That big hoot owl and I should get together more often.