Yosemite Valley, CA 2010 June

Okay, so this wasn't so much of a backpacking trip (since I didn't actually do any backpacking) as it was a chance to hike one of the most beautiful spots on the planet. If you've done Yosemite NP, then this won't be very interesting to you. If you haven't visited Yosemite, start making plans now ... go early and often ... you will not regret it.

After reading extensively about Yosemite, we decided to meet our son/daughter-in-law there in early June to catch the tail end of the snow melt and the waterfalls in full bloom ... and, brother, did we!
A ranger told us that the NP had 151% of its normal snow pack and the waterfalls were about as full as they ever got. By the time we left the park, the meadows in the middle of the park were mostly flooded. Of course, they weren't even close to the January 1997 flood level, but a couple of boardwalks and bridges had water over them. That did not bother us because we wanted to be up on the ridge level as much as possible.The afternoon we got to the area, we drove into the park and took some first pictures. That was fun, but we didn't really get very far into the park. The next morning we hit the park inearnest. The son/d-in-law did the upper Yosemite Falls hike while the wife and I did only the lower falls. My son said later that had been their toughest hike. Most of the day was spent acclimating ourselves to the park and deciding what we wanted to do the remaining days.
On day two, we decided to hit the high country and catch Taft Point and Sentinental Dome. We drove through a good bit of snow to get up to the TP/SD parking lot and when we arrived we saw people walking around on the snow, but no one hiking toward either of the two sights. We knew that Taft Point was to the west, so we began looking for a trail through the snow. Finally we found some footprints of three people leading off roughly west through the snow. We crossed very precarioussnow bridges and continued for a while until we saw the people leaving the footprints ... a couple and their young daughter who admitted that they didn't know where they were going, but looking for the trail, also. They had been dragging a trekking pole so that they would be able to find their footprints if they got mixed up in others. At that point we though about turning around, but spotted some rocks back up the hill and decide to climb them to see if we could see a trail of any kind or a landmark that might lead us in the right direction.

The four of us played around on the rocks for a while, then my son saw a couple coming back through the woods from the west. They had been to TP and showed us the b

lazes high on the trees for us to follow. Well, duh! I had looked for some blazes back in the parking lot area, but hadn't seen these. We followed the blazes over some more snow bridge creek crossings (which wouldn't be around very much longer) and finally came upon what was obviously Taft Point. TP was all I had read about and we stayed up there taking pictures for over an hour. The view of the Yosemite Valley below was spectacular. We made some pictures of each couple on the point and tried to make some Christmas card pictures, but didn't get any good ones. Well, we got a set of good pictures of us, but not of the four of us and the scenery behind.

After we followed the blazes back to the parking lot we drove around to Washburn Point (the eastern-most point of the south ridge) where we got some great views of Half Dome, Vernal Falls, and Nevada Falls. The view is almost overwhelming because you can see so much of the northeast end of the valley. We drove on around to Glacier Point and messed around there for an hour or so taking more pictures. There was a Japanese wedding going on at Glacier Point. Interesting, huh? Nice background shots, for sure ...

I looked at the map closely while at GP and saw that there was a road up to Sentinel Dome. We found it, left my tired wife in the car, and hiked up the mostly-paved gated road to the bottom of SD. We hiked up a pretty steep hill through the snow to get to the top. Sentinel Dome is where Ansel Adams photographed the Jeffrey Tree (Bristlecone Pine--oldest in the area) before it died and fell over. The believe it to have been about 4200 yrs old when it decided to fall over. We got some interesting shots from the Dome and then hiked back to the car.

It took us about two hours to drive back down to the valley and we went by El Capitan and took a couple of shots of climbers. One can see how enormous that rock face is when trying to see the specks that are climbers going up the cracks in the granite facing ... I don't think I was ever in shape to challenge that unless it was in the 60s after basic training in the Army (not a voluntary event!).

The next day had been declared "Big Trees Day" with the Sullivan family ... so we left fairly early to drive to the Wawona parking lot to catch the shuttle for the Sequoias. My brother-in-law, the former forester, had told me that redwoods and Sequoias were different varieties of trees, but I learned much more that day. Redwoods are taller trees, some tree in South America is bigger around, but the Sequoias have more board feet than any other. Of course, the Sequoia wood isn't good for building products and such ... only for pencils and toothpicks ... but one tree would make for a heck of a lot of pencils and toothpicks. These trees grow up for about the first 100 to 125 years and then grow out. The important thing about these trees is that a man named Galen Clark saw the grove near Wawona sometime after the mid-1800s and pushed John Muir and others to action to preserve them. You can read about the national park system, but this was where it all started and we have Galen Clark to thank. The National Park Service uniform patch has a Sequoia on it in his honor. The hikes were not too tough that day and son/d-in-law did the much longer hike while the old folks kept to the main trails.

After the big trees, we drove out to Tuolumne Meadows on the Tioga Pass Road which had just been opened. We didn't get to see much of the Meadows because of the snowpack, but we saw where they were and saw some different parts of the valley's high country. Then it was back to the valley and had some dinner and refreshments at the Yosemite Lodge ... a great way to end a day learning about something you've never experienced before. My son and I live about 1200 miles apart and we don't get to talk a lot anymore, so the time spent chatting was good for me. He was very patient.

Day five was the falls day ... Vernal Falls and Nevada Falls. To get to those trails, one has to catch a shuttle bus to get to the Happy Isles Nature Center and hike from there. We got to the trail head about 10:15 and joined the crowds up the paved trail to the bridge at the bottom of Vernal Falls. The walk wasn't too difficult and the crowded trail, though dense, was not packed. Fortunately, we were in much better shape than some who were hiking up the trail. From the trailhead, the sign said a mile and a half to the top of Vernal Falls along the "Mist Trail." Well, folks ... because of the 151% of the regular snowpack in the area, the falls were enormous and the "Mist Trail" was actually a monsoon trail. We were soaked when we got to the top ... soaked and chilled. Fortunately, though, the top is a big rock amphitheater where everyone was drying off and warming up. My son/d-in-law went on to the top of Nevada Falls--another two miles--but we were done for the day ... the trip back down would be a challenge.

After studying the map some more, I realized that we could circle up to the mountainside a bit and connect with the John Muir Trail, and, without going too much further, get back to the bottom without taking another bath on the monsoon trail. We made that wise decision without much deliberation ... and, besides, I wanted to hike on the John Muir Trail some, too. These two trails intersect at the JMT and go on northeast to the bottom of Half Dome. The son had planned to do HD, but the cables weren't up yet due to the snow still on the top.

Interestingly, my son/d-in-law hiked to the top of Nevada Falls and we all four got back to the bridge at the bottom of Vernal Falls at the same time ... they hike fast--we hike slow.

The next morning my daughter-in-law and I were up early and headed to the valley to get to the Tunnel View parking lot before dawn. We made it and spent 45 minutes snapping photos and watching the son come up. What a wonderful experience on our last day in Yosemite. My little point-and-shoot camera took some of my best photos of the valley. After the son was up, we drove down to the valley, proper, and took some good photos of El Capitan in the early morning sun.

I've been to most of our national parks, Yellowstone, Glacier, Arches, Rocky Mountain, Smoky Mountain, Acadia, but none hold the variety of scenes as does Yosemite. I think the Grand Canyon is almost incomprehensible in its enormity and scope, but, in my mind, Yosemite probably trumps it with the variety and beauty of all of the water falls and granite faces.

What a great experience! John Muir said, "Climb the mountains and get their good tidings." Yosemite is one of those places whose tidings we all need to renew our spirits.

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 ...

Noxubee National Wildlife Refuge

Went to the Noxubee National Wildlife Refuge on Good Friday. I hate to admit that I had never been out there before. The morning was finally clear and the sun cut through the small grove of cypress trees at the first walkway. I read an article in the Commercial Dispatch supplement about Larry Box and a bunch of folks from Starkville who volunteer there. Larry's been going out there since he was a youngster. I made my first trip as an oldster. After checking out the walkway to the edge of the cypress grove, we walked down the opposite side of the road on a path that said Beaver Dam. We probably walked a mile and a half down the trail through the low country -- didn't ever find the beaver dam, but did see the largest cypress tree I have ever seen and a lot of animal tracks, deer and raccoon.

We were following the rather muddy trail when it crossed a slew that was too wide to jump across and too muddy to slog through without tracking a lot of mud back to the car. The little stream working its way through the forest seemed to be an outlet stream from the lake, but I couldn't swear about that. The area was a low area that obviously flooded when the lake was high and after a long, hard rain, but this was early spring and the mosquitoes weren't out in full force.

Retracing our steps we worked our way back through a large cane patch back to the car. The cane patch was the large Asian-type cane, reminding me of the large canes I used to split and cut to make troughs for my grandfather's artesian well in south Mississippi. One summer when I was about 12 or so, I had time on my hands and made cane troughs all over the yard for the water to run ... I must have been studying mill races or something, because I tried to make a water wheel along the way, but couldn't seem to get the wheel loose enough to spin freely. I had probably been attracted to mill races since seeing the old working mill in Cades Cove in the GSMNP.
You see a lot of bamboo cane along the roads all over Mississippi, but you don't see a lot of the canes four or so inches in diameter.
Returning to the car we drove down to the fork in the road and I stopped to get a picture of a flowing crab--actually, that's a guess. It was a beautiful flowing fruit tree, but I'm not positive that it was a flowering crab apple. The honey bees were loaded from the flowers. I got very close to one for a picture and she wasn't concerned about me, just concentrating on loading the pollen.
After visiting the facilities, we headed down the road to the Woodpecker Trail. The woodpeckers in this area are red cockaded woodpeckers--an endangered species with which I was not familiar. These woodpeckers bore into tall loblolly pines about 40 feet from the ground. The people of the wildlife refuge have been cutting into the trees and putting a box-type insertion in which the woodpeckers can nest. One can see where the nest boxes are located because the pine trees pour sap all around the hole and the area turns greyish-white around the nest. However the nesting trees are easy to find because the wildlife people have painted a wide band around the trees.
As we were looking at the boxes, we noticed one tree on which an artificial nesting box had not been inserted, a large (3-1/2 to 4 feet) snake was hanging on about six feet below the hole waiting for a young bird to emerge. I don't think I have ever seen a snake that far up a tree. Remember these are big loblolly pines and don't have limbs on which the snake can rest. He just has to climb straight up the bark and hang on with his stomach muscles. Don't know how he is able to hang on, but he was doing it well. I would like to see the kill to know how he moved quickly enough to grab a bird.

What a great way to spend a morning in the woods of Mississippi.

White Oak Creek Hollow, Sipsey Wilderness - November 2009

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sipsey Wilderness - September 2009

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Big Creek Trail GSMNP - July 2009

July 4th seemed the perfect weekend to take my annual walkabout since I didn't get to go at my usual Memorial Day weekend. I headed out for the GSMNP on the 2nd, spent a couple of nights in a campground by the Pigeon River watching the rafters, and headed up the popular but not heavily traveled Big Creek Trail toward Walnut Bottoms (Campsite 37). I would like to have gone a day earlier, but couldn't get reservations at 37 for the night of the 3rd. I also wanted to stay in the Big Creek Campground, but it only has 12 sites--all first-come-first-served--and you have to wait around to get in there on popular weekends. (I went by the campground on Monday morning on my way out and it was completely empty, but it was completely full over the holiday weekend.)

On Friday, the 3rd, I took the time to drive over Mt Sterling Road to Cataloochee. The road is gravel and very winding, but beautiful all the way. I think it is about 16 miles from the road into Big Creek Campground. At Mt Sterling Gap it's only a few miles up to campsite #38. I will try to remember that as I get older ... would be nice to park a vehicle there and hike up to the top. Cataloochee was somewhat of a disappointment to me in that I expected to see more restored buildings. The up side is that it is not a convenient area to access, so the crowds were small.

As all of the trail descriptions say, the Big Creek Trail is a former road/railroad grade from the '30s, so it's never a severe elevation change. The 4th was a Chamber of Commerce Day and there were many dayhikers headed up the trail to see Midnight Hole and Mouse Creek Falls. The rhododendrons were in full bloom in the mountains, so it was really an optimum time to hike ...One of the trail guides described a rock formation that was a perfect house-sized room that, during the 30s, timber workers lived in the room up on the side of the road/tracks ... I never could find it, but I did find the swimming hole and the falls. I talked to a couple ofdayhikers who had spoken to me in the parking lot as they were heading out and I waspacking my pack--they had been to the falls and were heading back down as I was passing Midnight Hole. We chatted about the rock room ... one of the hikers said she knew it was high up on the rocky cliffs, but they hadn't been able to find it either. I saw a clearing where someone (or ones) had scrambled up the incline, but didn't knowwhether or not that led to the room or what ... I wasn't about to find out carrying a 30-lb pack.

The Big Creek Trail is off the last exit in Tennessee (451) on I-40, before going into North Carolina, so it's pretty isolated from the mainstream traffic. I would recommend it to hikers who don't like crowds. It's a trail that my former hiking buddy, Paul, used to say we needed to hike ... and camp at Walnut Bottoms--which is exactly what I planned to do. Only Paul wanted us to go on up the Low Gap Trail to the AT and hike back down to the Big Creek Ranger Station.

That would make a good circuit in my younger days ... but too old to do much of that any more. Six miles carrying a pack is about my limit now -- and that may be getting shorter each trip. I can dayhike all day, but not carrying weight ... too hard on the old metatarsals ...

I hiked slow-but-steady up the road/trail, stopping to take pictures along the way. The Bee Balm was blooming, but always across the stream, so I never got a great closeup of it. I got some nice shots of rhododendron blossoms--always nice, and a hundred different shots of the rocks and stream. The stream colors are always fascinating to me

... and mostly dependent on the sun for shades of blue. Big Creek is a very clear stream, in spite of the suspected pollution of horse poop all up and down the trail. As one of the trail descriptions about the Big Creek Trail says, the only negative thing about the trail is "horse doo-doo." There is a horse camp at campsite #36, beyond #37, at the far

end of Walnut Bottoms, and the trail is wide and gradual, so the horse people just love to ride up and down the trail. Some of the horse people are friendly, but most are not. Their horses are generally spooked by people with backpacks, so some of them act as if backpackers are intruders into their domain. I have learned that the horse people try to get their horses on by without being thrown on the hard ground or without a litigation resulting from someone who has been kicked by a fearful steed. Somehow I felt that the horse people felt as if anyone who would carry their stuff instead of letting a horse carry their stuff must be slightly whacko ... and maybe so .... Anyway, it was hard to see all of the sights along the trail because the hiker cannot take his/her eyes off the trail for very long without stepping in digested hay and oats ... a lot of which has to wash down into Big Creek ...

Midnight Hole--about a mile and a half up the trail--is a truly beautiful swimming hole. There are rocks to jump off of and water so deep that it appears dark blue looking down into it. When I used to do summer camp at Ridgecrest, we would go to Slippery Rock somewhere over near Mt. Pisgah and swim in a hole at the bottom of a long slide down the rock. I got my fill of swimming in icy water. It always looks wonderful until you get into it ... I don't have enough adipose tissue to keep my core warmed. The swimmers I saw at Midnight Hole had more than enough ...

The next site on the trail guide was Mouse Creek Falls. I had to wait for the horse people to get out of the way, but the camera view was worth the wait. The falls aren't on Big Creek itself, but on a creek that comes in opposite the trail. I got some nice camera shots on the way up and on the way

back down.

About three and a half miles up the trail, you cross an old railroad bridge and follow the left side of Big Creek. It's just as beautiful on the other side. The old trail guides say that there is a spring called Brakeshoe Spring somewhere about four miles up ... never saw it. I don't think it's an active spring anymore. Coming down I saw where there is a possibility of a former spring, but didn't ever confirm the spring.

I crossed a concreted stream crossing that the guide book of the early 70s said was usually dry ... and it still is. Not sure why the early people hauled concrete all that way for a stream crossing that is usually dry, but they did ... kinda interesting to think about. Warning signs are there for horse people telling them to walk their horses across ... from the horseshoe skid marks on the concrete, it looks as if some didn't follow the warning ...

Finally there is a bridge across Big Creek and an entrance into Walnut Bottoms campground #37. What a gorgeous place. When I got there, there was one small REI tent and some giggling -- a couple I named as newlyweds. I saw them out of the tent a couple of times and they were obviously deep into romantic love. They were there when I got there and there when I left ... still laughing and giggling and holding on to each other--they even held hands when they went to look for firewood. They were camped in 37-B, so I

went to 37-D and found a nice place for my tent right next to the bear warning sign. I got my food bag out of my pack and put in my power bars I had been carrying on my belt and raised it on the cable system just in case some critters were lurking while I set up camp.

There was a nice clearing for a tent near the fire ring, but the gound around the fire ring is always so hard-packed, I decided to look for a softer soil to pitch my tent ... found it across a log from the fire ring, under some small fir trees. It was a tight fit for the vestibules of my fly, but I made it work and the floor of my tent was much softer than the regular tent space. After getting my tent set up, I decided to give my tired feet a treat and soak them in Big Creek -- pollution be damned! (I m ean the probable pollution after I stuck my feet in the waters of the Creek.) Good grief, did it feel wonderful. I have a sore spot on the ball of my left foot under the second toe ... it was immediately numbed and soothed by the icy waters of Big Creek. I moved from the side of the creek to some comfortable rocks in the middle in the sun, because it didn't take much foot soaking to bring down the body's temperature--I needed some warmth from the sun. The rocks were hard on my boney butt and I almost took my Trekker chair out, but decided that I might fall a sleep, fall over in the creek, hit my head, and drown ... so I just shifted my weight frequently. People who don't get to the woods much don't realize one of the great pleasures in life of soaking their feet and wading in a mountain stream. Big Creek was a perfect stream to soak and wade ... and I must have stayed out on the rocks for 45 minutes or more.

Usually, when I get to a campsite, I get my SweetWater filter and fill a couple of bottles. I decided to take a different route this time ... since I had a very cold stream very close to my campsite, I decided to designate one of my water bottles as a "dirty" bottle. I would fill it with creek water, boil the water pure, and fill my other "clean" bottles. The boiled water cooled pretty quickly, but I could always stick them in the steam to cool them off faster. I had taken two new cannisters for my Jetboil, so I wasn't worried about running out of fuel.

I sat leaning against a tree in my Trekker chair and waited until about 7:00 or so to start a fire. I didn't spend a lot of time on fire wood, so I only had a couple of hours of wood to burn. By this time of the year, all of the campsites in the Smokies are picked pretty clean of firewood. There were several storm-downed trees, but

they were still mostly green. They would burn if necessary, but I found enough small stuff for a couple of hours. I used to sit around staring at the campfire with a group of people and someone would always say, "It's no wonder ancient man worshipped fire." It's

something I've always loved to do.

When my woodpile went away and the two big logs began to smoke instead of burn, I decided it was time to turn in. I pulled my Thermarest out of my Trekker chair and added some air before poking it through the zipper of my tent. I dug my toothpaste and toothbrush out of my kit and walked out in the bushes to brush my teeth. Then, after putting everything I could think of in my pack, I went down to the cable system and, after putting my rain cover on my pack, hooked it to the cable and hoisted it up out of the reach of the GSMNP black bears. There were several warning signs tacked up around the campsite--one right on the campsite post next to my tent--warning of "bear activity."

Just as I was about to turn in a lone hiker with a heavy European accent walked into Walnut Bottoms looking for a spot to throw down. Since all of the four campsites were reserved, but I was alone in mine, I suggested he pitch his stuff on the other side of a row of bushes. He asked about the cable system, which I pointed him to. He pulled a roll of visquene out of his pack and put up some kind of shelter to sleep under. He was obviously a budget-minded backpacker ... I thought of him as Russian (although I wouldn't know a Russian accent from a Greek accent). Since I didn't know how long he had been on the trail and didn't want to seem like the KGB, I said something about the weather forecast that I had seen predicting rain during the night.

About 3:00 AM it started raining ... not hard, but steadily ... but it lasted for only an hour or so. Not knowing whether or not the rain would continue, about daylight I got my pack down off the cable (and noticed that the Russian had hoisted his stash up in a couple of Walmart plastic bags) and put it under my vestibule to pack everything out of the rain. My tent has two large vestibules, so putting my pack underneath one is never a problem. When I was getting my pack off of the cable system, I noticed that the Russian had lost some sausages out of his bags that had fallen on the ground underneath the cable system. They looked like Smokies mice had been into them, but no bears. If bears had been around, I would have seen no sausages lying on the ground.

By the time I started packing it had stopped raining. It was still cloudy and threatening, but not raining. I packed up my stuff, took a parting picture of the dry spot under my tent, and set off down the trail regretting that I had only had time to spend the one night at Walnut Bottoms. I stopped on the bridge and took a final shot of Big Creek in all its beauty as it flows through Walnut Bottoms. What a wonderfully relaxing site.

The trip back down seemed to take longer than the trip up--mainly because my old-man feet were bothering me--but actually was about 30 minutes quicker. There were wide-bodied people swimming at Midnight Hole. There were also a couple of young kids who were freezing after being in the water for a while. Their father was large and well insulated, but the kids weren't ... at least he had them out in the woods, experiencing something they would always remember.

I, too, had one of those memorable experiences. It's difficult for me to think about my own mortality, but at my age, I always tell myself I would love to come back to a place again in a year or two, but know that, as I get older, that is more and more unlikely to happen. Oh, well ... my hiking buddy Paul Baird was right ... Walnut Bottoms is a place that must be experienced however old a person gets. I should have brought my son here ...

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.