Eddie vs. BACKPACKER nation!

So here’s my newest plan. The blog post before this one was my state-by-state all star list. I took a few boring days at work and compiled a list of what I thought would be great hikes, bikes, or paddles, in each of the 50 states, one for each state. Before I go any further, I have to say that there was no exact scientific formula employed here. In some states, I purposefully went away from premier areas, and opted for lesser known locations. For example, the obvious choice for the state of Tennessee would be one of the many excellent trails located in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Instead, I listed a trail located in a pocket wilderness. I had already highlighted the Smokies for my North Carolina hike, and, as great as the park is, didn’t want to double-dip. And of course, in some states, I did in fact try to highlight key areas. In California, it has to be Yosemite, just as it has to be Yellowstone for Wyoming, and the Sawtooths for Idaho. I used trails.com for 90% of my research, backing up my decisions with other various online sources and hiker reviews. A majority of the Midwest states didn’t have much to offer on trails.com, so I had to search long and wide for lesser known internet sources. Some of those states surprised me. I figured surely that Oklahoma would have a decent showing, but indeed they didn’t. An eye-catching activity in Kansas and Nebraska was almost non-existent. None the less, after about a week the list was finished, and all-in-all I felt pretty satisfied with the results.

And then it hit me! I remembered a little over a year ago getting an issue of BACKPACKER Magazine that highlighted a state by state list of favorite hikes, as voted on by subscribers. I had to do some digging to find the old issue, but alas there it was. Now, the way this worked was, BACKPACKER posted online polls for its readers to vote for what they considered to be the best hike in each state. You can tell their results were completely unedited and printed “as-is”. Rhode Island’s hike was a .13 mile walk up a gravel road to the state’s high point, which rises to a not-so-jaw-dropping 812 feet. And better yet, Delaware’s insert in the magazine simply reads “sorry Delaware, your state’s best hike is in Virginia.” WHAT!? Virginia and Delaware don’t even share a border! If anything, I certainly appreciated the editor’s attempt to print a raw list of favorite state hikes, but in some cases, I was not impressed.

Now, when I first got back in touch with this issue of BACKPACKER, I was originally planning to scrap my list, and start checking of hikes from theirs. But after being, for lack of a better word, un-flattered by their results, I decided to up the ante! I was going to go head to head with BACKPACKER nation! I decided to put the lists side by side, try to hike all 100 trails (oh wait, 99. Sorry Delaware), and see who comes out on top. Let’s see who can pick a better trail. I understand that my critics out there will say that, right out of the gates, my system is flawed. “Surely you will pick your hike over the BACKPACKER readers’! You know the kinds of hikes you like. Not to mention you will be more likely to rate the hike from your list higher for the sake of preserving your own credibility.” In the words of Lee Corso, “Not so fast, my friend!” My response to these two comments would this: 1. On my list, I have every kind of hike imaginable; from peaks, to valleys, to short day hikes to over-nighters. I also added a handful of bicycling and paddling trips into the mix! Anyone that hikes with me, or reads the blog, knows that I love a good waterfall hike, but I know when a good summit or vista hike has beaten out a waterfall hike. 2. I’m not interested in making my list beat out the BACKPACKER nation list. I am really just using this as a neat excuse to get Laura to let me do more hiking! I have nothing invested in my list. Whichever list loses in this friendly competition, one thing is for sure, I STILL WIN!
Let the games begin.

A Family Affair

This time last year I finally convinced my folks to take a hike... with me. I told them I would carry almost all the pack weight, all they had to do was walk the trail. I enlisted Greg's help to lighten my load a little. So with great anticipation we headed down the trail to the Three Forks Junction.



Everyone had a great time. So great a time that my parents were ready and anxious to get out there again. This time my mom was excited to bring along my brother JR and his two kids: Dayton (5) and Slade (2). JR wasn't completely convinced, but nonetheless he agreed to go. It should be noted that on our last hike out, we had to pull Momma's reins back a little bit when it came to the packing. She just kept trying to add more and more stuff. Well, on this trip there was a new challenge. Laura, being 9 months pregnant and all, couldn't carry a pack. And the kids couldn't carry packs either. So that left only me and JR to carry Laura's pack, the kids' packs, and any excess not able to fit into Mom and Dad's packs. I made the executive decision to do something drastic. Even though I hate seeing it on the trail, I decided to get a wagon. Yep, one of those red wagons with the big wheels on them. There would be rough spots on the trail, but for the most part we could get it down it. With the two kids' and Laura's packs, not to mention Mom and Dad's extras, me and JR just had no other way to get the gear to the campsite. Normally I would say no way, but I really wanted the kids to experience their first camping trip. Of course, with this new bit of news about the wagon, Momma's face was shining, it meant she could add more stuff. So with all our gear AND our wagon, we headed up to North Georgia to the trailhead.


Ridiculous isn't it?

With much anticipation we were finally on the trail. JR and I swapped out hauling the wagon. Hiking with him was an eerie reminder of hiking with Greg, all go - no slow. I found myself giving that same shpiel (shpeal, shpeel, shpele... I don't know) about enjoying the trail and taking your time. So with that, we let him push on ahead and I fell back to see how the kids were doing. Little did I know, Dayton was hopping right along and wanted to stay with his daddy. Slade was back with Momma getting a bigtime kick out of all the puddles.



So far everyone was be-bopping along great, except maybe Daddy, but we all expected that. Before we knew it we were there, ready to cross the river. It had a few scary spots, but nothing life-threatening. We all managed to cross safely and now it was time to start setting up our camp. JR wasted no time starting a fire (it would become a theme for the trip for him). Momma took the kids and the toys (that's right, she packed up toys) and found a spot to play in the dirt. The toys ended up being useless, the kids' favorite game was throwing rocks into the river. I have about 100 pictures of them getting a big hoot out of just throwing rocks.



We spent the evening hanging out around JR's campfire. We cooked up a little supper and got ready to hit the hay. So far it been a great trip. We had a great hike in, a great first day, now it was time for a good night's rest. The kids conked straight out. There was no peep from Momma and Daddy's tent. I noticed JR hanging out solo around the fire. He said it was his quiet time. He probably stayed up for another hour or so. Then it was all quiet in camp. The next morning everyone rolled out of their sacks slowly. We had some hot oatmeal for breakfast and the kids didn't waste any time getting back near the water to play. We spent the day hopping on boulders and, of course, throwing rocks. I pulled JR away from his duty as fire builder (self-appointed by the way) long enough to climb the Big Creek waterfall.



After climbing the waterfall, it was a quick break, then we packed up. This was the portion we had been hoping to somehow avoid. We got the wagon loaded down, the tents were packed up, we crossed the river and started climbing. The kids had been real troopers the whole trip. Dayton never had to be carried. He loved running along the trail. We carried Slade from time to time, but only to keep him from stopping at every puddle.



With a little help from Slade we got the wagon and all members of our party back to the trailhead in one piece. JR swore he would never be a pack mule again. He said next time he goes he is carrying only his stuff. That made me happy because it meant he might get back on the trail! The kids loved it. Hopefully they will remember this and it will be a jump start to a future in the great outdoors for both them. Momma and Daddy had the same great time they did last year. Laura and I had a great time too. We made a lot of memories with our nephews that we don't get to see too often. It gave us a little taste of what it might be like for us in a few years when Gabriel is hopping around the campsite in Huggies! It was a trip we'll all remember for a long time!

Smokies Mis-Adventure

This is the trip I wrote about earlier. Greg and I have been planning it for a while now. Laura gave me the green light for one last multi-day trip before Gabriel's due date arrived. We planned a 4 day, 3 night trip in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. As the jump off day arrived, wouldn't you know the weather forecast brought us bad news. Spring weather had been in the air for a solid month now, but our week of hiking included the Smokies' last winter storm. Of course! We could expect nightly lows in the single digits, daytime highs no better than mid-40s AND heavy snow that would turn into heavy rain and thunderstorms late in the week. I have always thought the fear of thunderstorms is highly over-rated, but it's one of the top trail killers due to landscape and elevation factors. After only minor deliberation, we decided to press on.

Greg's plane was to arrive in Charlotte at around 4 pm, which would put us at our upscale Gatlinburg resort (or a Super 8 Motel) at around 8 or 8:30. Charlotte is only a 2 hour drive or so from the house, so I was planning to sleep in. At around 8 am the phone rang. I jumped out of bed to answer it. It was Greg. He missed his flight. He got a new flight that had a layover in Atlanta around 8 pm. We're still good. Atlanta is also about 2 hours from the house and we could be in Gatlinburg 4 hours after he touched down. Negative. I can't pick him up on a layover because his bag would still be on the plane. The airline was going to charge him like $1600 to change his flight to actually drop his bags in Atlanta. He wouldn't get to Charlotte until after 10, which would put us in Gatlinburg after 2 am. Our shuttle to the trailhead was scheduled to pick us up at 7:30. Awesome. By the time we got to Asheville, which is about halfway between Charlotte and Gatlinburg, we were already looking at not getting to bed until after 3. I had called the shuttle folks earlier and pushed our pick-up time back to 9:30. The real bad news was that, even though we weren't at any real elevation, the snow had already started falling. By the time we rolled into Gatlinburg 2 hours later, there was about a 3-inch layer on the ground. Not that big a deal. We got in the room and checked the weather report for the park. Snow was up to 14 inches on some peaks. Cancelling at this point really wasn't an option.

We woke up the next morning as late as we possibly could to still be ready for the shuttle pick up at 9:30. My phone rang at 9. The shuttle folks called with bad news. The park had closed all its roads to traffic. Even though the snow wasn't terrible, because the park stays so busy, anytime there is even slightly bad road conditions they have to close them. Our original plan of being dropped off at one end of the park and hiking back to the trail had to be changed. We decided to do it backwards. We would hike out of the hotel, and later thumb a ride back to the hotel. So with the snow only falling lightly that morning, we headed out of the parking lot on foot. Our destination was about 7 miles and 5500 feet away: Mt. Le Conte. We hiked up a road for the first 2 miles or so, gaining about 1500 feet. It was tiring, but the road wasn't collecting any snow, so the going was fairly easy. We finally reached the trailhead and were surprised to see a decent amount of traffic, despite the terrible conditions. Since technically we weren't in the park yet, most of our fellow hikers drove to the trailhead. Nonetheless, we headed up still feeling peppy and ready for a week of the best the Smokies had to offer.



Right at the trailhead sign we were passed by a guy with his two sons. He was probably late thirties, carrying limited gear. He asked where we were headed, and wanted to know if we planned on staying overnight. We told him our goal was Le Conte, and if time allowed we would take the 5.5 mile Boulevard Trail over to the Appalachian Trail and stay at the shelter there. He laughed. Literally laughed. My initial reaction when I run into people like this is to just stop talking to them and continue on with my hike. Greg, however, usually likes to go a little deeper. He wanted to see why the guy doesn't think we can reach it. The guy told us how he has hiked all over this mountain and he knows that when it is covered with fresh powder it is nearly impassible and that with our heavy packs it'll be more than we bargained for. Greg gives him a "you're an idiot" shrug, and we press on.

(forgive me for picture quality. I couldn't take my usual big honkin' SLR on this trip. Had to carry the ol' point and shoot. In this picture I had also just dropped it in the snow.)

The trail was beautiful. The snow had covered everything in white. A picture perfect stream tumbled alongside the trail. The trail itself hadn't collected much snow at this point, so tread was still good. My excitement for the journey ahead was keeping my mind off the pain that was already collecting in my thighs. Not long into the trail we passed a very cheery looking couple. After a few back and forth passes and small conversation at each pass, we finally introduced ourselves to each other. Rebecca and Larry. They were lightly packed and told us their destination was the Le Conte Lodge. Le Conte lodge, simply put, is a little slice of mountain nostalgia heaven on the second highest peak in the Smokies. It's a dining hall and an office surrounded by separate mountain shacks that are truly log shacks. Their only post 19th century amenity is a propane space heater.

(again, sorry for the fuzziness)

We passed Larry and Rebecca again at this small waterfall. We knew Rainbow Falls should be around here somewhere. Knowing that the falls was our halfway point, I asked anxiously if this was it, and Rebecca promised me we weren't near halfway. We slowed enough to grab a snack and Larry took this picture of us. We took a few sips of water, threw the packs back on, and kept on climbing. It wasn't too much later that we reached the real Rainbow Falls. At this point we were high enough that we kept getting these off and on bursts of high wind and snowfall. As soon as we would stop and put our weather gear on, it would stop. The trail was still in good shape, with only a few inches of packed snow. We had to climb past a family that had dropped their packs at the base of the falls for a snack. I was shocked to see that not only had they brought grandpa, they also had a daughter (about 12) and two boys (I would guess 10 and 7 years old). They appeared to be well-equipped though. They offered us some fruit and the dad told us about -15 degree temperatures at the summit the night before along with about 28 inches of snow. Me and Greg both laughed at how the further up the trail we got, the worse and worse the weather reports got.

We crossed below the falls on a skinny snow-covered log bridge and immediately the trail conditions got worse. This was obviously the turn-around point for many of the day hikers who had the trail pretty well packed down up to this point. Now we were more on our own, and prepared to make the final push to the summit. At around 5000 feet I hit my wall. My legs didn't feel terrible, but my body just wasn't letting me travel more than 30 to 50 yards at a time without a break. Now the trail conditions were really started to get bad. We had heard everyone talk about all the snow on the summit, but until now had seen no evidence of it. As slow as we were walking, somehow we were still passing people. Finally we reached a sign saying we were .6 miles from the lodge. Still passing a few slow hikers, we were met by two lodge workers checking up on hikers. They told us there was a warm stove in the dining hall and even those without reservations were welcome to come in and warm up. I think the thought of that warm stove was the motivation that got me up the last 300feet to the lodge.



Walking into this crappy little dining hall felt like walking right into the gates of heaven! We dropped our packs, took off all our weather gear, laid all the wet stuff near the stove, took a seat and started to thaw. It was still somewhat early in the day, probably no later than 4 p.m. Technically, we thought we had time to get across the 5.5 mile Boulevard Trail, but the energy just wasn't there. Not to mention that after walking onto the lodge grounds, we could see that the ground was covered in about 18 inches of snow. We decided this would be it for the day. Looking around, we found no sign of our nay-sayer friend we ran into at the trailhead who told us we couldn't make it up in these conditions. The dining hall was empty, except for one patron who had come up the day before and all the workers. They asked about anyone else headed up to the lodge. We told them about the family we passed at Rainbow Falls and an immediate feeling of worry came across all of them. A couple workers put on snow shoes and went to find the family. They came back about thirty minutes later carrying the small backpacks of the kids, and sweating profusely. One of the workers summoned anyone who could still walk to help with carrying the kids the rest of the way into the lodge. I was ticked at myself for not having enough energy to help, but Greg geared up and headed out with a couple other workers. Another half hour passed and they came rolling in with the most exhausted bunch of people I think I had ever seen. I helped the little guys get out of wet clothes and get set up near the fire. We later learned that the reason for such urgency on the part of the Le Conte Lodge staff was because, at this same time last year, a storm a little less extreme than the one we were in hit, and a man sat down at the sign that read ".6 miles to lodge". The next morning they found him frozen to death. He was wearing tennis shoes, blue jeans, and a cotton sweater.



Next on the schedule was dinner. Earlier, the lodge manager offered us one of the rooms. To get a room at this lodge you have to enter your name on the list on the first day it comes open, and even after that you have to get your name selected from a lottery pool. Its pretty hard to do. Larry and Rebecca told us that this was the fifth year they tried to get a room. So when he offered a room, he had my attention.. that was until he said it cost $120 per person. I reluctantly declined. After the mini rescue, he offered again, only this time he said it was on the house. Sweeeeeeet! Talk about a once in a lifetime deal falling in your lap. I immediately accepted, then turned to Greg. Greg, of course, felt the need to decline. He wanted to stay out in the shelter. Trail shelters almost always resemble a life size version of the stable from a nativity scene; three walls and a roof with one wall completely open to the elements, and on this mountain at this time of the year, there was no shortage of elements. In any other situation I would have went along with Greg. I would have declined the room and slept in my bag in the cold. But this, this was different. Declining that room wasn't even an option. I told Greg he was on his own, and I carried my pack to the cabin they let me stay in. That night we had a meal on the house, then parted ways for the evening.



I put all my wet clothes around the furnace, took some pain pills, and was out of it in a matter of seconds. The next morning I woke up and peeked outside the door. Even though we arrived early the evening before, the clouds kept all the mountain vistas hidden. Peeking out the door gave me my first glimpse of what makes Mt. Le Conte one of the Smokies' finest jewels.



After soaking all that in for a few minutes, I walked back up the dining hall for a delicious breakfast. The day before, me and Greg had sort of taken on a celebrity status amongst the other hikers. They thought we were crazy for hiking up all the way from town, with huge packs on, to stay in the shelter. Greg caught everyone's ear when he refused the room, so when I showed up, all the other patrons wanted to know if Greg survived the night. I laughed and told them I didn't know. They began serving breakfast when Greg finally rolled in. Applause broke out and he sat down, taking a glass of water and no food. We said our goodbyes to Rebecca and Larry and all the other people we had come to know over our short stay at the lodge. I ran up to the office to buy a T-shirt and took a couple more pictures from the deck. After that we were off to break trail on The Boulevard.

THE BOULEVARD TRAIL.

We had been politely warned by some of the Le Conte workers about The Boulevard. No one had been on it for the entire three day period of the snow storm. They told us how it was a ridge hike, meaning that it was exposed to elements from every angle. Also, when you hike on ridges, wind is always much worse than it is in other places. We expected it to be slow going, but we really didn't consider not going an option. Immediately after leaving the lodge the snow on the trail started to slow us down. A few tenths of a mile up the trail we passed the shelter Greg stayed in the night before, only reaffirming that I made the right choice by staying in the lodge.



It didn't take long to get out of the tree line and get our first 360 degree panorama of the Smoky Mountains. Those views were some of the best views I've experienced anywhere. The fresh powder added an artist's touch to an already surreal scene.



The further down the trail we got, the deeper the snow got. Often times we were hiking through drifts that were waist deep. After every step we had to take a break, swing your weight forward, pull your back leg out of the snow and swing it forward to take the next step. The going was slow across the entire trail, but in those sections it was super slow. The elevation change along the trail was minor. 5.5 miles like this would normally take us 3 hours, maybe less. We didn't reach the junction with the Appalachian trail until around 3 pm, 6 and a half hours after we started. Again we had to revamp our itinerary.



We were supposed to press on another 6 miles, cross Newfound gap and Hwy 441 and climb part of the way up to Clingman's Dome. Again, the snow got the best of us. We decided instead to just head down the trail in the opposite direction about two tenths of a mile to Icewater Spring Shelter. This was the first time Greg was completely onboard with cutting our day short. He led the way across the Boulevard, so he did all the trail breaking.



When we first got to the shelter, we had the place to ourselves. Honestly, in these conditions I didn't expect much of a crowd. Through the early part of the evening we had a couple of groups stop there for lunch, be they all pressed on. At about 6, a couple and their 7-year-old stopped in for the evening. Then a couple of AT thru hikers. Then another group of about 5 guys from Ohio. Then a couple more AT thru hikers. After the sun went down, still more AT hikers showed up. Before it was all said and done there were about 17 people crammed into that shelter for the night.


This picture was taken when we were still at only half capacity.

The crowd was less of a bother than I originally thought. It was interesting hearing the thru hikers talk about their adventures up to that point. By then most of them had been on the trail right at a month. They all agreed on one thing, the Smokies sucked. The elevation changes here are the worst of their entire trip. The other good part about sharing the shelter with them was that in the morning we didn't have to worry about listening to them anymore. They were fun, but one night was enough.



The next morning we took our time fixing breakfast and seeing off thru hikers. We caught a sunrise and packed up. The evening before, some of the snow started to melt, but it refroze overnight, once again ensuring that trail conditions were as far from optimal as possible. On the way down, a hot spot I had on my heel really started to get bad. I tried doctoring it a few times, but it just felt worse and worse. By the time we got down to Newfound Gap, it was so bad I couldn't walk. I took my shoes and socks off to have a look. A woman with a first aid kit came running over and tried to help. We got it taped up enough to make it stop hurting, but we still didn't know how it would hold up on our 3000 foot climb up to Clingman's Dome. We crossed 441 and headed up the AT. We made it a mere 500 feet in elevation, and probably no more than a mile or two when the blister dressing came off. Luckily the trail came back in contact with the road, and there was an area we could stop and take off our packs. Again, a woman with her family caught a glimpse of my heel and offered to give me a ride. I hated to do it, but I had to bail.



Greg wasn't very happy, but what could I do? I gave it a pretty good effort I thought. I probably pushed about three miles too far actually. I told Greg my hike was officially over. There was a couple of AT thru hikers there. I offered them all my trail food and took the lady up on her offer for a ride up to Clingman's Dome where I was going to meet Greg.

From here the rest of my trip in the Smokies consisted of thumbing rides, doctoring my blister, and taking in roadside views of the Smoky Mountains. Later that evening I picked up Greg from the top of Clingman's Dome. He decided to go ahead and go back to the hotel a night early with me. We grabbed a good steak dinner at Texas Roadhouse and crashed at the luxurious Super 8 Motel at an early hour.

The next morning we woke up to rain and thunderstorms. We knew Friday's forecast called for rain, but we both expected it to be evening showers. Had we been on the trail it would have been frozen snow on the ground, heavy rain falling from the sky, and lightning. I looked at Greg and said, "Not a bad move getting off the trail, huh?" Of course, he disagreed. We laid around for a while, and at about noon the rains finally let up. According to the Weather Channel we only had three hours or so of clear skies. We rushed up the road and took a short hike to Laurel Falls.



Even this short trip gave us a little something unexpected. The hike was along an asphalt paved trail with only slight elevation change. We were passing people of all physical ability levels. We got to the waterfall. It wasn't thirty seconds later when we heard a rumble, then a loud crash. The family that had just left the falls to return to the parking area came running back to the other side of the falls with pale faces. There was a rock slide right next to the falls. The rocks came from high above the trail, hit a free-fall of about 50 feet and crashed into the trail. It didn't stop there. The boulders were so big they went right through... yes through the asphalt trail, taking about 6 feet of dirt and rock from beneath the trail with it, down to the river below. The boulders missed us by less than thirty seconds, and they missed that poor family by a matter of inches. We went back to the ranger station and let them know of the damage to the trail. With the storm pressing in we decided to head back up to Clingman's Dome and see what it looked like in a hail storm.



From there we went back into town and completely destroyed a 20-inch pizza. We spent that evening recovering from our trip and walking around the crummy tourist town that is Gatlinburg, Tennessee. It was pretty cool to look up at the mountain that stood over the city and know that I climbed it. The next morning we packed up, stopped for pancakes at a diner that amounted to a glorified Waffle House and headed back to Charlotte Airport.

I got the vibe from Greg that he considered this trip a bit of a disappointment. I saw it coming. Anytime we don't go from start to finish on any trail, it's like a failure to him. We discussed how he puts more emphasis on covering ground than having a good time, like I do. To me, if having an enjoyable trip means 10 miles instead of the 15 we planned, I say do 10. Its a dilemma many hikers face. I got to stay at Le Conte Lodge for free, we saw the Boulevard Trail like only very few people ever have, and we spent some time in Gatlinburg laughing at the abundancy of white trash. The weather didn't agree with our itinerary, but I felt we still made the best of it. All in all I considered this one a success.

Not long after dropping Greg off, I got a call from my brother. He was cruising down 95 with his two kids, headed to the house. He said he should be in Columbia the same time I get there on my way home. No break on this weekend adventure.

To be continued....

Panther Creek Falls

Dennis sent me a text message about two weeks ago. It read, "Man, I wanna go backpacking!" He hadn't been out since back in the fall when I took him to the Golden Corner of South Carolina for his first backpacking trip. (See the "Another Lifer" entry for more details). I had just finished reading Backpacker Magazine's entry on what was voted the best hike in Georgia, Panther Creek Falls (click on the title of this blog for a link to their website's trail description). So we set it up, and Monday after some early morning appointments we both had, we headed off.

We got to the trailhead a little later than I planned. The last thing I wanted to do was finish the hike and set up in the dark. It's just annoying. So, we had 3.6 miles of trail ahead of us and a little less than 2 hours of daylight left. With that in mind, we left the sight-seeing for tomorrow's return hike and kept a steady pace till the falls. We got there in almost exactly an hour. Pretty darn good trail time. We set up and still had a decent amount of sunlight left to soak in the scenery.



Here we all are in front of the tent. Austin is the tan one on the left, then me in the blue, then Star sitting in the middle, then Dennis. The waterfall was so much taller than we expected. The pictures we had seen before didn't make the waterfall appear more than maybe 30 feet high. In actuality the waterfall was all total about 120 feet tall. Even in this picture you can't see the water as it tumbles from around the rock outcrops on the left. At the base of the falls was a really nice sandy area that made for the perfect place to set up camp. The base of the waterfall is a huge breath-taking pool perfect for swimming. No, we didn't swim. It was in the 20's when we got there and got even colder as the night progressed. The creek past the waterfall was littered with car sized boulders. All in all it really was a great spot to set up a tent.


Now, the hike in... well it could have been better. To start, the trailhead was on a busy two-lane road, with room for only three vehicles. When we got there, all three spots were taken. It presented quite the danger opening the hatch of the Jeep and letting the dogs out so close to a busy road (yeah, I forgot their leashes). Right off the bat you have to walk under an overpass while on the trail. Shortly after that you come to a clearing for high rise powerlines, where a huge cable also passes over the creek, protruding from the high creek bank, then disappearing into the other side. There is tons of construction debris from the overpass and trash from passing vehicles. Luckily, you quickly disappear into the thick woods of the Chattahoochee National Forest. The next slight disappointment is that, although the creek rumbled loudly below, you are so far above it and the foliage is so thick, you can't see anything going on in the creek. Finally, after about a mile, you reach the creek's side. By this time the water has calmed down quite a bit. This is when the trail really became enjoyable. There were an alarming number of fallen large timbers, but other than that it was a very scenic trail. There were flat areas for camping all along the bank. A few times the trail rises above the creek, mainly at the numerous sharp bends. During the last mile, the creek begins to give you some hint of what lies ahead. Then finally you start hearing the rumble of Panther Creek Falls. The trail takes you along a rock outcrop that hangs at the very edge above the huge waterfall, where you get a nice view of the camping area below.


Your options once at the campsite are to either continue on the banks of Panther Creek to the eastern terminus at Yonah Camp/Yonah Dam. That is supposed to be another 2 miles or so (I can't verify that because we didn't hike it). Or, of course, backtrack to the main trailhead at the Panther Creek Recreation area. Be prepared for a bit of a climb. 750 feet in all, with most of it coming in that last mile.

Virgin Falls, Tennessee

Well, now that I am back to the blogging, I have to catch everyone up on all those hikes you've missed out on the past year or so. This one was an all-around interesting adventure.

I had just had micro-fracture surgery on my left knee only a week ago. I found out later that I wasn't supposed to walk for six weeks, but those instructions were given to me while I was still drunk on meds in recovery. I still had the staples in my knee and everything. Anyhow! I was headed to Texas, from Augusta, for my cousin's wedding. I figured since I had so much time off for recovery, I would take a detour and hit up some Tennessee trails on the way home (even though it wasn't really on the way at all).

When I got to the trailhead and unleashed the hounds (my two dogs, Austin and Star)and let them get their usual pre-hike scamper over with, I got my pack on and laced up my boots and hit the trail. By that time the dogs' tongues were dragging the ground. "No big deal," I thought, "they can get some fresh water out of the creek we are supposed to cross in about half a mile." Sure enough, at about half a mile we crossed a footbridge over a completely dry creek bed. I had no water on me at all, expecting to use the creek as a source. I figured surely at some point we would find some water. Mile 1, nothing. Mile 2, nothing. At this point, I was very close to going into panic mode, because they were really panting hard, and I myself was getting quite thirsty. Thank goodness at mile 3 there was a decent sized puddle in the creek bed and they got a good (dirty) drink.

We reached the campsite and found this amazing, one of a kind waterfall. There is a small hill/mountain top, with water coming out of the very top. No really, just flowing striaght out of the mountain top. There is no visible river or anything feeding the waterfall. The waterfall splashes down about 90 feet to its bottom, where it disappears into the base of the mountain. It's so crazy. There in the middle of this wilderness is a mountain with a waterfall flowing down its side. No river at the top, no river at the base. Awesome.

When we got there I hike down to the slippery base of the waterfall, being extra cautious not to fall and slide into the abyss where the water disappeared. I filled my water bottle, took some pictures and got ready to climb back up to the campsite. On the way up I felt my leg getting wet. At some point I gashed a small hole in my bottle. So now, if I balanced it just right, I had half a bottle of water. The only way to refill the bottle was to hike down to the slippery base of the waterfall and hope not to slide into the abyss. Not cool. It was rough and thirsty night.

The next day, I finished taking my last set of pictures and soaking it all in. We packed up and got ready to hike out. Right when I shoved off, another hiker comes in with nothing more than a walking stick and a small backpack. We made small talk about the dry creek bed and the best time to catch the waterfall (he recommended December). I headed out, thinking he would stay, but he said he was headed out as well. As we talked along the trail, I found out that he comes out here all the time and hikes the trail as a workout (which explained why he didn't hang out long at the falls). At first I was slightly annoyed that he hiked out with us. The dogs usually act edgy around company. But he was very friendly and seemed to enjoy the dogs running up and down the mountain. Then, suddenly, I noticed my heart getting kinda fluttery and my hands felt really shaky. I looked in my pack, but I had only packed what I needed for supper last night and breakfast. I knew it was only a 5 mile hike and figured surely I could make it out. My new hiking buddy offered me some of his food, but I didn't want to take it. Also, my water bottle (or half water bottle) was empty after about half a mile. I did accept his offer for water (since the dry creek bed was in fact still dry...), but still just felt bad about accepting his granola bar. Sure enough, with just one mile to go on the hike, I simply couldn't take another step. I realized that the whole time I was using only my right leg to carry the load (due to the left knee only being a week removed from surgery). This drained me way faster than normal. So I took up his offer for the granola, which gave me the boost I needed to get back to the car.

To date, that's the only time I have had any trouble on the trail. It was close to being serious trouble. This guy I thought was going to be annoying ended up saving me from a world of misery. I think it may have been God's way of making me feel like a heel for judging someone. He ended up being a true Godsend.

**This trail also offers some cave hikes. I got in late, and was short on water and food, so I didn't stray to far from the main path. There is also a short spur trail to take you to a nearby river, but my new hiking buddy informed me that even the river was dry at that time; something he had never seen before.

Three Forks Junction With My Parents

The Three Forks Junction is a place where three creeks flow together to form the West Fork of the Chattooga River (The river where the movie "Deliverance" was filmed). From the north, Overflow Creek flows in. From the west is Holcomb Creek, losing elevation fast and flowing narrowly between two mountains before reaching the junction. From the east flows Big Creek. Big Creek carries the most water into the junction, and has some amazing waterfalls just upstream. Right in the middle of all this there is just enough flat and soft ground that allow you to set up camp with water flowing in all directions, surrounded by mountains. The amazing scenery combined with a fairly simple, yet rarely undertaken hike makes it my favorite camping spot. I wish everyone I knew had a chance to come and spend a couple nights out here. I had the pleasure of taking my parents on their first backpacking trip here. It was a great experience for all parties involved.


That very trip will be one that I remember for a long time. The biggest skeptic was my dad. We had to wheel and deal to get him out there. Part of the deal was we would find a way to get him an air mattress AND the pump to the camp site. And we would hike in real food, not trail food. Also, his pack had to weigh less than 20 pounds. I recruited Greg for the trip, and me and him stuffed our packs, including the air mattress and pump, so that Daddy's demands would be met. I could see that both my parents were really enjoying the scenery on the way in, even though the trail was in really rough shape. We ended up decending a mountain side completely off the trail at one point because the markings were gone. It ended up being one of the more rugged hikes I've taken. I felt bad about promising my parents an easy hike, then running into all the problems we did, but they laughed about it once we were at the campsite. We set up camp and then began playing around on some of the boulders and waterfalls surrounding the campsite. It was great to see Momma acting like a twelve-year-old, jumping across creeks and playing on big rocks. My mom talks all the time about that trip, and they plan on making another go at it next time they are in Georgia.

Here are some of our photos from the trip we made in December. The weather was nasty, but it was a rare warm weekend in December, so we headed out anyway. Enjoy!

http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r248/Eldowney7/Three%20Forks%20with%20Mom%20and%20Dad/?action=view¤t=1884453d.pbw