Conasauga River Trail

I'm off to check out another trail up in the Cohuttas this weekend. The Conasauga River Trail is a reported 12.1 mile shuttle hike which crosses the river for which it is named approximately 38 times. Backpacker Magazine deems this trail an 8-out-of-10 rating for difficulty, with a total net elevation change of 1,432ft. The forecast calls for mid 80s and 60s, so it should be just about perfect hiking weather. Can't wait to get back and write about this one!

Raven Cliff Falls

Located just northwest of Helen, Ga. off the Richard B. Russell Scenic Highway is the trailhead to Raven Cliff Falls. This trail, which is surrounded by the Raven Cliffs Wilderness Area inside the Chattahoochee National Forest, is a 5 mile out-and-back hike with plenty of attention-grabbing scenery along the way. The hike follows Dodd Creek 2.5 miles upstream to the 80-foot Raven Cliffs formation where the rock is split by the falls in a series of cascades. The creek initially drops 60 feet before splashing over some ledges and finally creating a quite deep pool at the base of the falls. From the pool, the water flows down another 20 feet to continue Dodd Creek back towards the trail's eastern terminus. Hikers rarely lose visual contact with the creek and are treated to multiple other cascades and falls as they make their way. Several of these are rather large and present an excellent opportunity to take a swim or at least cool off with a splash of mountain water before finishing the trek.

After looking for a while, I finally decided that I would use this simple day hike as a way to try and hopefully get my little sister into the whole "outdoor thing" and also to spend a little quality time doing something that didn't revolve around soccer for once. Plus, I hadn't hit the trail in a while and really didn't feel like going it alone this go round. The last time I tried to take Kalley on a hike, I thought for sure that she would never speak to me again. We did about 7 miles on the Pine Mountain Trail, which I didn't think would be too difficult, but I soon discovered that my assumption was quite wrong. With a sore knee, wet shoes, and a dog that would not behave either on or off the leash, my sister left Franklin D. Roosevelt State Park with the assured resolution that we would never return to this, or any other such place of torture again. So it was to my surprise that she rather quickly agreed to go with me to check out this northern Georgia trail. With temperatures forecast for the lower 80s, and only a slight chance of rain, the weather was about as perfect as it could have been. The drive to the trailhead took us about 2.5 hours from Peachtree City, but it was a pleasant revelation to discover that there was no fee for parking or for access to the trail, something the USFS frequently does not let happen.

Almost immediately after beginning our hike, we saw a huge campsite off to the the right, approximately 200 yards from the parking area. Part of Dodd Creek flowed through it, and someone had even fashioned a rope swing which hung from a branch reaching out over the water. Campsites were abundant along most of the trail, and nearly all had flat spots for tents, fire rings, and were within 20 yards of the stream. The trail was very easy and relaxing, never less than 3-4 feet wide, and almost constantly shrouded in a canopy of mountain laurel and hardwoods. Overall, the hike in gains only about 650 feet of elevation, so it's a nice stroll, even for the most amateur hiker. It was exactly what I was hoping for: easy to navigate, yet full of beautiful scenery. Along the way, we also observed several cascades and other waterfalls (one in particular was over 50 feet high) which offered plenty of play spots and places to cool off. If I'm honest, a few of these places were more entertaining than the actual falls for which the trail is named. It didn't take us long to reach the western end of our route.

I am apparently notorious for my long stride and fast hiking pace, so it was nice to see Kalley maintain pace and reach Raven Cliff Falls in only an hour and a half. For me, this was a rather anticlimactic zenith. As much as it is touted for it's impressive beauty and wonder, the falls were little more than a trickle this day, no doubt due to a recent lack of rain in the area, and I was worried that I'd hear something like, "Geez. We came all that way for this?" However, I was happy to see my sister kick off her shoes and socks, and wade out into the pool at the base of the falls, happily checking out the water-created rock formation in front of us. While she was in the pool, I scrambled up the rock scree another 50 feet to see if I could find a way onto the top of the cliffs. I gave up after minimal effort and headed back down. As we were debating about how many snakes were living in the pool, I noticed that many of the surrounding rocks were beginning to become speckled with dark spots. Initially, we figured it was just overspray from the waterfall, but we quickly remembered that the weather forecast called for a 40% chance of isolated thunderstorms, and so we soon began to head back to the car.

At some point not long after, Kalley decided that she would run the rest of the way back and took off...with my dog Guinness fast behind. There I was, hiking at 2,000+ foot of elevation, with a potential thunderstorm looming overhead, and both my sister and my dog had left me in the proverbial "dust". A smile slyly crawled across my face though, as I soon realized that I had the car keys and both rain jackets. Sweet.

On her way back, Kalley had apparently taken the time to scratch the letter K into the path at various intervals just to let me know she was alive and on the right path. Very Hansel and Gretel-ish. She was having fun though, and that was the whole point. Because the trail is nearly all downhill on the way back to the parking lot, I covered the distance much more quickly. What took an hour and a half to hike in, took only 45 minutes to hike out. The rain ended up holding off, yet I still returned to the car to find Kalley standing there soaked not from the rain, but rather from the sweat of running that distance through mountain humidity. It was a good day, and time had been well spent. On the drive home, I asked her if she would be interested going camping with us sometime. She replied with a yes. I knew my mission was accomplished.

New Turf

Call it boredom. Call it a death wish. Call it an ongoing quest to discover the greatness within. Whatever you call it, I consider my new fascination with whitewater kayaking an attempt to challenge mother nature on new turf. My friend Adam and his brother Matthew introduced me to the sport back in late April, and I have been growing more and more interested ever since. My first endeavor on the rolling water met with little difficulty as I paddled a few miles down a mostly tame section of the Chattahoochee River in the metro Atlanta area. That first trip was deceivingly easy, and so I decided to tempt my fate again just a few days later on the same stretch of water. This time, I managed to flip my kayak in what was probably the most calm patch of water on the entire trip. Now there's this skill called "rolling" that enables a paddler to simply "roll" the boat back over to the upright position and continue on their way. I had not mastered this skill yet, and so I had to perform a wet-exit. It's pretty much what it sounds like. You pull off the spray skirt and kick out of the boat and into the river. The problem is, your boat fills with water and you then have to find somewhere to beach your craft and begin the drainage process. The water is moving (it's a river, remember?), so this is a little harder than it sounds. In this case, the 'Hooch is a pretty nasty river, so not only did I have to deal with trying to figure out how to get my boat to dry land, I also had to deal with swimming in something that smelled worse than the dumpster behind the school where I teach. I had visions of some mutated catfish with six eyes and a mouth full of jagged teeth sucking me under in Jaws fashion. Fortunately, I avoided the river monsters and made it the rest of the trip safe and sound.

The next river in my paddling progression was the Cartecay River near Ellijay, GA. This stretch of water is certainly more challenging than the 'Hooch and contains mostly class II or II+ rapids. I should stop to explain here that whitewater rapids are rated on the International Scale of River Difficulty that takes into account, among other things, length, speed of water, amount of drop, and technical difficulty. The scale ranges from I-VI, with anything above class IV being considered for experts only. Anyways, back to the Cartecay. Remember that "rolling" skill? Well I still hadn't mastered it at this point, so I again spent fair amounts of time swimming to shore with boat in tow, cursing and being made fun of by the more experienced kayakers who drifted by. At least this water didn't smell like someone's used jock strap. The Cartecay does offer good spots to learn the finer points of whitewater paddling, and so it was good preparation for my next trip: the Nantahala River.

Located in the Nantahala National Forest near Bryson City in western North Carolina, the Nantahala River is a beautiful 8.5-mile stretch of cold, fast-moving whitewater that is touted as one of the most popular rivers in the world, with an estimated 160,000 yearly visitors. The river is rated as class II-III and takes only 2 hours to run from put-in to take-out. The first time I ran this river, I had to bail at least twice. And in water that never gets above 51 degrees (due to the fact that the river is controlled by dam and drains from the bottom of Nantahala Lake), it's a sobering experience to say the least. I also decided not to attempt the final rapid on the stretch, Nantahala Falls, which is rated at class III. This decision came primarily because of the looming thought of being swept further down river and through the class VI Big Wesser Falls that rumbles just beyond the final take-out at the Nantahala Outdoor Center. They call that rapid "un-runnable". I didn't want to find out.

After the decision was made to return to the Nanty for my brother's bachelor weekend, I made it up in my mind to master the skill of rolling my kayak, mostly because I was tired of swimming about as much of the river as I was paddling it. Now this technique is one of the most awkward things I have ever tried to do. I spent hours watching YouTube videos trying to figure out how to pull it off. Adam's brother Matthew (who is only 20 and is far better than any of us will probably ever be), also tried to teach me with little success. Imagine hanging upside-down, completely submerged, and still strapped in to your boat, and then finding a way to flip back over by simply using your paddle and a quick snap of the hips. Everything about the move is counter-intuitive, and repeated practice is required. It wasn't until my third day of trying that I finally successfully rolled my kayak for the first time. "Now," I thought, "I'm really ready for the Nanty."

It took about 5 minutes on my first run down the river to completely forget all the training I had practiced, and I once more bailed out of my boat. Rolling in a lake is one thing, but doing it in the river, with the currents and rapid movement of the water, is completely another. Disappointed, I completed the run without further incident (again avoiding Nantahala Falls) and returned for one more shot.

I guess the real question should be why I keep flipping over in the first place, but I digress. This time when my kayak tipped, I was ready. I avoided the initial panic of losing control and plunging into near 40-degree water that tends to rush in, and I thought back to the Swedish guy (at least I think he was Swedish) in the pool on the YouTube videos who taught me the proper sweep technique for rolling. He was my Mr. Miyagi, and I was little Danny LaRusso, standing there, about to take on Johnny Lawrence from the Cobra Kai dojo at the "All Valley Karate Tournament". With a clear mind, I reached back up toward the surface, got my paddle in the right position, and swept back and across my body while snapping my left hip down. Victory! Ok, so Elisabeth Shue didn't come rushing out to hug and congratulate me, but I was pretty damn proud regardless. So proud in fact, that I agreed to take on Nantahala Falls with Matthew and Adam. The photos above are proof of my success and proof that I have indeed found new turf upon which to challenge and admire nature. Until next time...

On the CBT

There's nothing like getting hit on by tipsy 50-year old women in a bar in Newnan to remind a person that they are indeed back in "civilization". Less than 36 hours prior to my encounter with the retirement home night owls, I was descending from Slaughter Mountain in a North Georgia thunderstorm, hoping I wasn't going to become a crispy-fried critter after being touched by one of Zeus' thunderbolts. Wait, like the route I took on the trail, I'm telling this all in reverse order. Let me rewind back to Friday morning.

The drive to Vogel State Park was scenic and peaceful as I passed by the old gold mining city of Dahlonega, Georgia and panoramic mountain views along the way. When coupled with tunes from Reckless Kelly and Ray LaMontagne, the morning could not have been more right. My mindset was in place, and it was time to take on the roughly 13-mile Coosa Backcountry Trail (CBT) that cuts a meandering path through the high elevations of the Chattahoochee National Forest. After registering with the ranger and paying for permission to hike in the woods, I strapped on my pack, harnessed my dog Guinness into his, and headed out. The weather was about as perfect as I could have asked for, with the sun shining brightly and temperatures in the upper 60s. The first signs of spring were just beginning to become apparent along the trail. North Georgia wildflowers periodically dotted the sides of the path with bright whites, purples, and yellows, but the hardwoods had not yet regained their drapery of leaves, a reminder that old man winter was not quite finished with his work, and the reason why I made sure to pack my thermal base layers before leaving the house that morning.

The ranger had suggested that I hike the loop in a counter-clockwise direction, pointing out that the trail follows the contours of the land better that way. I had looked over my maps of the area and the elevation profile of the trail, and even though it meant a longer climb to the highest part of my trek, I agreed with her assessment. Going clockwise would have meant an immediate 1,700-foot, 3.5 mile ascent to the summit of Slaughter Mountain, so I went right at the junction of the approach trail and the CBT and soon began a short climb, crossing GA 180, dipping down to 2,000 feet above sea level along an old logging road, and then after crossing Wolf Creek, starting the long incline to the tops of Coosa Bald, Wildcat Knob, and Slaughter Mountain

I should mention that, back at the trail head, there was a notice posted on one of the kiosks that a black bear had recently been identified as a frequent visitor to the Blood Mountain shelter (along the AT), which was only a few miles to the south of the area where I was hiking. This aroused a slight sense of paranoia that would stay with me for the entirety of the trip. I began to imagine bears hiding everywhere: amongst that stand of hemlock, down in the next hollow just off the trail, or sipping from the next stream crossing. The fantasies even got a little absurd at times. I was certain that there was one hiding behind the tree just up ahead or under that small boulder, waiting to pounce upon me without warning. At the halfway point at Calf Stomp Gap, my suspicions were perhaps at their peak. I stopped to rest for a moment, take in some water, and munch on a Cliff bar. As I did, I noticed that Guinness was quite ansy, even more so than typically. I dismissed his nervousness for the time being and finished my snack. When I went to resume my travels however, my canine friend began to growl, bark, and howl like I have never heard him do in his life. Where we rested was at a large bend in a forest service road. The trail was divided by this road, and as I went to approach the other side and begin another climb, Guinness began his antics. I could not see or hear anything along the path ahead of me, but my imagination began to run rampant. Only after several minutes of waiting for Yogi on steroids to come bounding down out of the hills to devour me did I finally resolve to push on. Like I said, I was at the halfway point, so turning around would have been just as long a trip as continuing forward. Plus, I kept saying to myself, W.W.B.G.D.? (What Would Bear Grylls Do?). I could not let my hero down, and thus I persevered, never seeing the beast that surely lurked just beyond my sight.

For another 2.5 miles or so I carried on, leaving the evergreens of the lower elevations behind me and trading them for the hardwood forests of the ridges. I traipsed up to the summit of Coosa Bald, then Wildcat Knob, and finally came to my final resting point for the day just beyond Wolf Pen Gap. I decided on this area for two reasons: 1) The spirit was willing, but the body was not really able to continue on any more that day. As it has been reported, the hike into and out of Wolf Pen Gap is some of the most challenging terrain on the entire trail, and after covering nearly 9 miles already, I figured I would save the final 4 miles for the next day. 2) The campsite I stayed at was relatively close to GA 180, which gave me peace of mind that, should my grizzly stalker return, it would at least be easier for the search party to find my body. So I set up camp, cooked and ate dinner, built my fire from much of the firewood that someone had previously laid out, and rested against a tree as I watched the sun set behind a mountain top and over the town of Suches, just a few miles to the west of my current location.

I awoke the next morning around 7:00AM to the faint rumblings of thunder just off in the distance. Within 30 minutes, the rumblings were no longer faint, the wind began to pick up, and drops of precipitation started to patter against my bivy. Nature doesn't gently wake you from your slumber with a slight nudge and a "Good morning honey". It smacks you in the face like your girlfriend did the last time you honestly answered her question about whether you thought that girl was prettier than her, and says, "Dude, get the hell up and move your butt." I scrambled to get everything broken down and packed away. Just as I zipped the last pocket on my pack, the sky opened. I was already near 3400 feet in elevation, and the clouds entirely covered the tops of the mountains, including the one I was on. I had to climb another 800 feet over the next half mile or so, and the thunder and lightning became more and more prevalent. The thought of being as high up as I possibly could have been at any point on the trail in the middle of a thunderstorm was something less than comforting, so I did my best to quicken my pace and drop elevation as quickly as I could. The good news was that after skirting the summit of Slaughter Mountain at approximately 4,150 feet, the remainder of my hike would consist of a steady, if not steep decline. Hiking in the clouds was a nice change of scenery, but that pleasantry soon wore off after I looked up at one point to witness a thunderbolt strike the ridge less than 1,000 feet above where I now stood. It was time to finish the hike and get to safety.

I covered the last 4 miles on Friday in less than 2 hours. In fact, I literally ran the last 3/4 of a mile back along the approach trail and into the parking lot of Vogel State Park. Guinness was as eager to get out of the weather as was I, and the site of the park visitor's center was certainly a welcome one. In the end, I was able to complete the trail in 5 hours and 50 minutes of actual moving time. The rangers recommend a minimum of 9 hours to cover the 13 miles, so I was pleased with my pacing for the trip. My equipment worked well, and unlike my Appalachian Trail experience, I was not burdened by excess weight in my pack. My new, lighter sleeping bag, sleeping pad, and bivy sack allowed me to cut my total carried weight (including water and food) to only 16 pounds. Andy Skurka I am not, but the tips I have picked up in my readings on him certainly are beginning to pay dividends.

I drove away from the park that morning with a sense of accomplishment, and more importantly, one of happiness. I enjoyed my trip and will certainly come back again (hopefully not solo next time). For now, it's back to the grind of civilization. Oh yeah, as for the geriatric stalkers. That story will have to wait. I'm still trying to process it in my head. Cheers.

Coosa Backcountry Trail

Here is where I'm off to later this week. I plan to head up early Thursday and return Friday in time to go to the OCMS concert that evening. The 11.3 mile trail loop begins in Vogel State Park and includes a near summit of Slaughter Mountain, a traverse of the Duncan Ridge, and multiple mountain top vistas and stream crossings.

Return to Panther Creek Falls

Clarkesville, GA - This was my second trip to Panther Creek Falls, and this time, I was joined by a new group of hikers. My previous visit to the Clarkesville area came in February when the temperature was still in the 50s and 40s, and ice and snow were still present in many of the shady areas along the trail. This time, the daytime temps rose into the 60s and 70s, and much more flora and fauna were present. White pine and hemlock bordered both sides of much of the trail, and Panther Creek itself looked to be flowing much more rapidly than before; a likely side effect of the recent rains. There was also an increase in visitors to the falls; some of whom were rather interesting.

I mentioned that I was joined by a new group of backpacking buddies. My best friend Ben, his wife Janet, and Janet's friend Candace, all came along for this little 2-day excursion. Although Candace has been on a few trips in the past, for Ben and Janet, this was their first-ever backpacking trip. None of this group had any equipment, so a buddy of mine and I had to outfit everyone with our personal gear.

Now the problem with using someone else's stuff is that it usually doesn't quite fit right for the other guy, especially when the owner is 6'2" and the borrower is only around 5'7". Ben's pack was nearly as big as he was, and when hiking behind him on the trail, all I could see of Ben was from the backs of his knees down. From the large bulges in the pack, it looked as though he was carrying around a couple of small children. Being the good husband that he is, Ben elected to carry the heavier load, so Janet's pack was not nearly as cumbersome, although she could probably have benefitted from a smaller size as well. I gave Candace my super light REI pack, and I went with my Gregory instead. For Candace, everything was packed away neatly, except that her sleeping pad was strapped horizontally across the top of the pack. Ben had the same situation. The trail gets narrow at sections, so it was entertaining to see the contortions and hear the explicatives as we passed under or by some of the rock overhangs and cliff walls. Overall, we made good time and covered the 3.5 miles in about 1.5 hours.

When we arrived at the site, we noticed several interesting visitors already enjoying the area. To be honest, it looked as though we had just interrupted some kind of cult gathering. They were an eclectic group of various ethnic backgrounds with the lone female as their undoubted leader. As we began to set up our tents on the beach at the base of the falls, the leader spent a good 30 minutes laid out on a rock with a rain jacket draped over her face and upper body, while the males appeared to be meditating in spiritual contemplation. That is, until she began to stir and we noticed several of them beginning to talk on their cell phones. They must have been letting other members of the cult know that their planned activites had been interrupted, and they were preparing to return to the temple. A few of them remained for a while, with one male in particular choosing to sit and stare at us from his perch atop one of the large boulders. Janet and Candace tried to snap a picture of him, but his camoflage was far too clever. He blended in with the background and then quickly left the site. Soon after the departure of the cult members, others began to join us, including a large-bellied, shirtless man with his girlfriend and children. The large smiley face tattoo on the man's stomach was undoubtedly applied when he was at a considerably lighter weight, and it now looked a lot like Stewie from Family Guy. They were very nice though, and even offered Ben some ibuprofin for his headache. We also met a man with a weimaraner that lifted its leg on just about everything in the area, including our tents....twice. The tops though had to be the pot-bellied, red-shirted, knife weilding, canteen toting, ogre who was one of our last visitors of the day. I swear we heard dueling banjos beginning to play somewhere far off in the hills as he approached, and the girls were certain that he had come for one, if not all of us. He never said a word, stayed about 45 minutes, and then left. Ben thought he would surely return in the middle of the night to kill me and then take the rest of them off into the woods for personal amusement. We never did see him again.

To kill time, we decided to try and hike the remaining 2 miles of the trail that complete the 5.5 mile one-way total, but the trail is very badly eroded not far beyond the falls, and Ben's dog got a sore paw, so we decided to turn around after going only half of the way. That night as the sun began to go down, we broke out the Wild Turkey that I had stowed away and began to cook dinner. The only disappointment was that I did not pour the whole amount of whiskey from home into my Nalgene bottle. Had I done so, at least one of us would probably have mustered up the courage to take a dip in the pool below the falls. Therefore, our supply quickly diminished, and we called it an early bedtime.

The overnight temps were very manageable, and we only received a few intermittent showers that dissipated well before morning. Although I thought we were being visited by bears a few times in the middle of the night, I was relieved to find that it was only my tentmate slumbering heavily and dreaming of being a lifeguard for a soccer game. Don't ask.

The morning was cool, but presented great weather to hike out. Ben again had trouble navigating his RV-sized pack past the narrow passages along the return, but we were able to make it back to the trailhead in good time. None the worse for wear, we safely and gratefully returned home.

My next trip will be to the Coosa Backcountry Trail, and my only companion will be my dog Guinness. That's all for now. Till next time.