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.