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.