Devil's Courthouse: Beauty Amidst Devastation

Parking lot and Blue Ridge Parkway would normally be packed with cars in October

     My blog entries are sporadic. They have been interrupted at times by injuries, travel, COVID and, most recently, the calamity of Hurricane Helene. I live in Canton, NC which once more saw destruction of homes and businesses after rebuilding from TS Fred three years ago. But we were comparatively fortunate compared to what continues to be immense suffering and hardship in neighboring areas such as Asheville, Swannanoa, Marshall, Spruce Pine and many others. Hiking in the region has been incredibly impacted. This was my first serious hike in over a month. Many sections of national forests, state forests, state parks, and GSMNP remain closed. Major routes to Tennessee (I-40 and I-26) have had portions washed away. The Blue Ridge Parkway which provides access to many hiking areas is closed through the majority of North Carolina and will be for some time. The road I used for this hike was recently reopened but has areas of gravel where the road has been swept away.

Lake Logan

     The Mountains to Sea Trail meanders 1,175 miles across North Carolina from Kuwohi (nee Clingman's Dome) in GSMNP to the Atlantic Ocean at Nags Head on the Outer Banks. Throughout most of Western North Carolina, it twists and turns a route that mirrors the Blue Ridge Parkway and provides access to many of the highlights along it. One of those is Devil's Courthouse which was the destination for this hike. 

     Hiking on fall mornings is full of delights for the senses: the pungent aroma of leaves, the tinge of the temperature, and the dazzle of color as the trees put on their annual spectacle. Helene, however, not only blew down trees but much of the foliage as well. This area of the Mountains to Sea trail was mostly denuded but that's okay. Even bare trees can be beautiful if you seek the beauty. And there are also groves of pines at this upper elevation. Fortunately, the short section of trail that I was on was not severely damaged by the hurricane. A walk in the Bent Creek section near Asheville a few days earlier showed countless trees that had fallen and been cleared, and sections of the trail washed away. Since I got an early start, I enjoyed the sight of the sun rising above the ridge and through the trees.

     Devil's Courthouse is a rocky mountain formation that provides a panoramic view. On clear days you might be able to see neighboring states. The cliff faces are nesting areas for peregrine falcons and the valley below is home to many waterfalls, including the iconic Courthouse falls. There is a cave within the mountain where folk tales say the Devil holds court. Another popular legend is that the cavern is the dwelling place of the Cherokee slant-eyed giant, Judaculla. Cherokee legends abound in this area but are usually creations of non-natives. 

    Helene not only brought great physical destruction, but the aftermath was catastrophic for emotional and mental health. Many, like myself, who rely on connection with nature for balance were deprived. Churches were closed or even destroyed. Support groups and mental health services were suspended. Those  who might turn to alcohol to deal with the tragedy found breweries and liquor stores also closed or destroyed. And if you found someplace open, you better have had cash because internet was down everywhere. The only thing people had was each other, and the response was inspirational. Neighbors helped neighbors cutting trees, providing food and water, doing wellness checks, donating food, goods and money. In the midst of such horror, there was love and compassion. And there will continue to be a need for a long time to come so I am including a few links for those who might want to help. I would also encourage anyone who wants to read an even more profound example of this principle to read Viktor Frankl's seminal work "Man's Search For Meaning."

Help local merchants by shopping for the holidays: shopwnc.com/

An organization that continues to provide food despite being decimated: mannafoodbank.org/

My county is directing donations to: uwhaywood.org/

Strawberry Gap Trail: Something new to preserve something old

    As the seasons move into the heat of summer, I find so much to enjoy about hitting the trails in the early morning. There's no problem of finding a parking spot at a trailhead. The low, slanting sunlight streaks through the light mist and sparkles in the droplets of dew on the leaves and flowers. Nothing beats the quiet solitude with only the sound of birds singing their songs to the morning. And I get the privilege of clearing any fresh spiderwebs from the trail. 

    

    For this hike, I chose to hit the Strawberry Gap Trail--the newest segment of Conserving Carolina's ambitious plan for a 100 mile Hickory Nut Gorge trail system. The Strawberry Gap Trail connects with the Trombatore Trail which then links up with Bearwallow Mountain trail. Conserving Carolina has preserved 49,000 acres of endangered natural areas in the region. This trail is in partnership with Southern Appalachian Highlands Conservancy which has preserved 80,000 acres. These groups partner with private landowners through developing conservation easements to protect habitats, water supplies, farmland, and views. The private landowners of Strawberry Gap Preserve use the land for horseback trails so dogs are prohibited from this particular trail with abundant signage to alert users. 

     I caught the preserve somewhat in-between flower season. Early spring wildflowers were gone and late spring/summer blooms were just beginning. Early on the trail, a lone flame azalea stood out. As the trail ascended, mountain laurel was abundant and some early catawba rhododendron were beginning to bloom. Spiderwort was plentiful, as was galax that was not quite in peak bloom. I spotted solomon seal and false solomon seal, and a single jack in the pulpit still hanging in there. The biggest surprise though was a section that was loaded with bunches of fire pink. These are plentiful in our area but the only place I have ever seen them was on rocky cliffsides. I don't recall ever seeing them on a forest floor, and in such abundance.

        One of the defining features of hiking in this area is views. Whether it's Chimney Rock, Bearwallow Mountain, or Eagle Rock, there are plenty of places to find views along trails and this trail is no exception. About half way up, is Ferguson Peak that offers views to the northwest showing the farmlands of Fairview and mountains beyond. The trail comes to an end and meets the Trombatore Trail at Blue Ridge Pastures, a high meadow where the butterflies were dancing around the clover and bees were buzzing around the bits of multiflora roses. This is a wonderful place to channel your inner Julie Andrews and twirl around while you admire the peaks that surround. 

    One of the great goals of Southern Appalachian Highlands Conservancy has been to protect the scenic vistas surrounding the Blue Ridge Parkway. The BRP is a national park scenic road that runs from Shenandoah National Park to Great Smoky Mountains National Park. It threads through the Appalachians in rural areas that are increasingly seeing development. SAHC works to protect Blue Ridge Parkway visitors from the sight of condos and Walmarts overtaking the natural views. One of the most pernicious development trends in the region could be spotted from both of these viewpoints on Strawberry Gap Trail. That is the clearcutting of ridgelines and mountain tops for the  purpose of building for pricey homes. These properties are often simply summer vacation homes for the wealthy from Florida and elsewhere to come enjoy "their" mountain views for a couple of months while spoiling the views for everyone else year round. 

    If you would like more information about Conserving Carolina and the trails of Hickory Nut Gorge, you can find them here: https://conservingcarolina.org/hickory-nut-gorge-trail/   

Beech Creek: You Can't Get There From Here

     The Beech Creek Loop is a hike that's been on my radar for a couple of years. Weather, timing, seasons and other factors have delayed it but the stars finally aligned. One issue was that it is a long drive. Despite being in the Southern Nantahala Wilderness in North Carolina, the only way to reach the trailhead is by dipping down into North Georgia and driving back up into North Carolina. It is a truly remote area.

    However, the roundabout route turned out to be one of the blessings of this adventure. Once in Georgia, twisty-turny country roads wound through the countryside until I reached Tallulah River Road, a dead end 8 mile treat which quickly turns to a narrow dirt road that hugs the banks of the river allowing views of the myriad cascades along the way. Crossing over the river on one of the one lane bridges , I was astonished as a bald eagle gracefully took flight from the river 20 yards away and soared up in to the trees. Just before entering North Carolina, I passed through the booming metropolis of Tate City, Georgia (population 32 +/- according to the sign).

    Choosing the right season was also important in scheduling this hike. The Authority on NC waterfalls, Kevin Adams, the best time to visit is early spring for the wildflowers. He was right (of course). As soon as I set foot on the trail, I was surrounded by a carpet of rue anemone, showy orchis, violets, star chickweed, dwarf iris, bellwort, foam flowers and a trillion trillium. I was also greeted by a steep climb as the trail gained over 200 feet in less than a quarter mile. (For those keeping a scorecard at home, total elevation gain was 2500 feet and distance was 10.8 miles)

        Descending back down to Beech Creek, the trail crosses over and then follows the creek for the next few miles. Slightly more than a mile in, a side trail takes one up to Bull Cove falls, the first of two major falls on the trail. (There are two other falls shown on my topo that could be found with steep bushwhacks. I haven't seen pictures of them and my ego did not require that I be the first to publish one). This impressive falls could be sighted from the main trail, but to get up close required a scrabble. 

    After leaving Bull Cove, the trail continues up Beech Creek and crosses back over. The another steady climb of over one and a half miles brought me to the big one: High Falls. A spur trail leads down to Beech Creek and then along the bank for a short distance but you don't see the falls until the last minute as it come down from the right. This is a 100 foot drop with tons of character. Unfortunately, as I approached the falls, I felt a few drops of rain. I took a couple of hand held shots then set up my tripod. That's when it began to pour. I stuck my camera in my dry bag and figured it would be brief. A few minutes later, it let up so I crossed the creek and again carefully set up the tripod on rocks in the creek. The skies opened up again. Acceptance is the key to serenity so I was okay with not having the "perfect" shot and packed up my gear. As I ascended the spur trail, naturally the son burst out.

       The couple of write-ups I had read about hiking to these falls had done it as an out and back hike. I assumed the reason was it was much shorter and less elevation gain than doing the loop that I planned. I quickly found that there was likely little traffic past the falls. I continued on through massive blow-downs that required climbing over and ducking under trees. I turned one corner and the sight ahead was so ugly I debated whether to continue. The key to adversity is to take care of what is present right in front of you. The trail for 20 feet looked passable so I proceeded. Moving forward there were challenges but nothing in itself was insurmountable. I have been in that place in my life (as I'm sure many others have) when the path ahead seems hopeless but put one foot in front of the other and you get through it. And eventually, I reached a smooth, easy ridgeline that was filled with sunshine and trout lilies

       There is a psychological principle known as the Arrival Fallacy. Essentially, it states that many people figure they will be happy once a certain thing happens or they reach some goal. The truth is that much of what contributes to happiness is working towards the achievement and that goal or event may turn out not to be so happy. Promotions can be nightmares, marriages can end in divorce. The idea is not to postpone joy--to enjoy the moment. 

    One of the reasons I wanted to do the loop rather than the falls and back was that at the apex of the loop, a spur trail led to the summit of Big Scaly. I am well aware of the Arrival Fallacy and how it correlates to climbing peaks in the Appalachians. Many times I have trudged up mountains hoping to find spectacular views only to find the summit surrounded by dense trees or enshrouded in  low clouds that whited out any view past five feet. As it turns out, there were some decent views from Big Scaly and great rocks to enjoy a lunch break. But regardless, I was focused on the moment as I made my way up. As the great philosopher Miley Cyrus sang:

                                It ain't about how fast I get there

                                Ain't about what's waiting on the other side

                                It's the climb.

    As I returned to the main trail, I ran into the only other hiker I encountered. We discussed trail conditions we each encountered and had similar stories. He said he had meant to hike Standing Indian but looked at his GPS after two miles and realized he missed his turn so he kept going. A man after my own heart. The remainder of the hike was brutal. That side of the loop was steep downed trees were a regular feature. There was also little flowering for a couple of miles. Once, I got down close to Tallulah river I began to again see trillium, foam flowers, mayapples, and Carolina silverbells.

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Injun Creek: The Return

     After a prolonged hiatus, I have returned to the blogsphere. My last hike that I blogged about was a grueling endeavor done on what I learned was a partially torn tendon in my ankle. I had to go through physical therapy and get orthotic inserts before I could do any hiking. And since then, I can not attempt the type of hike I last wrote about. It has taken some time for me to come to acceptance of diminished ability but that is a necessary path for happiness. Rather that dwell on what I can't do, I express gratitude that I can still hike at my age and experience the sense of wonder that comes with the explorations. And I still have my DSLR and keyboard, and an itch to share those explorations with my multitude of fans.

    Injun Creek Manway in Great Smokey Mountain National Park is not an official trail but it is better than many of the trails you will find on maps. Beginning at the Greenbrier Ranger station, the manway follows the creek with crossings on several log bridges and two rock hoppers further up until it reaches the Grapeyard Ridge Trail at campsite 32. One of the great pleasures of hiking in GSMNP is the opportunity to transport oneself back in time through artifacts of the communities that existed prior to the establishment of the park. I love to imagine what their lives were like and envision what the area looked like. Homesites can often be identified by remnants of chimneys or foundations, or the ubiquitous patches of daffodils.

    While many signs of the past can be found along the main trails in the park, nothing beats the thrill of venturing off the beaten path to discover something on your own. There may be a faint path that hints at something or just the topography of the land or just a sense that will get me trudging into unmarked territory. Sometimes I may find a small family cemetery; sometimes I may find what's left of a fireplace; sometimes I may find an impenetrable thicket patch. And sometimes I just may find the calming whisper of God reminding me to enjoy the moment. On this hike I ventured into a hollow that I was certain had been settled in the past. As I progressed further into a gap, I encountered a blockade of downed trees that gave me pause. As I pondered whether to climb through the trees or turn back, a familiar refrain was going through my head: "Don't leave before the miracle happens." So navigated the trees and continued on until the land opened up again into a area the roughly the size of a dozen football fields. Here I found signs of several buildings, mostly mounds left from chimneys and foundations. One had a bit of an old stove.

    Returning to the main trail, I continued up to the Grapeyard Ridge trail and the most famous landmark on that hike.

    When I first heard or read about Injun Creek, I heard the story that many are familiar with, that Injun was not a misspelling of Indian but of Engine. In the 1920s a steam powered engine for sawing lumber was used to build Greenbrier School. On the return trip, it toppled over at a switchback and came to rest in the creek. There is much debate about this. I have read accounts that a 1926 map identifies it as Indian creek. (My Gaia map identifies it as Engine Creek which is certainly wrong). Whatever the truth may be, never let it interfere with a good story. "This is the West sir. When the legend becomes fact, print the legend" - The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance.

 

Cheoah Bald: Travels with William

    William Bartram (1739-1823) was a prominent naturalist who studied trees, plants, and birds throughout the American southeast. He wrote a book detailing his travels and discoveries that is still in print as Bartram's Travels. One of the trees he catalogued--the Franklin Tree--is no longer to be found in the wild and only exists as offspring of seeds he collected. The majority of his exploration was done in northeast Georgia and Cherokee Territory that would become southwest North Carolina from 1773 to 1777. In 1976, work was begun to commemorate his travels with a trail that traverses the mountains of north Georgia and southwest North Carolina. My hike today was to the ending point of this trail on the summit of Cheoah Bald.

    This final section of the Bartram trail begins at the Nantahala River as it cuts through Nantahala Gorge. On this chilly morning it is was a misty ribbon through the National Forest. Of course, starting at the river in the bottom of a gorge means I had nowhere to go but up. The ascent to the terminus at Cheoah Bald would involve a climb of over 3,000 feet. I begin by going parallel to the river on a trail that is buried in fallen, dry leaves, making it a challenge to navigate in places and treacherous footing on the way down. The crunch of my feet on those crisp leaves also alerts a flock of turkeys who hurry uphill away from me. The first crossing of Ledbetter Creek is on a bridge and signals the start of a grueling section that gains 1,000 feet in a mile. Huffing and puffing, I reach a stretch that is level and provides a preview of the scene I will have from the top. 

    The next crossing of Ledbetter is more scenic but challenging--a rock hop on slippery wet rocks between two cascades. I will see numerous more crossings as the trail intertwines with Ledbetter branch for the next few miles. There will not be another bridge until the final crossing where there is an impressive, solidly built bridge. Ironically, at that point the "creek" is such a small branch that a toddler could hop over it. 

    As I climb, I encounter many small falls and cascades. Some were inaccessible or covered in downfall, but many were photogenic. It made me consider the initial climb of 1000 feet that swung away from the creek. I wondered what treasures might be in that section of creek that goes unseen. I just contented myself with the sights I was blessed with.

    At the four mile mark, I leave Ledbetter Creek behind and cross over an old forest road. I had serious thoughts of throwing in the towel here. The next section was another vertical slog--only 7/10 miles--that my tired bones and lungs complained loudly about. Of course,  I would not quit so close to the summit and overcoming doubts determines what a person is made of. After a nice sit on a convenient downed tree, I shifted into low gear and made the final stretch to the junction with the Appalachian Trail. Though there was still a bit of an ascent, it was short and glorious as I reached my target. I was rewarded with wonderful views for lunch. 

    As I descended back to my starting point, I contemplated how much different the sights are from Bartram's time. Though the trail covers areas that are still mostly undeveloped, there have still been significant changes. The passenger pigeon was so numerous when Europeans first came to North America that they darkened the sky; today they are extinct. The American Chestnut that were then the pride of the forest have been nearly wiped out by a blight brought by the introduction of the Chinese Chestnut. Invasive species--notably kudzu--now dominate much of the environment. While these and other changes have occurred over a period of 250 years, the current rate of climate change portends quicker and more drastic changes ahead. I can only hope that future generations may enjoy the travels that William Bartram found so exhilarating.

"I began to ascend the Jore Mountains, which I at length accomplished, and rested on the most elevated peak; from whence I beheld with rapture and astonishment, a sublimely awful scene of power and magnificence, a world of mountains piled upon mountains. Having contemplated this amazing prospect of grandeur, I descended the pinnacles.."

 

 

Chattooga Cliffsides Trail: Walk on the mild side

    The Chattooga River is a designated Wild and Scenic River. The areas I've explored on the border of Georgia and South Carolina are quite wild, with challenging rapids for whitewater rafters and kayakers. I decided it was time to visit the headwaters  section in North Carolina that runs through Nantahala National Forest. The Chattooga Cliffside trail runs 5.2 miles just south of Cashiers where the river originates. I found the early stages of this river to be quite scenic, but more mild. It is shallow with sandy beaches and only occasional small cascades.

    As usual, I got an early start to this hike at the Whiteside Cove Road trailhead. The setting Hunter's moon and Whiteside Mountain were to my back and the low, early morning sun was to my face. I took a moment to just close my eyes and breathe in deeply, connecting with the smells, the aura, the solitude and feeling of this wonderful fall morning. The beginning of the hike is wooded and far from the river. After a quarter mile, I was moving along a ridge that formed one side of a gorge area where water--from the Chattooga and it's tributary Green Creek--could be heard from below. The trail turns right, back away from the water. Just short of a mile the Green Creek Trail heads down to the left and the trail I was following began a one mile descent to the river. After being tantalized by the sounds of the river and occasional glimpses, I reached the water's level and a small cascade welcomed me.

    The trail continues close along the river for the next half mile. The water is crystal clear, running over a smooth, mostly sandy bottom. Rhododendrons lining it promise lots of color in late spring. At 2.7 miles, the rough half-way mark of this section, the trail crosses Norton Mill Creek at a true sweet spot on the hike. I walked down to the intersection of the creek with Chattooga river and viewed a cascading "delta" over rocks that led from the bridge to the river. On the creek side of the bridge, a small falls ends in a beautiful pool. 

    After this first crossing, the trail moves up and a bit away from the river. There are several more bridges crossing tributaries and smaller spring cascades. The next time the trail nears the river is perhaps the sketchiest section: large exposed slanting rocks along the river have spring fed water running down them and the trail crosses over this. While not life threatening perhaps, a slip here could cost you your dignity. It is very scenic, though. Shortly after this, the trail goes under a huge rock overhang. Half a mile later I arrived at the Iron Bridge, a popular local iconic spot and southern terminus of this section of trail. Here, the most significant cascade so far of the young river can be found flowing under the bridge. 

    For my return trip, I walked up Bullpen Road a quarter mile to reach the loop trail that goes back to meet the river trail. Ammons Branch runs below the road and I could hear persistent cascades but could not see anything through the Rhododendron. This small upper loop section likely does not get much use and could use some trail maintenance. I like to explore to see what can be seen but I found there wasn't much on this trail. Heading back up the river, I got to enjoy sights that had been hidden on my trip down. The low, early sun left the far bank in shadow. On the return trip I was rewarded with the sights of Bullpen Mountain on the opposite bank. 

    On my trip down, I had gone under a huge tree that had a note stuck on a tiny branch saying "last blowdown." It seemed odd and was obviously recent. On the return trip, I heard the sounds of chainsaws ahead and realized someone had been marking it for trail maintenance. I thanked the two  men hard at work as I passed them. Reaching the trailhead, I found that my out and back with the small lollipop loop was 11 miles with 1,134 elevation gain. An outstanding day!

    I considered why poets, philosophers and musicians so often equate rivers with life. There are obvious parallels. Both rivers and our lives start small, grow and change, and eventually end. And yet, the essence of  a river--the water--was there before the river and continues long after it leaves. The river was just the vessel for the water's journey. And so it is with us: our bodies are just vessels for our journey through this life. If one want's to get scientific, the human body is 60% water so we certainly are like rivers. But for me, spirit cannot be scientifically quantified. Simply enjoyed.