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.."