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.

 

Little River/Goshen Prong: Falling Water in Early Fall

    Though the trailhead for Little River Trail in Elkmont is more visited than many I have written about, it is still dwarfed by the most popular areas in Great Smokies National Park. (When I passed Alum Cave trailhead before 8am, both lots were full and about 50 cars lined the road.) One factor that makes it popular is nearby Elkmont Campground and the family-friendly nature of the trail as it begins as a level road bed following Little River. The beginning of the road is also the location of chimneys and other stone foundations remaining from the "Millionaire's Row" of summer "cottages" owned by lumber executives who profited off the vast wealth of logging prior to the park's inception. One such home--Spence Cabin--has been refurbished and is available for special events such as a wedding on this day. I would, however, be trekking beyond the first mile or two that sees 90% of the traffic. My destination was Goshen Prong.

    The Little River Trail closely follows the namesake waterway for 6 miles. Along the way are delightful cascades and deep pools providing a spot for cooling off on hot summer days. For those taking a leisurely stroll, there are occasional log benches along the first couple miles and plenty of large rocks to sit on along the water's edge. At a little over 2 miles, the trail crosses over the diminutive Huskey Branch falls which drops down into the river. Since a road width bridge crosses over the middle, there really is now way to view or capture a picture of the entire cascade. The top half is seen from the trail and a scrabble path leads down to rocks on the riverbank for a view of the bottom. On the far side of the bridge, you can also climb a rocky path to see the initial drop. 

   Just past the falls comes the first intersection with another trail: the Cucumber Gap Trail. This can be combined with the Jakes Creek trail to do a loop that will return you to the parking area with the added bonus of a short side excursion to take you to the truly historic Avent Cabin. But I continue on this day following the water muse. The trail crosses over the Little River on a broad, flat wooden bridge and reaches the next intersection with the Huskey Gap Trail. The Huskey Gap trail runs up and over a ridge to Newfound Road and in springtime is a smorgasbord of wildflowers. But further on the Little River Trail I go as it veers slightly away from the river for about a mile till I reach my turning point: Goshen Prong Trail. Turning right onto this trail I quickly come to and cross the diminished Little River on a pedestrian bridge and can see down stream the object of my hike Fish Camp Prong which Goshen Prong follows. Huh? I have read that somewhere in the multitude of branches above one is called Goshen Prong so that is the trail but not the waterway I seek.

    The happy cascading sounds of the prong tantalize during the first third of a mile before the trail comes along side to follow it, eventually ending at the Appalachian Trail. The next mile and a half were filled with scenic slides, cascades and small falls. Alas, a family engagement meant I had to cut my exploration of these waters shorter than I would have liked. After six miles, I had to double time it back to the trailhead and leave uncharted waters for another day.

          

                                        I hear the river's many joyous sounds

                                        And Fell vibrations of life that abounds--

                                        Water and time ever forward flowing. 

                                                                                                                                                                      

  

    

 

Hiking Archeology on the Old Settler's Trail

    Less than two weeks ago, Tropical Storm Fred hit the Western North Carolina Region hard. My town of Canton was flooded  and the bucolic outlying community of Cruso mourns the death of six people and dozens of homes swept away or destroyed. While the human effects of the storm have been well publicized, the devastation to Pisgah National Forest, Nantahala National Forest and other outdoor destinations in the area was also catastrophic. Trails are buried beneath landslides and downed trees, bridges have been destroyed, and creeks and rivers have changed course, erasing familiar destinations such as Skinny Dip Falls and Mease Hole. The above picture (courtesy of US Forest Service) shows  popular Sliding Rock during the event. Because of this, we have visited Eastern Tennessee on the other side of the mountains for hikes the past two weekends. (Central Tennessee was hit by devastating floods last weekend.) 

    The Old Settler's Trail (OST) in GSMNP runs from Greenbrier to Maddron Bald Trail near Cosby and passes through an area  that was home to many communities before the park. Along it's length you may view walls and chimneys left from homesteads and access many old cemeteries. The trail is 16 miles one way so a shuttle would be needed to cover the entire route in a day hike. However, there are many old paths and manways that connect down to 321 (East Parkway) which enable section hikes. And for me, they provide added exploration. For today's hike, I parked at the access road to Lindsey Town cemetery, just opposite Tunis Road. (Note, the road is gated a short distance down and narrow. Be sure never to block any gates as they provide emergency access.)

If you would only stop to live

One moment at a time

You would I think, be startled by

The things that you would find

like scents you never noticed

And many subtle sounds*

    I try to get on trails as early as possible to enjoy the solitude and to escape the heat in the summer. Walking up the grassy road, I first noticed the bits of meadows to the sides that showed off late summer wildflowers. I heard the the plaintive single note song a solitary bird kept repeating. I was present enough to see the amazing spider webs and avoid walking through most of them. As I neared the cemetery, a wild boar scampered across the road about 30 yards ahead. Just past this point, the road expanded into a big green circle and I saw two green paths departing ahead. I took the one to the left assuming that it led to the cemetery and the other led on to the Old Settler's Trail. 

    As I always do, I spent time reflecting on the lives that the stones represented. Most of them lived a hard life and many of them died young. Infant graves are always numerous in these old burial grounds. And in walking around, I found that I had assumed wrong. The path I chose did go to the cemetery but so did the other one. It stopped at a series of steps into the middle, likely the official entrance. So I moseyed back to the circle and found a smaller path that led  down through a rhododendron tunnel. The fungus were plentiful so I hope Miss Piggy had a good breakfast. Just a short distance down, the trail dips down to cross Snakefeeder Branch and comes up at the junction of the Old Settler's Trail. There is a sign marking the OST here to help find your way back if you are not using GPS. 

    I chose to turn right (towards  Greenbrier) as I had recently explored the Soak Ash area to the left.  Along this section of the trail. there are some small remains of chimneys and mounds where the chimneys have toppled. Often at homesites, you will see an assemblage metal bits, broken glass and bottles, and pieces of dishes or pottery that have been gathered together by various hikers over time. It's even more enjoyable, though, when you scout around the area and find a small bit of your own to add to the display.

    The OST from where I hit it gradually ascended, slightly at first but then more moderately until it dipped down to the crossing of Copeland Creek. There was a prominent manway going to the right, down along Copeland Creek. On these exploratory hikes, I usually do not have a destination; I go where the spirit sends me. And today, the spirit said see what's down there. Homesites in the old communities that were in this area were along the creeks that flowed down from the mountains, eventually joining the Little Pigeon River. This path led steeply down for a while with no evidence of any fields or homesites. Finally, I reached a mound of rocks and metal parts from a chimney, and a short distance later a small cemetery with only rough river stones for markers. 

    Consulting my topo map, I found that this was Sizemore cemetery and it appeared that the trail would continue on to another cemetery further down. From here, the trail narrowed and crossed Copeland Creek several times, but it was still easy to follow. Coming to the rubble of another homesite, I scouted around seeing many bits of glass and dishes. The trail began  getting muddy at this point and hard to follow. I came out to a sizeable meadow with no clear Idea where the trail was. I began crossing through the field and found it was swampy. At this point, three branches of the Copeland creek were converging so I decided the best idea was to make my way across to the farthest bank and follow it down to the next cemetery. Sure enough, when I crossed over that, there was a nice trail running down to Mullins Cemetery. This one was bigger with a few modern headstones but was in disrepair.

    Once again, I consulted my topo map and saw Rector Cemetery not far away.  Although it was on a completely different branch of Copeland Creek, I knew that there are a labyrinth of old roads and paths throughout that area and theorized there might be a way to reach it from where I was. I further theorized (not assumed) that there would likely be a manway following that branch up to E. Parkway a short distance from where I parked. Scouting "above" Mullins Cemetery, I found a pathway (or maybe drainage) that headed up a hill in that direction so spirit guided me onwards. I was reassured when I saw a somewhat recent clean sawed off branch that I truly was on a trail going somewhere. As it widened I checked my location and saw it was going right where I wanted. Jubilation!

     Then I hit an area with a profusion of large and small downfall. I tried to climb through and skirt around, checking the topo for guidance but could not find it. Eventually, my searching led me into the tangled world of laurel and sticker vines that is the arch nemesis of bushwhacking. There comes a point on some of these exploration hikes where I realize I have passed the point of no return and have to keep going forward.  After another consultation with the topo map, I gave up on the search for the elusive path I was on and descended down to branch that Rector Cemetery was on. I was quite happy to see a serviceable path following down the other side of the river. As it got closer to the cemetery it also was better developed so I assumed that the way to E. Parkway past Rector Cemetery should be easy. When I first glimpsed the cemetery from the trail, I was happy to realize I had made a correct assumption. Rector Cemetery was  a big one with modern headstones and had been recently decorated. A grassy road leads down to it from 321. 

    I was somewhat surprised to find the grave indicating a person had drowned in a flood, though it was always a danger with homesites right along creeks. Many people enjoy the restored and "Williamsburgized"  buildings in Cades Cove. I prefer finding the remnants as nature takes over. The faint inscriptions on old tombstones brings to mind impermanence. We live and we die. Nothing ever stays the same. Even these Appalachian Mountains--elders among mountain ranges--are constantly morphing, though on a timescale we don't comprehend. So I try to continue to live one moment at a time. 

*Songwriters: Ernest Anastasio / Scott Herman / Tom Marshall

 Scents and Subtle Sounds lyrics © Downtown Music Publishing