Amicalola River Trail to The Edge of the World

Class IV Rapids

March 8, 2015 - This is a fairly easy "hike", the majority of which is a wooden boardwalk that runs from the parking area on Hwy 53 west of Dawsonville, GA. From the parking area, there is a stairway that leads down to the walkway that runs parallel to the Amicalola River for .5 miles until you reach the rapids. It is handicap accessible so all levels of mobility can take advantage of the beautiful scenery.

This trip was made a few weeks after a major ice storm hit the area, so there were quire a few downed limbs, and a large tree that was still blocking the boardwalk. 

At the end of the boardwalk, you can scramble down through some laurel, rhododendron, and a few small boulders to walk out onto the granite slabs that immerse you in the sounds of the rapids. Like all river rocks, tread carefully as they can be quite slippery in spots.

The trail continues on up into the higher elevations of the forest to the southeast of the river. Though not taken on this day, I will return soon to complete the entire loop and will describe it in a separate post.

For a quick trip with small kids or older folks, this is a definite walk to take. You won't be disappointed.

  

I'm Still Here!

Hello everyone, anyone, someone!?

I finally did what I thought would never happen. I have left my home north of the Blue Ridge for one located just on the south side. I'm not surrounded by trails like I used to be, but there are many within ten to fifteen minutes of my new home in Dawson County, GA, and I'm eager to get out and explore some new patches of ground.

My life has changed immeasurably since my last post. I became a first time father in October of 2013 with the birth of my son. One can never underestimate the amount of time, the fatigue, and the seemingly endless train of viral diseases that are brought home from daycare. As I type this, I have not experienced a healthy day since before October 26, nearly three months ago!

For those of you unfamiliar to Dawson County, it is the location of Amicalola Falls State Park, the Len Foote Hike Inn, and includes the southern terminus of the Appalachian Trail at the summit of Springer Mountain. It is also home to the 10,000+ acres of The Dawson Forest Wildlife Management Area. As you can see, there are plenty of opportunities that await my being able to lace up the boots and get out there. Also as you can see below, I've got a hiker in training and hope to instill in him the joy of hiking, nature's beauty, and simply a love for the quiet places.

On the personal physical improvement front, I've made good on my efforts to shed some pounds, having dropped 42 since last August. It's amazing how much weight you can lose by restricting your diet to fresh cuts of lean meats, fresh vegetables, fresh fruits, and drinking about 96 ounces of water every day. No potatoes, bread, rice, or refined sugars. If you're struggling, the formula is quite simple. Try it for a month and you'll be shocked how much you can lose.

On a sad note, my canine hiking companions for the past six years are no longer with me. Tobey began to suffer from heart failure in July of 2014, and was mercifully euthanized. Then in September, Rocket's life abruptly ended when he was struck by a car near the house. He had a bad habit of taking advantage of our entering or exiting the house as an opportunity to escape for a jaunt through the neighborhood. As he had grown older he had shown this urge less and less, but on that day, he made a go for it with tragic results.  They were my trail companions who loved going for a hike, seeing deer, turkey, and even a bear on occasion. They were my eyes and ears as they were always able to see or hear animals and people long before I knew of their presence. They provided me "dogpower", if you will, when it came to climbing many long grades. I do, and will always miss them terribly.

Tobey and Rocket on Buzzard's Roost, Arkaqua Trail.

National Trail Day

Lagoon Access Recreation Trail

I have been on the Atlantic Coast for about a week, taking a much needed break away from work. St. Helena Island, SC is my regular destination (near Beaufort and Port Royal), and this decision is easily arrived at due to my folks owning a small home about seven miles from the beach. Without them, and the free lodging, I couldn't afford to spend a week in the Low Country if I had to pay for a hotel room. Of course, there's camping that would be a cheaper alternative to a hotel, but this area is rife with biting insects and oppressively hot and humid air, if the breeze isn't blowing.

The time I spend here is filled with more walking than normal. With no dog door here, it is necessary to take them out a few times during the day so that they may do their business. They are so excited to be here as well as their walks are obviously filled with a buffet of "other dog" smells that are new; every tree, bush and spot of grass has been a stopping point for the others where they, like my dogs, engage in marking territory. This urge must come from some left-over,  pre-historic DNA from when they were wolves that actually had territory. I find it all very annoying as they have to stop and sniff every little thing they come across. It makes for a herky-jerky, stop and go walk.

St. Helena Island is a place with a rich and storied history. It was the area where the Spanish and French colonists tried to establish a foothold in the Americas, long before the English arrived. When the English did arrive, they brought with them slaves from West Africa. It was the slaves that performed the back-breaking labor, and died by the thousands in the malaria-ridden fields growing sea cotton, indigo, and rice. Their descendents are the Gullah people that still live in this area. Every trip I try to make it a point to find or learn something new about Beaufort County.

Yesterday was National Trail so I decided to take part by taking on one of the trails in the Hunting Island State Park trail system.  I had heard that there was a pair of Bald Eagles hanging out on the south end of the island and decided to try to catch a glimpse if I could. The south end of the island is disappearing due to the normal shifting of the sand that occurs on barrier islands. Having been coming here since I was a kid ('79 or '80) it is sad to see the cabins eroded away, along with hundreds of trees, all being battered and swept away with each high tide.

Old Cabin Road

As I made my way from the fishing pier parking lot through the Maritime Forest, I was thankful for the slight breeze that kept away the biting midges (also known as No-see Ums) and mosquitoes. I walked the foot bridge that crosses over the lagoon and headed into the area where the last remnants of the cabins exists. I found several nesting Ospreys, but no Bald Eagle was to be seen.  

 Walking north on the shoreline always makes me feel like I am in the last scene on the beach from the 1968 version of Planet of the Apes. So much destruction and desolation being buried in the sand, soon to be lost to the water.

Completing the trek north along the shore and over the head of the lagoon, I cross out of the burning sun and back into the much needed shade of the maritime forest. From here it's simply back south along the western side of the lagoon, along the way spotting a couple of white-tailed deer, some squirrels, and plenty of wading birds, among others that I have already listed. The forest with its mixture of flora, from Live Oaks draped with Spanish Moss, to the Wax Myrtle, and abundant Palmetto trees, is a feast for the eyes. Certainly much different from the Hardwood Forest in which I normally hike.

About 5 1/2 miles later, I arrive back at the car, soaked with sweat, and feel the tightness of my skin from it's exposure to the sun and salt air. It may not be as challenging as an Appalachian Mountain trail, but is every bit as enjoyable. Go out and find a trail near you, and do some head clearing!

http://www.southcarolinaparks.com/files/State%20Parks%20Files/Hunting%20Island/HI_trailmap.pdf.
 

Life

I'm surprised that this blog hasn't been terminated due to lack of activity. I can't believe that it's been over a year since my last post on here. Since then, I have started a new job that requires me to travel extensively throughout the week. Most days I spend about 2 1/2 hours commuting in my car to various locations across Northeast Georgia. The only positive thing about this is that I get to travel  through some of the most beautiful scenery in the Southeastern U.S. Although, my brakes and tires have suffered since last July, burdening me with a couple of extra expenses in replacements for both.

I think about moving back to the south side of the Blue Ridge to lessen the time spent driving, but every time I cross over the gaps at Neel's, Hogpen, Davis, or Unicoi, I roll down my windows just to stick my arm out and feel the air temperature drop in relation to the rise in elevation; let my eyes soak in the lush, green grass, hardwoods mixed with rhododendron and laurel; gaze upon the clear flowing rocky streams and wonder at the trout, river otter, and hellbenders that live there; and I am glad to be back and hope to always have a home in the mountains. 

I walk my dogs a few times/week and continue to take them on our approximately three-mile loop hike on the Miller Trek Trail behind Brasstown Valley Resort. Barely enough to keep the rust at bay, but not enough to keep them, or me happy. I could list all the excuses and all the pains in the world as to why I haven't added to my list of peaks bagged in a couple of years, but in the end, for me, there are no good excuses. I let the prime peak bagging season of winter pass by without taking the summit of some mountain on a list.

In the meantime, my eating habits haven't changed much, and anyone that has a lick of sense knows what happens when you cut back on your rate of physical activity while eating the same amount of calories. I call it ballooning. I entered a vicious cycle of knee pain, less activity, weight gain, more knee pain...etc. This past winter, I found myself actually afraid of bushwhacking to a summit, mostly due to the unsteady footing that lies beneath the layer of leaves that drops every fall; afraid that I will misstep and hyperextend my knee, somewhere with steep terrain a mile from the nearest trail, somewhere that would take a gargantuan effort on behalf of myself, or a rescue squad to haul my ass out of the woods.  The only thing that is going to cure this is a great amount of weight loss. 

In 2006, I was proud of myself for being able to hike up the Tuckerman Ravine Trail from Pinkham Notch up to the summit of Mount Washington in New Hampshire...at 301 lbs. Add another 50 to that over the last 7 years and that's what I'm dealing with. Yes, I'm tall and at 6'4" most people don't believe that I weigh that much, but I can assure you that my bones know it to be true.

So, with my 47th birthday a week behind me, I am going to turn up the heat on my effort to lose some lbs, start feeling more comfortable with going off-trail, and start adding to my lists. It scares me to think that if I don't change my lifestyle, physically I may never be able to get deep into the hills again.

Alright, enough of that. The past year has brought some new birds to my list, including most recently a Rose-breasted Grosbeak, the wonderfully hooded Bufflehead, as well as the Painted Bunting. I am not out looking for birds nearly as much as I'd like either...as you can tell with only three new sightings in a year.

My goals for the next year will include attaining the summit of five new peaks, and adding 10 birds to my list, while dropping below 300lbs. Baby steps, people. Baby steps.



  

More Bushwhacking Lessons

OK, so, after my near disastrous bushwhacking attempt, I decided to give it another go. After two weeks of  recovery, and feeling like a job was left unfinished, I took off up the spring branch. Accompanying me on this trip was my dog Rocket who is a champion hiker who would rather go for a stroll in the woods than eat. We left much, much earlier than the previous attempt. There was no way that I wanted to risk being caught in the dark a second time.

During those two weeks, I pored over the topo map of the chosen route to be traveled. I studied every bend and every route that was possible. This turned out to be an invaluable exercise as my GPS ended up turning into nothing more than extra weight to carry in my pack.

About 1/4 of the way into the trek, I paused to check the GPS to determine my progress and, low and behold, the screen went dark and the battery icon was blinking then unceremoniously informed me that the battery was too low to track my location. I was not going to let this route beat me for a second time, so we moved ahead relying on my memory of the aforementioned topo map.

When I reached the top of Hullander Cove on the saddle position between the Hullander Knobs, the point where I abandoned my route last time, I felt a sense of satisfaction that every step I took from this point on was a victory. We stopped here to rest and share an apple, and give Rocket a water break. Traveling ridge tops and  saddles, there usually aren't many spots of surface water, so I have to pack extra water and a bowl so that the dog can stay hydrated.

After our break, we began to head up the steep slope of Hullander Knob west. Rocket is a true leader in as much as he must be in the front at all times. He also has a keen sense for finding the easiest route available, so I readily follow his lead. We wrapped around the southern slope of the knob until I realized Rocket stalled and didn't seem very eager to move forward. When I caught up to him, I was staring at an extremely steep side slope of exposed granite outcrops. I decide we needed to travel up slope to the summit of the knob to get a better vantage point and find the easiest drop from here to the northern base of Mine Mountain.

The climb was bruuu-tal! Every step made my thighs cry out for a rest.  Looking in an upward direction became demoralizing so I decided to keep my head down and tackle the slope one step at a time, often depending on small trees for a hand hold and extra power by using my arms to help pull me upwards. Once at the top, I was able to spot the black ribbon of Hwy 76 that I travel to and from work. It was nice to know that I was finally up on the peak that I spy from the road almost everyday.

Finally, the easiest route over to Mine Mountain could be seen, though easy it wasn't. Rocket slowly picked his way down the rocky slope and I began to notice him slowing a little. This pace evened out as we reached the saddle and began a mild climb up the north slope to the top of the mountain. Standing at the summit and looking down, I realized that my call to abort the trip two weeks ago seemed like a genius move. The slope is probably between 40 and 50 percent with long and often wet and slick granite shelves. Even with a light, this would have been extremely dangerous to navigate in the dark.

About fifty yards down, poor Rocket had literally had enough of heading straight down the slopes. He actually began to double back on our route like he was going back home. I wonder if he could make the return trip by retracing our steps by scent. After calling him back a couple of times, he abandoned that strategy and began to bear off to the east following the contour. Knowing that straight down was the quickest way to the road, I spent the rest of the descent prodding him to stay with me.

After what seemed forever, which included a butt plant and about a ten feet slide down a slippery and wet slab of granite, we crossed the 100' power line clearing, then down to the gravel road where a cell tower sits. From here we walked down the gravel road to Bowling Gap Circle where we sat down in the grass  and Rocket enjoyed the last of his water and 1/2 of my granola bar. Mission accomplished. All that was left to do was rest our weary legs and wait for our ride to arrive. 

New lessons:  1. Always carry extra batteries for your GPS.
                     2.  Take a topo map and a compass for a back-up...no batteries needed!

Now, I am compelled to make this trip again with fresh batteries so that I can map the route. When I do, you'll see it here. Bushwhacking is much more labor intensive than following a trail, but the sense of excitement, of exploring the back country where not many people have been is worth the effort. Just be smart and safe!

Bushwhacking: Lessons Learned

One of the most exciting ways to explore the mountains and valleys of my home here in North Georgia, is to leave the trail, and bushwhack. You push your way through the forest,whether it consists of dense, choking Laurel and Rhododendron thickets, blow down areas where wind felled trees temporarily block your path, or the classic canopy/forest floor combination. These areas are rarely traveled by man, and you find yourself wondering, 'when was the last time somebody was present in this exact spot?' It's all very neat to explore, not to mention quite a workout. However, some basic rules should be followed, which I found out the hard way.

I recently purchased a quality GPS and couldn't wait to take it into the wilderness as a guide, using the topo maps to direct me to the most gentle approaches to the ridge tops. I decided to enter the National Forest land near the house, make my way up the long first ridge to the summit of the eastern Hullander Knob, traverse a saddle feature, then up the steep slopes of the western Hullander Knob, then follow the ridge top to Mine Mountain, then the steep ascent down to Hwy 76. Easy enough, right? 

If you are planning a day hike excursion, allow yourself enough daylight to complete the trip. I mapped out a route that appeared to be a little over three miles. I usually can cover three miles an hour on an improved trail, so when I left at 3:30pm there wasn't much of a concern that I would run out of daylight. Being somewhat prepared I made sure to pack my flashlight hat just in case. This turned out to be a lifesaving act.

Do not try to apply a "trail pace" to bushwhacking on ridge tops.  Trails generally follow the contour of the land, with a few ascents and descents. When you are traveling the ridge tops, you are going straight up a mountain, then straight down the other side, then straight up the next peak. Simply put, it is exhausting.

By the time I reached the saddle position between the two knobs, it was 6:15pm and dusk was rapidly making its exit. I had to make a decision whether to continue my planned route, or abort the route and drop down into the bottom of Hullander Cove, find the creek and follow it until I hit familiar territory near Collins Lane. I chose the latter. The thought of making my way down a steep slope in the dark was not appealing. I barely managed to complete the 800' drop (which was quite steep in itself) down to the creek bed before darkness required me to put on my flashlight hat.

Following the creek down the cove became an exercise in clearing brush with my face. The foliage was so thick in places, that I had to double back several times and find a new route because the briars were impenetrable. My GPS unit showed a road on the other side of the creek, so I crossed and began the climb up the opposite bank. I kept climbing expecting to find a distinct grade and gravel base, to no avail. Finally I checked the GPS again and it showed that, to my shock, the road had been crossed already. So, back down I went and realized that the "road" was barely a road at all, but a long ago abandoned logging road that consisted of nothing more than a slight cut that was overgrown with underbrush and a downed tree every 100' or so. There's nothing like being exhausted and forced to run a steeplechase in the dark.

It took two hours past dark before I stumbled out of the woods and into a 100' wide power line cut. In between the fog of my breath as it passed through the hat light, the unobstructed sky was clear and full of the most beautiful stars. The absence of the light pollution of civilization had something to do with their beauty, but mostly it was because I knew I was going to be home shortly, enjoying a hot shower.

To wrap it up, my basic tips for safe bushwhacking include starting early, giving yourself time to be finished before dark; always carry a light source; and make sure you have extra batteries for your GPS ( I will talk about that one in the next post). 

   

 

Bird Watch

So far, 2011 has been a slow one when it comes to spotting new birds to add to my list. Other than the Red-tailed Hawk mentioned in an earlier post, I have spotted a Golden Crowned Kinglet, an American Kestrel (formerly known as the Sparrow Hawk), a Red-headed Woodpecker, a Screech Owl, and a Eurasian Collared Dove.

Hopefully, during a week on the South Carolina Coast later this summer, I will have a similar haul to last year's trip when I identified 12 birds in the span of a few days. I have 29 birds to go before I reach 100!

I wish I had more time to simply go to a birding habitat and just sit there, for hours even, watching for a flash of unfamiliar color, hoping that I can get the binoculars up and into focus before the flash disappears. I can't think of many things that are more enjoyable. If you've never tried it, go get a good bird book, pick a date and start making a list. You will get hooked.