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.

Lack of Peakbagging

Sadly, I haven't bagged any new peaks since February 11, 2010, when I attained the summit of Cheaha Mountain, the highest peak in Alabama. For the most part, hiking has still been a steady part of my weekly regimen, until this summer.

The hyper-extending knee incident earlier this year put me on the sidelines for a while. I decided to keep my walks on the paved roads of my neighborhood, or on the not so rough paths of Meeks Park. My knee felt "loose" for many weeks and made me shy away from uneven terrain. I kept imagining an improperly placed step on a rock, or a rut and having my knee hyper-extend, this time with more severe consequences.

In fact, when I did finally venture out on the Appalachian Trail hiking north from Dick's Creek Gap, my knee did exactly that. On two separate occasions, my knee just buckled backwards, for seemingly no reason. They weren't bad enough to send me to the ground, but bad enough to make me realize that it wasn't completely healed.

Then in late spring, I caught a cold that lasted the better part of three weeks. Coughing, sinus pressure, the whole works. Once I got over that ailment, it was summer which swept in with a vengeance.

For the first part of summer, it rained almost daily here in my part of North Georgia. Then, like the flick of a switch, it stopped, and has been very dry. Right now, my garden looks pitiful due to the excessively high temperatures and lack of rain.

I have also spent a lot of time on my property attempting to control an infestation of Chinese Privet which has taken over the lower part of the lot next to Brasstown Creek. It may seem strange to a lot of folks, but I really enjoy clearing brush, as well as cutting and trimming trees without the use of any power tools.

I have three tools that I use: a pruning saw, a tree pruner (loppers), and a swing blade for non-woody vegetation. It's a slow process, but knowing that I am clearing the land without using a pollution spewing two-stroke engine, doing it the way it would have been done 100 years ago, is rewarding. Plus, it is labor intensive which provides me a bit of a workout to replace the lack of trail time I've had this summer. I also like that the work is done while still being able to hear the babbling of the creek, the wind blowing through the trees, and the kingfisher's call as it races up and down the creek.

The dogs and I finally worked the trails back into our weekly routine, just for workout hikes. We'll go an hour up the trail and return. As soon as this heat wave breaks, the goal is to add Sassafras Mountain in SC, and Mount Mitchell in NC to my list of state high points. Until then, its yard work and short walks until I have something more interesting to share.

Slaughter Mountain - Elevation 4,338'

View of Blood Mountain from Slaughter Mountain summit.

Open granite outcrop on summit of Slaughter Mountain.

February 23, 2008

Start - Wolfpen Gap - 3,260'el
Trail - Duncan Ridge Trail, with some bushwhacking.
Time to summit - 55 minutes
Time of descent - 42 minutes
Ascent - 1,078'

Parking my car adjacent to Duncan Ridge Road, I grab my pack and walking staff out of the back seat. Across the road, a nearly inaudible conversation is taking place between a couple of bike riders and hikers. Other than this, the two-lane ribbon of asphalt that is Highway 180 is silent in between cars that can appear from seemingly out of nowhere as they round the curves, heading either towards Suches or Vogel State Park. I step in the direction of the trail, cross the highway and begin the steady climb.

The clouds are hanging low and as I look up slope, they can be seen rushing through the treetops, obscuring whatever view of the mountain that would normally unfold. As I look back at my car, two other guys with complete packs and ski poles have come off the ridge from the direction of Coosa Bald. They begin to take a break while I disappear into the woods. The uphill climb is immediate as I step up onto and around small boulders here and there that flank either side of the trail. The goal today is to bag the summit of Slaughter Mountain, the 5th highest peak in Georgia.

About twenty minutes up the trail I begin to hear the metallic click of the ski poles belonging to my fellow hikers. Judging by their increasing volume I know that they are rapidly gaining on me. I always pull of the trail for a breather when I know someone is about to overtake me. It's good hiking etiquette for there is nothing worse than having momentum and coming upon someone ambling along and holding up your progress. They both passed me, in staggered form as one was about three minutes faster than his buddy. At this point, I was sucking air so hard that I was glad to stay put until both of them passed.

The trail finally levels out and the burning in my calves fades with each step. I look up and notice a patch of blue sky. It looks as if the clouds may burn off after all. The patches of blue become larger as I walk on. Finally, the areas not shrouded by trees are flooded with a beautiful sunlight. The contrast of the sun with the remaining low clouds is wonderful.

I knew from studying the topo map before this hike that the Duncan Ridge Trail does not cross the summit,  meaning I'm in for another bushwhacking adventure. As the trail descends, I know it's time to leave it to the right and begin to fight the sparse undergrowth. The goal is simple...to keep walking up until you reach the highest point.

It appears that I have not been the only person with this goal. A clearly visible trail opens up in front of me, then I notice a faded red blaze on a tree. 'What the hell?', I thought. This was not on any of the maps I researched. Why would this be a secret? Is it an attempt to discourage people from entering this area, or simply a forgotten path? I gladly follow this trail all the way to the summit, sparing me from the normal fight with briers. A search for a USGS marker is fruitless.

Like most of the peaks in GA, there is not much of a vista. Like Coosa Bald, there is a small granite outcropping near the summit that provides a small window in the direction of Blood Mountain. The clouds slowly blow through the gap between Slaughter and Blood Mountain, finally revealing the highest point in GA on the Appalachian Trail. I sit on the outcrop and soak up the sun for nearly an hour before retracing my steps back down to Wolfpen Gap.

Late Evening Light

A few days ago I had one of "those experiences" that simply cannot be captured by a photograph, or painted onto a canvas. My fellow outdoor enthusiasts know what I mean. It's usually some phenomena that involves being at THAT place, at THAT very moment, and it is usually over as quickly as it starts. The "double-rainbow" guy certainly knows what I'm talking about.

I was in the woods on a late afternoon hike with the dogs. I have noticed that as we head into March, the after-work hikes no longer involve a double-time pace in order to get out of the woods before full darkness covers us. The angle of the sun's rays are changing, to the point that you can actually see and feel a difference. As the hike began (Miller Trek Trail, again), the sun was still dancing across the fallen leaves that make up the forest floor. The sunlight, still shining yellow down upon the trunks and the tops of the trees, was blazing brightly as I slipped into the forest.

After crossing a few streams and making my way uphill and across the powerline cut, the shadows from the still leafless trees had grown longer. With my back to the sun, I noticed that the groundcover was no longer privy to the warm glow It had been cast, just until sunrise, into the oncoming darkness. Then, I slowly realized that the bright light had faded altogether, making a gigantic leap from low-level light to the dullness of twilight.

I had climbed high enough on the ridge so that when I looked back, I could see that there was a bank of clouds hiding the sun. It was just a thin strip, but enough to block the rays from landing directly at my position. I turned and continued to head upward, deciding to allow Tobey to run off leash with his already loose companion Rocket. I struggled to keep pace with them.

After about five minutes of  picking my foot falls carefully (my left knee's strength still being suspect), I sensed a glowing from up on the ridge above me, a very bright light. As I looked up in that direction, the most beautiful mixture of pink and purple was radiating all of the trees from mid trunk up into the naked branches at the top. I looked behind me and saw that the sun, much like a toddler that gets that second wind right before bedtime, was saying, 'Not just yet!'. It had found the last gap of clear sky between the cloudbank and the northern ridge of Ivylog Mountain.

Through that gap came pouring the light, picking up where it left off before, but so much more brilliant this time. Those colors in contrast with the already shadowed forest floor gave the groundcover an eerie, colorless gray, while the pink and purple combination made the upper half of the trees appear as though they were glowing embers. The phrase "For purple mountain majesties..." in America the Beautiful is what I was seeing, right in front of me. Maybe a very expensive camera, or an operator that really knew their f-stops and shutter speeds could capture what I was seeing, but I knew I couldn't. So, I simply watched.

I stood there trying to catch my breath as I watched the colorless gray slowly move up into the treetops nearest me. This continued like a giant blanket moving up the slope claiming the lower elevations first, then the middle ridge, and finally the highest ridge above, as they bid farewell to the sun.

The dogs stood panting on the trail about fifty yards ahead, waiting patiently for me to take a few steps in their direction. This would be the signal to lunge on ahead and find something good to sniff. Now that the bright light was gone, the subtle colors of the forest came back into view...the browns, the light yellows and grays, all reclaiming their positions. A cool wind began to fill the gap where the light was. I zipped the fleece up to my neck and continued on, hoping to avoid the next progression in the daily ritual of color change.  

Casualty of a Dog Battle

...This time, I was out getting in a quick walk with the dogs. The roads were dry, no problem there. It was approaching darkness and I just wanted to let them stretch their legs for a bit, get some sniffs in, and take care of business. Our only obstacle to a peaceful stroll would be one of their cousins.


Over the past few months, a new dog has shown up in the 'hood; a brown shaggy-looking mutt that is very territorial of his section of road. Usually he just comes down to the edge of the yard snarling and barking. The problem is when his weiner dog brother is in the yard with him. That yappy little dachshund gives the mutt an extra dose of courage and he ends up in the road, baring his teeth while my large dogs pull forward silently, wishing that I would let 'em at this annoying duo of canine bluster.


On this particular evening, I'd had enough of their threatening charges and decided that a small rock on the backside would put an end, once and for all, of this daily harassment. I heard them coming through the woods, so I stepped into the roadside ditch to find said rock and found nothing but leaves and dirt. They were coming rapidly so I aborted my search to get back up on solid pavement for the latest face-off.


I stepped up onto the  pavement with my left foot, which my dogs mistook as an invitation to lunge at their fellow canines. While the entire weight of my body was on my left leg, my right still lifting up out of the ditch, my dogs surged towards the source of irritation. The problem this time was all of the pea gravel left over from the snow events. Ironically, this material is spread to provide traction in icy conditions; when the snow and ice is gone it becomes an impediment to traction. My left foot slid forward while my body stayed behind, bending my knee joint in an unnatural backwards trajectory.


The pain was instant with white flashes showing up in my eyes. I fell on my right side while refusing to let go of the leashes. Rocket and Tobey continued forward not bothering to realize that they were dragging their beloved master, all 300 lbs of me, across the asphalt. After about ten feet they mercifully stopped allowing me to writhe and moan in a singular location. This is what I fear most, a hyper-extended knee; an injury that often ends with torn ligaments that require major surgery and a long period of inactivity.

Finally, I shook off the agony enough to remember that there were hostile dogs about that would love the opportunity to attack the throat of their enemy laying helpless on the road. I looked around, expecting to see teeth inches away from my face. Instead, the dog was just standing there about twenty feet away, looking at me curiously and not making a sound. Finally it gave a half-bark, then turned and walked away. It was almost like it wanted to make sure I wasn't hurt too bad before going back home.

I considered calling Jennifer on the cell phone to come help me get up off the road. But, I decided if I could get up that I could hobble my way back to the house. It was a long trip, but I made it without further incident. For the next few days I was certain that I did some real damage to my knee due to the pain that was not subsiding, that combined with the sensation that my knee joint felt weak and kind of floppy.

Day by day, the pain has eased and things now feel pretty much back to normal. I did discover that intense knee pain is a cure for nagging neck pain in that it made me focus on something else for a while. Warmer days are coming, hopefully no more pea gravel will need to be applied to the roads so that I can enjoy firmer footing. Brown mutt and weiner dog still come out to harass, but neither have ventured into the road anymore. Maybe they too have decided it just isn't worth all the fuss. I'm ready and eager to get back up on the steep slopes.

Bad Winter...so far.

This has not been the best winter for me. It has been a very wet season in North Georgia, particularly with rainfall. But, it has been the unusual amounts of snow that has caused me the most trouble. Living on the side of a mountain isn't the best place to be when any amount of snow has accumulated on the driving surfaces. Union County has endured at least three major events that have left me unable to enter my driveway for days at a time. I know that my Yankee friends scoff at this, but when you live in an area that may have one snow event per year that tops three inches, the local budget and equipment for snow removal is sorely lacking.

Did you know that snow can be slippery? Especially when there may be hidden objects lurking beneath the pretty white powder; maybe some pieces of lumber that were supposed to be installed last summer as a trellis for my Rasberry bush?

Around December 13 we had snow on the ground when it became my job to hike down and around a retaining wall to check the level in the liquid propane tank. The snow wasn't terribly deep, around three or four inches and it seemed harmless enough to plod on down the hill and.....

I was on the ground before I knew what had happened. The last thing I saw were my feet pointing up to where the trees limbs hung. While in the act of walking, you should never be able to look up and see the tops of your shoes. I landed flat on my back, which protested with cracking sounds that ran up my vertebrae. A split second later, my head whipped back and did not nestle gently into the snow. It made a resounding thump as it discovered the leaves and twigs that are normally exposed on the ground. The whole episode sounded like the cartoon noise we are all so familiar with when Wiley Coyote, Yogi the Bear, or Scooby and Shaggy hit the ground hard. That sound is remarkably true to life. It is the sound of flesh and cartilage and bone hitting the earth, combined with the grunt and rush of air that leaves the lungs....all at the same time.

As usual, when I fall, I try to get back up as quickly as possible. This reaction is a combination of proving to myself that the injury is not great, and to prevent anyone seeing me laid out uncontrollably prone. I got up, brushed off the wet and cold snow and spied the lumber that did me in. Before taking another step, I flung it into the treeline so as to prevent other such episodes. I continued my journey, checked the propane level (less than 5%...shit) and went on about my business.

It wasn't until the next night at bedtime, when I went to lay my large head down onto the pillow, that the sensation of damage to my neck came rushing into reality. It was like my head was too heavy for my neck muscles to support. I had to take my hands and hold the back of my neck for extra support on the way down, and the same thing in the morning as I attempt to rise up from my slumber. This went on for a few days until the pain migrated behind my left shoulder blade, up the left side of my backstrap, into my neck and up behind my left ear. Nagging, nagging, nagging pain for weeks...until I found myself on the ground again about 6 weeks later...to be continued.

Birding in 2010

2010 ended up being a pretty good year for adding birds to my list. In January I added the Song Sparrow and Red-bellied Woodpecker.

A February trip to the Alabama coast found me spotting a Cedar Waxwing and a Royal Tern at Dauphin Island and Fort Morgan, respectively. In Spanish Fort, AL a Boat-tailed Grackle was seen perching on the reeds next to Ed's Seafood on the Battleship Parkway. I really expected to add more species during this trip, but forgetfulness got the best of me. During a day trip from Mobile to Dauphin Island, across Mobile Bay on the ferry, and a drive through the Bon Secour Wildlife Area, I discovered that I left my binoculars and bird book where I was staying in Mobile. I will make a return trip to this area and it's wonderful Alabama Coastal Birding Trail stops.

In between the Alabama trip and a May visit to Washington, D.C. (where a Ring-billed Gull was seen at the U.S. Capitol reflection pool), I spotted a Yellow-rumped Warbler at the Augusta Canal, and made acquaintance with a Great Horned Owl that I have been hearing for months in the woods near my home. Also spotted here in North GA was a Northern Flicker (yellow shafted variety), a Brown-headed Cowbird and a House Finch.

My greatest haul occurred during an August trip to Hunting Island and Pinckney Island Wildlife Refuge in coastal SC. At Hunting Island I spotted a Black Skimmer, Willet, Tri-colored Heron, Sandwich Tern, and  Ruddy Turnstone. Pinckney Island sightings included a White Ibis (or hundred), Common Moorhen, Wood Duck, Pied-billed Grebe, Wood Stork, Black-crowned Night Heron and American Bittern.  Pinckney Island is a fantastic place to bird watch, but it was damn hot! I strongly recommend taking a bicycle, an ample supply of water, and sunscreen.

After that trip, almost four months of nothing new until a snow storm in December brought a Pine Siskin and a Purple Finch to my deck to munch on some sunflower seeds. My final sighting for 2010 goes to a Northern Harrier spotted near Washington, GA, swooping and gliding along a pine forest near Hwy 17. The white patch above its tail gave it away.   

All of that made for a total of 26 birds for 2010.

I already have 2011 kicked off by sighting a Red-tailed Hawk munching on some varmint by the side of Hwy 180 near Vogel State Park (GA). I can't believe it has taken me a year and a half to finally spot one. This brings my list total to 66 birds since May 2009.

Double Knob South

Via Wagon Train Trail, June 21, 2008

Elevation Start: 1,800'
Elevation at Double Knob, south summit: 4,040'
Elevation gain: 2,240'

Time Line
Start at red gate behind Rollins Hall at Young Harris College
To Wagon Train Trail (30mins)
Spring at the head of Darr Cove (59mins)
Crest of Double Knob Ridge (1hr 10mins) - this is where you begin bushwhacking.
Found USGS marker at 3,596' el (1hr 35mins)
Double Knobs, north summit (1hr 52mins)
Double Knobs, south summit (2hrs 4mins)
Back to Parking Area (3hrs 26mins)

This trip includes 54 minutes of blazing your own trail through underbrush. Most of Georgia's 4000' peaks are not directly accessible by trail, and involve a bit of bushwhacking. Some bushwhacking trips are more adventurous than others. This one wasn't too terrible other than when a lone hornet drilled into the back of my right calf as I was making my way back down to the trail.

As I pushed my way past laurel and rhododendron bushes, along with the occasional  brier patch, I made my way up towards the summit. There is no particular method I use in bushwhacking. The idea is to simply keep going in the direction of up until the highest point is reached. Hopefully a purchase of a hand held GPS in the near future will be of great help for trips like this.

I ascended the north summit from which I could plainly make out the higher south summit. I hate to sound like a broken record on some of these "peakbagging" trips, but the view from either peak is negligible. Both are completely covered with trees. In the near future I plan to do this trip in the winter when the views are completely different than the full foliage of June.

As you can see, coming down is a bit easier than going up, as it took only 1hr 22mins to return to the parking area. The best time to use this trail is when Young Harris College is not in session. With the students gone, there is abundant parking.

Miller Trek Trail

Trailhead Arch

September 25, 2010

Starting Elevation: Miller Trek Trail Head 1,926'
Highest Elevation: 3,315 at Rocky Knob
Climb of 1,389' in the first 3 miles, mostly downhill back to trail head.

Time line
Start at trail head.
Right turn (15 mins) - first hard right off the blue blazed trail.
Pine thicket (19 mins) - after crossing the power cut.
Trail map sign (28 mins) - bear to the right at sign.
Small cove w/bridge (50 mins)
Cross over to south ridge of Rocky Knob (1hr 34mins) - Highest point on trail.
Long bridge (2hrs 11mins) - 100'+ of narrow deck that crosses boggy area.
Back to sign (2hrs 24mins)
Back to power cut (2hrs 39mins)
Trail intersection (2hrs 45 mins)
End back at trail head (approximately 3 hours)

In the mid 1990s, the state of Georgia decided it would be a good idea to build an 18-hole golf course and mountain resort near Young Harris. In addition to the main lodge, there are cabins dotting the hillsides, a spa, horse stables, and tennis courts, spread out over 500+ acres in an area that the Cherokee once referred to as "The Enchanted Valley". To me, the best features of the resort area are the 9 miles of hiking trails that meander through the mountain bogs and up on the ridges behind the main lodge.

The main trail is the Miller Trek Trail (in the process of being changed to lime green blaze trail markers) which begins near the main entrance to the resort at a parking area on the right. The trail head can't be missed as it is an elaborate rock and wooden arch. The trail is named after former Georgia Governor and U.S. Senator Zell Miller. You may remember him as the fellow that challenged Chris Matthews of MSNBC's Hardball to a duel on national television during the coverage of the 2004 Presidential campaign. That bit of craziness aside, he is a resident of Young Harris, went to college there, and is still a very active member in the community.

This trail has become on of my most frequented due to its close location to my home, and the fact that there is a nice loop hike that can be done in about an hour and ten minutes. Also, the two other nearby trails (Arkaquah, and the Wagon Train Trail) are butt kickers for the first 1-2 miles. Sometimes it's nice to walk in the woods without feeling like you might suffer a coronary in the first 1/2 hour. I take the dogs here at least once a week for a change of pace from the neighborhood roads.

On this day we tackled the entire loop trail which, according to the brochure, is 6.5 miles in length. This is a great trail to take dogs on, without having to carry extra water for them. There are many spring branches & creeks for them to drink freely. Just remember that their gut can take drinking from the stream, and yours can't!

Winter time, as with most every hike in North Georgia, is the best time to take in the mountain views. On the return trip, once you have crossed over to the south slope of Rocky Knob, you can see the blue of Lake Chatuge in the direction of Hiawassee, GA. There are no clearings with a stunning vista, but this trail provides a nice ramble through the woods, includes creek bottoms, ridge tops, and all areas in between.

Regarding wildlife, I have seen a black bear on this trail, near the pine thicket, and Deer are also a common sight. However, this day's trip didn't include any wildlife sightings. If you desire a shorter hike, follow the blue blazes on a 2 mile loop trail that includes educational markers about the mountain habitat. Or, do both!

Brasstown Bald via Arkaquah Trail 8/29/2010

TIME LINE

3:45 PM start, 2200' elevation
3:55 small spring (10mins)
4:54 Buzzards Roost Ridge overlook, 3640' elevation (1hr 9mins)
5:10 begin ascent from Cove Gap up to Locust Log Ridge (1hr 25mins)
5:25 begin descent from Locust Log Ridge (1hr 40mins)
5:33 rock seat at Low Gap, then ascent (1hr 48mins)
5:50 spring at rock formation on the north side of Blue Bluff (2hrs 5mins)
6:03 ridge with east view (2hrs 18mins)
6:30 rock pass through (2hrs 45mins)
6:35 slab on Chimneytop (2hrs 50 mins)
7:15PM arrive at parking area, 4,320; elevation (3hrs 30 mins)

This is one of my favorite trails in North Georgia. It may be the combination of the tough ascent up to Buzzards Roost Ridge mixed with the ancient Native American history of the Trackrock Gap petroglyphs. Also, the fact that the trail head is a mere 3 1/2  miles from my front door doesn't hurt.  The dogs and I have used it many times as a short workout hike, usually trudging up the hour or so that it takes to get to a fine view of the Plott Town and Jacksonville communities.

I first completed this hike to the top of Brasstown Bald on Easter in 2007. This is the first time since then that I have completed the trip all the way to the parking area, which lies .6 miles below the summit. So, if you're looking to make this your trail of choice for ascending Brasstown Bald, add in another 20mins to reach the summit. The Easter hike was an in and out hike that took eight and a half hours to complete. This time again, I had Jennifer pick me up at the parking area so I could enjoy the ride back down, not to mention that darkness would have swallowed me about halfway back.

Like so many of my hikes in this area, the number of people that you pass on the trail is minimal. This day was no exception as I passed a couple and their dog a mere 30 minutes into the hike. From that point on, it was just me and the dogs.

The first hour and nine minutes involved a climb of 1,440' to get up onto the Buzzard Roost Ridge where there is a vantage point from a cluster of boulders where I always like to take a short break. From here, the trail continues along a narrow ridge where you can spy the tower on Brasstown Bald through the treetops. It looks closer than the two hours and a bit that it will take to travel across the ridges and up and down the peaks on the way to the parking area.


In the winter, the views are certainly better than the curtain of green that covers the trees in the summer. Views to the west overlook the Track Rock, Town Creek, and Choestoe Valley areas of the county. I wish there were some bluffs, much like the one on top of Blood Mountain, that would provide a more open view.

Leaving Buzzard Roost Ridge, the trail drops down into Cove Gap, thus beginning a series of ascents and descents until you break out into the open on the rocky top of Chimneytop Mountain (another of the Georgia 4000' peaks). This is also a nice spot to sit and give your legs a rest. From here, the trail is fairly level, taking you through the lush rhododendron and laurel tunnel all the way to the parking area.

The sweat on my body becomes a cold dampness as I break into the open at 4,320' elevation, where even on a late August evening in Georgia the wind makes it cool enough that I'm glad for the fleece stowed away in my pack. I stroll to the far end of the lot near where Jacks Knob Trail comes in from the south. There is a nice view from the picnic area back to the north, where a family is enjoying a late picnic all the while fighting the battle to keep their plates and napkins from blowing away.

As the sun begins to drop behind the ridges to the west, my ride arrives, ending yet another great day of hiking in North Georgia.

Coosa Bald, March 15, 2008

Summit Elevation 4,280' - 11th highest in Georgia
Wolfpen Gap Elevation 3,140'
Elevation Gain 1,140'
Time to Summit - 55 minutes

There are a few different approaches to reach this summit. On this day, I chose the Coosa Backcountry Trail at Wolfpen Gap on Ga Hwy 180. Traveling north from this point, you head towards the summit of Coosa Bald. Traveling south you make your way up the steep and rocky trail towards Slaughter Mountain. If you are particularly ambitious, from Wolfpen Gap you can summit Coosa Bald, Slaughter and Blood Mountains all in the same day. The trail at this point is actually a combined trail including the Coosa Backcountry Trail and the Duncan Ridge Trail.

From Wolfpen Gap, the trail rises slightly then turns away from what was obviously the old path, as you could see the blue and yellow blazes continuing straight up the slope. Once in a while, the forest service decides that the old trail is becoming too eroded, thus a new pathway to give the old ground a chance to heal itself. To make sure that no one mistook the old trail for the new, piles of brush or dirt are placed to discourage hikers from following the path. However, at this point, the trees on the newer trail had yet to be adorned with their blazes of blue and yellow to tell me I was on the right path.

After 32 minutes of cutting back and forth (the new path utilizes the natural contour more than the old which appeared to travel straight up and over Wildcat Knob), the new trail re-connected with the old trail on the back side of Wildcat Knob, where the blazes came back into view. Just below this point, the trail intersects with a Forest Road before continuing up the hill to the steepest part of the climb. The trail at this point leaves behind the soft earth which is replaced by loose cobbles. A steady climb of about 17 minutes placed me at the intersection of the Coosa Backcountry Trail with the Duncan Ridge Trail. If you take this right turn, you will wind your way back down off of the slope and end up at W. Wolf Creek Road, heading in a direction toward Sunrise Grocery and GA Hwy 129.

My aim is to reach the summit, so I continue straigh ahead on the Duncan Ridge Trail. From this intersection it only took me 6 minutes to reach the summit, where there is a very small area of granite that provides a view to the west. Most noticeable about Coosa, like the other Balds, is that they aren't really bald. I assume that many years ago, when the names were assigned, the timber was stripped off the mountaintops thus giving them their names.

Currently there are many hardwoods atop Coosa which surely contributes to the lack of a vista in the summer. But, I am here without foliage and enjoy the views that can be seen through the trees. From the granite slab, the view is in the direction of Suches, GA, and to the left I can make out Slaughter and Blood Mountains, with the top of the latter obscured by clouds.

The wind picked up as I sat down on the rock to take a break. I notice a mountainous wave of clouds approaching from the west, covering far off peaks one by one. I knew before I began this hike that a storm front was approaching. I just thought that they would arrive later in the day.  In a matter of minutes, my hike in partly cloudy conditions becomes a near white out.

After quickly eating a banana, taking a couple of pictures, and situating my day pack, I re-trace my steps back down the mountain. Almost simultaneously, it began to lightly rain. A few yards later, I am shaken by a loud thunderclap. Great. I pick up the pace, figuring my car to be a much safer place than a ridge top. Three or four more thunderclaps and the rain intensifies, as my pace does accordingly. In all of natures wrath, I hear the distinct gobble of a Tom Turkey. I guess even a storm doesn't interfere with the task of impressing a hen.

I finally made it to my car, happy to be sheltered from the bad weather. The night before, a tornado interrupted the mens SEC Basketball Tournament by trying to rip the roof off the Georgia Dome. This day was a continuation of that weather pattern which ended up as the most tornado filled day in North Georgia history! Nevertheless, a great day for a hike.

Sweltering Summer

Even though the North Georgia mountain region is known for being an escape from the heat of the Piedmont, Sand Hills, and Coastal Plains regions of the state, this summer has seemed hotter than usual. Or, maybe as my body ages, it just doesn't handle the heat as well. Or, it's that extra 30 lbs I've managed to pack on since last summer.

Earlier in the season we had plenty of rain that managed to keep the air fresh and the temperatures down somewhat. But, for the past month it has been too hot for me to feel like doing anything beyond my never ending yard work.

My goal of attaining the summits of all of the 4000' peaks in Georgia requires bushwhacking, on many occasions, in order to reach the top. Doing this in the summer months involves a lot of contact with briers, which tend to win the battle against the flesh of my legs. I still have scars from the summer of 2008! This is an activity best left for fall and winter once the vegetation has died back a bit.    

Without any new ridge walking tales to tell, the next few posts are going to focus on hikes that I have taken and documented in the past three years. The majority of these took place in North Georgia, and include many of the 4000' peaks listed on peakbagger.com.

So, until I get back out there in real time, enjoy some history...coming soon!

Brasstown Bald

Since it's been almost two months since I've posted anything, I figured I better get something on here. Not a whole lot of ridge walking going on as I have been bogged down with some painting projects, getting my garden areas underway, and a four day excursion to the Shenandoah Valley and Washington, D.C.

On April 11, 2010, I did get a chance to hike with the super dogs, Rocket (L) and Tobey (R), up the Wagon Train Trail from Young Harris College to the top of Brasstown Bald. It was about a 6-mile excursion, and not wanting to take the time to hike back down the way we came, I arranged for Jennifer to meet us in the parking lot for a ride back home. It was an absolutely gorgeous day.

During the entire trek, that took about 4 hours, we passed one person on the trail. It was an interesting encounter. At around one mile from the parking area, around the bend came a fellow that was dressed head to toe in camouflage, including face paint. He was carrying what looked like a wooden bow with some arrows. Grinning like a jack-o-lantern, he commented, "Those are some nice dogs". I thanked him and kept heading up, in paranoid fashion waiting to hear the sound of an arrow slicing through the air just before it ripped into my back. Not this time, anyway. It was Turkey season, which if I had known this before, his presence wouldn't have seemed so odd.

I am going to try to share more of the informational aspects of my hikes as I post on here. As I'm hiking I like to make notes of interesting features or views and at what point they occur on the trail. I am a moderate to slow hiker, so feel free to use these as an informal guide depending on your own speed.

The following represents the time line of the hike:

9:15AM - Begin up gravel road at Young Harris College
9:32 - Large rock outcrop on the left.
9:43 - Reached the Wagon Train trail head.
10:17 - Spring branch at head of Darr Cove.
10:29 - Spine of Double Knob Ridge.
10:54 - Spring branch.
11:08 - Another spring branch (from here on to Buck Ridge, the trail frequently turned into a flowing branch. It has been a very wet year!)
11:38 - Spine of Buck Ridge.
11:55 - Great vista of the tower on Brasstown Bald (see photo at top).
12:20PM - Gap with a view to the East, overlooking Grass Branch Cove.
12:35 - Views to the NW.
12:49 - Gap with views of Chestnut Cove.
1:15 - Intersection with paved path that leads to the summit.
1:20 - Parking area.

The dogs and I laid down on a grassy area next to the parking lot, enjoyed some water and waited, while soaking up the sun, for our ride to arrive.

Our next trek will be up the Arkaquah Trail to the summit, again with a ride down. At some point later this summer, I hope to go up this trail and down the Wagon Train Trail in a one-day trip. It will be about 13 miles, and yes, I plan on being shuttled home after that one.

Trout Lily and Sweet Betsy Make Their Return

Springtime has taken over North Georgia. Beginning a few weeks ago I noticed in full bloom, the Daffodils and Redbuds. This week I have spied an explosion of color from Forsythia, Bradford Pear trees, Yoshino Cherry trees, and Japanese Magnolias, amongst others. At home, I have eagerly been watching to see if the many perennials that were planted last year would make their return.

Hyacinths, Tulips, Hostas, Cone Flower, Hydrangea, Rasberry, and Blackberry bush have all begun to poke their green heads out of the ground. Last year, we ordered a couple of Forsythias from the Arbor Day Foundation, and laughed when two sticks arrived in the mail. I know, what did I expect for less than $3 each? They were planted one on either side of the driveway with the expectation that we would be enjoying a beachball sized plume of yellow by the next spring.

Well, they really didn't grow at all over the summer or winter. In fact it got to the point that I just knew they were dead. I mean, they looked like lifeless twigs that had been haphazardly stuck into the ground. We also transplanted, from Mobile, several Cast Iron Plants late last summer. With the unusually cold winter that we've had, they all turned a sickly light brown color, and some of them simply laid down flat and gave up.

Low and behold, both of the Forsythia have new green buds (maybe they'll get plumes the size of a baseball), and a couple of the Cast Iron plants have new growth poking out near the base. I was very excited (it doesn't take much) at these revelations.

On the wild side of things, a true sign that spring has arrived in when the ground near the spring branch becomes covered with Trout Lilies and Sweet Betsy's. They are the first of the wildflowers to be spotted once winter has released its harsh grip.

Soon, the Mayapple and the Trillium will sprout, the trees will fill with leaves and the curtain will be drawn, shutting off my view of Brasstown Bald. Now is the time to dig out briers before they take over. It's time to mulch the flower beds. Before you know it, the vegetable gardening will begin, and none too soon. We are almost out of salsa.

Fall is my first love, but Spring is a very close second.