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Partners Below are the hiking partners referenced in my hiking adventures.
Ronald was the only one of my Sunday school students who agreed to backpack with me. Having been a Boy Scout, he possessed the necessary hiking skills to assist him with the experience. I backpacked with him at Long Hunter State Park in middle Tennessee.
Dan was one of Jennie's coworkers in 1994. An avid hiker and backpacker himself, he was fit and in good shape. We backpacked with him in the Cohutta Wilderness Area of north Georgia.
(Picture of Mattie with Brandy.) Bear is another one of Jennie's dogs who hikes with us from time to time. He is a Shar-Peis mix who looks like a small black bear. Unlike Brandy, Bear is a stout dog, although he has almost been grounded due to a serious case of arthritis.
Thirteen years ago in the fall of 1985, Jeremy and I set out on our first hiking / backpacking trip. This was soon after I lost exactly half my body weight—157 ½ pounds. I had gained back some of the weight, but I was still in great shape. I had always wanted to go backpacking, but my weight kept me from doing so prior to this time. Jeremy and I had no hiking skills whatsoever at this point. We attempted the Lower Cane Loop trail at Fall Creek Falls. We obtained our hiking permit at the park’s nature center, which I have kept all these years, parked my truck at the head of the park’s two overnight trails, and began our first backpacking experience. We made it to the first backcountry camping site without a hitch and joined several other backpackers who were also undertaking the trail. Somewhat tired from our first jaunt, we slept late into the next day, and we were the last party to leave the campsite. Just before descending into the gorge and about a mile or so from the campsite area, we came upon some trees that were naturally marked with white splotches similar to the trail blazes that we had been following. Because we were backpacking late in the fall, the foot path of the trail was completely covered over with leaves. We separated from one another just long enough to attempt the retracing of our steps. After an hour or so, we discovered some red blazes and started following them. These blazes took us away from the gorge and brought us into rougher and rougher terrain. Nonetheless, we followed them relentlessly until we reached a point where the trail made a seemingly impossible drop almost straight down. While surveying the situation, I slipped and fell onto a small ledge about five feet off the top of the ridge. A couple of feet further, I would have fallen an additional forty to fifty feet, probably to my death. In a panic I took my pack off and hoisted it up to Jeremy. With my partner’s assistance, I somehow managed to climb up and away from the ledge. At this point we determined that we had been following the boundary of the park instead of the trail. Nightfall was setting in, and we had to find a place to set up camp. Before we could manage to get our campsite secured, however, an unexpected rain came upon us and the temperature dropped considerably. We shared a small, inexpensive tent, and it leaked somewhat. Moreover, being the novice that I was, I had not even packed a spare set of clothing. We rationed our food and water as best as we could and retired for the night. Wet, near exhaustion, and scared, we did not get much sleep that night. The next morning we broke camp in the cold rain. We retraced our path to the best of our ability following the red blazes back down the steep terrain. The ground was saturated and muddy. Some of the slopes that we had backpacked the day before were now treacherously slick. In some places we even had to wrap cord around the trees and walk backward down to the bottom of the slopes. To make the situation even worse, between the cold and the dampness, our exhaustion and our nerves, we both became abruptly sick and near dehydration, Jeremy vomiting and I with diarrhea. Finally, we came to an old access road, and we followed it away from the gorge. With a few hours of hiking down the dirt road, we met the rangers who had been frantically searching for us. Relieved but fatigued we removed our packs, placed them in the back of the jeep and crawled aboard finally headed for civilization. The road was so narrow that we had to ride in reverse the majority of the drive out. We were such “green horns” that we refused to drink from a partially consumed coke despite the fact that were somewhat starved and thirsty. Upon making it back to the ranger station, we called our panic stricken family, rested up, and headed back to “home sweet home.” Amazingly enough Jeremy’s mother allowed me to take him out for another backpacking trip to Fall Creek Falls. In the following spring of 1986, we spent a week there backpacking, camping and day hiking. We backpacked both overnight trails for a total of 25 miles. We also hiked every day hiking trail for a total of over 36 miles all told. We rode down the bicycle trails, went paddle boating, and did everything else we could find to do in the park with the exception of horse back riding. And thus my love for hiking / backpacking was launched.
In May 1986, Jeremy and I set out for our third backpacking trip, which was on the Upper Cane Loop of Fall Creek Falls. The trail extended a total of 13 miles and included little more than forest. We mistakenly elected to venture past the first campsite that we encountered, and we barely made it to the second backcountry camping area before dark. After having hiked approximately 8 miles, Jeremy removed his pack and crashed. But nightfall was approaching, and we needed water in which to use for cooking. I hustled down the trail in an effort to intersect a creek that was marked on the trail map. On my hurried way to the creek, I was startled by a buck, which stood about 30 feet from me. He was a beautiful specimen with several points on his antlers. I think we must have surprised each other as he was not expecting me or I him. We both stood perfectly still for a few moments, and then he vanished into the thicket. When I finally arrived at the creek, I was unpleasantly surprised to see that the water was stagnant and contained bits and pieces of dried leaves and other forest sediment. Due to limited access, I was forced to remove my belt, attach it to my canteens, and lower them to the water from off a small bridge. This was an awkward process at best. I had to use several water purifying tablets in an attempt to make the water safe to consume. This was before the days of neutralizing tablets, and hence, the iodine left a nauseating taste to the water. Once back at the campsite, I woke Jeremy long enough to set up our tent and eat dinner. I made the mistake of using Sterno cans to boil our freeze-dried food. The Sterno was not sufficient to bring our food to a boil; therefore, our dinner was not adequately cooked. Consequently, the dinner tasted almost as bad as the water. This meal broke me from using Sterno for cooking and from using freeze-dried food for future trips. The next day we consumed the remainder of the awful tasting water while finishing our trek. As a result we both suffered from diarrhea for several days following the trip.
In the summer of 1990, Ronald and I backpacked the 11 mile Volunteer Trail at Long Hunter State Park, which parallels Percy Priest Lake. Normally, this trail is somewhat easy to hike; however, on this particular trip, the heat index topped off to around 100 degrees. We were not expecting this extreme heat wave. Had I been by myself, I would have headed back to the trailhead when the heat rose so unbearably high. But I did not want to disappoint Ronald. Further, I knew I would be hiking at a slow pace due to the extreme heat, and I did not want to hold him up. Knowing the trail was well-marked and that Ronald had experience as a Boy Scout, I sent him on up the trail ahead of me. That was mistake number 1. About 2 ½ hours into the trail, I collapsed as a result of the heat. I somehow managed to rise after a few minutes of rest, but I collapsed a second time about an hour later. Realizing the campsite was within an hour further down the trail, I managed to get back on my feet again and finish the trek. Afterward, I took a long rest break and then established camp. After dinner Ronald and I swam in the cool water of the lake. The water was quite refreshing, and I was under the mistaken belief I had regained my strength and would be okay. We retired for the night and all appeared to be well. But the next morning following breakfast, I became quite ill. Once again Ronald was anxious to move on down the trail, so I gave him my truck keys and sent him on ahead. This was mistake number 2. I knew before I headed out of the campsite I would be unable to carry out my backpack. So I hid the pack in some brush and headed down the trail with only water and a few other necessities. After around two hours of walking in the heat, I collapsed a third time. After remaining on the ground for quite some time, I realized I would not be able to finish the hike back to the truck without some desperate measure. Close to the water’s edge, I unloaded everything I possibly could get by without and headed for the water. In the process of swimming across the wide cove, the water rejuvenated me enough so that I was able to climb up the bank on the opposing shore and finish my hike. Wearily, I drove Ronald back to his house. Upon arriving at my home, I immediately headed for bed where I remained the next three days. My backpack was later retrieved by one of the park’s rangers; he had used a maintenance road to access it. I had obviously suffered from a serious case of heat exhaustion. This experience brought an end to my backpacking excursions during the hot summer months for several years to come.
In February 1993 Jennie, Mattie, Brandy and I made an overnight visit to the Charit Creek Hostel within the Tennessee side of Big South Fork. The access trail leading to the hostel consisted of a straight up and down trek. We had inquisitively visited the area prior to this experience once before and loved it. The hostel is a lodge in the middle of the woods that has no running water or electricity. Jennie and I saved our money to make the lesser expensive stay in which we provided our own bed linens and meals. We took the shortest route to the hostel, which is about 8/10 miles straight down. The access trail consisted of several switchbacks ensuring the safest possible journey down the steep slope. At the bottom of the trail, a stream of rushing water has to be crossed via rocks. Despite my best efforts, “Mr. Uncoordinated” that I am, I managed to slip off into the cold water. Jennie, on the other hand, skipped across with poise and grace. I had loaded Mattie down with a backpack of her own, and we had to carry her pack across by hand in order to coerce her into crossing over. Each room held 6 to 8 people. But because we had the dogs, we were given a room to ourselves. The room was complete with bunks and a wood burning stove including plenty of wood to spare. The lodge provided a kitchen in which to prepare our food (after the higher paying customers finished with their meals). We were also provided with cozy self-contained bathrooms. The ambience of the lodge was that of tranquility and solitude. It was a most pleasurable experience, a paradise of sorts. The only thing missing was a romantic interlude of intimacy. But Jennie was quick to remind me that we did not have our partners. And that was that. The evening brought about a chill in the air. Being the novice that I was in operating a wood stove, we must have gone through a half rick of wood trying to keep the room warm. I later learned that by keeping the door to the stove closed, we were losing all of our heat up the stove pipe. But we had our sleeping bags, and aside from being a little chilly, we were quite comfy. We let the wind whisking through the trees lull us to sleep. Indeed, we had spent a night in ecstasy. The next morning we rose, ate a good breakfast, and enjoyed the serenity of the surroundings. After absorbing as much of the enchanting experience as we could stand, we packed up our gear and headed out. Going down the access trail to the hostel was rough enough, but going back up was exhausting at best. And of course, in an attempt to avoid the slippery rocks that provided a bridge to the other side of the stream, I dropped off in a hole of ice cold water about three feet deep. Consequently, I wore saturated clothing all the way back up the ascent. But all in all, this was undoubtedly the best hiking adventure we have ever experienced. We left the hostel with a new sense of peacefulness.
In March 1993 Jennie, Mattie, Brandy and I backpacked the Savage Day Loop and North Plateau Trail to Hobbs Cabin. The cabin lies at the far end of the North Plateau Trail and North Rim Trail, and it is available on a first come, first serve basis. When we began the trek, we were the only ones headed for the cabin. The air was somewhat cool, and the cabin would provide a safe haven from the weather, so we thought. Normally, the hike is somewhat easy going; however, this day we hiked that trek entirely in the rain. In doing so we encountered several wet weather run off streams where my waterproofed boots proved not to be so waterproof. This is the trip that led to my purchasing Gore Tex boots for future outings. Within a mile or so of the cabin, another group of hikers overtook and passed us in a mad rush. We were frustrated in losing our attempt to have a dry place in which to rest. A little further down the trail, we encountered a stream too wide to cross without assistance. Wondering how the previous party managed to cross over the stream, we dragged a large limb across the two banks of the rushing water. Jennie and the dogs crossed over with no problems. However, just as I placed my foot on the other side of the bank, the limb broke dropping me into three feet of ice cold water. I had to remove my pack, and then Jennie awkwardly helped me out of the water. Cold, wet and tired, I pressed on until we finally arrived at the campsite. The cabin dwellers were cozily enjoying the warmth of their dry shelter heated by the cabin’s fireplace. But Jennie and I were forced to set up camp in the rain. I changed into dry clothes as soon as possible but remained shivering in the cold throughout the night never quite able to obtain warmth. The rain finally subsided just prior to bedtime. I was a bit frustrated and annoyed as every time I visited the outhouse, I was greeted by snorting sounds from our boorish neighbors. However, they were the least of my troubles, and I ignored them as best as I could. The rain had completely cleared away by the next morning. As a result of wearing completely saturated clothing in cold the night before, I became quite ill at the start of the gorge portion of the trail. I struggled with my pack the whole way back eating powered Gatorade for strength. However, the remainder of the trail only extended about six miles. Moreover, the scenic gorge overlooks of the North Rim Trail were quite spectacular, and they made the trek worthwhile. Struggling with my illness all along the way, we finally arrived back to our vehicle. This was the longest backpacking trip we had completed to date.
In May 1993 Jennie, Mattie, Brandy and I hiked the Fiery Gizzard Trail in the Grundy portion of the South Cumberland Recreation Area. The terrain consisted of loose rock throughout most of the trail making for a rough trek. In fact many hikers consider this to be the most difficult trail in Tennessee. The trek was one of the most rewarding hiking experiences I have endured in that I felt a great sense of accomplishment upon completing it. Despite the difficulties we encountered, the first portion of the trail paralleled a river, and we discovered several gorgeous waterfalls along the way. The raw beauty of this segment of the trail made the arduous excursion worth the effort. However, just prior to completing this longest section, I slipped on a large rock and seriously twisted my ankle. Miles from “nowhere” we were forced to continue on with our journey. I felt great pain with every step from that point onward. Just when I thought I could go no further, we encountered a long, steep incline. Wearily, I scaled the hill at a turtle’s pace, and upon reaching the top, we enjoyed a long break. The next portion of the trail was somewhat easy going, and it was a welcomed change of pace. However, after another four miles or so, we had to descend back down the other side, which was even steeper and more toilsome to tackle than the incline at the opposite end. I have always experienced more difficulty hiking down a steep hill as opposed to hiking up one, and with my injured ankle, this decent was a real chore. Once we finished hiking down the precipitous slope, we again encountered nothing but loose rock to finish out the trail. I hobbled along until finally succumbing to my agony and pausing for another break. At this point Jennie, the dogs and I were quite exhausted from our laborious excursion. In fact, the dogs were somewhat reluctant to resume when Jennie and I finally rose to complete the trek. We were forced to all but “drag” the dogs up the remainder of the trail. Upon arriving back to our vehicle, we all “crashed” with great relief.
In the summer of 1993, Jennie, Mattie, Brandy and I drove to the Prentice Cooper State Forest for a camping / day hiking trip. As we drove into the area, we noticed several parking spots that contained broken glass, and based on the amount evidenced, we ascertained the glass came from busted vehicle windshields. However, we did not pay much attention to this, and we pressed onward until we finally located a suitable place to establish camp. After setting up our tents, we headed off for a day hike. The trail paralleled a long ravine with scenic overlooks. The terrain was somewhat level, and the trail extended for just a few miles. Upon returning we ventured down the gravel access road adjacent to our campsite as we were unsatisfied with the brevity of our hike. Finally content with our walk, we headed back to camp just prior to sunset and prepared for the night. Well after dark our relaxation period was disturbed by two brazen men who drove up and sat in their car staring at us intently with their headlights shining brightly unto our campsite. Unsure of what action to take, we attempted to ignore them. They remained in their vehicle for quite some time apparently sizing up the situation. Finally, they turned their car around and drove away. Just as we thought we were “out of the woods,” the men returned about an hour later. Again, they sat in their car with their headlights focused on us. At this point Jennie and I were more than just concerned; we were somewhat apprehensive about the situation. We further determined that we were about to be accosted, but we had no real means of protection, no defense. We were like “sitting ducks” waiting to be waylaid. Finally, in a desperate attempt to deter them, I reached into my tent as if I was retrieving a rifle. They must have bought my ploy as they hurriedly turned their car around and drove off for a second time. Needless to say Jennie and I remained quite timid for the remainder of the night, but fortunately for us, the men never returned. The good Lord must surely have been with us during this trip. A few weeks following the outing, Jennie and I discovered the area had a reputation as a haven for vandalism and as a troublesome location for outsiders. We later determined to purchase a stun gun for protection in such instances, and we vowed never to return to that particular area. The troublesome experience has proven to be the most disturbing hiking venture we have thus far taken.
In January 1994 Jennie, Mattie, Brandy and I headed for the Tennessee side of Lookout Mountain. We hiked a couple of short but very icy and slippery trails. We were dressed warmly in layers and donned with our Turtle Fur fleece scarves. In fact, we were accused of looking like shepherds by some of the other hikers. But dressed to ramble, we could have cared less about our appearance. Jennie and I both owned relatively expensive aluminum staves that could be modified so as to contain sharp, spear-like ends. These staves were especially useful on the ice as they could be “rammed” into the ground for stability. However, Jennie had forgotten her staff this day, so I grafted one for her using a suitable limb. Notwithstanding, the trails were so slick that we literally had to crawl down portions of them. Normally, Jennie is quite graceful at crossing creeks by accessing large rocks for passage. However, despite the fact that I had loaned her my spear-tipped staff for stability, she slipped off one of the ice-covered rocks into the frigid water. Of course, we were prepared for such calamities as we always carried extra socks with us, so she was able to change into dry ones on the trail. I, myself, somewhat clumsy and uncoordinated, seldom attempted to cross the rocks that offered passage through a creek but rather took my chances by stepping through shallow pockets of the water. I was fortunate on this occasion as the water did not overflow the tops of my boots. Walking on these icy trails was quite challenging but also rewarding at the same time. Accordingly, this was one of our more memorable day hiking experiences.
I reflect back on this instance often as it is a belly buster now, but it wasn’t so funny at the time. In the winter of 1994, Jennie, I and our two dogs, Mattie and Brandy, were hiking on the snow covered O & W Bridge Trail at Big South Fork during a very frigid day. Neither of us has ever been able to afford specialty outdoor clothing as it is so expensive. To survive we use the “layers” approach. This was during my “hot natured” days. Nonetheless, the temperature was so cold that I used long johns as a second layer for my bottom half. About two miles into the trail, which parallels a river, I told Jennie I was getting so hot I could no longer stand the extreme warmth and, consequently, the excessive sweating. We were near some boulders adjacent to the trail, so I walked behind one to remove the long johns. I was standing on my hiking boots to keep from standing in the snow butt naked from the waist down in the freezing cold when Mattie rounded the corner to check on me. At first glance she commenced to growling ferociously as she obviously did not recognize me. I guess she thought I had done something to her master or at least was a threat to him. My first thought was, “oh shit, I’m about to be attacked and mauled by my own dog!” Of course, I was somewhat defenseless standing there naked in the snow. I frantically hollered at Mattie several times until she finally recognized I was, in fact, her master. She looked at me as if to say, “You fool, why are you standing there in the cold with your clothes off?” Needless to say I finished redressing as soon as possible and resumed my trek on down the trail.
In the summer of 1994, Jennie, Mattie, Brandy and I headed for Fall Creek Falls during a heavy rain. In fact, I drove to Beechgrove to meet Jennie in the rain; we hitched her pop-up trailer to my truck in the rain; and we hiked in a downpour. When we arrived at Fall Creek Falls, the weather had been so bad the park was somewhat deserted. We initially had one entire campground to ourselves. Fortunately for us the rain discontinued just long enough for us to set up the pop-up. We positioned the small trailer near the campground’s bathhouse thinking we would enjoy a peaceful and restful night with the convenience of a bathroom just outside our door. However, not long before engaging in our hike, a Boy Scout troop drove up and established camp within a few yards from us—so much for a peaceful evening! Donned with our ponchos, we headed out for the trail, which needless to say, was quite soggy and muddy. Only a couple of real dummies could find pleasure in such an outing, but we did enjoy our trek, nonetheless. The main waterfall was quite spectacular. An almost unbelievable amount of water was rushing down the side of the gorge. Unfortunately, we did not have a waterproof camera to capture the awesome sight. But it will forever remain in our memories. We eventually headed back to the pop up with saturated clothing. We could only laugh about our foolishness in the matter. And, of course, our neighbors kept us awake into the night between their frolicking and their use of the bathhouse as shelter. Nevertheless, when we were able to sleep, Jennie and I rested soundly with the thought of that mighty rush of water impressed in our minds.
On Wednesday, January 6 through Monday, January 11, 1995, Jennie and I took three days off from our jobs, and combined this time with the weekend resulting in what we thought would be a five-day hiking getaway. Excitedly, we drove the 3 1/2 hours through snow to reach Big South Fork. By the time we arrived at our destination, sundown was nigh at hand. Nonetheless, we decided to walk down a portion of an ice-covered trail to kick off the extended trip. We used the spear portion of our staves for stability, but the trek was still quite chancy. Just before time to head back to the truck in avoidance of total darkness, I unknowingly placed my right foot on a large ice-covered rock and took a hard fall on my rear end. Luckily, the fall was broken to some degree by my aluminum staff, which in turn became quite bent out of shape. Jennie gave me her staff so that I could hobble out of the woods and off the trail. However, I was in excruciating pain. I had literally obtained “a pain in the ass.” Once back at the lodge, I took a long, hot sitz bath, which seemed to help ease the discomfort for a period of time. Determined not to let this occurrence spoil the remainder of our trip, I would go on to limp approximately 25 additional miles over the balance of our trip. The following day we hiked approximately 6 miles down the Colditz Cave Loop and the Middle Creek Nature Trail. Both of these trails were somewhat ice-covered, and I experienced agonizing pain given the fact that this was the day immediately following my fall. I would rate both trails as moderate. My hobbling gait slowed us down quite a bit, but we still enjoyed the excursion. That night back at the lodge, I tried my best to talk Jennie into taking a picture of my bruised, black and blue backside. However, she was uncooperative. Living up to my reputation for a “strange” sense of humor, I even attempted to take the picture myself for my own record, but I was unsuccessful. On Friday Jennie and I hiked 6.6 miles to encompass the John Litton Farm Loop, which I would rate as moderate, and the 2.6 mile Sunset Overlook Trail, which I would rate as easy to moderate. Again, despite my pain and hobbling, we had a great time together. The Farm Loop in particular offered a diversity of terrain. Saturday proved to be an exciting day as we hiked 6 miles up the Angel Falls Overlook Trail and another couple of miles up and back down the Leatherwood Ford Overlook Trail. By this time the weather had taken a turn for the better, and the temperature was much more pleasant. The Angel Falls Overlook Trail was exceptionally enjoyable and challenging. The trail extends up a long, steep incline that includes slippery and somewhat dangerous cliffs. In fact, parts of the trail contain cable for safety’s sake. Once at the top, we witnessed a beautiful overlook giving a breathtaking view of the river and surrounding woods below. We could see a significant span outward, and we viewed hikers embarking upon other trails from the distance. The Sunset Trail wasn’t as spectacular, but it, too, was enjoyable; I would rate this second trail as easy to moderate. Finally, Sunday we attempted the Honey Creek Pocket Wilderness Trail, which is about 5 miles in length and covers moderate to very rough terrain. The Tennessee Trails Association ranks this trail as the most difficult in Tennessee. I would likewise rate it as strenuous. By the time we arrived at the trail, we were pressed for time. Thus we decided to attempt a shortcut. We made the oversight of not reading our trail book’s description of the trail and decided to hike a portion of it backwards. We later discovered that this was a big mistake. We headed down the trail excited about the surrounding beauty of the region. The first mile was somewhat easy going. However, we soon encountered an area in which we were forced to crawl under an extensive area of rock. Jennie had to carry her small dog, Brandy, through the opening, and she seriously nicked her eye in the process. After this point the trail became more and more difficult to traverse. We finally came to a creek bed where the trail seemingly ended. We tried in vain to scale the bank but finally retreated. In doing so we became seriously lost. We made an uphill jaunt and intersected another section of the trail, which zigzags back and forth through a relatively small section of acreage. However, at this point darkness was setting in, and we were still bewildered. I mentioned to Jennie that we needed to locate cover, as we would most likely be forced to spend the night on the trail. Jennie frantically continued down the trail attempting to catch her bearings. When she finally succumbed to the reality of the situation, her anxiety heightened until she began to cry. I must say that I was scared myself, but I knew we had to seek shelter before nightfall. We found, what seemed at the time, a good place to establish camp, which was adjacent to a rock wall. I tied my two-sided emergency tent to rocks at each end, and we consumed what little food we had remaining saving some for the dogs. Soon after eating we retired for the night within our emergency space blankets. Huddled close together we attempted to conserve body heat. Jennie also used Brandy for the same purpose. I tried to coax my dog, Mattie, to lie beside me for the same exchange of body heat, but for whatever reason, she refused. We were laying on a rock surface, and the longer we lay there the colder we became. We were both shivering profusely when we finally determined that hypothermia was sure to set in should we remain on the ground much longer. Wearily, we rose and started a small fire. Jennie stumbled across several long stalks of what we now believe to be rhododendron that caused the fire to burn intensely. At first, I attempted to stay warm by standing near the fire taking in the heat. But when Jennie demanded my participation, I moved my weary rear end and started pulling up more and more stalks. We burned that plant all night long maintaining a blazing fire. Fortunately for us the temperature never reached much below 50 degrees. When morning finally arrived, we were both exhausted from the ordeal. Moreover, I became quite ill to the extent that Jennie had to carry my pack most of the way back to the truck. The owner of the lodge where we had been staying notified the park rangers that we were missing for the night. As we drove back through the park, the rangers flagged us down to confirm that we were the ones who had been lost. They were already in the process of assembling a team to walk down the trail in search for us. The good Lord must have been watching over us during this calamity. I arrived back in Nashville just in time to act as technical support for an evening class where I worked.
In the fall of 1995, Jennie, Mattie, Brandy and I backpacked the South Loop of the Red Leaves Overnight Trail at Natchez Trace State Park in west Tennessee. This was after a serious ice storm that had taken place the previous January. The storm downed many trees across the state, and Natchez Trace was no exception. We spent most of the day walking over, under and around fallen trees as best as we could. All of this extra walking was somewhat exhausting. When we finally arrived at the Cub Creek Lake Campsite just 2.5 miles into the trail, the area was in shambles. Consequently, we decided to set up camp on the shore of a nearby lake immediately off a gravel access road. Spotting a park ranger in the distance, we hurriedly set up our tents. Sure enough, not long after the tents were up, the ranger drove to us and informed us that we were camping illegally. However, since we had already set up our campsite at that point, he decided to allow us to stay. After dark, I decided to take a swim in the cold lake donned only with my underwear. When I first plunged into the lake, the cold water took my breath away. But being the lover of cold water swimming I am, I soon adjusted to the chilly water temperature. I had a very relaxing time as I swam to the other side of our cove. Afterward, Jennie and I retired for the night. Then around midnight I awoke to the fierce growls of Mattie, my dog and faithful companion. I hurriedly opened my tent to investigate why she was growling so intensely, and I was surprised to see two men approaching our campsite from a distance. The closer the men came toward us, the more Mattie growled. I hollered at her a couple of times, but she was seriously in her attack mode. When they were within 30 feet from our tents, Mattie started toward the men as if she was ready to charge. They finally came to their senses, retreated back to their vehicle, and drove away. We never figured out their intentions, but had Mattie not been with us on the trip, the men would have been upon us without warning. We determined from this trip that we would never again camp near an isolated access road without the presence of other people.
In early January 1999, Jennie, Mattie, Brandy, Bear, and I headed for Frozen Head State Park early on a Saturday. Some of the roads along the way were slick from a light snow the night before, but our minds were enthralled on the experiences to come. We were the first hiking party to arrive in the park with few to follow. Despite the bitter cold, we were both dressed quite warmly in our many layers of clothing. We started out hiking the Emory Gap Trail, which was an easy 1 mile jaunt up a gradual incline. The trail included many fallen trees and limbs, and it was wet and muddy from a previous melting snow. We encountered 3 beautiful waterfalls along the way, which emptied into a narrow, roaring stream. About half way back down, we started up the Panther Branch Trail, which consisted of somewhat moderate terrain but steep ledges along the way. This trail was icy and slick, and we soon retreated back to the truck. The dogs had started accumulating ice between their toes, so our decision to retreat had proven to be a good one. Once back at the truck, we ate lunch and headed for our hotel in Oneida. Upon arriving in Oneida, darkness was setting in and the roads were becoming slick with snow, so we decided to head for the hotel in an attempt to avoid a hairy situation. On Sunday morning the temperature dipped down to around 15 degrees. Nonetheless, the high was predicted to reach 30-35 degrees; again, we dressed warmly in layers and made an early start for the Bandy trailhead at Big South Fork. Driving through snow covered roads, we were the first party to arrive at the trailhead, and we were also one of the few parties to arrive at all that day. We decided to hike the John Litton Farm Loop in which the terrain is moderate. The trail is actually 5.9 miles in length, but from the parking area to the trailhead is 0.4 miles down and back making the total trek 6.6 miles. This trail was also snow and ice-covered, which presented somewhat of a challenge (as well as more fun). Shortly after we began the trek, we had to walk down snow covered ladders. Luckily, the dogs found another route down although Jennie’s small dog, Brandy, had to be carried. At one point I was forced to remove my pack, drop it down a short, icy embankment, drop my staff down the embankment, and slide down on my butt and back under a large ice-covered, fallen tree. We then had to walk over rocks that were completely covered over with ice. The ground was so slick that my wooden staff slid around on it. I was forced to hold on to a rock wall with one hand, attempt to use my staff for stability with my other hand, and pit my feet against jutting rocks one foot at a time. What a hair-raising experience! About 4 ½ miles into the trail, we finally reached the farmhouse. However, we were not able to stop and rest for long as I had promised Teresa that I would be back home by no later than 7:00pm, which had put us on a tight schedule. Following the experience with the icy embankment, Brandy was quite timid such that Jennie had to carry her across water run off areas as well as up a 7 foot flight of stairs. To be a “small” dog, Brandy weights approximately 35 pounds, and Jennie was near exhaustion after carrying her up the slick stairs. Consequently, she sent me on ahead of her while we finished climbing up the inclines. When we reached the truck about 4 ½ hours after we began the trek, Jennie and I were quite relieved as both of us had bone spurs that made our heels somewhat painful, not to mention Jennie’s sore ankle. But when all was said and done, Jennie and I were quite exhilarated from our excursion that day.
My vacation started on Saturday morning, Mach 13, 1999. I excitedly drove to Jennie’s house in the sleet. By the time I reached her house, the sleet had changed over to rain. We drove to the Stone Door vicinity of the South Cumberland Recreation Area and hiked the 2.9 mile Laurel Trail and the 3.2 mile Big Creek Rim Trail, both at the top of the gorge, mostly in the rain. Donned with a Gore-Tex cap, a backpacker’s poncho, Windstopper gloves, nylon “over” pants, and Gore-Tex hiking boots, I remained quite dry despite the weather. The terrain was somewhat easy going. The Laurel Trail strictly consisted of forest without any scenic views. However, my hiking experiences with Jennie are always rewarding and therapeutic making the effort quite worthwhile. The trail ended at a backcountry campsite where we rested briefly. From the campsite we embarked upon the Big Creek Rim Trail; this paralleled the gorge and provided beautiful overlooks all along the way. At this point the rain had subsided making the trek even more enjoyable. I was really pleased with my new hiking boots as they held me firmly to the slick rocks. Despite the shallow change in elevation of these two trails, an old knee injury came back to haunt me during the trek. However, the pain was miniscule in comparison to the Stone Door itself. On Sunday morning, Jennie and I headed for Cloudland Canyon in north Georgia. There we hiked the West Rim Trail and tacked on some connector trails to make a total hike of approximately 5.75 miles. The terrain on this trail was moderate. The early section of the loop included some breathtaking sights overlooking the town of Trenton below. We made time to explore the walk-in campsites at the far end of the trail. Cloudland is unique in that the park provides rustic but accommodating camping spots that extend in a circle about half a mile in length divided by a running stream. A modern bathhouse, normally only seen in less primitive camping areas, is also provided. The tent camping sites make the area quite desirable for those like me who prefer a bit of seclusion in their camping experience without requiring one to backpack for several miles. The remainder of the loop extended down a scenic canyon in which the previous rain had left an awesome smoky effect. The sound of the rushing water below made for a very peaceful escape, and the only rain encountered on this trip took place within the last 30 minutes of the hike. Unlike the previous day, this rain was bitter cold, and it feel in torrents. We were somewhat relieved to see the truck at the end of our journey that day. Tuesday was an action packed day. I awoke at 4:00am excited about drafting this new chapter of my hiking journal, which I began 2 hours later. I then drove to Montgomery Bell State Park where Mattie and I hiked approximately 8 miles. The terrain of the majority of Montgomery Bell’s trails is moderate. Forgetting my lunch that day, I was forced to rely on 2 Snickers bars to sustain me during the hike. While I certainly relish the time Jennie or Doris and I spend together on the trail, I have also found that hiking solo can be most rewarding as was the case that day. Indeed, hiking alone almost always renders a spiritual experience in itself. Hiking during the middle of the week at that time of year, I never encountered another single hiker along the way. Normally, I am not much of a dancer. However, I danced ungracefully for several minutes while hiking on wet, slippery leaves in the low-lying areas of the park. About midway through the trail, Mattie and I were surprised by 6 deer, which split up and veered off in 2 different directions. We must have been up wind of the deer as they are seldom encountered when hiking with 1 or more dogs. Shortly afterward, my feet starting aching profusely to the degree that I decided to access a connector trail heading to the Woodland campsite for relief. There I removed my boots and massaged my irritated feet. I had elected to wear lesser expensive socks on this trail, and I could feel the difference. Montgomery Bell offers 3 backcountry campsites, all with an outhouse and three-sided shelters that sleep up to 8 people each. At his particular campsite, I noticed an accumulation of aluminum food containers. This left me disgusted as inconsiderate backpackers who refuse to carry out their non-burnable trash always irritate me. Mattie and I reached the Hall Springs campsite about 1 ½ miles further up the trail. Immediately following, I was forced to walk 6 feet across a stream along slippery, submerged rocks. Even while standing on the rocks, the water was at least 4 inches deep. However, unbelievably enough, I was able to cross the stream without getting my feet wet. Considering my normal lack of balance and coordination, this was somewhat of a feat for me to accomplish. My energy level tapered off quickly after this point, and my pace slowed considerably to the degree of about 1 mile an hour. Even so this solo hike proved to be an extremely exhilarating experience. Friday, Mattie and I left the house around 7:00am headed for Big South Fork country. We arrived at the Leatherwood Ford Trailhead 3 hours and 20 minutes later. Anxious to get started, Mattie and I embarked up the O & W Bridge Trail. I made the mistake of leaving behind my staff, which I later regretted. This trail is 4.6 miles roundtrip and is considered to be moderate in difficulty. It is a good little trail to get your blood circulating after a long drive. Paralleling the river and winding around massive boulders, the trail offers scenic views along the way. Shortly after starting up the trail, I encountered some other hikers walking in my same direction. I do not mean to appear unfriendly, but when I am hiking solo, I do not appreciate walking in close proximity to other hikers. Fortunately for me they were walking lackadaisically, and I was able to pass them quickly leaving them far behind. About half a mile into the trail, I did meet one gentleman walking toward me with whom I did strike up a conversation. He was a local, and he related several interesting trails for me to hike. He was also quite knowledgeable about the history of the area, and I found the 20 minute conversation with him to be interesting and enlightening. He mentioned that he had lost from 230 pounds down to 220 pounds. Of course, I could not help but mentioning the fact that I had lost from 353 pounds down to 270 pounds over the past 5 ½ months. We parted company, and I continued on up the trail. An hour so later, I tripped while walking up a steep incline and slammed my previously injured knee down on a large rock, but fortunately for me, no harm was done. Shortly afterward, I pulled out my butt cloth, a piece of heavy gauge plastic 30 inches long by 18 inches wide, and sat down on a large rock for 15 minutes or so to eat lunch, which I shared with Mattie. Among other food items, I ate a couple handfuls of my homemade trail mix, a concoction consisting of peanut covered M&M’s, yogurt raisins, pumpkin seeds, sunflower seeds, Brazil nuts, cashews and raisins. This high carbohydrate mixture provides sustaining energy that is necessary for the duration of a hike. The sound of the rushing river and the hammering of a woodpecker added to the ambience of the restful period. I finally reached the O & W Bridge and proceeded to walk across it. The bridge consisted of 6 foot sections of lumber leaving 1 to 2 inch |
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Brandy was one of
Jennie's dogs who hiked with us in the 1990's. She was a hefty
miniature Schnauzer who
weighed in at a whopping 35 pounds. However, Brandy always led the
"pack" on our hiking outings. She passed away in 2000 after
tragically getting into poison.