HOME ALONE

Christy left me home alone for Thanksgiving. Once again she traveled to Cozumel, Mexico, to compete in an Ironman. I went with her last year, and cheered her on as she completed her first Ironman triathlon. This year I stayed home and let her mother go in my place. It was disappointing missing the trip, but I enjoyed a quiet weekend on my own.

We had Thanksgiving dinner with Christy’s family at her sister’s house on Wednesday evening. On Thursday I dropped Christy and her mom off at the airport. By the time I returned home, I had 4 days ahead of me without any significant obligations.

I took it easy on Thursday and watched it rain. I didn’t want to lie around the house all weekend though. Instead, I decided to do a little car camping and dayhiking in the Nantahala National Forest. My plan was to camp at the Standing Indian campground, or stay at a primitive (free) site nearby. Initially I thought I had my friend Dave talked into joining me, but he must’ve seen a weather forecast. Although the rain was expected to move out on Friday morning, temperatures each night were expected to bottom out in the low 20’s.

I got a fairly early start Friday, as it’s a long drive to Franklin, NC. I drove through rain all the way to Asheville before reaching the far side of the storm. Since the weather looked marginal at best, I decided to do a few short waterfall hikes. I consulted the Kevin Adams guide, and found several waterfalls listed near Franklin that I’d never been to. First on my agenda was an obscure waterfall on Indian Camp Creek. I followed Kevin’s directions past the Franklin airport (yes, there really is one), but things got confusing a few minutes later. Kevin’s directions say to follow Olive Hill Road to the trailhead at the end. However, Olive Hill Road now ends at an intersection with Upper Burningtown Road. Apparently the road names were changed at some point. I followed a road that might’ve been a continuation of Olive Hill once upon a time. I drove for a couple of miles before the road literally ended in someone’s barn.

This didn’t seem right, so I doubled back. I thought about giving up, but instead I decided to try Upper Burningtown. This one did eventually turn to dirt before ending at a gate. This matched Kevin’s description, so I let the dog out and gathered my gear for the short hike to the falls.

There was a pickup truck at the trailhead, and since hunting season had started, I attached an orange vest to my pack and another to Boone’s pack. We headed into the woods, and crossed a creek a short distance from the parking area. We eventually found our way onto the correct path, which led into the valley of Indian Camp Creek. The trail proved to be rather difficult to follow, thanks to an endless array of fallen trees. Luckily, the hike to the falls is less than a mile.

Once the waterfall came into view I dropped off the trail and headed down towards the creek. This wasn’t any more difficult than hiking the trail, and I reached the base a few minutes later. The waterfall was decent, but the overall scene didn’t excite me that much. The fall color was long gone (even the leaves on the ground were brown), and the water flow wasn’t very strong despite the recent rain. I took a few photos there before starting the arduous hike back to the car.

I headed back towards Franklin, but made a brief diversion to check out two waterfalls on Burningtown Creek. They are on private property, and sneaking in for a quick peek is definitely not an option! The property is heavily posted, and there is a house on the hillside right next to the main falls. The good news is that Burningtown Falls is visible from the road in the winter. The view isn’t ideal, but it was still enough to make me say “Oh wow” when it first came into sight. I took a quick photo through the trees for documentation purposes before heading on up to the upper falls. This one isn’t as exciting, although it is easier to see being right next to the road.

I headed to Franklin, where I briefly got lost thanks to Google. I eventually found my way to 64 west and on to Wayah Road. My next stop was at Rufus Morgan Falls. When I got out of the car, it was noticeably colder than it had been an hour earlier at Indian Camp Creek. In fact, each stop I made that afternoon seemed significantly colder than the previous one. A cold front was moving in, promising an interesting night for camping.

Boone and I hiked the ½ mile loop trail that leads to the falls. Rufus Morgan Falls is on a fairly small creek, but it’s a nice waterfall. I liked it a good bit more than Indian Ford Falls, and the hike was much easier, too.

From there, I continued on up the road a couple of miles and made a quick hike to a waterfall on Shot Pouch Creek. This one was actually nicer than expected. Some of the downfall that used to cover it has been washed away. The walk to it only took 5 minutes, so even though it wouldn’t be worth a special trip, it was worthwhile to visit since I was nearby.

At that point I considered continuing on up to Wayah Bald. However, dark, heavy clouds were still hanging around. I didn’t think there’d be much to see up there. I headed back down the mountain, but made one more stop. This time I did another short hike to 2 small waterfalls on Camp Branch. Camp Branch is a bigger stream than the others I visited, and the waterfalls are nice despite being fairly small. Unfortunately, both had large fallen trees mucking up the view. I didn’t even bother taking photos for documentation purposes, as the deadfall was too distracting to make a respectable photo.

By that point it was late in the afternoon and I was eager to find a campsite before dark. I returned to highway 64 and continued on to the Standing Indian Campground. I bypassed the official campground though, and continued on down forest road 67 in hopes of finding a primitive site. I prefer those types of campsites, as I can let Boone run free and save some money. I drove several miles, passing a horse camp, before spotting a pulloff on the right. Down below the road was an attractive site. It was within earshot of the Nantahala River, but high enough above it to avoid the cooling effect of the water. I immediately began unpacking my gear and hauling it down to camp.

Boone approved of the campsite. He spent the next hour running around while I unloaded the car and set up camp. Later he got agitated by an owl hooting nearby. Each time the owl hooted, Boone barked in response. This was amusing at first, but I was really glad that it didn’t go on all night.

I had leftover black-eyed pea tacos for dinner and enjoyed a modest campfire. I actually managed to fall asleep in front of the fire despite the plunging temperature. I eventually found my way to the tent, where Boone was waiting for me. I wrapped him up in a heavy blanket I’d brought and snuggled into my sleeping bag. We slept fairly well, though Boone must’ve gotten cold late at night. At one point he tried to weasel into my sleeping bag with me! Unfortunately for him, there just isn’t room in my bag for me and an 80 pound dog.

CHUNKY GAL

Boone got me up at first light on Saturday. I had big plans for the day, so an early start was advantageous. First we headed down the road a couple of miles to the trailhead for Big Laurel Falls. I parked there, and descended the steep trail down to Mooney Creek. It was maybe 20 degrees at the parking area, but it was noticeably colder down by the water. I was moving quickly as I crossed the bridge over the stream and found my way to the trail up Kilby Creek. I arrived at the base of Big Laurel Falls a few minutes later.

Unfortunately, the only decent angle for photos was from the other side of the creek. I could’ve rock hopped Kilby Creek in waterproof boots, but foolishly I’d worn running shoes for this short warm up hike. I didn’t want to soak my shoes, but I did have a pair of water shoes in my pack. I looked at that icy water and contemplated how badly I wanted a photo of Big Laurel Falls.

Stubbornly, I switched to my water shoes and waded the creek. This only required a few steps, but it didn’t take long for my brain to go numb! Once I reached the far side, my only thought was to hurry up and take my photos so I could get back to the car. That’s what I did, too. It was a relief to get in the car and crank the heat up.

I returned to camp and made an egg and cheese sandwich on a bagel. Then it was time for the main event of the day. My goal was to hike the western-most section of the Chunky Gal Trail to the summit of Tusquitee Bald. I’d hiked to Tusquitee Bald back in 2004 as part of 3-day backpacking trip on the Rim Trail. This time I’d approach it from the opposite direction. I was looking forward to revisiting Tusquitee, which is obscure but extremely scenic.

I drove out to highway 64 and headed towards Hayesville. From there I followed directions in my guide to the Chunky Gal Trail to the Bob Allison Campground. This involved lots of back roads, and the drive from my campsite took a full hour. I eventually found my way to the campground, which appears to have been abandoned. It looks like it is still possible to camp there, but there are no facilities outside of a few picnic tables. Even the outhouses mentioned in my guidebook are long gone.

I parked where the Chunky Gal Trail crosses the road adjacent to Big Tuni (not Tuna) Creek. From there, Boone and I headed upstream. We rock hopped the creek five times, and managed to avoid getting wet despite lots of slippery rocks. After the 5^th crossing we finally began the switchbacks leading up to Tusquitee Bald. At this point we only had about 2 miles to go to reach the summit. Unfortunately, I’d have to climb 2000’ over that span.

The rest of the trail was generally steep, with some exceptionally steep sections sprinkled in for good measure. On a couple of occasions I wondered how I’d get back down in all of those leaves without killing myself. The forest was quiet and pleasant, and featured quite a few Paper Birch trees. It was surprising to see Paper Birch that far south.

I crested an unnamed knob, plunged into a gap, and then began the final climb. I reached the small meadow on Tusquitee Bald a bit after noon. The sun was shining on the bald, and the view from there was incredible. It extended from Chatuge Lake and the high peaks of north Georgia to the southwest to Nantahala Lake and Wayah Bald to the east. I also spotted Standing Indian, Mount Albert, Silers Bald, and Rabun Bald from my perch. Far in the distance to the east I could make out the cliffs of Whitesides Mountain. I was in the southwest corner of the state, and I could see peaks east of Highlands! I can’t remember the last time I saw a day this clear in the southeast. That cold front may have caused some discomfort, but it sure did a nice job clearing things out.

I had lunch on Tusquitee Bald before extending my hike. I descended steeply to a junction with the Rim Trail. The Rim Trail follows a series of ridges around the valley of Fires Creek. First I decided to hike the Rim Trail west to Potrock Bald. I reached the summit meadow about 30 minutes later. Potrock Bald was a bit disappointing, as the stunning view I remembered from 6 years earlier was partially obscured by young trees. Chatuge Lake and the high peaks of northern Georgia are still visible from here, but the vista isn’t as breathtaking as it once was.

I doubled-back, and stopped at Potrock Bald’s namesake rock on the way back. The pot rock is a table sized rock with a deep depression carved in the center. Some people believe that it was carved by the Cherokee. I don’t know if that is true, but Boone was certainly intrigued. The depression was full of rainwater, but was frozen over. I broke up the ice with my stick so he could get a drink. Instead of drinking though, he was more interested in the ice. Eventually he pulled a huge chunk of ice out of the hole. I let him chew on it for a few minutes before we headed back.

It was only mid-afternoon when we returned to the Chunky Gal intersection. From there, I decided to follow the Rim Trail in the other direction, past Signal Bald. We passed through tunnels of Rhododendron before finally reaching a rock outcrop with a grand view north and east. From that vantage point I could see Cheoah Bald, the Joyce Kilmer Wilderness Area, and the Smokies. I spent a few minutes enjoying this view before heading back to the Chunky Gal Trail. We descended by the same route, and returned to the car around 4:30.

On the way back to camp I noticed that the sun was setting in my rearview mirror. As luck would have it, I was approaching an official scenic overlook on highway 64. I pulled in just in time to see the sun setting behind the mountains I’d just finished hiking. The timing was great, even though the overlook itself is beginning to get overgrown.

I returned to camp and made pasta for dinner. I was out of firewood, so I went to bed a little earlier. That seemed like a good idea though, as I planned to get up for sunrise on Sunday.

PICKENS NOSE, FAT ALBERT & BIG BUTT

My alarm went off at 6am. I spent the next five minutes working up the motivation to abandon my sleeping bag for the pre-dawn cold. I knew sunrise wouldn’t wait for me though. I dressed in the tent before emerging into the icy air. Taking the frost-covered tent down was miserable, as it just wasn’t possible with gloves on. Once again it was a relief to get in the heated car.

I drove up FR 67 past the trailheads for Big Laurel Falls and Mooney Falls. I continued past the A.T. and on to the trailhead for Pickens Nose. Pickens Nose has been on my to-do list for years. For one thing, I’d heard that it has grand views. More importantly, it has a great name. Clearly if I’m going to be serious about bagging all of the summits in the southeast with silly names, Pickens Nose is the perfect place to start.

Boone and I headed up the trail at first light. The uphill grade warmed me up a bit under several layers of clothes. Before long I spotted a side trail running out towards the cliffs on the east side of the mountain. That looked like the ticket for sunrise. I reached the brink of a sheer cliff a minute later. From there I had a fine view across the Little Tennessee River valley towards the peaks to the east. The pink sky promised a lovely sunrise, and I’d arrived just in time. I set up my tripod, dined on a semi-thawed bagel, and waited.

The sun rose over Rabun Bald to the southeast. Before long its rays reached us on the cliff. Boone found his way to a sunny spot to soak in the warmth. Meanwhile I took photos and enjoyed the view. My favorite vista was of the rugged cliffs of Whitesides Mountain to the east.

From that point I extended my hike out to the end of Pickens Nose. I passed a decent campsite and reached the end of the trail at another cliff. This one offers views to the west. It would make an ideal spot for sunset, which I’ll have to remember the next time I’m in the area. From that cliff, I had a fine view of Standing Indian and Mount Albert, where I was heading next. Farther south I gazed across a deep valley towards more peaks in the distance. Inexplicably, this valley directly below Pickens Nose is not called Booger Hollow. I think I’ll drop the USGS a note and suggest a name change.

I returned to the car and headed back up the road a short distance. My goal for the rest of the day was two more peaks on my list of summits with silly names. First I’d hit Fat Albert. Fat Albert is actually named Albert Mountain, but that seems awfully bland being so close to Pickens Nose and Big Butt. So, I’ve decided to take the liberty of calling it Fat Albert. After summiting Albert, I planned to attempt to bag another Big Butt. I’d already summitted the Big Butt in the Black Mountains and another in the Bald Mountains north of Asheville. To the best of my knowledge, this is the only other Big Butt in North Carolina.

I drove back to where the A.T. crosses FR 67 at Mooney Gap. Mooney Gap is directly below Big Butt (I swear I’m not making any of this up). From there, it’s only about 1.5 miles up the A.T. to Fat Albert. However, it isn’t exactly an easy hike. The final climb to Albert Mountain gains about 400’ in 0.2 miles. I’ve read that this is the steepest stretch of the A.T. south of Vermont.

Boone and I followed the A.T. into the woods. The A.T. doesn’t cross the summit of Big Butt. Instead, it contours (!) around its flank (!!). We followed the trail, passing a fine view to the east. Before long we reached campsites at Bearwallow Gap. Here we passed close to the dirt road leading up to the firetower on Albert Mountain. We skirted another minor knob and passed the road again at another gap.

From there, the rest of the hike was a grunt. We climbed steeply, scrambling at times. We reached an open rock face with a great view just below the summit. I stopped briefly, but quickly pressed on for the summit. At the top I found the Albert Mountain fire tower. I scaled it briefly, knowing that Boone wouldn’t follow me. I climbed as far as I could, but found the trapdoor leading to the top locked. I settled for the 360 degree view from the catwalk below, which wasn’t too shabby. At this point Boone was getting agitated. I hurried back down, and we enjoyed a snack in the sunshine below the tower.

We headed back down, moving carefully down the steepest sections of trail. After passing Bearwallow Gap I began scoping out a potential ascent route of Big Butt. Luckily, I found a reasonable slope free of Rhododendrons a bit past the gap. The climb was steep but not unbearable, and I was able to follow an animal path once I crested the ridge. From that point gaining the summit required some mild bushwhacking. I only had to crawl twice, and the once section of briars was fairly brief. Finding the actual high point was a guessing game on the broad ridge, so I wandered around for a bit until I was sure I’d crossed it. I didn’t find any views up there, so I’m sure that this visit to this particular Big Butt was my first and my last. Still, it was nice to finally check it off the list!

I headed back down, taking some shortcuts to come out on the A.T. farther south. From there, I enjoyed an easy stroll back to Mooney Gap. I reached the car before noon and headed out. I resisted the urge to do another hike, as I wanted to get home early from my long weekend.

Boone spent most of the next two days sleeping, recovering from the most exercise he’s gotten in months. I’ll definitely return to this part of the Nantahala National Forest sometime soon. Tusquitee Bald, Pickens Nose, and Albert Mountain are all hikes that are worth repeating. Plus there is still quite a bit in that area that I haven’t done. Next up may be the A.T. to Silers Bald and Wayah Bald, or the Bartram Trail from Franklin to Wayah Bald.

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