DIRTY SOCKS
Christy came out of
hibernation for a backpacking trip last weekend. She has been recovering from a running injury for the last couple
of months. She isn’t healed, but she couldn’t
pass up this trip. We were headed to
one of our favorite places, Panthertown Valley. We try to go there every spring to see the abundant
wildflowers. More importantly, our
Panthertown trips tend to follow the same pattern. We usually hike in a mile or two, camp, and do dayhikes or simply
relax. Christy figured she could handle
the typical Panthertown trip.
Unfortunately, this one turned out to be anything but typical.
We met Dave and Sasha in
Charlotte and rode together from there.
Sasha is Dave’s new puppy, whom he rescued from the pound only a few
days earlier. Sasha is about a 1
year-old border collie mix. She’s
fairly small, and black with white feet.
I told Dave that Sasha was a stripper’s name, and that I was going to
call her Socks. So Socks and Saucony
and the 3 humans and 3 backpacks somehow squeezed into my Toyota Corolla for
the 3+ hour drive. Sasha and Saucony
hadn’t met before, so they spent most of the ride trying to get to know each
other. This was interesting for me, as
I was trying to operate a motor vehicle at the same time. Somehow we arrived the Cold Mountain Gap
trailhead, on the east side of the valley, without causing any major traffic
accidents.
We usually go in from Salt
Rock Gap on the west side, but decided to try this approach for a change. This was my first mistake of the trip,
though I wouldn’t know it until Sunday afternoon.
We hiked a fairly primitive
trail down to Greenland Creek. We
worked our way upstream through tunnels of rhododendron and joined an old road
that led down to a ford. Greenland
Creek is fairly large, and 3” of rain had fallen in the area only 2 days
earlier. The water was still up, so we
had to put on sandals and wade. It was
only knee-deep, and the current was fairly mild, but the water was still
cold! This was Sasha’s first attempt at
swimming, and it went poorly. She
didn’t make it far before retreating to the bank. Ultimately Dave had to carry her across her first stream.
We crossed two smaller
streams and climbed to join the Hogback Mountain Trail. From there we hiked another 20 minutes or so
to what may be my all-time favorite campsite.
The location of the site will be intentionally vague in this narrative,
but prospective campers can be assured that there are many outstanding sites in
the valley.
We set up camp in a stand of
white pines and had lunch before Dave, the dogs, and I set off on an afternoon
dayhike. Christy’s hip was hurting from
the hike in, so she decided to stay in camp and relax. Before we left camp, I found a patch of pink
lady’s slippers growing not far from our tent. Finding wildflowers was one of my goals for the weekend, and we
were already successful.
We started our hike with a
steep climb over Little Green Mountain.
We enjoyed great views from the open granite faces on the peak. We were also surprised to find rhododendrons
already in bloom. It’s the earliest
I’ve ever seen wild rhododendron blooming, but they do receive full sunlight on
Little Green Mountain.
Beyond the summit, we
descended to Greenland Creek at the base of Schoolhouse Falls. Schoolhouse is only one of several falls on
Greenland Creek, but it’s probably the prettiest. It’s about a 30’ freefall into a deep swimming hole. The water projects out from the cliff, making
it possible to walk behind the falls.
We found 2 other groups here, including some people swimming. We weren’t surprised to find others here, as
Schoolhouse is probably the most popular spot in the valley. We lingered for a little while, and Saucony
went for a swim. Then it was on to our
destination at Panthertail Mountain.
We crossed an old, rickety
bridge over the creek and followed an old road down into the Tuckaseegee River
Gorge. The Tuckaseegee forms in
Panthertown Valley, where Greenland Creek and Panthertown Creek join. From there it cuts through the mountains
before joining the Little Tennessee and Nantahala Rivers in Fontana Lake, at
the foot of the Smokies. Today we were
only following the river a short distance, but it’s certainly one of its nicest
stretches as it tumbles over numerous waterfalls.
We reached Little Green
Creek, and followed a primitive path upstream through a dense tangle of
rhododendron. We crossed the creek
frequently, when we weren’t forced so simply walk up the stream itself. This was traumatic for Sasha, who had
managed to develop an intense fear of rushing water earlier that morning.
Eventually we climbed away
from the creek. Here the path passed
through a carpet of pink trillium. We
reached a gap on the ridge at a spring and turned on a new trail towards
Shelton Pisgah Mountain. After a short
distance we turned off onto a side path that’s not shown on any map I’ve
seen. It is marked with ribbons though,
so it was easy to follow. Eventually
our path forked, and we turned right to climb to the summit of Panthertail
Mountain. I had read that Panthertail
featured great views of the surrounding mountains, so we were highly
disappointed when we reached the summit.
There was enough vegetation to block any view. It might be easier to see in the winter, but I would still
recommend climbing to the High Bethel Altar on Cold Mountain before attempting
this summit.
We headed back to the main
trail and hiked over to Shelton Pisgah Mountain. I thought I remembered a good view here, but we weren’t having
any luck finding it. Finally I called
for a snack break, as I was running low on energy. A couple minutes after we resumed the hike, we reached a cliff
with a great view of the valley and the surrounding peaks. It would’ve been a great place for a
break. As it was, we took a few minutes
to enjoy the scenery.
We descended quickly along
the ridge and rejoined the Tuckaseegee Gorge Trail near Devil’s Elbow. From there we hiked quickly back towards
camp. For variety, we took a different
path back. First we followed an
exceptionally muddy trail along Panthertown Creek, passing some folks camped on
the beach at the Sandbar Pool. A short
distance upstream we found the trail I was looking for. It provides a nice short cut back to camp,
and passes through a gorgeous white pine forest. We had to cross the creek to get there, but the water is
shallow. Well, it’s usually
shallow. It’s a very clear stream, and
is deeper than it looks. Today it was
just deep enough to run into my boots.
By the time I realized that, it was too late. I splashed the rest of the way through the creek, but had a real
disaster getting out on the far side.
The only place to get out was muddy, but I didn’t realize it was thigh
deep until I was in it. I looked like
the Swamp Thing by the time I pulled myself out of it. Even Sasha’s white feet turned black on this
afternoon!
We finally made it back to
camp by 7pm. While we hiked, Christy
spent 6 hours sleeping in her hammock.
That evening we enjoyed a dinner of salmon cakes and pasta, with white wine
to wash it down. Later we enjoyed
cocktails of rum and lemonade around what would’ve been a pleasant fire if
anyone had been industrious enough to gather wood. We slept well that night, and the anticipated rain never came.
CLIMB TO SAFETY
We got off to a leisurely
start Sunday morning. It was still a
nice day, though a bit cloudier. We
enjoyed some Blueberry Pancakes without the blueberries, since they had been
left behind. Afterwards, we decided to
take another hike. This was my second
major mistake of the weekend, though it seemed like an innocent choice at the
time. Christy decided to join us, as
she didn’t think she could nap all day again.
I hiked in sandals, since my
boots were still soaked. I wore my last
pair of dry socks with them, because I was trying to look like a
foreigner. Actually I wore the socks
because they help keep dirt out of the toes when wearing sandals. Our first stop on the hike was at a scenic
bog, where I promptly soaked the soaks in more black mud. I guess I should’ve seen that coming. At least the bog provided a nice view of the
valley with Blackrock Mountain looming over it. Christy also spotted a snake that may have been a Copperhead.
We crossed a bridge over
Panthertown Creek and hiked up the main trail towards Salt Rock Gap. We turned off it quickly though and followed
the Frolictown Trail through a meadow full of Pink Lady’s Slippers. We continued on to Frolictown Creek, where
we viewed a small but lovely waterfall.
We continued on up the valley all the way to the national forest
boundary on the Eastern Continental Divide.
On the far side, we were disappointed to find the end of a new road,
complete with lots for summer and retirement homes. We headed back quickly, as thunder was rumbling in the
distance. We took the most direct route
to camp, which involved wading Panthertown Creek. Then we followed a primitive path through more rhododendron,
passing Granny Burrell Falls before reaching the trail that led back to camp.
We took the tents down and
got everything under the tarp before the rain began. We ate lunch and packed while we endured a tremendous
thunderstorm. The downpour finally
abated, and at last we headed for home through lingering drizzle.
There are multiple routes
out from camp, but each seemed unappealing for one reason or another. One would involve wading through the mud
Dave and I had nearly drowned in the day before. Another would take us back across the exposed summit of Little
Green Mountain, which seemed like a bad idea in a thunderstorm. We decided to head back the way we came, as
it seemed the quickest way out. This
was mistake #3 of the weekend.
We reached the top of the
ridge, and I suggested we try a “shortcut” trail that heads directly down to
the creek. I warned that the crossing
might be tricky, but once across we’d be 15 minutes from the car. We descended a long, steep hill and reached
the creek amid a thicket of rhododendron.
The limbs were arched out across the stream in an impenetrable
tangle. Without backpacks, it would’ve
been extremely difficult to wiggle through all those limbs while wading the
rushing stream. With the packs, it
would be impossible. We had no choice
but to backtrack. I wasn’t a very
popular person as we slogged our way back up the hill as rain continued to fall.
We rejoined the main trail
and debated our options again. The
water was up, and I was concerned about crossing the stream at the ford. The creek is smaller farther upstream though,
and the current is gentle there. Nobody
wanted to backtrack and cross over Little Green Mountain, so we followed our
footsteps from the previous day. We
descended a trail that was more a river than a path. The water was knee deep in places – on the trail. The two small streams we had crossed
Saturday were roaring creeks. When we
finally reached the ford at Greenland Creek, my greatest fears were
realized. The stream was now a raging
torrent of chocolate colored water. The
gentle current was a memory, as powerful waves raced towards the waterfalls
just downstream. It was impossible to
tell how deep the stream was, but it looked impassable.
Dave decided to give it a
try. He did fine until he got into the
middle of the current. Then, he was
nearly knocked over, but managed to regain his balance. He stumbled out of the deepest section,
which was up to his chest. He dropped
his pack, and started to come back across to get Sasha. We stopped him. Would he really be able to carry a wriggling dog across
that? How would we get Saucony
across? She’s too big to carry. She’s a good swimmer, but only 60
pounds. She would be carried far
downstream before she made the far side – if she made it all. Christy is strong and her pack was light,
but that’s because I was carrying almost everything. Combining my heavy, low riding pack with my short stubby legs,
and an attempt at crossing would be a disaster waiting to happen. We’d have to go around.
Christy wasn’t happy, but
she understood my decision (I think).
We told Dave we’d meet him at the car.
Then we took the 2 dogs and headed back towards camp and Little Green
Mountain. After another long slog
through mud and water, we reached the steep path up to the summit. Christy’s hip was hurting, and chivalry
isn’t dead, so I offered to make two trips and carry Christy’s pack to the
top. Finally we humped across the top
and descended rapidly towards the roar of the creek in the gorge far
below. Finally we reached the creek,
once again at the base of Schoolhouse Falls.
The difference in the waterfall in 24 hours was stunning. What had been an elegant freefall was now a
violent expulsion of mud, water, and rocks.
The pool at the base looked like Satan’s bubble bath, thanks to the
swirling eddies and piles of foam. The
rocks we had rested on the day before were completely submerged. The awesome power of the creek was stunning
to behold. If I had any lingering
doubts, I knew then that I’d made the right decision in turning back.
We headed downstream towards
the bridge. At that point, a new
thought entered my mind. What if the
bridge was gone? After all, it’s old
and rickety. The only possibility would
be to return to the falls and scramble behind them. I doubted that passage would be possible though, given the volume
of water crashing over the cliff. We
reached the main trail, and were relieved to see the bridge still intact,
though just barely. Normally the water
is 6’ or so below the bridge. Now it
was less than 2’ from it. More thunder
in the distance indicated that this flood might just be starting.
We climbed one more hill,
following the old gravel road out of the valley. Finally we turned off the road, and followed a new path through
the woods to the parking area. We found
Dave waiting there, 2hours or more after we’d parted. Dave and Sasha were reunited, and Christy and I were thrilled to
collapse in my car. Our wild adventure
was over, and everyone was in one piece.
I drove away, reflecting on the power of nature. Even a simple, relaxing trip to a familiar
place can turn into a traumatic event unexpectedly. Christy had a different take on things. For now on, our trips to Panthertown Valley will always start on
the west side.
Back to Nantahala National Forest
Back to North Carolina
Back to Hiking and Backpacking Trip Reports
Please remember to Leave No Trace!