GONE PHISHIN’
PG-13
The following trip report has been rated PG-13 for
adult language, adult situations, and rampant nudity.
This year, Memorial Day
weekend brought our (nearly) annual trip to
So, have you ever watched a
lousy 2-hour movie just for the 2 minutes of nudity? No? I
guess you were never a 14-year old boy.
Congratulations for escaping that.
Anywho, this trip report might be something like that, except that it
won’t take 2 hours to read, and hopefully it won’t be lousy. Read on, and see if you can guess when the
nudity is coming!
Christy, Saucony, and I made
the drive to Cold Mountain Gap and the east entrance to
I’ve been aware of
We followed the directions
on www.ncwaterfalls.com and found a
pickup truck at the pull-off. A group of
hikers (all fully clothed, thankfully) was just returning from the falls as we
were preparing to head down. They had
enjoyed the falls, but warned us that the path was slippery and hazardous. I took their warning with a grain of salt, as
they didn’t exactly look like hardcore hikers.
They departed, and we headed
down the trail. A short distance from
the road, we passed a cascade on a small stream. It wasn’t much today, but it would probably
be worth a look during periods of wet weather.
A short distance beyond, we reached a high cliff with another
waterfall. The path took us behind this
falls, where the footing was a bit slippery.
From there we descended, and I actually did manage to get my feet
tangled up among some boulders and vegetation.
Truth be told, I was lucky I didn’t fall. Maybe that will teach me not to play with my
camera and walk at the same time.
From there, another minute
of hiking brought us to the base of
We hung out there for a bit
before heading back. We returned to the
car in less than 10 minutes, and drove the last mile and a half up to the
trailhead. We beat Bob and Laura there
by a couple of minutes. We were
organizing our gear when a couple of church vans arrived full of 12-year old
boys. It turns out they were all
backpacking into
Bob and Laura arrived and we
finished loading our packs. Bob brought
his new pack, as he was traveling light on this trip, in preparation for our
upcoming thru-hike of the John Muir Trail.
I took the opposite strategy.
Christy loaded my pack down with a hammock, some extravagant food, and
two bottles of wine. I was probably
hauling close to 60 pounds for an overnight backpack! I was glad we only had to hike a couple of
miles to our campsite.
We took the direct route to
our campsite, where we had lunch and unloaded our gear. Afterwards, Bob and I decided to head out for
an afternoon hike. Laura chose to stay
behind. Christy planned to go for a
training run later that afternoon, right after she had a power nap in the
hammock.
Our destination for the day
was Laurel Knob, which is located just outside of
Until recently, Laurel Knob
was located on private property and was off-limits to the public. In 2006 though, the Carolina Climbers
Coalition purchased the cliff face and a chunk of land below it. Through their efforts, there is now legal
public access to the cliffs from
Christy, Dave, and I had
gone looking for the cliffs of Laurel Knob several years earlier. At the time, I knew nothing about Laurel Knob
except that it looked rather dramatic on the topo map. On that occasion, we had followed Frolictown
Creek to its headwaters, reaching the
Bob and I planned to follow
the same route up Frolictown Creek. That
trail would provide the most direct path, and would allow us to visit a couple
of waterfalls along the way.
We took a rather primitive
trail up Panthertown Creek towards
I know what you’re thinking
– “You saw a woman fly fishing!”
Astonishing, isn’t it? And I
thought it was purely a male sport.
After only a brief pause –
you know, to let my eyes adjust to the sudden sunshine – we shuffled on. Well, I did.
I thought I might have to drag Bob along behind me. We walked in silence for a minute. Then Bob spoke:
“Was that woman back there topless”?
“Yes, I’m pretty sure she was. Also, I believe she was fly fishing”
“I wonder if she’s caught anything?”
“She’s probably gotten a few nibbles”.
“Well I guess we know what she’s using for bait”!
Believe it or not, our
conversation only went downhill from there.
I suggested that if those dreadfully boring fishing shows on TBS had
more guests like her, ratings would go through the roof. I know I’d be a lot more inclined to get up
early on a Saturday morning to watch television!
Later, it occurred to me
that she might’ve been a Mermaid. After
all, she was fishing. And what do
Mermaids eat? Well, they usually live
out in the ocean, so I’ve got to assume its fish. Also she had long hair. And she was topless. Did I mention that? She also had legs. A Mermaid with legs – the best of both
worlds.
After much consideration, I
came up with a better theory as to how she came to be fly fishing in
Panthertown Creek topless. Here’s how I
think it all unfolded:
This woman came to
“So, you catching anything?”, he asks.
“No, I’ve been here for over an hour, and I haven’t
gotten a single bite”, she replies.
“Hmmm. Well…,
try it with your top off. Maybe that will
help!”
And the rest, as they say, is history.
We hiked upstream passing
We eventually passed the
headwaters of Frolictown Creek and neared the gap and the National Forest
boundary. Just before the gap, we
spotted a narrow footpath and a small sign that simply stated, “Laurel Knob”. We followed the path, which took us on a traverse
around the southeast side of the mountain.
This path was built to
provide access to the cliffs, and you can tell it was constructed by rock
climbers. It features lots of steep ups
and downs, and it wasn’t long before Bob and I were huffing and puffing. At one point, following the “path” requires
walking across a fallen log to avoid a tangle of Rhododendron. The log was extremely slippery thanks to
recent rain, so Bob and I bypassed it, bushwhacking around the worst of
shrubbery to regain the trail.
Before long, we reached a
rock face that provided some views. You
can’t see the cliffs of Laurel Knob from here though. For the most part, the vista is confined to
the immediate valley, which features several houses. Most of the homes blend into the woods, but
one McMansion high up on the ridge stuck out like a sore thumb. From our vantage, it appeared to be five
stories tall! I can only hope that it’s
a lodge, and not a single private residence.
From there, we hiked back
into the woods, passing through tunnels of Rhododendron. Some of the Rhododendron was in bloom, which
added to the beauty of the hike. Before
long, we arrived at a new signboard constructed by the Carolina Climbers
Coalition. The sign provides maps,
photos, and some useful information about the trails and climbing routes in the
area. It also has a short list of rules,
which begins with the statement that hiking and climbing there are officially
ENCOURAGED. I like that. Personally, I’d like to see more regulations
like that one.
From there, it isn’t far to
the cliffs, but the route is arduous. We
climbed and descended frequently, and although there were some switchbacks, the
path was still steep and rough. After a
long descent, we finally reached an intersection with a wide, well-graded trail
that originates down in a private community.
From there, the walking was easy.
A few minutes later, we arrived at the first view of the cliffs. We emerged from the woods right at the foot
of the cliff, so the scope of the view was rather narrow. Also, the full length of the cliff isn’t
visible from there. At that point, there
is enough of a curve to the mountain that you can’t view the upper part of the
cliffs. Despite these limitations, the
scene was still impressive.
We had told the wives that
we would return to camp by 7pm.
Unfortunately, we were almost at our turn-around time of 5pm. We explored ahead a ways, hiking in and out
of the woods along the base of the cliffs.
We found several additional viewpoints, but eventually ran out of time
to explore further. I’m already plotting
when I can return again to see more of the area.
The hike back was more
uphill, so we didn’t set any speed records.
Still, we kept moving, and by the time we crossed back into the National
Forest, we were on schedule to get back to camp on time. Then, as we neared
We paused at the falls,
where we found the source of the drum beats.
A group of hippies was camped on the sandbar there, and some of them had
formed a drum circle. From the look of
the camp, these people were planning to stay awhile. I spotted 4 tents, including two that must’ve
weighed 20 pounds each. There were also
two large coolers that were almost certainly not bear-proof. I wonder how many trips these people had to
make from the nearest trailhead?
Our bi-legged fly-fishing
Mermaid was there, too, and she was still unencumbered by any torso-obscuring
garments. We were glad to see this, as
we were both beginning to wonder if we’d imagined the whole thing earlier. She waved to us, and I waved awkwardly back. I briefly considered joining the drum circle,
because I like hippie music as much as anyone, but I knew that my wife would be
suspicious if I returned from our “hike” smelling like Patchouli. Instead, I settled for a couple of photos of
We headed back towards camp,
but made one more stop to check out the Pink Lady Slippers. I wanted to get some photos in good light, as
there had been harsh shadows earlier in the day. We found a couple of beds where they were
blooming in profusion, but I didn’t find a single spot with hundreds of orchids
like I had on previous trips.
The next day, I did stumble
on a bed with a perhaps a hundred Pink Lady Slippers. What was more interesting was that amid all
those Pink Lady Slippers, I found a single white one. Is there such a thing as a White Lady
Slipper? It looked identical to the
others, but didn’t have a hint of color.
Maybe it was really a Pink Lady Slipper that was an albino?
We made it back to camp
almost on time, where we found Laura and Christy waiting for us. Christy had only recently woken from her nap,
meaning that she had failed to complete her afternoon run.
It cooled off a bit that
evening. I hadn’t brought much in the
way of clothes, so I changed into my long underwear. I think Christy was a little embarrassed that
I was casually wandering around camp in my long johns. We cooked an elaborate dinner of pasta with
chicken, sundried tomatoes, olives, and artichokes, and shared a bottle of
wine. While we were eating, we could
occasionally make out the echoing sounds of a drum. Of course, the wives wanted to know where the
sound was coming from. We felt obligated
to disclose the fact that we had stumbled across a hippie enclave during our
hike. At this point, Christy turned to
me, and jokingly suggested that I walk back over there and tell them to put the
drum away. Then, eyeing my long
underwear, she uttered words Bob and I will never forget. “But you might want to put on some clothes
first”.
Bob and I looked at each
other and burst into hysterical laughter.
Once I regained my composure, I turned to Christy and said; “Honey, if
only you knew just how ironic that statement was”.
More gales of laughter
ensued. The women were not amused. I guess we had some ‘splainin’ to do. So, we told the story in full. I’m not sure how much of a role the second
bottle of wine played, but what seemed funny the first time around was
absolutely hysterical the second time.
We stayed up late, hootin’ and hollerin’ and drinkin’ before finally
winding things down around 11pm. Now,
more than a week later, the jokes about topless fishing still haven’t ended.
I slept well that night,
despite the persistent call of a nearby Whip-Or-Will, which sang all
night. We got up at a reasonable hour
the next morning, and Christy and I feasted on French toast and bacon. After breakfast, Bob and Laura packed up and
headed out. They had some other plans
for the weekend, and didn’t have time to linger. Christy and I had decided to head home Sunday
afternoon, but we weren’t in a big hurry.
I decided to go for another hike, while Christy planned to do the
training run she had slept through the previous day.
For today’s hike, I decided
to go in a new direction. I had never
been to the northwest part of
I hiked through what my
friend Dave calls “the enchanted forest”, and crossed the main road that
bisects the valley. I continued ahead on
another old road, crossing a new bridge high above a small stream. After a short distance, I picked up a faint
path heading up the mountain. I took
this trail, which climbs steadily through dense stands of Rhododendron. After a hearty climb, I reached a junction
with a short trail that connects with the old road to Sassafras Gap. I passed this by, and continued climbing
towards the summit of
Shortly before reaching the
top, I emerged onto an open rock face above a high cliff. From here I had a birds-eye view of
I took a long break up
there, as the view was one to rival the vista from Little Green Mountain or
My map shows a junction just
beyond the summit, but I didn’t see one as I descended. A few minutes later, I got the distinct
sensation that I was moving in the wrong direction. I dug out my compass (which I use perhaps
once per year), and discovered that I was walking west, rather than north. I doubled-back, and soon came to a faint old
road heading down and to the north. I
gave it a try, but quickly found it overgrown.
I backtracked again, and regained my original trail. A minute later, I reached an obvious
junction. Coming from this direction,
the two trails diverge directly in front of you. However, when I came down from
I followed the ridge to the
north, descending to a gap before rising briefly to meet an old grassy
road. This was the old road through
Sassafras Gap, and it was my route back.
I had a quick lunch there, but decided to skip the hike over to upper
Flat Creek. Instead I turned right,
heading back towards the main part of the valley. This trail wasn’t terribly interesting, as I
contoured around the mountain and frequently passed near Duke Energy’s power
lines. There was one bit of excitement
though. I came around a corner, and a
turkey bolted out of a nest alongside the trail. Saucony went crazy trying to chase after it,
despite the fact that it was airborne.
While she took off after it, I noticed a handful of chicks escaping the
nest, running in the opposite direction!
I thought about trying to get some photos, but I didn’t want to draw
Saucony’s attention to the babies.
Later, I reached a side path
that would’ve taken me down into the Tuckaseegee River Gorge. I could’ve returned to camp that way, but it
was getting late, and all of my wrong turns earlier had left me short on
time. I took the direct route back,
eventually using the short connector trail to close my loop and return to the
narrow path up
I returned to camp around
3pm, which was a good hour earlier than I had planned. When I arrived, I found that Christy had just
gotten back. She had missed a trail
connection during her run, and had ended up climbing over Little Green Mountain
(no, she didn’t run that part). She was
a little annoyed, as Little Green had given her more of a workout than she had
bargained for.
I lounged in the hammock for
a bit, watching the pine trees sway overhead.
A bit later we broke camp and headed for the car. Our hike out took us through a lovely
We’ll probably be back in
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Please remember to Leave No Trace!