NUTCRACKER
“Steep, hazardous, and absolutely not recommended”.
That is how the trail guide
to the Green River Gamelands describes the route we attempted on Sunday.
For me, that’s like telling an alcoholic that he can’t possibly handle a
bottle of liquor because it’s too strong.
Or like telling teenagers to abstain from sex. Just say no? I don’t
think so. More like, just say “I’ll
bring a rope”.
I didn’t mention the
guidebook quote to Myron, Dorcas, or Dave, but I did warn them that I was
bringing a rope. For them, that’s all
they need to hear to know what to expect.
You know, things like hanging onto trees and ruining your favorite pants
and rediscovering the importance of prayer.
Despite this, they all agreed to come.
Christy decided to sit this one out though, as her weekend schedule
hadn’t called for self-abuse.
We had a long approach
before the insanity could begin. We
drove to Saluda, NC, and then followed Green River Cove Road down a dizzying
series of switchbacks to the base of the gorge. We reached the river, and looked for the parking area. The guide stated that parking was available
across the bridge on the left. The
guide couldn’t have been more wrong.
There was parking before the bridge on the left, and across the bridge
on the right, but none across the bridge on the left. After the usual series of U-turns we managed to park the cars and
hit the trail.
We hiked upstream through a
dark forest. Initially the road and
houses were visible on the far side of the river, but after a mile or so the
river turned into the wilderness. The
trail generally stayed some distance from the river, but occasional side trails
led down to powerful rapids and deep swimming holes. We paused at one monster rapid, which probably rated as at least
class IV. It was impressive, but we
knew the biggest rapids were further upstream in the gorge known as The
Narrows.
We continued upstream until
the trail began to climb away from the river.
We passed an illegal campsite (camping is not allowed in the Green River
Gamelands) and began ascending an old roadbed.
After another 30 minutes, we passed a faint path coming down from Long
Ridge. 100 yards later, we reached a junction
marked with pink ribbons. Here an ugly
path plunged straight down into the heart of the gorge.
We worked our way down
slowly, proceeding one cautious step at a time. We didn’t realize we were also walking into controversy. After we returned, I found an article on the
internet regarding the annual Green River Narrows Kayak Race. The Narrows of the Green is a gorge that
contains several miles of the most difficult whitewater in the eastern United
States. The river’s reputation has
grown over the years, and the gorge now attracts extreme kayakers from around
the world. Each fall, the best come for
an annual race through the gorge. In
2002, over 100 spectators witnessed the event.
The “trail” we were attempting is the only pedestrian access to the
gorge. The NC Wildlife Commission takes
a dim view of this, as hundreds of people scrambling down a nearly vertical
path creates tremendous erosion. Last
fall, shortly before the race, officials closed the “trail” by obscuring it
with fallen trees. Since then, kayakers
and hikers had apparently created a new one.
This is a difficult situation, and both parties have valid
arguments. Kayakers occasionally use
the path as an emergency escape route from the river. The only real solution is to build a trail at a reasonable grade
to the base of the gorge. Of course,
there are never any actual funds for that sort of project, so the controversy
is bound to continue. For photos from the 2002
Green River Gorge Kayak race, check out http://www.boatingbeta.com/galleries/greenrace1.htm. For a paddling guide to The Narrows, don’t
miss http://webpages.charter.net/lelandd/paddle/.
We didn’t know any of this
as we scrambled and slid our way downward.
Luckily the ground was frozen, which improved our footing. Unfortunately, there was also a fair bit of
snow and ice on the path. This only
added to the challenge, but we were able to avoid the really bad spots and
cling to trees the rest of the time.
After an eternity we reached
Pulliam Creek just before it enters the river.
It had rained Friday and Saturday, and the water in Pulliam Creek was
raging. It cascaded over a high
waterfall and raced across our path before spilling into a deep pool at the
base of huge rapid. We were tired and
ready for lunch, but it seemed that we had one more challenge before we could
rest.
Dorcas decided that she had
enough and stopped with Izaak. Dave
continued ahead, and rock hopped halfway across Pulliam Creek. He then worked his way downstream on rocks,
before leaping across a raging chasm. I
followed, and found the final leap to be right at the upper limit of my comfort
level. Below me, the water surged
through a narrow chute before tumbling over a rocky waterfall and into the
river. I threw caution to the wind and
leaped across, making it with inches to spare.
Through all of this, I
hadn’t given any thought to Saucony.
She couldn’t make the jump across, and she panics if she thinks she’s
being left behind. She raced to another
narrow spot and seemed to contemplate a leap.
That spot was worse though, as it required jumping UP to a higher
rock. Dave and I chased her back to
where we crossed, but she wouldn’t come.
Dave and I discussed the
dilemma, and he came up with an idea.
He straddled the chasm and offered to carry Saucony across. This seemed like a great plan, but Saucony
wasn’t having it. She put the brakes on
and refused to budge. I was calling
her, trying to encourage her to let Dave lift her across. Instead she backed away and raced towards
the other narrow spot. I screamed
“NOOOO”, but it was too late. She made
a flying leap, and came up short. She
landed right in the main channel, at the brink of the waterfall. I thought she was gone for certain. Before I could get to her, she somehow
managed to climb back out, on the same side, without getting swept over the
brink.
I decided to go back
across. This turned out to be an
adventure as well. It was impossible to
jump, as the rock we had to go back to was higher. Instead I found a good foothold, and spotted another on the far
side. I stood sideways and let myself
fall across, catching myself on the rock with my hands and the foothold on the
far side. The rock was wet, but there
were plenty of holds, so I didn’t have any trouble scrambling up.
It was a rather disjointed
lunch. Dorcas and Izaak ate back up on
the hill, while Saucony and I found a nice rock in the sun on the edge of the
deep pool. Myron and Dave ate on the
large rock overlooking the rapids. We
had quite an adventure getting here, but it was nothing compared to what the
kayakers face. I was looking at a
foaming 15’ drop known as either Nutcracker or Groove Tube, depending on the
source you read. This rapid looked
absolutely immense, but it wasn’t even one of the biggest or toughest in the
Narrows. Just upstream is class VI
Gorilla, and just downstream is another class VI, Sunshine Falls. Would I ever want to try a river as extreme
as this? If I did, I might as well
paddle it in an open coffin. That way
it would be easier to bury me after it was all over.
We enjoyed the warm sunshine
for a while before we worked up the energy for the climb out. I usually find exceptionally steep trails
more difficult to descend than to climb.
That’s probably true here, but the climb was no picnic. The scramble up was exhausting as we pulled
ourselves up using rocks, roots, and branches.
At one point, we had to climb a sheer ice-covered slope. Getting a foothold in the ice was
impossible. Instead I reached overhead
and grabbed a rock and used it to pull myself up. Before we reached the top, we noticed that the ground had
thawed. In addition to the ice, we now
had slick mud to deal with as well.
Despite the difficulties, we still made it back to the Pulliam Creek
Trail much faster than we had descended.
We started back, but for
some inexplicable reason I suggested making a loop to finish the hike. For an equally inexplicable reason, everyone
else agreed. I think we were all too
tired to think straight. We backtracked
100 yards and began following a faint path steeply up Long Ridge.
On the map it looked like we
should encounter an old road after only a few hundred yards of steep
climbing. The hundreds of yards
multiplied several times as we continued to climb on the ridge. Soon we found ourselves in the snow, and I
began to worry that I had miscalculated.
A few minutes later, we reached the old road. We should have reached the road at its end, but we ended up
intersecting it at least ˝ a mile up.
We followed several old
roads and trails over towards Stairstep Falls.
At one point we took a short side path out to an alleged view. Here we found an overgrown wildlife clearing
with a very limited view of a mountain on the far side of the gorge. The view was disappointing, so we resumed
the hike out. At one point we descended
another icy trail. By now we were ready
to see the cars, and we just slipped and slid our way down. We reached Stairstep Falls, which proved to
be utterly insignificant despite the recent rains.
After the falls it was only
a short hike to the Bluff Trail. We
descended the final mile quickly, and made it back to the cars by 5pm. It had been quite an adventure, and one that
will certainly leave us sore on Monday.
The area provides some great hiking opportunities, especially along the
river. I’m sure we’ll be back, but on
my next visit I’d like to paddle. No,
I’m not going to suggest that we run the narrows. Instead, the section of class I and II water downstream from the
trailhead looks more my speed.
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