RIGHT FORK, WRONG TIME

Christy and I made the questionable decision to car camp in the Pisgah area over Memorial Day Weekend. It was a last-minute choice, and by the time I checked, Davidson River Campground was already full. We decided to head up there anyway, as we knew of a number of primitive roadside campsites in the area.

I dropped Christy off at school Friday and spent the rest of the morning getting ready for the trip. I picked her up when school let out, and somehow she was able to squeeze into the car, along with the dog and all of our camping and hiking gear. We drove towards Brevard, but turned off the main road and headed to the North Mills River Campground. I thought there might be a chance of finding a spot there, but it was already full. At that point, we had to move on to our backup plan – finding a spot along the road.

We cruised Yellow Gap Road towards the Pink Beds, and passed many fine campsites along the way. Unfortunately, all of them were occupied. By the time we crossed Yellow Gap, we were growing concerned. We began to wonder if we’d be car camping at a hotel in Brevard! When we reached the spur road to Wolf Ford, we decided to check it out. I knew there were a bunch of campsites along it.

The first area we pulled into was virtually unoccupied. There are at least four separate campsites there, and only one had a tent. The area obviously got a lot of use from horseback riders, but there wasn’t anybody around. We took a quick drive to the end of the road, and found every other site overflowing with tents, cars, campers, and horse trailers. The crowds were astonishing. The population of Wolf Ford that weekend probably exceeded that of many small towns.

We hurried back to the site we had found, eager to claim our spot for the weekend. It was still free, and we didn’t hesitate to take it. We settled in, and let Boone run around to get some exercise. I rigged up the hammock and tried it out while Christy went for a run. That evening, we grilled steaks and enjoyed some wine by the campfire. All was peaceful until dark, when Boone discovered fireflies for the first time. Apparently the experience was traumatic, because he spent the rest of the evening barking at them. I was glad there wasn’t anybody else around, because he was being quite vocal about them. This eventually wore on our nerves, and Christy took him into the tent with her. I nodded off out by the fire, before eventually rousing myself to retire to the tent.

We got off to a leisurely start the next morning. I whipped up some breakfast burritos and Christy packed lunches for all of us. Then we headed over to the Pink Beds Picnic Area to use the bathroom and get water. From there, we drove down to Looking Glass Falls, where we stopped briefly. I hiked down to the base of the falls, and was surprised to have it all to myself for a couple of minutes. Eventually people began to arrive though, and Christy and I headed on.

We drove past the Pisgah Fish Hatchery and on up to the gated entrance to the Cove Creek Group Campground. We leashed up the dog there, and headed up the road towards the camp, passing some Rhododendron in full bloom. On the way to the campground, I made a brief diversion to check out some pretty cascades on Cove Creek. Meanwhile, Christy investigated the many Tuliptree Blossoms that had fallen along the road.

We continued to the edge of the campground and picked up the Cove Creek / Caney Bottom Loop Trail. We followed this trail through the woods above the campground, which was bustling. Along here we passed through tunnels of blooming Mountain Laurel, and even spotted an early Flame Azalea. We saw relatively few people, although we did pass one large group of mountain bikers early on.

We arrived at a junction, and I chose to take us around the loop counter-clockwise. We descended to Cove Creek, and took a side trail up to the falls. We were surprised to have the falls to ourselves, and settled in for an early lunch. We knew our solitude wouldn’t last though. A solo hiker passed by, and later, we heard a large group of teenagers approaching. That was our cue, and we headed back downstream to rejoin the main trail.

Before long we passed close to another section of the campground. Suddenly, Boone took off, and he ignored our yells as he charged into the broad field at the edge of the camping area. A moment later, we discovered why. He’d spotted another dog, and they were hard at play when we finally caught up to him. We let him have some fun, before dragging him back towards the trail.

We followed the loop trail to Caney Bottom Creek and began to climb. We passed one stretch with some nice cascades, and a few minutes later a trillium caught my eye. It was a red trillium, but the flower was hidden underneath broad leaves. I’d never seen a trillium like it, so I took a few photos. Later I identified it as a Vasey’s Trillium. I love all of the trilliums, but this one was definitely one of my favorites.

From there, we made a steady climb through a lush hardwood forest thick with dripping ferns. A bit later, we passed a fairly significant waterfall, but I didn’t see an appealing way to get a good look (or photo). Instead we continued on, and enjoyed a gentle, easy stroll once we climbed above the falls. This was good for Christy, who is currently rehabbing from a knee injury. I’d picked this hike for that reason, and she seemed to be doing ok.

Eventually we turned back towards Cove Creek on the loop trail. After a long but gentle descent, we passed above Cove Creek Falls and dropped back down to the edge of the campground. We reached an unmarked junction, and paused there for a break. At this point, we had finished about half of the hike I’d originally planned. I intended to do another loop to Tom’s Spring Falls and through the surrounding area. Christy was ready to call it a day though, as she didn’t want to push her knee too far. After a bit of discussion, she decided to head back to the car. She’d drive into town to get more firewood, and then return to pick us up.

I had to leash Boone, as I knew that seeing us go separate ways would disturb him. We followed a connecting trail uphill, before finally reaching an old, grassy forest road. I let him off the leash there, and briefly worried that he might still chase after Christy anyway. I got him to follow me though, as we climbed gently past more blooming Mountain Laurel along the old roadbed.

We eventually reached the stream I was looking for. Just upstream from the road is a small but pretty waterfall. This waterfall is upstream from Tom’s Spring Falls, and I didn’t have high expectations for it. The recent rainy weather gave it decent water flow though, and I was actually pleased with what I found. Although it’s smaller, I think I like it more than its big brother downstream.

We spent a few minutes there before heading back to the road. We continued a short distance, before reaching a junction with the Daniel Ridge Trail. We took this path back down the mountain, following close to the creek. As we walked, I noticed dark clouds building to the west. Thunder began to rumble, and I picked up the pace. At one point, we passed close to the brink of Tom’s Spring Falls, but we didn’t linger. A storm was brewing, and I wanted to get off the trail before it arrived.

A set of switchbacks brought us down to the base of Tom’s Spring Falls. This has never been one of my favorites, as the foliage makes it hard to see, and it needs a lot of volume to look its best. Even after an exceptionally rainy May, it didn’t do much for me. Unfortunately, a large group of hikers had just left the falls, so I had to leash Boone to keep him from chasing after them.

I really began to hurry as a few sprinkles began to fall. I passed a bunch of occupied campsites, and knew I was getting close to the road. At the conclusion of the hike, I crossed over a new bridge spanning the Davidson River, and wandered into a cramped parking area at the trailhead. Christy was waiting for me there, and she was ready to return to camp. The area was turning into a zoo, and we were looking forward to relaxing back at camp.

The rain hit as we were driving back to camp. Fortunately it stopped by the time we returned. The camping area looked a lot different when we got back. The adjacent campsite was now occupied, as was another on the far side of the road. The campsite next to ours looked like a small community, with enough tents, trailers, and tarps to cover a small field.

We had just begun relaxing back at camp when we heard a distinct “clop, clop, clop” sound approaching us. Apparently, someone was riding a horse towards us. Either that, or they were beating two coconuts together.

Editor’s Note: All credit for that last classic line go to Monty Python, from “Monty Python and the Holy Grail”.

It turns out it was horses, which got Boone into a frenzy. He immediately began barking at them. We knew we couldn’t tolerate that all night, so we decided to visit the neighbors.

We leashed Boone and walked him to the campsite across the road. We met a nice older couple there, and Boone got acquainted with the horses. Then we stopped by the large campsite next door. We chatted briefly, and by the time we returned to camp, Boone was no longer interested in barking at them. Unfortunately, we didn’t trust him enough to run free. He spent the rest of the evening leashed to a tree.

I relaxed in our hammock for a bit despite thunder rumbling all around us. Light rain even fell briefly, but I was so comfortable, I ignored it. Christy bailed into the tent, but by the time I’d stashed some of our gear, it had passed.

The weather forecast I’d seen on Friday had suggested that the rain wouldn’t move in until Sunday afternoon. I was beginning to wonder about this though, so I checked the forecast on my new Blackberry. Surprisingly, I had a strong signal. The forecast had changed considerably in the last day. Suddenly, there was a good chance of rain Saturday night, and Sunday looked like a washout. This was disappointing, as I was planning to meet Jack and Stephanie for a hike to Windy Falls Sunday morning. That trek wouldn’t be safe in wet conditions, so I called Jack. We agreed to abandon those plans and do a less ambitious hike instead. I suggested hiking to the waterfall on the Right Fork of the Davidson River. I’d never been there, but it’s one that I’ve wanted to visit ever since reading about it in the Kevin Adams guidebook. Jack was up for that, and we agreed to meet at the Pisgah Fish Hatchery the next morning.

That evening we dined on mountain pies and relaxed by the campfire. Boone refrained from barking at the horses, and even the fireflies didn’t get him too worked up. I was beginning to think we might make it through the evening without any drama. We followed up our mountain pies with smores, and then, in a moment of decadence, had another round. Apparently that sin was unforgiveable. We had just started on our second smores when the rain came. This time, it was serious. We wolfed our desert down, and raced to the tent. The sound of the rain was peaceful, and we slept well, at least for awhile.

We awoke at 4am due to a commotion at the campsite next door. There was some belligerent shouting, and what sounded like things being thrown. Apparently, somebody was quite upset about something. Christy raised up on one elbow and said, “What’s that all about? Did his buddy drink the last Busch Lite”?

I struggled to stifle my laughter, but it didn’t last long. I clearly heard one fellow say something about someone messing with his wife, and the war was on. It was quite a ruckus, and finally one of them yelled that he “would drive hisself out of there, if he wasn’t so drunk”. He then proceeded to demand that someone find his car keys, and apparently someone complied, because we heard a truck start up a few minutes later. I guess he was no longer concerned about being too drunk to drive. At this point, we were just ready for him to go, drunk or not. Of course, he couldn’t leave it at that. As he pulled away, he shouted that he would be coming back with his gun. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.

Now what? For some reason, it never occurred to me to call the police, although I had a good cell signal. We actually considered packing up in the middle of the night, in the rain, and leaving. Ultimately though, we decided to lay low. For a bit, things settled down. We were just beginning to drift back to sleep, when another fight broke out. This time it was the women folk. Perhaps it was the previously mentioned wife, who was tired of being messed with? I don’t know, but we were both beginning to think that it was a good thing that Christy had to work on Monday. We were already planning on leaving in the morning.

Somehow I eventually went back to sleep, and Goober never showed up with his gun. We got up early the next morning, and decided to skip cooking breakfast in the rain. Instead, we packed up (none too quietly) and headed out. We drove into Brevard in a steady rain, and got a fast food breakfast. Then we headed back to the Pisgah Fish Hatchery to meet Jack and Stephanie.

For once, I actually beat Jack to our meeting place. Of course, on this occasion, we had a much shorter drive. Unfortunately, the rain was falling hard, and it showed no sign of letting up. Christy was tired, and un-interested in spending the day walking in the rain. I chatted briefly with Jack and Stephanie, and told them we’d decided to head home. They agreed to do a hike together, and planned to cover much of the same ground Christy and I had hiked the previous day. We’ll have to save the Right Fork (and Windy Falls), for another, more agreeable day.

As a footnote, we got home early Sunday afternoon. I unloaded the car, and then headed out for a run, since I hadn’t gotten any exercise that day. I was about 2 miles from the house when a thunderstorm struck. I got drenched, and I’m certain I ended up getting at least as wet as Jack and Stephanie!

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