This was supposed to be a 19 mile loop hike. Well, plans change....Hope you enjoy the trip report:
June, 2012
The Quest
After all these years of hiking with him, if there’s one thing that I know about Chef, if he says a hike beat him, then it’s a tough hike! I pondered the e-mail that he had sent to me and some other Atlanta hikers we have shared expeditions with. I wondered about the way he had worded it;
“I have tried this hike twice before only to be held at bay by this wilderness. Once I became ill on the trail and the second time snow kept me from finding the track. Each time I was solo hiking so I hope others will join me on my quest.”
“Interesting,” I thought, “If this hike can bring out the poet in Chef; must be a good one…”
Chef went on to describe his plan; “Planning a 3 day 19 mile hike in the Joyce Kilmer/Slickrock/Citico Wilderness. The wilderness is located between the southwestern tip of the Smoky Mountains and Robinsville, NC. I am looking at the 22nd thru 24th of June, Fri thru Sunday. The 1st day, Friday, is the longest at about 11 miles. Most of the hike will be downhill, but you know how that goes. If we camp at mile 11 next to Slickrock Creek then there is, according to the reference guide, a great waterfall and swimming hole .4 miles from camp. This would also be a rest day. Sunday would be a hard hike out of about 8 miles.”
“Ah, a rest day.” I thought “Count me in!” I typed in the reply.
The Face Plant
‘Hmmm,” I murmured as I pondered the map, “So if the switch back were here,” my finger traced the page, “I should be half way through to the camping spot at Wildcat Falls.” I had reached the half way point to the falls, our designated meeting place. Well, as usual the “plan” hadn’t played out as expected…
The Boss had decided to take his vacation this week. That meant that I couldn’t take Friday off. Oh yeah! But I can hike at night! I have lost that fear a year ago. The thing is, if you can night hike, you can get the feeling of a 3 day hike out of just a weekend. Anyways, I was going to meet Mark and Chef at Wildcat falls. They left Atlanta early Friday morning and were hiking straight in and setting up camp. I was supposed to rendezvous with them there on Saturday. I would drive up after work on Friday and hike 2 miles to the top of Stratton Bald, camp there and meet them at their camp on Saturday.
Judy and I (Judy is our beautiful one and a half year old Siberian Husky) had started our hike the night before at Wolf Laurel Trail. Well actually, two miles down the dirt and gravel forest road from the trail head. The road to the parking area was closed for a bridge replacement. We parked next to Marks truck, put on our backpacks and started walking. After about a half mile of walking through a young predominately maple and birch forest, we came across the partially built bridge. This consisted of a large eight foot diameter metal viaduct guiding the ???? Creek. Cranes, trailers and a dump truck were parked on the new excavation. I could smell the diesel fumes as we walked by the machines. No one likes to see this stuff in the Wilderness. But, on the other hand it was nice to see some basic maintenance going on.
I had bought a new backpack for Judy. Mary and I had trained her by strapping it on her filled with a couple of water bottles and going on walks in the park. It had only taken a couple of practice runs and she didn’t even seem to notice it. As we walked through the forest I was proud of the way she seemed right at home.
Suddenly, Judy lunged up the side of the mountain above us. She had caught the sent of something and powered up the slope with a wolf like intent. I called to her and, after about thirty feet straight up; she made a u-turn and bounded back down the mountain towards me. “Oh no, slow down, stay, hold up!” I cried as she came up on the four foot drop to the road. Judy, obviously forgetting the backpack, leapt off the cut and onto the road. She hit the road in an athletic form and her front legs immediately folded under her body as she smacked the road and slid chin first for six feet. I ran up to her and the startled look on her face let me know she was all right. She jumped up, shook, and trotted down the road and looked back at me over her shoulder as if to say “I’m okay”. The story of Judy’s face plant fueled an excellent campfire story later.
No Bear Hunting Allowed
“I don’t know, I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.” As I looked up from my map I noticed a tiny trickle of blood leaking from a thin cut on my arm. As a matter of fact there were several thin cuts on my arms…
Judy and I finally started up Wolf Laurel Trail at 8:30 PM. At the trail head hung a piece of yellow caution tape. A message was written with a sharpie; “Cookie – trail this way, 12:15, Chef”, this told me when Chef and Mark had arrived. For the next eight miles I found these yellow markers at difficult intersections. It was very reassuring. We made our way up Wolf Laurel for six tenths of a mile and turned left on Stratton Bald Trail. As we hiked the trail was easy and well maintained. We walked through Oak and Birch young forest. I noticed a lot of fallen Birch trees. I’m worried that something might be happening to the Birch similar to what has befallen the mighty Eastern Hemlock. I pray that isn’t so. It saddens me to see the stands of “grey ghosts”, as the Hemlock blight marches on.
It had rained an hour before we arrived and the forest was sodden. After a mile I was soaked from the drops falling from the trees and underbrush. It was warm in the seventy’s and the steadily increasing incline kept me warm.
This time of year always amazes me with how late the daylight lingers on. The sun finally set at 9:20 but the fading light lasted for another thirty minutes. A red and orange sky lit a fiery dome above the mountain in front of me. I turned on my headlamp and the incline started to increase. Judy was leading the way. My headlamp shined on the reflector strips on her backpack. As I followed her, in the dark, up the mountain, I thought about what I had read about the Citico Creek Wilderness Area two miles ahead. This is called a “bear sanctuary”. No bear hunting allowed. Citico has the largest population of Black Bears outside of the Great Smokey Mountains National Park. Hiking alone (okay, with Judy too), my mind began to imagine a skulking bear behind every stump. That’s when I really appreciated the bear spray canister on my belt. My son Ben, after reading my last trip report describing a bear encounter in the Smokeys, had shipped a can of bear spray to me. The bear spray is a comfort.
Naked Ground
I stood up and stowed the map in my pocket. “If I can just get out of this stuff”, the trail was narrow and thread through eight foot tall rhododendron and thick tangles of thorn vines and black berry bushes...
After an easy mile and a half of steady climbing up Stratton Bald another yellow tape glowed hanging from a beat up trail sign. Written in sharpie was a note; “Cookie, we are taking Hae Hoe Lead Trail to Wildcat – you can camp at Naked Ground”. They had decided to take a shortcut instead of climbing to the top of Stratton. I made the turn onto Ha Hoe and walked down the ridge for a half mile to Naked Ground.
The view is phenomenal. A drop off to heavens gate.
In spite of its enticing name, Naked Ground has other ways to seduce you. Like the amazing view through the southeast tree framed gap. I set up my hammock so that it faced the view looking out at over 3000 feet high. Miles away the lights of Robinsville floated in a glowing pool cradled in the foothills below a blanket of stars. Judy curled up on her pad under my hammock as a cool mountain breeze gently rocked me to sleep. It was midnight.
Unknown Territory
We had hiked about a mile from the switchbacks and the trail was starting to open up nicely. Gone were the sudden fifteen foot vertical root filled drop offs squeezing through a green thorn tunnel. Now I could see real hardwood trees. Big ones too…
The morning sun was rising over the perspective from the night before. The valley below was hidden under a covering of fog, with just the tops of the foothills poking above the vapor like a dozen islands in a white gossamer sea. Here, above, it was clear with blue skies.
Saturday morning we got an early start. Judy woke up with boundless energy. My Wife and I call it “the crazies”. As I was packing, Judy ran headlong into the forest. She reappeared with a three foot stick. Pulling it over to me she dropped it at my feet and charged in a circle around me and then back into the woods. A few moments later, she returned with another stick. She brought several trophies back and seemed to calm down. She then disappeared into the woods.
As I knew that we would be hiking into for me unknown territory, I decided to cook a decent breakfast. Ah man I love this stuff; Once again Mary’s home made sausage and gravy on flat bread (substitute for biscuits). A breakfast bar, tang and wash it down with some hot coffee and some “old man candy” as my sons call it: Advil.
From Naked Ground the next 3 miles on the Slickrock Creek Trail became a narrow, root filled, thorn and briar, slippery fifteen foot drop offs, near impassable tree falls, steep path. I would not recommend this part of the trail for anyone other than experienced hikers. Three or four miles later on I finally emerged from the ordeal into relatively open forest hiking. Judy and I hiked along for the next three miles and finally spotted Mark and Chefs camp. They had set up in a nice shaded clearing with white water Slickrock Creek on one side and a feeder creek on the other.
I found a note hanging on Chefs tarp; “Hiked to Wildcat Falls for a swim”. Sounded good to me so I quickly hung our packs bear bag style and Judy and I hiked down the trail. After twenty minutes I still hadn’t found the falls. I stopped and pulled out my map. “Oh, Oh,” I thought. “They set up camp way short”. In fact more than two miles before our intended destination; Wildcat Falls. Exhausted, I decided to walk back to camp. It was time to set up the hammock, eat something, and relax.
Been There, Do That
I had just finished setting up and eating lunch when Mark and Chef emerged from the woods. It truly was good to see them. We spent the rest of the afternoon lollygagging around, swimming and napping. They described the swimming holes and Wildcat Falls as spectacular. I wish that I had the energy to hike down to see them but I had hit the wall. No more hiking today. We spent the evening around the campfire. Stories of the tough hike in flowed as well as the adult beverages. “You know” Chef said “I can say I’ve been on that part of Slickrock Trail now, and I am never going to hike it again”.
“Been there, done that” Mark and I said in unison. We all laughed.
“But seriously” Chef continued, “We can hike eight miles back the way we came through known territory or continue on for eleven miles of the unknown.” We discussed it and decided to go back the way we came.
“I guess that means we’re going to “been there, do that” again”, Mark said.
I eyed Chef, “So, you’re going to let it beat you a third time?”
“Yeah” he somberly raised his cup for a toast “at least I’m with friends to witness it”. We clanked our cups together. “Whoo buddy, it’s going to be a tough hike back up two thousand feet elevation on that trail”.
The moon was out, the stars shown through the trees, and the fire crackled. It was a pleasant ending to a tough day.
A Wolf Howling
The hike out was indeed all that we expected. I won’t go overly into detail. Mark, always a fast, strong hiker, soon pulled ahead by a half mile. Judy, always wanting to be the lead dog, was with him. I was in the middle. Chef was a quarter mile behind me. There is a call that me and my hiking buddies use to signal each other in the woods. There is a story as to how it came about but this too, as they say, is for another camp fire. “Whoooo Buddy!!!…..” Chefs shout rang out from below me.
I cupped my hands around my mouth, took a deep breath and yelled “Whoooo Buddy!!!”
Suddenly, from far above, a clear, piercing “Ahhhhhoooooooo” The wolf howl from Judy echoed bouncing off the surrounding mountains and cliffs. Again, “Ahhhhhooooooo” Then all was silent. Somehow it brought out a kind of primal memory of what the wilderness once was. The pack was calling and the wolf was answering back.
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Originally Posted by FLRider
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