Section Hiking the Georgia AT (Part 2)

I did an overnight trip with SHOE to hike the AT section from Dick's Creek Gap to the North Carolina boarder near Bly Gap.  This is the second to last section of the AT in Georgia for me, and it was definitely one of my favorites.  Though I think I say that about all my hikes.  I was so excited to finally see the "famous" gnarled old tree located near the boarder.  I've read about this tree in many trail journals, and it definitely lived up to all the hype. 

At Bly Gap near the GA/NC boarder.

We stayed near Plumorchard Gap Shelter, and had some great conversations with a few AT thru hikers.  We also ran into fellow Trail Dame Linda, who was out backpacking.  What a small world!

It was a clear night and I slept in my hammock without the tarp, so had a clear view of the moon and stars through the trees.

Thanks so much, SHOE, for doing this section with me!

Urban Adventures with the Mad Housers

A Mad Houser- built hut.

This weekend I volunteered with the Mad Housers, which is an all-volunteer organization that builds small huts for homeless individuals.  The goal is to provide them shelter from the elements and a secure place to lock up their things and to sleep.  What makes this group so incredible is that they give shelters (called huts) to people for free, providing a sense of ownership and responsibility.  The other really cool thing is that the huts are located out in hidden sites around in the community.

Our job this week was to respond to client's requests for repairs and/or put finishing touches on newly built huts.  After picking up tools and supplies at the Mad Housers warehouse, we drove to the site and met the client.  We repaired his leaky roof, added a ladder to provide access to the loft, and painted the outside green to provide added camouflage.  My task was to climb up into the loft and caulk gaps between the plywood.  Lying up there feeling the wind coming through the cracks, I couldn't help but shiver at the thought of spending the cold winter in what is basically a small, uninsulated shed.

The president of the group was our team leader for the day and was really friendly, and a super guy.   He was great at explaining everything and at giving us all jobs and teaching us what to do so everyone could contribute.

It's amazing to think that within the city, there is this completely hidden world out there.  Outside of view but closer to the rest of the world than you'd imagine, people are living with very little.  Please check out the Mad Housers website and do everything you can to support this incredible organization!

Pinhoti Trail through the Dugger Mtn. Wilderness

The Pinhoti trail extends 335 miles from Alabama to Georgia's Benton MacKaye trail and offers plenty of solitude.  We saw early spring wildflowers and heard spring peepers on our 12 mile hike through the Dugger Mountain Wilderness in Alabama but encountered no other hikers, even though it was a 70-degree sunny Saturday.  We started from the (well-marked and easily accessible) Burns Trailhead and went a bit past Dugger Mountain, the second highest peak in Alabama.  

Hepatica with its characteristic 3-lobed leaves

This little-used path weaved through remarkably varied habitats- dry open slopes, gleaming white boulderfields, mountain laurel lined stream banks, and forest types that were unlike ones I've encountered in Georgia.  The constant of this hike was the bright emerald moss lining the trail.

This section of the Pinhoti trail was exceptionally well-designed (and well-marked) and had the most gradual inclines I've ever encountered, like a long ramp--  as if the trail designer's main goal was to create a trail that's easy on the knees.  Often this required extensive detours up side-canyons, as we traced contour lines.  The Pinhoti trail also lacked any intimidating-looking inclines.  It spiraled it's way around the sides of the mountains, creating the illusion that the summit was just up ahead.  But round the corner, the gentle incline continued ahead still not looking difficult.  In this way, the trail tricked us into climbing 1500 feet while giving the impression it was just an easy stroll (though tired legs provided a reminder that we were really doing some climbing).

We never reached the summit of Dugger Mountain, or an overlook, making me grateful that the leaf-less trees provided winter views in both directions from the ridge-tops. 

The other impressive thing about the Pinhoti trail was the detailed website, complete with trail descriptions, maps, and driving directions to trailheads.  This trail is at lower overall elevation than the North Georgia mountains, making it a great place to go in the fall, winter, and spring.

An Illustrated Guide to Winter Hiking

Looking back on this past winter's hiking season, I've had a few experiences of been cold or drenched but overall, I've learned a few things out about staying warm that I thought I'd summarize before spring comes and I forget everything.  I had some fun with powerpoint and made up my own illustrated guide to winter hiking:

Here are a few comments about each item:

1. Fill up your thermos with a hearty stew, chili, or casserole for a hot lunch.  Yummy.

2. It can be 70 degrees down in the valley, but snowing up in the mountains.  Get an up to date point forecast for the exact (GPS) location where you will be hiking from this website. 

3. Rain pants keep you warm and dry, and also make quite a fashion statement.

4. Attach your emergency whistle to the outside of your pack so it'll be within reach.

5. Make up an emergency card to keep in your pocket when you hike.  Write your full name and address, the names and numbers of people to contact in case of an emergency and any medical info or allergies.  Mine goes in my small hiker wallet along with my "emergency" $20 bill for those "ice cream emergency" when I get to town after a long day on the trail.

6. Yak traks slip over your books and provide traction on snow and ice.  Worth their weight in gold.

7. Cotton is freezing cold when it gets wet.  And you will get wet in the winter due to sweat, precipitation, snowball fights, or....  falling into streams.

Most importantly: don't let the cold, wet, snow and ice keep you indoors.  Get out there and hike!

Section Hiking the Georgia AT (Part 1)

I've taken on the challenge of hiking all the sections of the Appalachian Trail (AT) in Georgia.  Once a month, I join SHOE, who leads the Trail Dame's AT hiking series, and we do a 6-9 mile hike, or sometimes an overnight backpacking trip.  I've missed a couple of her scheduled hikes when I've been off traveling, so I've been trying to catch up by solo hiking the sections I've missed.  I'll share with you my experiences completing these sections of the Georgia AT so that you can either (a) repeat these fun and fabulous hiking trips on your own, or (b) know where NOT to go on your next hike.

My goal: the 1.7 mile Section of the AT from Indian Grave Gap to Tray Gap

I began at Unicoi Gap, instead of Indian Grave Gap, to avoid the drive on forest service roads.  Less time driving equals more time hiking, and maximizing hiking time is one of life's main goals, right?  This added 2.7 miles each way and a 1000 foot climb (bonus!).  The section of the AT between Indian Grave Gap and Tray Gap, which was my objective for the day, had a marvelous rhododendron thicket, and I was delighted to finally check off this section from my to-do list.  When I got to Tray Gap, it was still really early, so I decided to climb Tray Mountain, which I suspected would have snow at the top.  What's another couple hundred foot climb uphill when there is snow, a rare treat in Georgia?!?  Sure enough, the ground and trail was covered in a thick layer of snow.  I felt so lucky to crunching through it, thinking of everyone down in the valley experiencing  a 70-degree day.  After lunch at the top, I traced my steps all the way back to Indian Grave Gap. 

I considered a sign marking a blue-blazed side trail: "Andrew Cove campground two miles."  Sure it took me in another direction from my car, but when else might I have the opportunity to check out this trail?  I followed the blue blaze.  This small but well-marked trail rapidly dropped off the ridge that the AT followed, and ran down down down.  With the leaves off the trees, I could see the soft curves of the valley and when I turned around, the ridge and mountains rose up behind me.  It's not often that one gains such perspective of when you've been, and where you might be headed, and at the same time being conscious of your trajectory.  A decidedly downward trajectory.  Soon, the trail crossed a small clear stream.  Then another, larger stream.  Then, the stream joined others, until the flow picked up speed and tumbled along. The campground was deserted, the road to it blocked off for the winter.  After a snack break,  I began the return trip back up to the Indian Grave Gap.  The climb, though steep, wasn't as difficult as I thought it'd be, my fear being much worse than the reality.  Overall, this was a very scenic trail and well-maintained, and best of all it got my heart really pumping.  I highly recommend it!

At Indian Grave Gap, I took the Rocky Mountain Trail back towards Unicoi Gap.   This trail follows the forest service road for a while before peeling off into the woods, but even on the road, I ran into no one (I actually hadn't seen anyone all day!).  The Rocky Mountain Trail hugs the shady side of the hillside, and snow still clung to the ground.  There were no human tracks before me.  I happily crunched along, breaking trail.

Crazy-looking self portrait of me making a snow angel.

Overall, I figure I did about 14 miles total, just to finish up that 1.7 mile section of the AT. 

Considering all that snow, the view from Tray Mountain, those rushing streams at Andrew's Cove, and the wonderful solitude, I wouldn't have wanted to do it any other way.

No Cold Feet on the Emery Creek Trail

Less than a mile down the Emery Creek Trail, Still Waters and I reached the first water crossing.  Another couple was already there, and pointed across the stream to the opposite bank where the trail continued on.  Trails in the Cohuttas lack bridges, and this so-called stream was nearly the size of a river, with high water cascading around big boulders.  We scrambled up and down the bank, but couldn't find any places to rock hop across.  I hesitated.  This was way more than I'd planned for, and I didn't have water shoes or even my crocs.  This was our Plan B hike; we couldn't get to another trailhead since a road we thought would be open had been closed.  What should we do?  I had spent a lifetime sticking to the basic hiking rule to keep your feet dry.  I was scared of blisters and cold feet, and I couldn't imagine hiking the entire day with wet boots.  The guidebook said the trail had a dozen water crossing, but that up ahead were waterfalls.  We decided to go for it!

It was only the first step that was really difficult, and after that, there was a sense of freedom.  Plunging into the stream, the water instantly soaked boots and socks.  From the bank the water had looked fast and deep.  I cruised across with my (freakishly) long legs- the water seemed only ankle-deep.  On the far bank after that first crossing, I threw off my pack and did jumping jacks to get warm quickly.  Excess water sloshed out the sides of my non-gortex boots.   Adrenaline flowing, heart pumping, I giggling with delight.  So far, so good!  I turned around and saw that Still Waters was up to her knees in the very same water, and the tops of her shorts were wet!  As usual, she took it all in stride.

On the deepest crossing, the water comes up to Still Water's knees.

By the next stream crossing, I barely hesitated before splashing into the water, not without whooping at the cold, though.  But by the third crossing, stepping into the water was just another part of hiking to accept rather than fear.  The myth in our culture is that things should be comfortable all the time.   It made me remember that (in hiking and in life), if I can accept some discomfort, rather than do everything to avoid it, that I will be able to move forward, and actually be happier overall, discovering all the things that open up as a result. 

The crossings get easier.

No longer filled with worry over freezing, I soaked in the beauty of the clear rushing water and the lush green of the hemlock boughs sparkling in the sunlight.  The trail stretched out before us. 

The rewards for wet feet were solitude, and after a few miles and countless watercrossings, a series of high and rugged waterfalls.  Still Waters found a perch for us to have lunch right at the top of one waterfalls but at the base of another falls.

Airing out my feet during lunch on top of the falls.

Lower falls of Emery Creek.

So few people had been down the trail past the upper falls, that the trail was often very faint and difficult to follow.  Persistence and a climb through a remote section of forest yielded another small falls, and winter views of Fort Mountain and the surrounding ranges.   

If the day had been any colder or if I hadn't worn warm wool socks and my comfy boots that don't give me blisters, I don't know if this experiment in hiking in wet boots would have been so successful.  But I was really glad I had my regular hiking boots for those crossings because they offered more stability on the rocks and especially on the other parts of the trail, and they kept my feet warmer than sandals.  I was glad to have taken the chance this time.

Very faint trail.

So little traffic, the moss is lush on the trail.

Update: New Years Resolution

My legs say, "Bring on the climb! We're not tired yet!"

YESSS!  I HIKED NINETEEN MILES!

One month into the New Year, and after building up by hiking more miles each week, I've almost accomplished my first goal for the year.  This was much farther than the 13 mile maximum I'd been stuck on.  What a surprise that I could do it, not even be all that tired (though this had more to do with the major endorphin rush I was on), and nearly kept up my regular pace of 2.5 miles per hour.  The thing I learned is that I had convinced myself that I had a limit on what I could do that had no basis in reality. 

Why twenty miles?  When I set out, I didn't have a reason behind it.  Why do I need more stamina when I'm no longer long-distance hiking anytime soon?   Sitting around after hiking with the Dames recently, I was surrounded by women passing around the ibuprofen, recovering from injury, or putting themselves out there by hiking with the group for the first time.  I couldn't remember the last hike I'd gone much beyond my comfort level.  I needed a goal and a challenge. 


I'd also been telling myself that I didn't want to push myself on solo hikes.  This is a big mental thing for me because we are always told how much safer it is in a group. When I am solo, I don't let myself get too tired.  My fear was that if I ran into a dangerous situation, that I didn't want to be so tired that I'd have reduced mental capacity (which does sometimes happen to me when I'm tired).  Moving beyond that mental block and trusting myself was far harder than doing the miles for me.

Next, I'm going for the big TWO-OH.  And who knows how far I can go after that!