AT Series- Unicoi to Tray Gap

Both long-time Trail Dames and women entirely new to the Appalachian Trail (AT) came up for our Georgia Trail Dames AT Series hike.  By the end, everyone seemed like old friends!  We met up at Unicoi Gap parking area (2949 feet) on GA 75 north of Helen.  Then, Kellye, Jules, and Linda shuttled cars to Indian Grave Gap, while we waited for everyone to arrive.  After passing out hiking poles, our hike leader Kellye gave the introductions, and then ten Dames set out for our hike.

Dames ready to take on the AT.

The first 2.7 miles up and over Rocky Mountain (4017 feet) to Indian Grave Gap were by far the most difficult.  The trail is rugged-- rocky and rooty-- and climbs so steeply, especially in the first mile, that some places had stairs created by rocks.   We stopped often, and sat down for snack break at a small spring 0.5 miles into the climb and it was fun to get to talk to everyone. 

After two hours of climbing, we reached the summit of Rocky Mountain, and stopped for lunch in a grassy spot.  It was the first time several Dames had scaled 1000 feet and they did such a great job!!!!

Woo hoo!!

On top of the mountain, we lingered at the viewpoint, watching a distant Mount Yonah fade in and out of view as clouds moved across the sky.   Bees buzzed around the mountain mint near the rocky overlook.

As is typical, it was pleasantly cool in the mountains compared to the heat we've had down in the city.  Other hikers don't seem to be aware of this, and the trail was virtually empty.

The descent to Indian Grave Gap (2.7 miles into the hike) was just as steep and slippery as the ascent, but the going was easier and the sound of laughter and conversations filled the trail.  As we rested at the Gap, Kellye passed around water bottles that she'd stashed in her jeep.  By the way, this was the first time Kellye was leading a hike for the Dames, and we were all so grateful for the super job she did! 

We also had another treat at the gap- we got to see incredibly beautiful yellow fringed orchids in an open spot along the roadside!  Yellow fringed orchids have really long nectar-holding spurs (i.e. long tube thingies), so only those butterflies with really long tongues (like some swallowtails) can reach the nectar in the bottom.  When butterflies lap up the sugary nectar, sticky pollen sacs get attached to their eyes.  Then, the butterflies visit other flowers, brushing the pollen onto the other plant allowing for pollination.  Cool!

Yellow fringed orchid

From Indian Grave Gap, the trail traveled through a mountain laurel and rhododendron tunnel full of mushrooms and galax.  We saw the "cheese factory" site (mile 3.6) which was just a large grassy campsite now, but in the 1840's had been a dairy where they made cheese.  But we kept calling it the "cheesecake factory"-- ha ha!   A big slice of cool creamy cheesecake sure would have hit the spot!  After climbing again (would it never end!), we reached another rocky outcrop with a view of Tray Mountain and waves of bright green trees.

We met up with Kellye and Jules, who had decided to take the car up to meet us at Tray Gap (mile 4.4).  Jules told us about a huge beautifully patterned rattlesnake she'd seen and photographed before it slid into the bushes.  What a neat find!

Kellye shuttled half the group back, while the rest of us traced our steps back to Indian Grave Gap.  Then we all squeezed into cars for the bumpy ride down the forest service road, over a ford, and back to Unicoi Gap.  It was such a fantastic hike with a great group of women!

Daisies and hope

The first yellow daisies of the season are now in bloom up on Stone Mountain.  One of the first sign that late summer has arrived, that the seasons are change, that maybe these hot days will come to an end in the not to distant future.  The daisies are bright and sunny.  But the sight of them stirs a deep sadness in me.  Because, you see, daisies are my sister's favorite flower.



After two years of being estranged from my sister, I'm fairly used to not having her in my life anymore.  But sometimes, unpredictably, I can still get overwhelmed with a sense of loss, and the tears can still flow.  I've heard this is not uncommon. 

My only sister is two years younger than me.  We were always very close growing up.  She was more outgoing and popular than me, and tended to get into more trouble.   I always admired her, and in many ways wished I could be daring and beautiful and defiant like her.  We'd hang out a lot, and we lived close by most of our lives.  She was always there for me, and she was the one person that I felt like I could share absolutely anything with because we are so similar in many ways.

Two years ago my sister took her one-year-old daughter and left her husband, and sought help with a Women's Shelter.  My parents helped her, and I flew out to offer my support too.  But then she went back to her husband, and hasn't spoken to my parents since then, and refuses any contact with them.  I hear from her once every month or two.  Brief phone calls when she's out running errands.  Updates about her kids:  My niece loves swimming lessons.  She is pregnant again and it's a boy (but don't tell our parents!).  Then, how her son has a birthmark just like mine.   Earlier this year, her husband said I could come and visit them, and meet my nephew for the first time and celebrate his first birthday with them, but then I got another phone call that he'd changed his mind.

I've been told that the loss experienced following estrangement is unique because there is always the hope that things will change, and that old wounds of the past will heal and there will be forgiveness.  I don't know what life is like for my sister, but seeing these sunny daisies, I have so much hope for her and her family, that they are happy.  Just as the seasons change, and the bouquets of flowers on mountaintops change, family dynamics change, and there is hope that things will change between us.  But I am also sad that I cannot watch my niece and nephew growing up, and miss having a close relationship with my sister.

Mountaintown Creek Trail

It was a long, winding, bumpy drive over washed-out forest service roads to the well-marked Buddy Cove Gap trailhead on FS 64.  From there, the Mountaintown Creek Trail follows part of the Pinhoti Trail in the Cohuttas.   Our guidebook said this was a little-used trail, and sure enough, we didn't see anyone all day.  The trail had lots of mushrooms sprouting up in the middle of it-- as if people hadn't walked on it for some time.

Puffball fungus

Elegant stinkhorn fungus

Starting 3,120 feet up at the trailhead, we descended steeply for about half a mile until we reached the small trickling headwaters of the Crenshaw Branch.  The trail follows along this creek as it descends through the valley.   There are no bridges on the trail.  The first water crossing were easy, but rock-hopping grew tricky as the stream swelled in size as we went downstream.

Still Waters makes it across with dry feet

On our descent, we first heard and then saw a wild boar crash down the trail at our approach.  It looked HUGE!  Thank goodness it was running in the direction away from us, because it moved at lightening speed.  After that, we tried to make more noise as we moved along so we wouldn't startle it again.  I'd only see a wild boar once before, at dusk in the Smokies, though I've seen plenty of evidence of their destruction in the forests.  They root around, tearing up the ground and killing native plants in search of food, causing so much damage this invasive species has become a the target for control in many areas.

What is the wild boar doing there?  After reading about them, I learned that wild boar lack sweat glands so need to cool off by wallowing in mud or water.  It could have been down near the stream for the same reason I was there- to enjoy the natural air conditioning of the valley.

After about a mile, the stream cascades down beautiful rocky slides, over falls, and finally through a long v-shaped gorge.  At the base of the falls, there were small moss-lined rocky pools perfect for soaking hot feet.  One of my favorite parts of summer hiking is taking the time to wade around in streams, and to feel the texture of moss, mud, sand and rock with my toes.  So much of the time when we hike, we rely on just a few of our senses to experience the outdoors--  we mostly just look around.  Rarely do we actually, literally, touch nature.  But give it a try-- wave your feet in the water, squish your toes in the mud, rest them gently on a mossy rock.  It's a little scary at first to take off your shoes and walk around because you never know what's going to be sharp, or scratchy, or even latch onto you.  You can start small, just resting during a hike with your shoes off, feeling a breeze on your bare skin.  Try wading on rocky streams where you can see the bottom.  Maybe you will experience a connection with nature that you hadn't felt before.

Falls of the Crenshaw Branch

DIY Gaiters

Quite a fashion statement

I've been dreaming of sewing myself custom gaiters for years, and finally made some last fall.  They have quickly become one of my favorite pieces of gear, and I wore them every day last week on my trip to the Michigan sand dunes.

Gaiters are only useful under specific conditions though.  They are ideal for hiking anywhere dirt and sand tend to fly into your shoes.  They've also been useful for bushwhacking through tall grass and brambles, and on overgrown trails.  My gaiters keep my legs warm and protected when I want to wear a skirt, and can easily be pushed down when it gets hot.

Dirty Girl Gaiters, which seem to be very popular out on the PCT, come in cool and hip bright patters, but only go up to your ankles.  To make my gaiters, I started with this pattern and stretchy floral fabric to fit around my shoes, but then added on an upper portion of lightweight synthetic salvaged from old hiking pants.  They attach to my shoelaces by a velcro tab, and to a velcro strip superglued to backs of my shoes.

A triangle of velcro on my shoe keeps the gaiter in place

Glassmine Gap to Winding Stair Gap

It's been hot and steamy with temperatures in the upper 90's, which is even hotter than normal for Georgia.  Sensible people might stay home in the air conditioning, but I was itching to backpack, and Still Waters said she'd go with me as long as we camped near water.  So, we figured out a backpacking trip with shorter miles than usual so we could take it easy- another section that we hadn't done along the Appalachian Trail in North Carolina from Glassmine Gap to Winding Stair Gap.  

Stopping to get gas in the blazing heat, I was apprehensive.  Many years ago, I got heat stroke and dehydration and ended up in the hospital with an IV, and have always been very cautious about hiking in the heat since then.  But at our trailhead at Rock Gap, NC, a comfortable breeze greeted us.  I was so relieved how cool it was up at this high elevation!  We were also starting out late in the afternoon to avoid the hottest part of the day, and only had 2.5 miles to get to camp near Glassmine Gap.

Hemlock and Still Waters

The mid-summer wildflowers were gorgeous along this section, and I was so excited to finally see the open flowers of wood's bunchflower (Veratrum woodii), a plant that's been a mystery to me for several years.  I'd seen the leaves for many years, but never know what it was because I'd never seen the flowers.  Now, I suspect it's because they flower during the hottest time of year when I'd always previously avoided hiking in the southeast-- usually by escaping to other parts of the country.

Wood's Bunchflower

From Glassmine Gap, we followed the Long Branch Trail about 0.2 miles down to a campsite in a small rhododendron-lined cove.   We dipped our toes in the icy stream and they grew cold after only a moment of soaking.  I slept soundly in my hammock listening to the sounds of the babbling stream filling the valley.

Along the Long Branch Trail

The next morning, we traced our route back to the car at Rock Gap.  I dunked my head under the spring at Rock Gap shelter, and then took off my shirt and drenched it in the water, before putting it back on.  This is my trick to staying very cool when it's warm.  Refreshed, I took more photos of the lovely flowers near the spring.

Turk's cap lily (Lilium superbum)

Bee balm (Monarda didyma)

At Rock Gap, we parted ways-- Still Waters headed out north on the AT 3.7 miles to Winding Stair Gap.  I hopped into the car and drove to Winding Stair Gap, where I left my car.  Then I set out for an out and back hike along the AT towards Rock Gap, passing Still Waters on the way, reaching Rock Gap, and then turning around and walking back to Winding Stair Gap again.  In this way, we both got to do the entire section, and I got to stretch my long-legs and get in the miles I'd been craving.

It was such a delightful surprise that it never felt too hot while hiking, even though I know it was dreadfully hot down in Atlanta.  It was wonderful to be up high in the cool North Carolina mountains, never too far from a cool stream or spring.

We hear thunder far off, but never got any rain.

Wesser Bald Overnight

Ever notice how sometimes you make a decision and it sets you down a path where everything clicks and good things just keep happening, and everything is beautiful-delicious-wondrous-cool breezes-sparkily?

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I decided to hike from Tellico Gap along the Appalachian trail in North Carolina, keeping with my intention to continue section hiking the AT.  I'd though I'd hike this solo, but shifted the plan to hike with Still Waters.  This trip ended up being totally extraordinary.

Rosebay rhododendron were in full splendor all along the trail.  The floral color scheme seemed to be all rosy, with lots of bee balm, the speckled red berries of solomon's plume, purple-flowering raspberry, and firepink.

The botanical highlight of the day for me may have looked really boring to most people-- the seemingly unremarkable flower stalk of a ratty-looking plant.  But I whooped with delight to have finally found the flowers (even though they were only buds) of the wood's bunchflower (Veratrum woodii).  This plant has baffled me for two and a half years-- ever since I moved to Georgia, I've seen its leaves on many hikes, and never knew what the heck it was.  A few months ago, a friend finally identified this plant.  This plant is in the lily family, and the leaves can be confused with those of wild leeks/ ramps but these don't smell.  Non-flowering plants are not uncommon in GA and NC, but this is the first flower stalk I've seen.  One cool thing about this plant is that the flowers at the bottom of the stalk are all male, while the upper flowers are perfect (i.e. have both male and female parts).  I'm tempted to go back and see it in full bloom so I can see them for myself.

Flower stalk of wood's bunchflower

It was only 1.4 miles to the fire tower on Wesser Bald, but we were already drenched in sweat from the heat when we got there.  Several families were enjoying the 360-view already, so we continued north to check out Wesser Bald shelter, which was only another 0.8 miles down the trail.  On the way, we filled up our water containers at the very nice spring.  After reading the shelter registry and looking around, we decided to turn around and climb back up to the bald to camp.  Still Waters had never camped on a bald before, and it seemed like it might be cooler higher up.

By the time we got back, everyone had cleared out.  There was a small shady spot perched on a ridge down from the tower, just wide enough for Still Water's tent and with two trees perfectly spaced for my hammock.  Everywhere were sweet tangy plentiful black raspberries and blackberries.  Mmmmm.

We spent the evening up on the tower, having a leisurely dinner and then relaxing.  It felt like we were floating above the trees.  Mountains stretched out in all directions.  We caught a cool breeze.  Birds swooped, bees hummed.  Thunderheads moved off beyond the horizon.  Clouds slowly transformed to rosy pink.  The sun set.  Stars came out.  Fireworks sparked in a valleys below. 

The next morning, we climbed the firetower again to watch the sunrise and eat breakfast.  Then, we set out in opposite directions--  I headed north towards the NOC so I could finish this section.  Still Waters returned to Tellico Gap to get her truck, and then drove to the Nantahala Outdoor Center (NOC) to park and hiked in to meet me.  We met back up again at a big lunch log-- I had stopped to chat with a woman who led rafting trips for kids.  Still Waters arrived and had been talking to a really nice guy, trail name "The Geek" who does trail maintenance.  We all rested and chatted for a while.

Sunrise from Wesser Bald

Still Waters and I got back to the NOC in time to meet our friends Copper, her daughter, and SHOE for a delicious lunch.  It was so good to hang out with them, and then we all went over to Fontana Dam and finished the day with  ice cream.  What a sweet day!

Biting bugs, false bugbane, and (imaginary) bears

This weekend, I headed out for another solo overnight backpacking trip to see the Catawba rhododendrons on top of Standing Indian Mountain in North Carolina.  (Botanical aside: You may recall that a few weeks ago, the rhododendrons were blooming at Lake Russell, but those were a different, lighter pink, lower elevation species called rosebay rhododendron.  The ones on top of Standing Indian are the higher elevation Catawba rhododendron.)

The Appalachian Trail curves around the Standing Indian Basin, and I combined two side trails to form a loop hike with the AT (the loop is described here, though I opted to do the longer version down the Kimsey Creek Trail).  Starting at the Standing Indian Backcountry Information booth, I ascended the gentle Long Branch Trail, and reached the AT at Glassmine Gap.  It was easy walking all the way to Big Spring Shelter, and a short steep climb up Albert Mountain.  I'd heard about the great view from the fire tower on top of this mountain, and I felt really lucky that the day was clear.  Mountains in all directions, cotton-ball clouds.  Breathing in the sweet air and soaking in the view, I felt better than I had all week.

View from on top of the fire tower on Albert Mountain

As I ate lunch on the fire tower, I chatted with a section hiker from Switzerland.  It always amazes me how people travel so far to hike this trail that I get to hike all the time.  He told me his story of the storm three days ago.  Down where I live, we'd had thunder and high winds, but up where he was at Plumorchard Gap Shelter, the storm was intense, and the hail tore leaves off the trees.  Even in this section of the AT, the forest floor was littered in what looked like salad greens.

After descending very steeply down the other side of Albert Mountain (sometimes on my hands and tush), it began to get really hot and I hadn't been feeling very well to begin with.  At a stream, I dunked my head under the water, and felt better after cooling off.  I set off at a slower pace, hiking on autopilot, and staring blankly at the ground.  Not exactly my usual observant, wildflower-seeking self.

12 miles into the hike, I reached Carter Gap Shelter, and stopped to fill my water containers for the evening.  At the spring, I overheard two boys telling their mom how when they had their own kids, they'd take their kids to do fun things like riding dirt bikes or relaxing on the beach-- definitely not backpacking.  This made me laugh because I know when I was a kid, I complained too about always going camping, and not being able to stay home and hang out with my friends.  I hoped this mom knew she was doing them a service by sharing her love of the outdoors with them.

I stopped an hour later to have my supper, and then continued hiking for another two and a half hours, dinner giving me an extra energy boost.  I hadn't intended to make it even close to Standing Indian Mountain, but I ended up camping half-way up the mountain anyway, after doing about 16 miles total.  I found a nice stealth site, hidden safely from view of the trail, near a few blooming Catawba rhododendrons.

I haven't mentioned this before, but all day long, whenever I'd stop walking, the biting insects (small flies and mosquitoes mainly) swarmed.  They darting into my eyes, nipping relentlessly at my ankles.  But I could outwalk them, so I kept moving.  At camp when I had to stay still, I twitched tying up bear-rope, trying to shake them off me to no avail.  The biting and buzzing drove me into the safety of my hammock.  Faced with an hour left of daylight (it was only 8:30), I was too exhausted to do much, but my mind was racing too much to fall asleep. 

I find the most difficult part of solo backpacking to be the hour after the sun goes down, but before the stars come out and I finally fall asleep.  I try to relax and watch the light fade.  But sometimes, my imagination gets the better of me.  Sometimes, an old stump looks like ominous figures on the horizon, and the rustle of leaves sounds like it could be a bear out to devour me.  I can feel my heart pounding as the scary stories spin wildly in my head.  Does this happen to other people too?  What do you do?

Finally, I flipped on my iphone and scrolled through my podcasts, looking for a distraction.  I found a guided meditation which I hadn't noticed I'd downloaded.  This seemed like a better option than depressing news shows, so I gave it a try.  It turned out to be a meditation that I'd learned a few years ago when I took a meditation class.  A soothing voice began, "Breathe deeply, and close your eyes."  I realized I hadn't been breathing, and I reluctantly closed my eyes.  She continued,  "Now say to yourself-- I am safe, I am content, I am at ease."  And I thought, "Actually, a bear is probably stalking me right now."  Then I laughed at all my worry over imaginary bears.  I realized that I was going to be OK, and laughed at myself my irrational fears.  I started to relax.  Then she continued the meditation, and said to extend this good wish, like a prayer, out to loved ones, then friends, and then out to all the other people around us.  I imagined the guy from Switzerland and the family at the shelter, and then all the other hikers I'd talked to today.  I concentrated with my whole heart on wishing them safe and comfortable and content.  I imagined them tucked into their sleeping bags, listening to the night sounds of the forest as they drift off to sleep.  Somehow, this calmed me.  I am not religious and don't pray, but what this women on the podcast said made complete sense to me, and I fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning, I was up before dawn, and on my way during my favorite part of the day-- in the cool air watching the sunrise from the ridgetop on the shoulder of Standing Indian Mountain.  Well-rested and feeling great, I tunneled through the thicket of bursting pink-purple rhododendron.  I couldn't believe my good luck-- the first fire-red rays of the sun electrified the huge bursts of purple flowers. 

Catawba rhododendron near the summit of Standing Indian

I enjoyed a hazy view from the summit, and headed down the other side of the mountain to Deep Gap.  There, I turned onto the Kimsey Creek Trail, back towards my car.  I'd hiked the Kimsey Creek Trail the previous weekend with the Southeast Women Backpackers, and this week I was delighted to find a few new flowers blooming that I hadn't seen previously.  The most fascinating was tassel-rue, also called false bugbane, (Trautvetteria caroliniensis), which is in the buttercup family.  It doesn't have any petals- the white showy things are long stamens (the pollen producing part).

tassel-rue or false bugbane

The rest of the hike was beautiful, though my knee gave me some trouble again, so I guess it hadn't healed from my crazy 20-miler two weeks ago.  I wrapped it with an bandage, and that helped a lot.  The odd thing was that it only hurt on the steep downhills, and was fine on the flat and uphill sections.  Guess I'll have to stick with hikes that only go uphill. Ha ha-- for those of you who know me, you already know that I love the uphills, and this just gives me further incentive.

Bandaged knee