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Unforgettable Day Hiking Adventures
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 Unforgettable Day Hiking AdventuresIn May 1993, Jennie, our two dogs and I day hiked the Fiery Gizzard Trail in the South Cumberland Recreation Area. The terrain was rocky throughout most of the way, and the trail made for a rough trip. This is one of the only four "4's" I have trekked to date; it is also one of the most rewarding hiking experiences I have endured in that I felt a great sense of accomplishment upon completing the trail. We hiked a total of 11.5 miles down this arduous terrain. Despite the difficulties that we encountered, the trail paralleled a river, and we discovered several gorgeous waterfalls along the way. The raw beauty of this segment of the trail made the excursion worth the effort. However, just prior to completing this longest portion, I slipped on a large rock and seriously twisted my ankle. Miles from "nowhere" we were forced to continue on with our journey. I felt great pain with every step from that point onward. Just when I thought I could go no further, we encountered a long, steep incline. Wearily, I scaled the hill at a turtle's pace, and upon reaching the top, we enjoyed a long break. The next portion of the trail was somewhat easy going, and it was a welcomed change of pace. However, after another four to five miles or so, we had to descend back down the other side, which was even steeper and more toilsome to tackle than the incline at the opposite end. I have always experienced more difficulty hiking down a steep hill as opposed to hiking up one, and with my injured ankle, this decent was a real chore. Once we finished hiking down the precipitous slope, we again encountered nothing but loose rock to finish out the trail. I hobbled along until finally succumbing to my agony and pausing for another break. At this point Jennie, the dogs and I were quite exhausted from our laborious excursion. In fact, the dogs were somewhat reluctant to resume when Jennie and I finally rose to complete the trek. We were forced to all but "drag" the dogs up the remainder of the trail. Upon arriving back to our vehicle, we all "crashed" with great relief. A Frightening Experience In the summer of 1993, Jennie, our two dogs and I drove to the Prentice Cooper State Forest for a camping / day hiking trip. As we drove into the area, we noticed several parking spots that contained broken glass, and based on the amount evidenced, we ascertained that the glass came from busted vehicle windshields. However, we did not pay much attention to this, and we pressed onward until we finally located a suitable place to establish camp. After setting up our tents, we headed off for our day hike. The trail paralleled a long ravine with scenic overlooks. The terrain was somewhat level, and the trail extended for just a few miles. Given the ease of travel, I would rate this trail as a 2. Upon returning we ventured down the gravel access road adjacent to our campsite as we were unsatisfied with the brevity of our hike. Finally content with our walk, we headed back to camp just prior to sunset and prepared for the night. Well after dark, our relaxation period was disturbed by two brazen men who drove up and sat in their car starring at us intently with their headlights shining brightly unto our campsite. Unsure of what action to take, we attempted to ignore them. They remained in their vehicle for quite some time apparently sizing up the situation. Finally, they turned their car around and drove away. Just as we thought we were "out of the woods," they returned about an hour later. Again, they sat in their car with their headlights focused on us. At this point Jennie and I were more than just concerned; we were somewhat apprehensive about the situation. We further determined that we were about to be accosted, but we had no means of protection, no defense. We were like "sitting ducks" waiting to be waylaid. Finally, in a desperate attempt to deter them, I reached into my tent as if I was retrieving a rifle. They must have bought my ploy as they hurriedly turned their car around and drove off for a second time. Needless to say, Jennie and I remained quite timid for the remainder of the night, but fortunately for us, the men never returned. The good Lord must surely have been with us during this trip. A few weeks following the outing, Jennie and I discovered that the area had a reputation as a haven for vandalism and as a troublesome location for outsiders. We later determined to purchase a stun gun for protection in such instances, and we vowed never to return to that particular area, although several years later, a seasoned backpacker, I, and his two boys backpacked several miles in the area. This troublesome experience has proven to be the most disturbing hiking venture we have thus far encountered. Crawling on Ice In January 1994 Jennie, our two dogs and I headed for Lookout Mountain in Chattanooga. We hiked a couple of short but very icy and slippery trails. Given the mountainous terrain, I would rate these trails as a 4. We were dressed warmly in layers, and donned with our Turtle Fur fleece scarves. In fact, we were accused of looking like shepherds by some of the other hikers. But dressed to ramble, we could have cared less about our appearance. Jennie and I both owned relatively expensive aluminum staves that could be modified so as to contain sharp spear-like ends. These staves were especially useful on the ice as they could be "rammed" into the ground for stability. However, Jennie had forgotten her staff this day, so I grafted a staff for her using a suitable limb. Notwithstanding, the trails were so slick that we literally had to crawl down portions of them. Normally, Jennie is quite graceful at crossing creeks by accessing large rocks for passage. However, despite the fact that I had loaned her my spear tipped staff for stability, she slipped off one of the ice-covered rocks into the frigid water. Of course, we were prepared for such calamities as we always carried extra socks with us, so she was able to change into dry ones on the trail. I, myself, somewhat clumsy and uncoordinated, seldom attempted to cross the rocks that offered passage through a creek but rather took my chances by stepping through shallow pockets of the water. I was fortunate on this occasion as the water did not overflow the tops of my boots. Walking on these icy trails was quite challenging but also rewarding at the same time. Accordingly, this was one of our more memorable day hiking experiences. A Wet Experience In the summer of 1994, Jennie, our two dogs, and I headed for Fall Creek Falls during a heavy rain. In fact, I drove to Beechgrove to meet Jennie in the rain; we hitched her pop up trailer to my truck in the rain; and we hiked in a downpour. When we arrived at Fall Creek Falls State Park, the weather had been so bad that the park was somewhat deserted. In fact, we initially had one entire campground to ourselves. Fortunately for us the rain discontinued just long enough for us to set up the pop up. We positioned the small trailer near the campground's bathhouse thinking that we would enjoy a peaceful and restful night with the convenience of a bathroom just outside our door. However, not long before engaging in our hike, a Boy Scout troop drove up and established camp within a few yards from us--so much for a peaceful evening! Donned with our ponchos, we headed out for the trail, which needless to say, was quite soggy and muddy. Only a couple of real dummies could find pleasure in such an outing, but we did enjoy our trek, nonetheless. The main waterfall was quite spectacular. An almost unbelievable amount of water was rushing down the side of the gorge. Unfortunately, we did not have a waterproof camera to capture the awesome sight. But it will forever remain in our memories. We eventually headed back to the pop up with saturated clothing. We could only laugh about our foolishness in the matter. And, of course, our neighbors kept us awake well into the night between their frolicking and their use of the bathhouse as shelter. Nevertheless, when we were able to sleep, Jennie and I rested soundly with the thought of that mighty rush of water impressed in our minds. Weekend of Snow and Ice In early January 1999, Jennie, our three dogs, and I headed for Frozen Head State Park early on a Saturday. Some of the roads along the way were slick from a light snow the night before, but our minds were enthralled on the experiences to come. We were the first hiking party to arrive in the park with few to follow. Despite the bitter cold, we were both dressed quite warmly in our many layers of clothing. We started out hiking the Emory Gap Trail, which was an easy 11/2 mile jaunt up a gradual incline. The trail included many fallen trees and limbs, and it was wet and muddy from a previous melting snow. We encountered three beautiful waterfalls along the way, which emptied into a narrow, roaring stream. About half way back down, we started up the Panther Branch Trail, which consisted of somewhat moderate terrain but steep ledges along the way. This trail was icy and slick, and we soon retreated back to the truck. The dogs had started accumulating ice between their toes, so our decision to retreat had proven to be a good one. Once back at the truck, we ate lunch and headed for our hotel in Oneida. Upon arriving in Oneida, darkness was setting in and the roads were becoming slick with snow, so we decided to head for the hotel in an attempt to avoid a hairy situation. On Sunday morning the temperature dipped down to around fifteen degrees. Nonetheless, the high was predicted to reach thirty to thirty-five degrees; again, we dressed warmly in layers and made an early start for the Bandy trailhead at Big South Fork. Driving through snow covered roads, we were the first party to arrive at the trailhead, and we were also one of the few parties to arrive at all that day. We decided to hike the John Litton Farm Loop in which the terrain is moderate. The trail is actually 5.9 miles in length, but from the parking area to the trailhead is 0.4 miles down and back making the total trek 6.6 miles. This trail was also snow and ice covered, which presented somewhat of a challenge (as well as more fun). Shortly after we began the trek, we had to walk down snow covered ladders. Luckily, the dogs found another route down although Jennie's small dog, Brandy, had to be carried. At one point I was forced to remove my pack; drop it down a short, icy embankment; drop my staff down the embankment; and slide down on my butt and back under a large ice covered, fallen tree. We then had to walk over rocks that were completely covered over with ice. The ground was so slick that my wooden staff slid around on it. I was forced to hold on to a rock wall with one hand, attempt to use my staff for stability with my other hand, and pit my feet against jutting rocks one foot at a time. What a hair-raising experience! About four and one half miles into the trail, we finally reached the farmhouse. However, we were not able to stop and rest for long as I had promised Teresa that I would be back home by no later than 7:00pm, which had put us on a tight schedule. Following the experience with the icy embankment, Brandy was quite timid such that Jennie had to carry her across water run off areas as well as up a seven-foot flight of stairs. To be a "small" dog, Brandy weighed approximately thirty-five pounds, and Jennie was near exhaustion after carrying her up the slick stairs. Consequently, she sent me on ahead of her while we finished climbing up the inclines. When we reached the truck about four and one half hours after we began the trek, Jennie and I were quite relieved as both of us had bone spurs that made our heels somewhat painful, not to mention Jennie's sore ankle. But when all was said and done, Jennie and I were quite exhilarated from our excursion that day. |
