THE JACK

 

 

A job sent me to Atlanta last week.  Now, I hate Craplanta as much as anyone, but my assignments down there have one benefit.  Each time I’m sent there, I get to see my friend Jimmy.  Jimmy is a talented and aspiring musician, and an all-around great guy.

 

Unfortunately, Jimmy had a big fight with his girlfriend while I was in town.  Needing some space, he moved out temporarily.  Needing a place to stay, he joined me at my hotel.

 

This all happened on Thursday, creating an unusual situation.  Jimmy had nowhere to go.  Meanwhile, my job had turned into a total fiasco.  By Thursday, I knew I’d have to return the following week.  Meanwhile, Christy was out of town, and hanging around the house by myself watching the air conditioner struggle didn’t sound like fun.  Under the circumstances, I didn’t have much incentive to drive all the way back to Charlotte.  Oh, and I just happened to have my backpacking gear in my trunk.  All things considered, it seemed like the perfect chance to hike somewhere new.

 

Previous experience had taught me that quiet time in the woods was the perfect antidote for emotional wounds.  Taking Jimmy backpacking was the obvious solution.  Jimmy was eager to join me.  Unfortunately, I’d only brought enough gear for one person.  I have plenty of equipment for another person or three, but all of that stuff was in my garage back in Charlotte.  What to do?

 

Jimmy had his own boots and daypack.  For a summer backpacking trip, what more do you need?  I had a 2-person tent and almost everything else that was necessary.  Jimmy was lacking a sleeping bag, but with night time temperatures above 70, we didn’t think it would be a problem. 

 

That first week in Atlanta had been miserable.  Temperatures were in the upper 90’s all week.  I spent parts of two days working in warehouses, and the rest of the time I was in a stuffy conference room that was barely any cooler.  Under those circumstances, a hike with easy access to water sounded appealing.  It didn’t take me long to come up with the perfect place.

 

The Cohutta Wilderness in northwest Georgia, along with the adjacent Big Frog Wilderness in Tennessee, is the largest Wilderness Area in the eastern U.S.  The Cohutta Wilderness is virtually defined by its two rivers, the Conasauga and The Jack.  The trails that follow these rivers are infamously wet.  The Jack River Trail fords the river approximately 42 times, and the Conasauga River Trail is similar.  At any other time of year, that would be a nuisance, if not a total deterrent.  This summer though, those trails actually sounded appealing.  Clearly, this was the perfect time to go.

 

On Thursday evening Jimmy and I visited the local Wally World and picked up enough food for the weekend.  That night, after the obligatory post Wally World bath, we made our plans.  My goal was to visit Jacks River Falls.  The waterfall is 7 or 8 miles upstream from the Jacks River Trailhead.  There are several shorter, easier routes to Jacks River Falls, but I wasn’t interested in any of them.  I wanted to experience the Jacks River, and walking around in it all weekend seemed like the best way to accomplish that.

 

I punched out at 3pm on Friday, hoping to beat traffic on the drive north.  I met Jimmy at our friend Chris’ house in Kennesaw.  Jimmy left his van there, along with all of his worldly possessions, and rode with me.

 

We made good time.  Traffic was surprisingly light once we got on I-75 north of Kennesaw.  We stopped at the Bojangles in Chatsworth to pick up dinner.  I’d brought 2 dehydrated meals that had been leftover from our trip to Peru.  With Jimmy along though, they were only enough for one night.  We ended up eating our chicken at the trailhead before embarking on our trip.

 

We started hiking a bit before 6pm.  My plan was to hike upstream as far as we could before dark and pitch camp.  On Saturday we’d hike up to the falls and return.  We’d head out early on Sunday, as Jimmy was scheduled to play an afternoon show in Cumming, GA that afternoon.  The show was billed as a Jerry Garcia tribute, as it was the anniversary of his birthday.  Being a fan of the Grateful Dead, I was looking forward to the show myself.

 

The first 45 minutes of the hike were easy and smooth.  We followed an old railroad grade along the east side of the river.  All too soon though, the easy walking ended at the first ford.  Jimmy and I gazed out over the river, anticipating the challenges ahead.  The water level appeared to be low, which is what I expected given the hot, dry summer weather.  Despite the low water, rock hopping was definitely not an option.  We were going to get wet.

 

I’d given some thought to how I’d handle the numerous river crossings.  In fact, I’d brought my river shoes with me.  However, I wasn’t comfortable hiking long distances in them with a full pack.  I knew that switching shoes for each crossing would take an absurd amount of time.  Ultimately I decided to wear my backpacking boots and save the river shoes for camp.

 

The first crossing looked easy.  It wasn’t.  The water was only knee deep, and the current was mild, but the rocks were astonishingly slippery.   I nearly wiped out twice on the first crossing.  On the far side I took a moment to pack the camera in a waterproof bag.  I was willing to soak myself, but ruining my camera wasn’t part of this weekend’s agenda.

 

After that first crossing, the trail never quit.  At times, the next crossing was only a hundred yards or so farther along.  Occasionally it was a full ¼ mile or so, but for the most part the rest of it was IN the river.  After the first ford, I proceeded cautiously.  We managed each crossing without any casualties, but our pace slowed to a crawl.  Early on we attempted to drain our boots after each ford.  However, this was time consuming, and ultimately pointless.  We quickly gave up on that and simply sloshed on, our boots squeaking, to the next crossing.

 

A bit later we followed obvious trail right to the brink of a low cliff.  The old railroad must’ve spanned the river on a trestle here, but any hint of a bridge was long gone.  We eventually found a way to climb down the cliffs to the water’s edge.  The subsequent crossing was rather dicey, and Jimmy nearly went swimming.  Still, we found our way across and arrived on a sandy beach bordering a fine swimming hole below an impressive rock face.

 

We pressed on upstream, wading the river frequently.  After 6 or 8 crossings (8 by our first count, but only 6 on the way out) we arrived at an appealing campsite.  It was only 7:30, and my first instinct was to continue on.  However, previous experience had taught me to never pass up a good campsite that close to dark.  We settled in there, at official campsite #7, and made ourselves comfortable.

 

I set up camp and put Jimmy in charge of building a fire.  It was so hot that neither of us really wanted a campfire, but there were enough pesky bugs that some smoke would be a useful deterrent.  While he was gathering wood, I wandered down to the river in search of photo opportunities.  I didn’t find much except for a Northern Water Snake, which disappeared long before I could manage a photo.

 

That evening over the campfire, our conversation inevitably turned to the book and movie “Deliverance”, which was set in the mountains of north Georgia.  After covering the usual jokes, Jimmy commented that he was surprised that the movie hadn’t been remade (like most every other movie from that era).  The led me to throw a new twist into the conversation.

 

“So”, I asked, “if someone remakes ‘Deliverance’, who should play Ned Beatty’s role?”

 

As soon as I asked the question, I knew the answer.  Before Jimmy could respond, I blurted out, “how about Pauly Shore?”

 

That nearly killed it right there.  Hilarity ensued.  How could we top Pauly Shore?  We made an effort anyway.  Jimmy suggested Kanye West, which wasn’t too shabby.  Many other ideas followed, from the profound (Jim Carrey, Adam Sandler) to the absurd (Porky Pig, the annoying chick on the Progressive Car Insurance commercials).  This went on all night, and for several days beyond.  We eventually compiled quite a list that I completely failed to write down.  Oh well, it was amusing at the time.

 

We spent the rest of the evening enjoying the fire and listening to the tree frogs sing.  Jimmy managed to sleep some that night, wrapped in something that looked like a blanket and using a towel for a pillow.  I suppose the blanket came in handy, since it actually got a little chilly late that night.  After the previous week in Atlanta, it felt wonderful.

 

We were up fairly early the next morning.  We ate chocolate granola cereal and packed for our hike up to Jacks River Falls.  We managed to get moving before 9am, which was fortunate.  I really had no idea how much farther it was to the falls, or how long it would take to get there.

 

The hike started out just like the previous day’s walk had ended.  We waded the river a couple of minutes after leaving camp.  This proved to be a theme.  In fact, we waded it 16 times that morning.  The hike upstream offered fantastic river scenery and surprising solitude.  We’d seen a single group of hikers heading out from a swimming hole early on our hike Friday evening.  Since then, it seemed like we’d had the entire wilderness to ourselves.  Aside from the scenery and solitude, I was delighted to find an impressive display of wildflowers.  We passed dozens of Morning Glories in full bloom in the early morning light.

 

A couple of hours later we approached an occupied campsite across from the junction with the Rice Camp Trail.  Shortly beyond, we reached the 16th crossing of the day.  Here we found signs stating that camping was prohibited for the next 2 miles or so.  Jacks River Falls is extremely popular, and the Forest Service has banned camping in the immediate area to prevent further damage to the area.

 

From there, we stayed on the east side of the river all the way to the falls.  We knew we were getting close when the relatively gentle river we’d seen thus far began dropping over larger rapids and cascades.  Minutes later, we found ourselves high above the falls, looking down on quite a party.  There were people everywhere.  Where had all of these folks come from?

 

We descended a steep scramble path to the base of the falls.  We had a quick lunch, and did a bit of swimming.  Afterwards, I was intent on getting some photos.  It was a surprisingly cloudy day, so the light was favorable.  However, there were people crawling all over the falls.  How would I manage any decent photos?

 

As the afternoon progressed, the crowd gradually began to dissipate.  Most were dayhikers that had come in from a nearby trailhead.  Meanwhile, others headed to the top of the falls, which offers another fine swimming hole. 

 

Jimmy wanted a photo of himself in front of the falls.  With the crowd dwindling, I thought I might be able to pull it off.  I told him to position himself on the rocks below the falls while I waded the river.  There is a large boulder on the far side, just downstream from the falls that provides a fine vantage point.  Once there, I set up the tripod and got the camera ready.  Eventually everyone left the area below the falls except one couple.  They were front and center when they engaged in a passionate kiss.  This actually seemed a bit romantic for the first 30 seconds or so, until Don Juan grabbed a couple handfuls of his girlfriend’s rump.  At that point I stood and threw my hands up in the air.  Jimmy nearly fell over laughing at my reaction.

 

Finally Romeo and Juliet wandered off, apparently intent on getting a room or whatever.  Suddenly I had my chance.  Aside from a small swarm of folks at the top of the falls, the shot was clear.  With some careful cropping, I managed a few photos.  From them, you might think we had the place to ourselves.

 

 

ROW JIMMY

 

 

Our leisurely afternoon was interrupted by thunder.  This was a bit alarming, as my biggest concern on this trip was that a severe storm would cause the river to flood.  From the falls, we had 16 crossings between us and camp.  In a flash flood, we could easily be stranded.  On the other hand, the water was low, and the river is fairly wide.  I knew it would require a monster storm to prevent us from returning to camp.  We gathered our gear, but made a quick visit to the top of the falls before starting the hike back.

 

After a few minutes at the top of the falls, the thunder grew louder and rain began to fall.  We started down the trail, knowing that we’d left far too late if the river flooded.  On the other hand, if there was a flood, maybe we could cling to a log and float back to camp.  That would certainly be a lot faster than walking!

 

My fears were unfounded.  The rain never exceeded a roaring drizzle as the storm passed by.  At least the rain cooled things off a bit.  It wasn’t nearly as hot in the Cohutta Wilderness as in Atlanta, but the rain still provided some welcome relief.

 

The rain was merely a memory by the time we returned to camp.  We enjoyed another campfire, and feasted on leftover meals Christy and I had brought back from Peru.  We went to bed early, knowing we needed an early start the following morning.

 

We were up at 6:30 on Sunday.  We dined on pop tarts and broke camp quickly.  The hike out went fast, and before long we were on the final stretch of dry trail leading to the trailhead.  On the first day we’d counted 8 crossings, while we’d only encountered 6 this morning.  Either we had miscounted on Friday, or we had managed to skip a pair of them on the way out. I’m going to assume that we miscounted, meaning that we forded the river 44 times over the course of the weekend.

 

The drive back to Kennesaw was smooth.  We stopped at Chris’ house to take showers and indulge in strong coffee.  Then it was on to Cumming (really!) for Jimmy’s show.  He played at Good Times Irish Pub, and a good time was had by all.  I enjoyed some of my favorite Grateful Dead songs and lots of draft beer.

 

For more about Jimmy’s music, check out:

 

http://jlsmile.com/key/about/

 

After the show, Jimmy and I chatted with one of his friends.  We told him about our weekend, and Jimmy described our hike.  He concluded by mentioning that we’d had to wade the river 44 times.  At this, his friend seemed puzzled.  After a few moments he responded:

 

“So, did you guys keep forgetting a bunch of stuff, or what?”

 

Classic.

 

We only visited a small part of the vast Cohutta Wilderness, but what we saw was certainly promising.  I’ll have to return sometime soon.  Next time, perhaps I’ll hike the Conasauga River Trail.  I understand that one crosses the river 40+ times as well.




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