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:
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.
Back to Georgia
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