TRAIN KEPT A ROLLIN’
Back
when I was a kid, trains were my primary hobby.
I had a train set, which evolved into a 5’ x 9’ layout that rendered our
family’s ping pong table obsolete. I
loved watching trains, and enjoyed nothing more than walking along train tracks
just to see where they went. Of course,
riding a train was the biggest thrill. When
I was young, my family took me on train excursions to Asheville and Roanoke.
This
hobby persisted throughout high school.
However, when I reached my senior year, I made the curious decision to
attend Appalachian State University in Watauga County. This must’ve really puzzled my parents. You see, Watauga County is one of the few
counties in North Carolina that has no railroads. Needless to say, there wouldn’t be any space
in my dorm room for the model railroad, either.
Of
course, I developed plenty of other hobbies while I was in college (insert your
own joke here). Some of them were even
legal! Seriously though, hiking largely
replaced my obsession with trains.
However, during my sophomore year I discovered that once upon a time, an
actual railroad (albeit a narrow gauge railroad) ran to Boone. This piqued my curiosity, and I made the former
railroad my subject for a research project.
It was a good choice, as some of my “research” required hiking the old
railroad bed.
The
East Tennessee and Western North Carolina Railroad originally ran from Johnson
City, TN to an iron ore mine in Cranberry, NC.
Later, the narrow gauge line was extended to Boone. A series of devastating floods, the closing
of the mine, and the Great Depression led to the line’s abandonment. Today, the only thing that remains is a
standard gauge stretch of track running from Johnson City to Elizabethton. There isn’t a hint of most of the original
line. Much of the original bed was paved
over for highways. However, there is one
significant exception.
Arguably
the most scenic stretch of the original railroad was through the rugged Doe
River Gorge between Blevins, TN and Hampton, TN. Through here, the railroad grade was blasted
out of sheer cliffs high above the foaming river. Where there was no room for the tracks,
tunnels were cut through the ridges and trestles were erected to span the
river. Because of the rugged terrain,
the gorge remains relatively undeveloped.
Today, a church camp owns most of the gorge. They occasionally operate an excursion train
on the remaining trackage. Happily, the
church camp allows public access and hiking – but only at certain times of the
year. When camps are in session
(typically in the summer and on some weekends in the spring and fall) the
property is closed to the public. As a
result, it’s a good idea to contact them before planning a trip:
I
hiked the gorge several times back in college, and a couple of times
since. However, I’d never hiked the
entire gorge. I had always gone only as
far as the first trestle over the river.
Even in the early 90’s there wasn’t much left of the bridge. Crossing it would’ve required tightrope
walking across a narrow piece of metal frame some 70’ above raging
whitewater. I’m not particularly
coordinated, and I don’t like heights, so that was out of the question.
The
problem was that I really wanted to see what was beyond that bridge. My research told me what was
there – another tunnel, followed immediately by another trestle. Knowing that wasn’t enough though. I wanted to see it, hike it, experience it.
I
came up with a plan. From the trestle, I’d
bushwhack down the steep slope and wade the river
below the bridge. Then I’d climb back up
to the railroad bed on the far side.
There were a number of obvious problems with this plan. The most significant is that wading the Doe
River wouldn’t be a trivial undertaking.
I’d need to do it in the summer, when water levels were low. Unfortunately, summer is when the area is
typically closed to the public. It was
quite a dilemma, and it persisted. Years
went by, but my obsession with seeing the rest of the gorge remained.
A
couple of years ago, I finally found my way to tunnel #1 along the line:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/9067009@N03/706946339/in/set-72157604065186754/
The
first tunnel is located between Elizabethton and Hampton, downstream from the
gorge. That modest success only reminded
me of what I was missing. I’d seen
tunnels 2 and 3, but 4 and 5 were still a mystery.
A
few weeks ago I camped with Jack nearby, at Dennis Cove. Originally I hoped that we might get over to
the gorge. Unfortunately, the area was
closed to the public that weekend. I
went to some trouble looking for a back way into the gorge that would avoid the
church camp property. Unfortunately I
was turned away by private property that was heavily posted. Meanwhile, an earlier attempt to approach the
gorge from the upstream end had failed, for the same reason.
Last
week a work assignment in Mountain City, TN offered me another opportunity to
visit the gorge. I wasn’t expecting it
to be open to the public, but I gave them a call anyway. I was delighted to find out that although it
would be closed that weekend, it was open to the public during the week. I was on schedule to finish my job by noon on
Wednesday, giving me a full afternoon for exploration. Even better, since I was on a work trip, I
didn’t have the dog with me. The church
camp doesn’t allow pets, which has always been another major stumbling block
for planning trips there.
I
had lunch at Subway in Mountain City and drove past Watauga Lake to Hampton,
TN. From there I found my way over to
the camp and parked at the office.
Inside, I checked in and signed a waiver. I was on my way before 2pm, under sunny
skies.
I
hiked up past a pond to a makeshift railroad station. There was an excursion train pulled by a
small diesel engine parked here. From
there, I walked down the tracks, reaching tunnel #2 a minute later. Tunnel #2 is a short one, but like all of the
tunnels along the line, it’s literally carved out of the rock. It’s also curved, which makes it a bit more
interesting than the typical straight passage.
Beyond
the tunnel I encountered the Doe River for the first time. It was far below me though, nearly hidden
behind a green curtain of vegetation.
This part of the hike was a pleasant stroll along the shady tracks, with
the only sound being the distant roar of the water echoing off the canyon
walls. As I walked, I was startled by a
Great Blue Heron taking flight from the river below.
I
reached tunnel #3 fairly quickly. This
tunnel is also curved, but it is a little longer. In fact, it was long enough to get a little
dark in the middle of it. Beyond this
tunnel is Pardee Point. Here the trees disappear as the canyon becomes
more rugged. The tracks hug the edge of
a breathtaking cliff, with the river roaring through a narrow chasm far below. A jagged rock wall soars above the tracks,
and more impressive cliffs form the far side of the canyon.
Beyond
Pardee Point I returned to the woods. Somewhere along here I passed the remains of a moonshine still. In
several places, side paths led down to the river. A bit later I arrived at another stretch of
rugged cliffs below Flagpole Point.
Beyond here, the tracks appeared to be overgrown. It looks like the excursion trains no longer
go beyond Flagpole Point. A few minutes later, I found out why. A rockslide has buried a short stretch of the
tracks. I’m not sure if there are any
plans to remove the debris. I climbed
through the boulders and followed the tracks a few minutes further, to the site
of a second rockslide. Just beyond here,
I arrived at the first trestle.
The
bridge looked scary years earlier, at my last visit, and the intervening years
hadn’t improved the situation. There
were only a few rotten ties left, although the tracks continued across the
trestle. If crossing the bridge before
had seemed like a bad idea, it was completely out of the question now! Of course, I had a different strategy in
mind.
I
descended a faint trail immediately downstream from the bridge. My plan was to wade across the river there,
and then climb back up to the tracks on the far side of the gorge.
This
was not the best approach.
Getting
down to the river was fairly easy, as the tracks are only 70’ or so above river
level. Crossing the river wasn’t too
bad, either. I was able to jump across
one deep but narrow channel, and the rest of the river was easy wading through
thigh-deep water. Where things turned
ugly was on the climb up from the river.
The far side of the gorge was steep and covered in Rhododendron. I hunted around for a good place to ascend,
but every spot either required rock climbing or crawling uphill through the
shrubs. I’m no rock climber, so I
eventually resorted to immersing myself in the Rhodos.
I
climbed and traversed to the right, generally following the path of least
resistance. Eventually I spotted the
railroad grade ahead – but below me. I
had actually climbed up too far. I slid
down the bank to the tracks, and walked over to the edge of the bridge. The trestle looked even worse from this
side. After checking it out briefly, I
turned the other way to see what was ahead.
After
only a few yards I reached the mouth of tunnel #4. This tunnel, like the others in the gorge,
was hacked out of the rock. Another
rockslide has buried the tracks just before the mouth, and I noticed quite a
bit of fallen rock inside the tunnel as well.
I’m not sure how safe that tunnel really is now, but there was no way I
was turning back. After all, what were
the chances of it collapsing while I was in there?
I
walked through the dark, damp tunnel, which cuts through a ridge between bends
in the river. The far side of the tunnel
is obscured by more rock fall and lots of vegetation. I felt like an explorer emerging from a cave
into a Central American rain forest as I climbed out of the tunnel. I pushed through the bushes and pulled up
short at the brink of another trestle.
This bridge is actually in worse condition than the previous one. One rail extends part of the way across, but
almost all of the ties are gone.
Crossing it was out of the question, but it was an amazing thing to
see. It’s incredible to me that all of
this history is just sitting out there rusting, and hardly anybody knows about
it.
I
flirted with the idea of descending to the river and wading again. I knew that the remains of tunnel #5 were only
a ¼ mile ahead. However, I’d also
discovered that the final tunnel had collapsed, and there wasn’t much left of
it to see. Plus, I didn’t see an easy,
safe way down from the bridge. It was
also getting late, and I still had almost 3 hours of driving ahead of me.
I
turned around, passing back through tunnel #4.
At the far end, I found a better route back. I descended upstream from the bridge. Getting down was much easier here, and
fording the river still wasn’t bad. Even
the climb back up the far side was on a decent path! If I return, I’ll have to remember to remember
to cross upstream from the bridge.
The
walk back was fast and uneventful. I did
make a couple of side trips down to the river, where I was treated to numerous
rapids and cascades. For the most part
though, I hustled back out. I made
record time on the drive home, getting back in a little over 2 ½ hours. Although I’ve now done substantially all of
the gorge, I still may go back and hit what’s left of tunnel #5 and whatever
else is upstream from there. At the very
least, it’s an excuse to hike the Doe River Gorge again!
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