OLD SCHOOL

 

 

Christy and I had planned to take her sister Megan, Megan’s boyfriend Forest, and our nephew on their first real backpacking trip over Labor Day weekend.  They had joined us for a trip to Panthertown Valley in May, but that only requires hiking in less than 2 miles.  We had set up a basecamp and did dayhikes from there.  We had carried all kinds of absurd gear, including a 10 pound tent that normally is reserved for car camping.  Since then, Forest had bought a nice lightweight tent, and new pack, and a sleeping bag.  I decided they were ready for a more demanding hike, so I planned an 8-mile loop trip in the Lost Cove Wilderness Study Area.

 

That was before the great gas crisis of 2005.  Because of that debacle, Megan and Forest decided to stay home.  Christy and I discussed our options, and decided to go anyway.  Lost Cove was where I had first learned to backpack, back in my college days many years ago.  Back then, that area seemed like a vast wilderness.  My first backpacking trip was in February, along Gragg Prong Creek.  Thanks to the frequent creek crossings (a real adventure in February), that hike had taken most of the day.  I had returned to the area on several other occasions.  One 5 mile loop was stretched out over 3 days.  Later I got more ambitious, and combined Lost Cove with a foray into Harper Creek.  At 4 days, that was my first ever extended backpacking trip.

 

Back in those days, we did things a little differently.  We didn’t have stoves, so we cooked over a fire.  We didn’t have water filters, either, so we boiled all of our drinking water.  Can you imagine drinking water that tastes like ash for 3 or 4 days?  I didn’t own a fancy cookset, so I carried a big 2 gallon pot for boiling spaghetti strapped to the outside of my external frame pack.  Our food choices were questionable, too.  On one memorable trip, a friend carried a 2 liter soda bottle full of chili (!), while I hauled a bag of apples.  Come to think of it, the creek crossings may not have been the only reason why it took us most of a day to go 2 miles.

 

Obviously I’ve learned a few things since then.  If I hadn’t, I’d probably be lying in the shrubs beside a trail somewhere, instead of writing this.  But for this weekend, we decided to do things the old way.  We were going back to where I’d first learned to backpack, so it seemed appropriate.

 

As is usual, I carried most of the gear, including the tent, the sleeping bags, and most of the food.  I also brought the rack from a grill, and a frying pan.  The stove, fuel, and cookset stayed home.  So did the 2 gallon pot.  Going old school is one thing, but let’s not get carried away.  Christy brought the important things, namely the steaks, and a large bottle of merlot.

 

We got a leisurely start Sunday, since we had planned a short hike.  We drove to Morganton, where gas was readily available.  From there, we drove all the way to Linville, before following 2 slow-moving cars down the dirt road to Roseboro.  Apparently it hadn’t rained lately, because the road was so dusty I could barely see out the windshield.  We found a crowded parking area at the trailhead, which suggested that the gas crisis hadn’t scared too many people away.

 

We hit the trail at the crack of noon, taking the less traveled path away from the creek up Timber Ridge.  This part of the loop is less traveled largely because it isn’t particularly exciting.  We followed the ridge through a scrubby forest with many fallen trees.  Fortunately, the trail had been cleared.  The forest open up into a pleasant glade at Bee Knob, where we found a nice, secluded campsite.  From there, we descended steeply on a badly rutted trail, before reaching a set of switchbacks.  A small opening in the forest provided a nice view of the valley before we finally bottomed out near Lost Cove Creek.  We had a late lunch before reaching our first creek crossing of the trip.

 

Normally in the summer, Lost Cove Creek can be rock hopped.  This was not a normal day.  Almost a week had passed since Hurricane Katrina passed nearby, but the water was still up.  Even wading was a little exciting, as the current was powerful and the rocks were slippery.  Christy, Saucony, and I made it across, and picked up the trail heading downstream.

 

Below the confluence with Little Lost Cove Creek, we passed a large swimming hole below a cliff, and the trail disappeared.  I recalled that the trail crossed the creek several times, and that the location of the crossings were often obscure.  We wandered around for awhile, before changing back into sandals and wading the creek at the lower end of the swimming hole.  This was probably not the best spot to cross.  The water was deeper than it looked, and I was quickly soaked to the waist.

 

We found the trail on the far side, but before long, found ourselves scrambling up and down the sides of cliffs.  This couldn’t be right.  Clearly, we had missed another crossing.  We were still on something of a path though, so we plugged on.  We made it down the last cliff, and rejoined the trail as it crossed back over from the far side of the stream.

 

Just beyond, we stumbled upon a lovely secluded campsite.  We hadn’t seen anyone on the trail all day, but knew that would change when we reached Hunt Fish Falls.  Rather than continuing on to camp near the falls and swimming hole, we decided to camp in solitude.  It was only 4pm when we finished setting up camp, but we got a case of laziness and decided to skip our afternoon swim.  Instead, we spent the afternoon gathering firewood and relaxing around camp.  That evening, we grilled steaks and potatoes over the fire, and polished off a bottle of merlot.  It was wonderful way to spend a quiet, relaxing evening.

 

The next morning, I sat inside the fire ring (which was necessary because the pit was large enough for a college bonfire) and cooked blueberry pancakes over a campfire.  This was tricky, since the key to good pancakes is the right amount of heat.  Somehow they turned out well.  We followed up our lazy evening with a lazy morning, but eventually broke camp and continued our hike downstream.  15 minutes later, we reached Hunt Fish Falls, which was totally deserted.  Where was everybody?  A few minutes later another couple showed up, and we hiked on.

 

It didn’t take long to find where everyone was.  We hiked up along Gragg Prong, and made two more creek crossings.  It was just after noon when the trail popped out onto a sunny rock beside a fantastic swimming hole.  Lots of people were congregating here, and for good reason.  It’s a great place to swim, or work on a tan.  We had a light lunch, before going for a refreshing (and cold!) dip.  The only thing that could’ve made it better is a couple of cold beers.

 

We played for a while, before concluding our hike along Gragg Prong.  We waded the creek three more times, before reaching the car.  We headed for home, but made plans to return with Megan, Forest, and Nathan.




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