STEEL ALIVE

The good news is that there were no casualties or serious injuries. Most of my cuts and bruises are beginning to fade. After 2 days, I no longer feel like I just survived a car wreck. That’s not to say that there weren’t any tragedies though.

I first hiked Steels Creek back in the late 90’s. That hike remains something of a classic, as we started on Upper Creek, passed Burnthouse Branch Falls (when the water was WAY up), and crossed highway 181before descending along Steels Creek. I think the reason that hike is so memorable is that we (ok, I) picked a terrible time to do it. We did it in March, when the days were short, the streams were running strong, and the water was frigid. The first crossing of Upper Creek had been frightening. Someone lost a Teva. The final crossing of Steels Creek had been even worse, as it occurred at dusk. I’ll never forget the image of my friend’s dog perched on a rock half his size in the middle of the river, terrified to continue.

Since then I’ve returned twice. Once with Christy, for a short hike along the Mountains to Sea Trail, and more recently, when I used the area as a starting point for a hike to Table Rock. I’m not sure why I haven’t spent more time here, as Steel Creek offers everything you could possibly want in the way of a creekside hike. After that first hike, we contemplated a return to fully explore the falls. At the time, getting down into the gorge looked treacherous, and daylight was running short. Since then, I’ve done more challenging waterfall explorations, but for some reason I’d forgotten about Steels Creek.

Jack and I got an email from Waterfall Rich (of www.ncwaterfalls.com) some months ago recommending this area. That served as an effective reminder, and I put Steels Creek back on the old “to do” list.

Last weekend offered ideal conditions for a creek walk. The weather had been dry all week, meaning that water levels would be low and the riverside rocks would be (relatively) dry.

I met Jack in Morganton and he rode with me from there. After a quick, easy drive we reached the end of the forest road beside a large area of primitive campsites. We found the parking area deserted, suggesting that we would have the area to ourselves.

We started up what remained of the old roadbed at 9:30. I had worn a pair of cheap water shoes for this adventure, as I knew we’d be walking in the creek a lot. Jack chose an old pair of boots. Boone went barefoot, as usual. Wisely, I decided to leave the 20lb tripod behind at the last minute. At least I made one good decision on this morning.

After a couple of minutes we reached the creek at a cascade and swimming hole. We waded the creek just upstream, and wandered through the rhododendrons for a minute before locating the Mountains to Sea Trail. We followed the trail for a short distance, first climbing away from the creek, before descending back down to it. Here we found another deep pool and a profusion of Cardinal Flowers.

We climbed away from the creek again, before abandoning the trail at the first switchback. We headed back down to the creek, and the adventure began. The creek is hemmed in by cliffs and boulders, so following the bank isn’t an option. We walked right up the creek, splashing our way up to the first of many fine cascades.

We paused there for a few minutes to take photos. It was at this point that tragedy was narrowly averted. I had walked back downstream a short distance, camera in hand, for a different angle. On my return, I was climbing back up to where we’d left our packs when Boone planted himself in my way. I shooed him away, but I’d lost my upward momentum. When I went to resume my climb, I planted my right foot on the slick rock above me. When I shifted my weight to step up, my foot slipped and I went for a tumble. My hand – and camera – banged into the rock. My polarizing filter went flying. Just before I landed in the creek, I somehow had the presence of mind to twist my body so I could hold the camera above me. Luckily, the camera only caught a little splash.

I regained my feet, and spotted my filter in the water below me. Before I could grab it though, the current caught it and swept it into a deep pool downstream. Sigh. Jack made a valiant effort searching for it, but it was hopeless. The good news is that I have a spare. The bad news is that it was at home. I’d have to manage the rest of the day without it.

We packed up and resumed our hike. Further progress required wading the creek again. I was halfway across when I slipped again and landed on my ass. Luckily, I had packed my camera in a waterproof bag. My wife gave that bag to me as a Christmas gift last year. I’m not sure how much she paid for it, but it wasn’t enough. It helped my camera survive that complete dunking.

I regained my feet and made it the rest of the way across. Next up was a traverse across a slippery, sloping rock. Since I was doing so well on my feet, I decided to slide across this on my butt. That seemed like a good strategy, but it didn’t really work. After a few feet I hit a really bad spot and went for a ride: Destination – Steels Creek. Right before I hit the water I realized that I was coming down right into one of the creek’s many potholes. It was a small one though, and only my right leg went in. And in. And in. I fell and fell, until my crotch finally broke my fall on the smooth rock rim of the pothole. That was a nice sensation.

All laughs aside, my plunge had been really dangerous. I easily could’ve broken my leg. I immediately realized just how lucky I’d been.

I’ve walked lots of creeks and rivers over the years, but Steels Creek might very well be the most treacherous. Hiking it was like walking across a giant bath tub wearing banana peels in place of shoes. I actually managed to fall 3 times in a span of about 20 yards. And we were just getting started!

The falling didn’t end there, either. Jack eventually got into the act, too. He may actually have outdone me, as he managed to fall twice in the exact same spot. By the end of the day, we’d both fallen 5 times. Towards the end of the creek walk, we were both doing more crawling than walking.

We eventually reached a huge swimming hole at the base of an impressive cascade. Here, Steels Creek is squeezed into a steep, narrow chute between sharply angled rock walls. Continuing up the creek was out of the question. We had to pick a side to climb around this obstacle.

I thought the left side looked the most promising, so we went that way. We climbed steeply above the creek, and eventually found ourselves on a faint path. We continued to follow it, climbing farther and farther above the stream. I began to suspect that this was just going to take us back to the MST, which was somewhere above us. Plus, we could see and hear some impressive whitewater below. We were afraid that we were missing the good stuff, and we didn’t see any way down. So, we decided to double-back to the giant swimming hole.

We were both carrying copies of Waterfall Rich’s description of his hike here. I’m not sure why it didn’t occur to us to check it. If we had, we would’ve discovered that we were on the right route, and that we’d find a way down a short distance ahead.

Back at the swimming hole, we ran into two guys that were planning to camp there. They knew the area well, and suggested going up the right side. At this point, I decided that my creek shoes were completely inadequate. Luckily I had brought my boots, so I switched to them.

We tried the right side, and found a faint path through the woods. Eventually we dropped back down to the boulders lining the creek, just upstream from the impressive cascade we’d seen below. This was encouraging! We continued upstream, and reached the base of a 10’ waterfall. At this point, we were surrounded by cliffs and boulders, with no apparent route ahead. However, a bit of investigation revealed that we could pass under a massive boulder. There was a fixed rope in place here, offering a way up to the next level.

That was great for Jack, but not so good for me. There was no way I’d be able to get an 80 pound dog up that rope! Jack continued ahead, and I told him I would find a way around and meet him upstream. That proved to be easier said than done. I backtracked downstream and hunted for a route around the cliffs above. Each time I thought I’d found a reasonable option, an obstacle got in the way. Finally, after a long detour that took us about halfway up the mountain, I found a reasonable place to descend. I almost reached Jack, but found myself on the wrong side of a narrow but deep chasm. It would’ve been an easy jump, except that the far side was a tangle of rhododendron limbs. The jump was doable, but the landing would be ugly. It wasn’t worth the risk. So back up we went again. This time we came down at a better spot.

Jack had been waiting for quite a while, so we didn’t linger. Plus, while traversing the mountainside I’d gotten a glimpse of the main falls just ahead. We were almost there!

We crossed to the left side and reached a stretch of awkwardly shaped rock covered in stinging nettle. I pretty much crawled through this stretch, as I wasn’t feeling very sure-footed. Regrettably, I’m a bit allergic to nettles, and I was sporting an itchy rash by the time we arrived at the base of the falls. I joined Jack in the pool below the falls, hoping the water would relieve my symptoms. The itching continued for several minutes, even though my legs were completely submerged!

I was shocked to discover that it was already 1pm. It had taken us 3 ½ hours to “hike” less than a mile. We decided to have lunch there and enjoy the falls. We had a great view of the bottom drop, while the upper portion of the falls was mostly out of sight. While we were relaxing there, the two guys we’d seen earlier caught up to us. They proceeded to climb the house-sized boulder on the right side of the falls. Then one of them jumped in, from about 25’ up. This was pretty crazy, as the pool was deep but narrow. There wasn’t much margin for error on that jump at all. I’m glad he pulled it off safely, as evacuating him from that spot would’ve been quite an event.

We still wanted a look at the upper portion of the falls. We weren’t about to try rock climbing either side of the falls. We did notice a possible route on the left side. It was extremely steep though, and wet. There wasn’t much in the way of vegetation to hold on to. I didn’t like the looks of it, so we attempted to climb up from the creek through a rhododendron thicket. This was unpleasant, but less dangerous. We eventually crawled our way up to the MST. Reaching the main trail was a huge relief!

We followed it a short distance to an obvious side path heading back down. We took this trail, which leads to a wet, slippery, sloping rock dangling above the falls. We worked our way down this rock very carefully, as a mistake here probably would’ve been fatal. Just before the brink we stopped for a few photos. While we were there, we noticed a couple of other guys swimming in a pool midway down the falls. I have no idea how they got there. I’m guessing they must’ve rappelled in there.

It was only mid-afternoon, and Jack and I both wanted to do a little normal walking. So we returned to the MST and continued upstream. We passed the brink of the falls and enjoyed a few minutes of hiking alongside an unusually placid stretch of the creek. After a bit of this, we turned away from the creek and began climbing on switchbacks. This piqued my curiosity. My vague, distant memories of hiking here had been of following the creek most of the time. If the trail was climbing away from the creek, what was it avoiding? Another gorge? After several switchbacks, we walked out through the woods a short distance, towards the creek. Far below, we could clearly see what appeared to be a substantial waterfall.

I knew we had to check it out. I’d never heard of another waterfall on Steels Creek. Jack suggested doubling-back down the switchbacks and heading up the creek. In hindsight, this was an excellent idea, and it would’ve saved considerable heartache. We had what might be an undocumented waterfall in our sights though, and I wanted to head for it! The terrain didn’t look too steep, and even the rhododendrons only appeared to be a little hellish.

I lead the way. Before long, I reached a 3’ drop. I didn’t see a graceful way down, so I planted my trusty hiking stick below me and dropped, letting the stick catch my weight. It’s a technique I’ve used hundreds of times over the years. Unfortunately, this time disaster struck. As I dropped, I heard a sickening crack. I took a tumble before rolling to a stop. I paused to assess the damage.

I’ve been carrying the same hiking stick for over 14 years. I found it in a pile of deadfall back in 1996 and immediately knew it was a keeper. It is lightweight, yet incredibly strong. It has accompanied me on most of my hikes since that day. That stick was with me to summit two 14ers in Colorado and Mount Katahdin in Maine. It’s been to Yellowstone, and has traversed Wyoming’s Wind Range and The Grand Tetons. Closer to home, it’s been to more remote waterfalls than I can recall.

Despite its strength, it began to show its age a few years ago. Small cracks began to appear. Recently those cracks have grown, and I knew its days were numbered. Sadly, its days are now up. The bottom of the stick had snapped, mangled beyond all repair.

Since I found that stick, I’ve been through 3 backpacks, 4 tents, 4 cameras, and countless pairs of boots. Aside from being a fine companion, that stick has kept me from breaking my neck on more than one occasion. The most memorable was when I was hiking near Windy Falls on the Horsepasture River. It was a treacherous hike, and I slipped near the brink of a cliff. I began sliding, picking up speed, when I held my stick out in front of me. It wedged between two trees, and I slid into it. I came away a bit bruised, but in one piece.

Briefly I considered leaving it there. Ironically, I was only a few miles away from where I’d found it all those years ago. I couldn’t do it though. I had to take it home with me.

Somehow we made it the rest of the way down to the creek. From there, we had one more tough stretch of creek walking to reach the mystery waterfall. This stretch wasn’t any easier than what we’d traversed earlier. A wall of boulders guarded the base of the falls. We found a way to skirt around them, across another slippery, sloping rock. I used yet another technique here, crab walking across the rock while bracing with my feet against the boulders. This kept me from sliding into the creek yet again. Once beyond that tricky stretch, we enjoyed a relatively easy walk to the base of the falls.

We were greeted with a fine view of an unusual sliding cascade. The creek slides over an open rock face for perhaps 40’. At the base, the river slams into a sheer cliff and makes an abrupt right hand turn. It flows down through a narrow, deep channel in the bedrock before reaching another small cascade.

This waterfall would be relatively non-descript if it weren’t for that sudden right turn at the base. Still, I was amazed that there was such a substantial undocumented waterfall this close to a popular trail. Now, Jack and I wonder what else might be upstream.

Since that right hand turn is the waterfall’s most unique characteristic, I suggested that we call it “Screaming Right Hand Turn Falls”. I admit that it sounds like something a whitewater kayaker would come up with, but it seems to fit.

We hung out there in the sunshine before heading back. We took the direct route out, following the creek downstream. Once through the boulder garden, the walking was fairly easy. Before long, we found a faint path, and then a campsite adjacent to the MST. Going out was definitely much easier than our approach had been!

From there, we followed the MST back to the top of the main falls. From that point, it took us all of 10 minutes to walk the trail back down to the point where we started our creek walk earlier that morning. What had taken us over 3 hours to traverse along the river had been covered in 10 minutes on the trail. I think that tells you everything you need to know about how rugged this gorge is.

A few minutes later, Jack was leading the way when I heard a high-pitched scream. I caught up to Jack, who was a few feet up the trail from a large group of hikers. One of them, a young woman, was still shrieking.

“Jack”, I said, “Do you have this effect on women often?”

It turns out there was a snake in the shrubs just off the trail. I’m not sure what variety it was, but it definitely wasn’t poisonous.

The rest of the hike was uneventful. We made one final crossing of the creek, and returned to the parking area to find it full.

Jack and I will definitely return to Steels Creek to see what else is hiding upstream. I’ll need a new stick first though. I’m guess I’ll have to accompany Johnny on one of his trips to his secret beaver pond to see what I can find.

Back to North Carolina's High Country

Back to North Carolina

Back to Hiking and Backpacking Trip Reports

Home

Please remember to Leave No Trace!