NANTAHALA

A few years ago, the NC Bartram Society and the Nantahala National Forest completed the Bartram Trail from Franklin to Cheoah Bald. The trail supposedly follows the footsteps of William Bartram, and early explorer and Botanist, from more than 200 years ago. At the time, I was pretty excited about the trail. After all, it’s not often that new trails are created in our national forests. In my research of the trail, I noticed that the Bartram trail intersects the Appalachian Trail at both Wayah Bald and Cheoah Bald. Between those points, the two trails form a loop of about 55 miles. From that moment, I knew I’d have to do that trip sometime. But when would I ever find the time for such an adventure?

The best part about being unemployed is the free time. I knew this was my opportunity to do the trip, and I decided not to pass it up. Christy wouldn’t be able to join me though, since school was still in session. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. We had done one part of the trail, from the Nantahala River up to Cheoah Bald, a few years ago. That is one of the steepest climbs in the state. Afterwards, she swore she’d never set foot on the Bartram Trail again. She was more than glad to let me go, and even let me bring Saucony with me.

PART 1: THE TWO TOWERS

I decided to start my trip at the Nantahala Outdoor Center (NOC) in Wesser. This seemed like a convenient place to start, since it features a store for last minute items and ample parking. It also has 3 restaurants, which I expected would be adequate for a post-trip feast. Originally I planned to start my hike up Cheoah Bald and continue counter-clockwise, as it seemed like it might be a little easier that way. However, I changed my mind shortly before the trip. The weather forecast for the first couple of days looked great. I’d never hiked the AT over Wesser Bald and Wayah Bald, and I wanted to do that section when I could enjoy the views.

I drove to the NOC Thursday morning and hit the trail around noon. The NOC seemed deserted as I found my way to the AT. It crosses the footbridge over the river and then crosses the highway. I followed it up a side road a few yards before turning off into the woods. Soon enough I was climbing switchbacks away from the road. I knew the first day of my trip would be tough. I was hoping to go 9 miles and climb over 3000 feet, all with a full weeks worth of gear and food on my back. The climb started tough and it stayed that way. How tough was something I still had to discover.

After the initial switchbacks I followed a small stream up to the Rufus Morgan shelter. This shelter looked old and dumpy and is situated in a gloomy hollow. The stream provides a good source of water though, and I encouraged Saucony to drink as much as possible. I knew there wouldn’t be much water along the way.

After the shelter, the warm-up was over and the climb began in earnest. It was a hot, humid day, and I was sweating buckets by the time I reached a cliff south of Paint Mountain. The overlook made an ideal lunch spot. I stopped to enjoy a sweeping view of the Smokies. Despite the heat, the infamous summer haze was still at a minimum. I was glad that I’d planned the trip early enough in the summer to avoid it.

After lunch the long climb continued. Many of the shrubs were already blooming, which helped take my mind off the pain. Long stretches of the trail passed through tunnels of blooming mountain laurel. In places, there were so many blossoms on the trail it looked as if it had snowed. The blooms were so outrageous, I fully expected to stumble upon an Elven wedding at any moment. That didn’t happen, though I wouldn’t have been surprised if I had hallucinated one. Between the heat and the exertion, I could have imagined almost anything. I was struggling, but Saucony seemed to be doing even worse. The heat was bothering her, and although I shared my water, I was afraid she wasn’t getting enough.

By the time we reached the Wesser Bald shelter she was beginning to look, well, rather Gollum-like. I could practically read her thoughts as she loped along behind me. "What’s master gots in its pocketses? Treats, hmmm, my precious treats." I was relieved to reach the shelter, since I knew there’d be water there. Or so I thought. I didn’t see a water source nearby, so I went across the trail to a blue blazed path and followed it downhill. It dropped steeply on switchbacks, but after 5 minutes I hadn’t found water. Finally I gave up and returned to the shelter.

There was a weedy gully behind the shelter, and I decided to try it. We wandered down it for ten minutes before Saucony found a small mud puddle. This was good enough for her, but I certainly couldn’t filter out of it. I was almost out of water, and knew I’d need some before I pushed on to the summit of Wesser Bald. I returned to the shelter and checked the register, but found no clue to solve my problem.

It was getting late in the afternoon, and I had originally planned to go another 4 miles. I was wiped out though, and I knew that was out of the question. The day’s climb had taken too much out of me. I didn’t really want to stay at the waterless shelter though. Finally I decided to continue up the trail and look for a campsite closer to the summit. Then I’d resume my quest to find water.

I went uphill on the trail about 100 yards and came to a marvelous spring. It’s funny, but it hadn’t occurred to me to go UPHILL to find water. I decided to find a campsite first and return for water. My pack was already heavy enough without having to carry a gallon of water, too.

I followed the trail past one mediocre campsite and continued to climb. Finally the fire tower loomed above me. I reached the summit, and was disappointed to find limited camping options. There was a small overgrown meadow, and one flat spot that contained a fire pit. I was finished for the day though. I decided to stay there regardless, and climbed the steps to the top of the tower.

The view was incredible. It was a clear day, and the tower provided views of mountains in every direction. It was even possible to trace the entire route of my trip – up to Wayah Bald, down to Nantahala Lake, up to Cheoah Bald, and back down to Wesser. Even better, the top of the tower was a flat wooden platform with railings. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Who needs a tent?

In the end, I pitched my tent in the weeds – just in case. I took the rest of my gear upstairs and unloaded. The woods around the tower didn’t offer much in the way of limbs for a bear bag, so I decided to hang my food from the tower. Initially I tried to hang my food from a lower beam, but the bag was so heavy I couldn’t get it more than 6 feet off the ground. After that humbling experience, I got creative. I tied my rope to the railing at the top, and dangled the food from it. My food bag made quite a sight as it hung 30 feet off the ground.

I was preparing to fetch water when two backpackers arrived. The man was from Puerto Rico, and his companion was from Cuba. That was unusual. They decided to stay at the summit as well, which was fine with me. However, the woman had a fear of dogs. It was quite a scene before she finally allowed Saucony to lick her hand. Even after that, I was leery about letting Saucony run free with her around.

My adventure with getting water wasn’t over. I grabbed my filter, camelback, and bucket and headed back down to the spring. However, Saucony didn’t want to go. She was worn out and wasn’t interested in any more hiking. I didn’t want to leave her behind, but I couldn’t force her to come. She would go a short distance and then turn around and head back towards the tent. Finally I leashed her to a tree and continued on.

I was about halfway there when I heard her crying from up above. Saucony hates being left behind. I was pretty well pissed-off as I turned around and climbed back up the switchbacks to her. When I arrived, she quit her crying and I untied her. She took off down to the spring, as if that was where she wanted to go all along. Go figure.

We both got water and headed back to the tower. Despite the long day, I had plenty of time to enjoy a chili dinner and talk with my new Hispanic friends. They were doing a section of the AT, from the Standing Indian area to Wesser. They do a different section each year, but this one had been tough, as it had rained most of the trip. They seemed thrilled to be able to enjoy a clear evening for a change.

The tower was overrun that evening. Shortly before sunset a crowd of NOC employees arrived to enjoy the view. One had a beer, which was cruel. They also brought a couple of dogs, which provided entertainment for Saucony. This was almost too much for our friend from Cuba, but she was able to cope with the situation. We all enjoyed a spectacular sunset. As the sun disappeared behind Cheoah Bald, the few thin clouds near the horizon turned a fiery red.

The temperature dropped with the sun, and the folks from the NOC hurried back down the trail to Tellico Gap. My Hispanic friends retired to their tent (pitched in the weeds next to mine), leaving me alone on the tower. I rolled out my sleeping bag, and watched as the darkening sky exploded with stars. I tried to stay awake and enjoy it, but couldn’t keep my eyes open for long.

I woke up late that night chilled in my summer sleeping bag. Something seemed amiss. At first I couldn’t place it, but then it hit me. The stars were gone. Sometime that night the sky had clouded up. I knew I was daring it to rain. The idea of waking up to rain and having to descend all those stairs with my gear didn’t sound like fun. I decided to take the initiative and head to the tent. I slept well the rest of the night, and no rain fell.

WAYAH UP THEYA

I woke to a cloudy morning. After a bit of oatmeal, I was back on the trail towards Tellico Gap and Wayah Bald. The long steady downhill run to the road at Tellico Gap got my legs warmed up, but I had to make up for it on the other side. All too soon I was climbing along the ridge towards higher and higher peaks. There were a few viewpoints along the way, but the haze that had been absent the previous day had returned. The highlight continued to be the flowers. The mountain laurel continued to impress, and the flame azaleas were even more spectacular. I also spotted several pink lady slippers, which are a rare sight.

The trail followed the typical AT pattern, going from peak to gap. At Cold Spring Gap I found some nice campsites, an old shelter, a privy, and a great spring. I had covered 5 miles that morning, and this seemed like an ideal spot for a long lunch.

One of the more interesting aspects of this part of the hike was the people I ran into. At the shelter I met a mother and her teenage daughter. They were attempting to hike the whole trail, but had only started a couple of weeks before. The daughter had to be back to school by late August. Oh, and this was the first hike either of them had ever been on. Although they were finding the trip more difficult than expected, they seemed in good spirits. They had pretty much resigned themselves to the reality that they weren't going to make it to Maine by August. I encouraged them to not worry about it and to enjoy the part of the trail that they would hike. They seemed inclined to do just that. Even if they only make it as far as Damascus, I think they'll have a better experience than someone that goes the whole way to Maine but forgets to enjoy the hike.

After they left I ran into a heavily tattooed solo hiker. He stopped in for a smoke while I was getting my gear together. I wasn't too sure about him at first, but he was friendly. He really enjoyed playing with Saucony, who loved all of the attention she was getting from passing hikers. Before I left he offered me a small chocolate bar, which I accepted with joy. Candy had been one of the minor things I'd forgotten.

After Cold Spring I resumed my roller coaster hike. I passed through Burningtown Gap and Lickog Gap before beginning the final climb to Wayah Bald. It had been a long day, but the final ascent wasn't as bad as I feared. About 1/2 mile below the summit I reached a junction with the Bartram Trail, which comes up from Franklin to the east. At the junction was a nice large camping area, and there wasn't a soul around. I set up camp and went in search of water. I found two springs nearby, but both were tiny. This was a problem, as I was cooking spaghetti that night. In the end, I had to fill my bucket by scooping water from the spring with a small measuring cup. This was tedious, but in the long run, effective.

I returned to camp and assessed the weather. It was cloudy, and an evening thunderstorm seemed likely. I wanted to run up to the Wayah Bald observation tower, but didn't want to get caught in a storm. Plus, I knew the clouds would limit the view anyway. I decided to save the tower for the next morning. Maybe the weather would be better.

I enjoyed a wonderful spaghetti dinner. Shortly afterwards, the first raindrops chased me to the tent. I was expecting a quick passing shower, but I couldn't have been more wrong. I read a magazine for awhile before giving up and going to bed.

FORESHADOWING

It rained steadily all night. By the next morning, it was still coming down. I had a cold breakfast in the tent before getting to experience one of life's great joys - packing up in the rain. Everything was a wet, muddy mess as I slogged up the last 1/2 mile of trail to the summit of Wayah Bald. At the top I found a small observation tower. There was no view of course, but the tower had a roof. It provided a great place to spread out my wet gear and assess the situation. What was going on with the weather? The forecast had called for several nice days, with only the off chance of a scattered afternoon storm. This wasn't the afternoon, and it certainly wasn't scattered. I needed to call Christy to let her know I was alive, and I knew this was the only place I was likely to get a signal. I decided to give her a call and get the weather forecast at the same time.

Christy informed me that there was a huge storm over the entire eastern third of the country. Where had that come from? The rain was expected to continue all day, with strong storms and flooding likely. This was alarming, as I was heading into the valley that afternoon. Even worse, I knew I'd have to ford the Nantahala River below the lake the next morning. I had talked with someone at the Bartram Trail Society a few days before about the ford. He had told me to expect swift, knee-deep water. But that was before this huge storm.

What to do? I knew the ford could be dangerous, and I wasn't inclined to take any chances, especially being by myself. I was at the point of no return. I could head back from Wayah Bald and reach the car by Sunday. If I continued on though, I'd be committed to finishing the trip.

I debated with myself for some time before reaching a decision. I had come here for a challenge and an adventure. Was I really going to turn back now? I resolved to press on. If the ford was dangerous, I'd just have to find another way around. I called Christy back and informed her of my decision. Then, I headed out into the storm.

PART 2: BARTRAM

I walked a couple of hundred yards and stopped at the bathrooms. I also unloaded my trash at the garbage cans. This didn't amount to much, but it did provide a psychological boost just to get rid of it.

I splashed along the Bartram Trail and AT as the downpour continued. After a couple of miles I stopped at Wine Spring. Nope, sorry, no wine. Only water, which no longer seemed to be in short supply. I resumed my hike, and turned off the AT to follow the Bartram Trail towards Nantahala Lake. The difference was immediately apparent. It was like exiting the freeway to follow a dirt road. That impression only solidified itself the further I hiked. The Bartram trail showed little sign of use. In fact, many parts of the trail turned out to be badly overgrown. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. Many of the hikers I'd passed during the first two days had inquired about my trip. Few had heard of the Bartram Trail (or William Bartram, for that matter). No one had realized that you could make a loop trip with the Bartram and AT. In fact, this baffled more than a few people. I guess walking in a huge circle is a foreign concept when you're used to section hiking.

I followed the footpath steadily downhill and joined an old jeep road. This road passed through 3 "wildlife clearings", which meant walking through chest high weeds. I didn't think it was possible to get any wetter, but hiking through those fields did it. After the clearings, the road made a slippery, muddy descent to a paved road at Sawmill Gap. On the far side, the trail was worse. Soon I was hacking my way through the undergrowth, which threatened to reclaim the trail. I passed near the summit of Jarrett Bald, but I never saw the side trail to the top. I don't think I missed much, as the rain continued. Beyond, I was faced with the prospect of descending steeply to Nantahala Lake. The trail had already been slippery, and I feared that the final 2 miles would be downright dangerous.

My fears turned out to be unfounded. The trail was steep, but well designed. The footing wasn't bad as I followed the narrow spine of the ridge downward. I scrambled over exposed rocks and under hemlocks as I worked my way down. On a better day, this would be a great hike. Finally, I could see the lake below. The rain seemed to be letting up, and I was beginning to feel encouraged again.

Saucony and I reached a paved road along the shore of Nantahala Lake. We followed it for about a half-mile. I knew there was a store ahead, and I was hoping that it would provide a place to get out of the rain for awhile. Meanwhile, out on the lake, some idiot was riding a jet ski. Some people will go outside in anything.

I was looking forward to reaching the store, but I found something even better. I walked around a curve and saw a sign for the Lake's End Restaurant. The sign promised barbecue. Lunch had consisted of a handful of raisins a couple of hours earlier. Was that the aroma of cheesburgers on a grill?

I made it to the front porch, where I dumped my pack and shucked my rain gear. I tied Saucony to a post and headed in. I knew I made quite a sight, but the ladies working inside were sympathetic. One gave me a towel, while the other grilled an incredible cheeseburger. I took my burger, fries, and coke back out to the porch and relaxed in a rocking chair. The burger was simply one of the best I'd ever had. Beyond that, it was nice just to sit and watch the rain from a distance.

Saucony was very interested in my cheeseburger. Through the first two days, she hadn't eaten hardly any of her food. She refused to touch it the first night, and I'd only been able to hand-feed her a little the next evening. While I was eating, one of the ladies came out with a plate of cooked beef and asked me if Saucony could have it. We usually don't let Saucony have people-food, but in this case I made an exception. She inhaled it in about 3 seconds. Then, she walked over to the front door and barked in a way that I'd never heard from her. For a minute I feared that she had gone a little wild from the smell and taste of the meat. The bark seemed to either say "thanks for the beef", or "bring out some more of that". I'm not sure which. Maybe both.

We stayed on the porch for an hour as people came and went. Several folks stopped to say hello, but Saucony got most of the attention. I talked with the woman who'd cooked for us. I was relieved to find out that she knew what the Bartram Trail was. In fact, she told me that she'd read "The travels of William Bartram" a year or so ago and loved it. I was impressed. After all, it's not the lightest reading in the world.

I waited on the porch until the rain stopped. Then I continued up the road to the store. It didn't look like much from the outside. There was a gas pump and a service garage. The front window had a sign that said, "Warning, premises patrolled by Eric Rudolph". This was especially amusing, since Eric had finally been caught by the authorities the week before.

I went inside in search of m&m's to add to my gorp. I was also kind of hoping that they'd have beer. Inside I found three old fellows that looked like they'd been there longer than the building. Inexplicably, they weren't playing checkers. I decided not to mention Eric Rudolph, since there was no telling which side of that issue they'd be on. I eventually found some m&m's, but no beer. I stayed to chat for a few minutes. I was pleased to find that they were aware of the Bartram Trail, too. Things were looking up for ol' Bill's trail.

I found a trail marker just past the store and followed it down a private driveway. It then led up a steep hill to the site of a new house where the road ended. There was no sign of the trail, and no markers. This turned out to be a theme along this section of the Bartram Trail. There are many turns as it follows different paths and old roads. Some turns are marked, and others aren't. Few of these roads and paths are on the map, so navigation is a challenge. I returned back down the driveway and spotted the unmarked trail as it heads back into the woods.

It was late afternoon, and I was ready to find a campsite. This, however, was proving to be more difficult than expected. The shore of Nantahala Lake is a jungle. The few flat areas are horribly overgrown, and the trail isn't much better. I was beginning to suspect that nobody hike's this trail. The Bartram Trail guide states that the 17-mile section of trail to Beechertown offers an abundance of camping opportunities. Over that section of trail, I counted exactly three campsites. Now, 3 might be a large number if you're talking about the number of times you've been hit by lightning or run over by trains. But three campsites in 17 miles? That hardly qualifies as an abundance.

The hiking was tough. I don't recommend cheeseburgers and fries as power food before a hike. I hacked my way through a couple of miles of wet weeds and wandered past several unmarked junctions. Finally I reached a small stream and followed it steadily down. I was hoping it would lead to a campsite, but the trail turned away from it. Just when I was sure I'd hike all the way to Beechertown that evening, I spotted a great site in the woods off the trail. It was a flat spot in the woods surrounded by Indian Pipe and Running Cedar. It appeared to have been only lightly used, if at all. I set up camp and returned to the stream for water. Then I rigged up a clothesline and attempted to dry my clothes and gear. I pitched the tent in the sunniest spot I could find in hopes that it would dry before that night.

Across the trail from the campsite I found an overlook of the lake and dam. I returned to camp and tried to decide on dinner. I'd had a late lunch, and the meal I'd planned of tai noodles and chicken seemed like too much. Eventually I decided to just eat the noodles and save the chicken for another night.

It was late in the evening when I finally ate. As I relaxed around camp I heard the sound of heavy hooves on the trail. At first I thought someone was riding a horse through the woods. Saucony and I went out to the trail to investigate, but didn't see anything. We did hear a strange wheezing sound coming from deep within a rhododendron thicket. I decided that it must've been a large deer and returned to camp.

I had a restless night's sleep. I knew I'd reach the ford early the next morning. I could only hope that the water would drop enough overnight to allow safe passage.

THE FORD

I was apprehensive the next morning as I headed down the trail. I descended a couple of switchbacks, and reached a campsite perched on the edge of a cliff. Beyond was an impressive waterfall as the river rushed away from the confines of the lake. Unfortunately, the thick foliage prevented a clear view. However, I could see that there was a lot of water plunging through the gorge. I continued downward, debating my plan. I decided to tie Saucony to a tree, and try the ford without my pack. If it was safe, I'd return for my pack and the dog.

I reached the bottom of the cliffs and joined a gravel road. I followed it upstream until it curved around some trees towards the river. I walked that final bend and found….nothing. The road crossed a concrete ford all right, but there was no water flowing over it at all. A fair amount rushed through a culvert under the road, but the ford was completely dry. My worries had been in vain. But how could this be?

I have a theory. The power company has to release enough water from the lake to provide for rafting and canoeing downstream. Perhaps there was enough water from tributaries to account for those needs. If so, maybe they actually released less from the lake than they normally would have. If I'm correct, that means that the heavy rains had actually resulted in a lower river level. I love irony, especially when I benefit.

I walked across the ford and followed the road downstream. This was an easy, but uneventful walk as the river generally stayed just out of sight. After a mile or so I passed a couple of houses. Then, a main road began following the river on the opposite side. This wasn't much of a wilderness experience, but at least it wasn't raining. After another mile I reached another dirt road which I followed out to a paved road. This took me to the National Forest's Appletree Group Campground.

I followed the trail through the campground, but stopped to take advantage of the facilities. I took advantage of the bathrooms, water, and trash cans before resuming my hike. Beyond the campground the trail got interesting again. For some distance it followed the river closely and passed a number of impressive rapids. Near one, I found a sunny spot to stop for lunch. Saucony seemed energetic, so I encouraged her to go for a swim.

We hiked downstream another couple of miles. This part of the trail seemed more remote, although there was still a dirt road on the far side of the river. I was enjoying the river walk, but eventually the trail headed away from it. I climbed up and over a ridge through another overgrown section of trail. In places, you really had to use your imagination to guess where the trail was. The vegetation was a problem, but in a way it seemed appropriate. William Bartram was a Botanist, after all. I guess William would have wanted it this way.

Late that afternoon I descended into a beautiful forest of white pines. At the bottom of the hill I waded Piercy Creek and began looking for a campsite. I found another good one along the stream under a thick canopy of white pines. Once again I rigged a clothesline in hopes that I could finally get my gear dry.

Spaghetti was on the menu again that night. Unfortunately, the ziplock with the noodles had gotten wet at some point. I had been carrrying around a bag full of soggy noodles ever since the rain. I ate them anyway. Meanwhile, I still had a bag of chicken that I didn't know what to do with. The next day I was going to hike 14 miles and climb 4000 feet. I didn't want to carry anything unnecessary. Saucony still refused to eat her food. I came up with a brilliant solution to both of those problems. I cooked the chicken and mixed it in with a whole bag of her food. She ate every bit of it.

I slept well that night. I started early the next day in anticipation of a killer hike. The trek started with a steady climb up Rattlesnake Knob. This proved to be a nice warm up for the monster climb ahead. There were several nice views from Rattlesnake Knob, with the best looking out over the Nantahala River Gorge. We made a long descent on switchbacks to a tall water tower. I thought about climbing the ladder to get a 360 degree view, but thought better of it. I'm not sure that would be an authorized side trip.

From the tower I followed a gravel service road steadily downhill to the power plant. As I approached the power plant, the trail cut off down the bank below the road. This section of trail redefines "overgrown". Imagine weeds and briars well over your head. I used my stick like a machete and slowly hacked my way through. I felt like I was making a trail, rather than hiking one. Then I stumbled upon a cluster of Turk's Cap Lillies blooming amid the weeds. I guess that it must have been an abandoned garden long forgotten. I enjoyed the flowers, but it made my progress even more difficult. I couldn't bring myself to cut my way through those flowers. Somehow, I don't think William would've approved.

I eventually stumbled out of a thicket with a little bit of skin still intact. I headed out to the road and crossed a bridge to the parking lot at the launch site for the Nantahala River. It was only 11AM. Somehow I'd hiked 7 miles in 3 hours. I decided to take a long break by the river to rest up before tackling the 3000' climb up Cheoah Bald. Then sun was out in full force, and I spread my still-wet gear and clothes out on the rocks to dry. This time, it seemed to be working. I enjoyed a leisurely lunch and some lemonade made with ice cold river water. Saucony went for a swim, and I had a little dip as well to cool off.

During this time, numerous groups of rafters came and went. They were all heading back to Wesser, just like me. However, they were going to enjoy a few hours of whitewater along the way. I still had a 2-day climb over a huge mountain to get there. Who planned this trip, anyway? I need to have a talk with my travel agent.

PART THREE: CHEOAH

Editor's note: In keeping with the spirit of epic adventure, the following chapter was written by a guest author. The famed poet Homer, of The Iliad and The Odyssey fame, has agreed, with the help of a Ouija Board, to lend his talents to this effort. Take it away, Homie!

DOH! BART!

Going to Wesser. There are restaurants there. With cheeseburgers. Homer likes cheeseburgers. And beer. Mmmm, beer. What do you mean we've got to climb over a giant mountain to get there?! Doh! Bart!

Editor's note: Our apologies. There's seems to have been some confusion about the identity of the guest author. We now return you to the story.

Editor's note: As you can probably see, these are the types of thoughts one begins to have 5 days into a solo backpacking trip. Our apologies for the delay.

I could have lounged in the sun by the river all day. I still had 7 miles to go though, and time was wasting. Lunch had been eaten, and my gear was dry. I couldn't stall any longer. I resumed my hike by crossing a bridge over the river. I continued downstream on a paved greenway that is shared by the Bartram Trail. At one point I followed a short side path to the river at the end of Patton's Run, one of the biggest rapids in the gorge. I continued downstream and eventually reached a dirt road. I followed it across another bridge over the river. I then crossed highway 19 (the most dangerous part of the trip) and the tracks of the Great Smoky Mountain Railway. The path then led through an overgrown field and into the woods. I continued parallel to the river, road, and tracks, heading back upstream. I passed a decent campsite, and then descended to Ledbetter Creek. Here was a better campsite. It was close enough to the creek to partially drown out the sound of traffic nearby. A tricky rock hop got my across Ledbetter Creek, and the climb began on the far side.

I now had 5 miles to go, but still 3000' to climb. The trail seemed to make up for lost time by ascending a brutally steep stretch out of the gorge. Over the next mile, the trail went through about 4 of the longest switchbacks I've ever seen. At first I tried to make it to the end of each switchback before resting, but by the end I was stopping several times along each one.

I finally reached the rim of the gorge and the trail flattened out mercifully for a short distance. At the top there were nice views out over the gorge and back to Rattlesnake Knob. It was hard to believe I'd been there only a few hours before.

The trail actually descended a bit to reach Ledbetter Creek. I stopped for water, as I'd carried a minimal amount for the first part of the climb. From that point, the trail followed the creek closely up through a rocky gorge. I crossed the creek numerous times, but was able to do it without getting my feet wet. I also passed a couple of nice campsites, which was surprising given the steep terrain. The creek was beautiful as it spilled over countless rapids and cascades. The most impressive, Ledbetter Falls, provided a nice spot for a rest.

The trail climbed more gradually above the falls. Then, I was nearly scared out of my boots by another hiker. I hadn't seen anyone on the trail since I left the AT back at Wine Spring 3 days before. This guy was coming down from Cheoah Bald, and warned me that the trail was steep ahead. I nearly laughed.

I reached a forest road and found a nice spring. I filled every container, knowing that there wouldn't be any at the top of the mountain. Then I headed up the steepest part of the trail. With the extra weight, this was murder. Thankfully it was a fairly short section, and eventually I found myself on a ridge. I continued up this to a junction with the AT. Appropriately enough, there was a boy scout waiting by the trail sign. Welcome back to civilization!

I followed the boy scout up the remaining 400 yards to the summit. At the top I found a grassy meadow with an incredible view. The newly risen full moon hung above the deep cleft of the Nantahala River Gorge. Beyond were waves of blue mountains.

There was one good campsite at the far end, but the boy scouts had claimed it. I returned to the near end of the meadow and improvised a campsite in the grass. The bugs were horrible, but I didn't care. This was the perfect ending to my trip. Another sunny bald with a great view.

It was well into evening when I arrived, but I still had time to enjoy it. I had a freeze dried dinner and headed for the far side of the mountain for sunset. The boy scout leaders were there, but the scouts were worn out. They were hiking the AT from Fontana to Wayah Bald. That's one of the toughest sections of the entire AT. Since I'd already gone that way, I was able to share some trail information. Then, the sun began to set and we got quiet for the show.

I watched the sky for an hour. At first the sun dropped behind a thin veil of clouds near the horizon. The clouds turned a fiery red as they were illuminated from within. The low light turned the huge mass of the Smokies purple. Below, it was already night in the deep valleys. The chaotic jumble of mountains and valley in between turned to shadow. But the sky only got better. The color spread until it seemed as if the entire sky was on fire. Then, finally, it too began to dim and the stars began to come out. It was 10pm, and cold. I returned to my tent, satisfied with a wonderful trip nearly complete.

THE TAKE OUT

I slept poorly. Earlier that afternoon, while getting water, I was poked in the eye by a stick. At the time it seemed insignificant. That evening though, my eye was watery and irritated. As the night went on, it began to bother me more, to the point that I couldn't sleep. Finally, late that night I took a benadryl. At least it knocked me out for awhile, but it didn't help me get up in the morning.

I eventually woke to a badly swollen, watery eye. I would've paid an impressive sum for some visine. That wasn't the only area that my first aid kit was lacking. I'd been experiencing some nasty chafing ever since the day of hiking in the rain. I didn't have anything for it, either. However, I found that sunscreen and chapstick helped.

Editor's Note: Do NOT borrow chapstick from this man. You do not know where it has been.

Packing was difficult. It was a bright sunny morning, and the light made my eye water even more. I was half blind as I finally got on the trail. Once I reached the woods the shade helped. I hiked steeply down to Sassafras Gap. I stopped at the shelter to fill up on water one more time. Then there was an annoying climb over Swim Bald (no swimming, no bald) before the long descent to the NOC began. Along the way were lots of flowers and a couple of nice views. There was a pretty good view from a cliff, and later a nice view north towards the Balsam Mountains. I also passed several nice campsites and a couple of water sources.

Finally I began the final drop to the NOC. Below I could see the River rushing through the final rapids before Fontana Lake. The trail came out at the railroad tracks, and wouldn't you know it, there was a train there. I'm pretty sure that was the first time I've had to wait for a train while hiking.

I enjoyed a pleasant late lunch at the restaurant by the river. Then, after a lengthy quest for visine, I endured the long drive home. At least it gave me a chance to reflect on the trip. It had been quite an adventure, with lovely flowers, rushing water, and beautiful views. I'd met some interesting people, and enjoyed total solitude. It had been a good trip, but it hadn't been a wilderness experience. All too often, the trail encountered a road or some other reminder of civilization. I knew before I started that it would be that way. Now that I've done this trip though, I realize how important a sense of wilderness is to the whole experience. I enjoyed the trip, but I don't think I'd do it again. For anyone that is interested in doing it, I have some suggestions.

For the Bartram Trail, you'll need some extra items in addition to the usual gear. First, I recommend a machete. Second, you'll want to bring something to sharpen it, as it is bound to go dull on you during the course of the trip. Finally, I recommend bringing a scythe, just in case you loose or break your machete. Oh yeah, and don't forget to bring some patience and a sense of humor. You'll need it.

Here's a more helpful suggestion for this trip. As previously mentioned, it's not really a wilderness experience. Since that's already the case, why not take advantage of it? I suggest starting the loop at the Nantahala River launch site at Beechertown. Hike two days to Nantahala Lake. There was at least one campground with cabins (maybe two?) in that area. I don't remember the name of it, but you could probably check with Lake's End Restaurant for more information. Don't forget to stop in for a cheeseburger while you're there. If you stay in that area, cache food and fuel there. Then, resume your trip with 3 days of backpacking over Wayah Bald and Wesser Bald. At the end of that section, spend the night amid the comforts of the NOC. They have bunks and cabins for rent, plus 3 restaurants. You could also cache food and fuel there. To end the trip, hike two days over Cheoah Bald. If the weather is nice, camp up top. You won't regret it. Doing the trip this way breaks it into three nice sections, gives you two nights of accommodations, and allows you to hike with a lighter pack. Whatever you do, make sure to enjoy it!

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