HIKE FASTER

 

 

“Hike faster, I hear banjo music”.

 

That’s what the t-shirt said.  I saw it hanging in the gear shop in Pisgah Forest right when I walked in.  Christy and I were on our way into the Pisgah National Forest for a weekend of car camping and dayhiking.  Unfortunately, it was raining.  The forecast had called for rain ending early in the afternoon, and it was only late morning.  When I had planned the trip, I’d hoped that the rain would end a few hours early.  That seemed unlikely now, so we were killing time.  We’d already wasted 30 minutes in Bi-Lo picking up the things I’d forgotten to pack.  Now we were in a gear shop, checking out amusing t-shirts.  Actually, Christy was looking at cycling clothes, while I was flipping through the new and improved edition of Kevin Adam’s NC waterfall guide.

 

Eventually we ran out of entertainment there, and headed up the road.  It was lunchtime, so we drove to the Pink Beds picnic area, where there are picnic shelters.  This worked out perfectly, as the area was deserted, and we were able to eat lunch out of the rain.  By the time we started cleaning up, the rain began to taper off.  Things were looking up after all.

 

We headed down a dirt forest road and turned onto Wolf Ford Road in search of a campsite.  Less than a mile down the road, we were stopped by a large “road closed” sign.  What was going on here?  The forest service website hadn’t mentioned anything about the road being closed.  Fortunately several camping areas are located right where the sign is.  One was taken, so we went across the road and found a decent, if damp, spot near a pleasant stream.

 

Originally Christy had planned on an hour run while I set up camp.  When she finished, she planned to do a short hike with me.  We were behind schedule though, so Christy decided to skip the hike.  She had a nap to warm up for her run, while Saucony and I set off on our hike. 

 

My destination was the South Mills River.  I planned to hike downstream from the end of Wolf Ford Road as far as High Falls.  Since the road was “closed”, I decided to hike from our campsite.  I knew the end of the road and trailhead was less than a mile away.  As I left camp, I noticed a few patches of blue sky overhead.  It looked like the weather forecast had been perfect.

 

I reached the end of the “closed” road, where I found 3 or 4 cars and a couple of guys fishing.  Along the way, there had been no apparent reason for the (widely ignored) closure.  However, more annoyances were in store for me.  The gate at the trailhead was posted with a sign stating that the trail was closed due to a prescribed fire in the area.  I was irritated, as the NC national forest website, which has an entire section dedicated to current conditions, had made no mention of it.  I didn’t see any signs of fire or smoke, and it was too late in the day for me to change plans.  I decided to hike the trail anyway, and turn back at the first hint of danger.

 

I hiked downstream above the river.  The water was certainly up, after a couple days of rain.  This concerned me, as reaching High Falls would require fording the river.  As I hiked, I passed an area where the undergrowth had recently burned.  The fire was long out though, so I decided to continue on.

 

After a mile, I reached an old cement bridge over the river.  At this point, I had a decision to make.  The direct route to the falls follows a primitive path on the east side of the river.  However, shortly before the falls, this route fords the river.  I looked at the water doubtfully.  It was definitely up.  In fact, it was probably not far short of flood stage.  Fording would be difficult, if not dangerous.  My other option was to stay on the main trail on the west side of the river.  The main trail leaves the river, only to rejoin it a couple of miles downstream.  At that point, I could hike back upstream to the falls.  That route would be much longer, but would avoid the ford.

 

I’d forgotten my hiking stick, and that helped me decide.  I continued on the main trail, passing some campsites before beginning a climb away from the river.  Some distance later, I reached an unmarked junction with the Buckhorn Gap Trail.  A few minutes later, several mountain bikers passed by heading the other way.  Apparently they hadn’t been too concerned about the prescribed burn, either.  They hadn’t seen any fires, but they had spooked a bear just a few minutes earlier.

 

I followed the trail, which is really an old roadbed, in and out of an endless series of coves.  At one point I passed an unmarked side trail heading down towards the river.  I wondered if it might be a short cut, but decided against exploring.  I crossed several streams, including one fairly large one near a campsite.  The campsite caught my eye, as there was a large stack of firewood stored there under a tarp.  I couldn’t help but wondering where that had come from.

 

I finally began descending to the river on switchbacks.  Just before the river, I met an obvious trail heading upstream.  I hiked that way, and quickly reached a large tributary stream.  Its water was up, too, and I had to change into sandals to wade the creek.  After a quick climb and descent, I entered a large flat area.  I passed a camping area that was occupied by a large group.  Obviously they hadn’t been too worried about the prescribed fire, either.

 

A few minutes later, I reached High Falls.  High Falls isn’t high, but it is a significant cascade in a fair sized river.  With the water up, the falls looked quite violent.  As I viewed the falls, I wondered what they looked like at normal water levels.

 

While I was there, I met one of the backpackers that was staying at the campsite nearby.  They had hiked in the night before, in the rain.  They had taken the direct route downstream, fording the river upstream from the falls.  At the time, the fast-flowing water had been up to his chest.  Somehow they had all made it across safely.  As I looked at the falls, I concluded that I’d made the right decision going the long way.

 

Unfortunately, I still had to take the long way back, and it was getting late.  I returned to the tributary ford, where I noticed an obvious trail heading upstream.  I knew the main trail crossed the tributary, and I reasoned that this path must head back towards the main trail.  It was getting late, and I was leery of making a mistake, but I decided to take a chance.

 

I hiked upstream, following the trail as it climbed above and away from the creek.  Eventually I found myself on a ridge, heading northwest.  The trail was in good condition the whole way, and before long, I reached the main trail.  I continued on, and it wasn’t long before I found myself at the bridge over the river.  The side path I had followed had been a serious shortcut.  Ultimately it saved me almost 45 minutes, which I used wisely (by lounging around camp and drinking beer).   As I was approaching our campsite, I heard faint music coming from an adjacent campsite.  As I got closer, I realized I was hearing banjo music.  Banjo music that was coming from a campsite 50 yards away from ours!  Hike faster?  More like, “Hey honey, let’s break camp and go home.”

 

We didn’t do it, of course.  That evening, we grilled chicken over the fire and enjoyed a few beers.  Christy recovered from her run, and Saucony and I recuperated from our hike.  Our friends with the banjo music didn’t bother us, though a family with about dozen kids moved in to a nearby campsite that evening.  Kids were running everywhere, but it was the adults that were obnoxious.  Between loud cars, bonfires and blaring music, we may as well have stayed at a developed campground that night.  Oh well, at least I had a hike to look forward to the next day.




Continue reading about our weekend as I hike in the Middle Prong Wilderness.

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