RE-AINTRY
I usually try to backpack
once a month. Somehow, through all of
the chaos of the past few months, I’ve only managed dayhikes since
September. Saturday finally brought a
free weekend with good weather, so I got out for my first backpacking trip of
2005.
I met Dave in Charlotte at 7
and we began the long drive to the Chattooga River area. Our plan was to hike an 18-mile loop
combining the Foothills Trail, the Chattooga River Trail, and various side
trails in the Ellicott Rock Wilderness Area. We drove through fog and drizzle for 3 hours before the sun
miraculously appeared as we pulled into parking area at the Sloan Bridge
trailhead on highway 107. We organized
our gear before heading off down the Fork Mountain Trail towards the Chattooga
River.
My calendar claimed it was
January, but it felt like May as we hiked in shorts and t-shirts under a clear
blue sky. Temperatures were easily in
the 60’s, and we would’ve been sweating if the trail hadn’t been fairly
easy. The only challenge we encountered
was fallen trees blocking the trail.
Surprisingly, we came across two forest service employees clearing a
deadfall from the trail. Since we were
in a designated wilderness, they couldn’t use power equipment, and were doing
all of the work with handsaws. Despite
the hard work, they appeared to be enjoying themselves. They were based out of Colorado, and were
enjoying a reprieve from the Rocky Mountain cold and snow. We were thrilled to see that the forest
service was making an effort to clear the trails, knowing that there is usually
little to no budget for trail maintenance.
After the fall hurricanes, the trail maintenance needs in the southern
Appalachians are overwhelming.
By 3pm, we descended a
series of switchbacks and reached a nice campsite on the Chattooga River. A trail fords the river here, but I can’t
imagine crossing it. The river is wide,
deep, and fast, though fording is probably more reasonable in the summer. Fortunately, we didn’t have to cross as our
route took us downstream. I took
Saucony’s doggie pack off so she could enjoy the water. Unfortunately, she thought this meant we had
reached camp, and didn’t want to hike any further. She laid down when I tried to put her pack on and refused to
budge. I had to roll her on her back
just to get it buckled. Ultimately it
was only the fear of being left behind that got her moving again.
We hiked downstream, passing
Ellicott Rock, which marks the boundary of North Carolina, South Carolina, and
Georgia. The rock itself is located in
the river, and we weren’t able to determine which boulder was the official
rock. The 3-state boundary draws a lot
of people, as we ran into a number of dayhikers in the area.
We continued downstream
along a beautiful stretch of trail that never wandered far from the river. We passed beneath towering pines and
hemlocks, and had our choice from a number of outstanding campsites. We rock hopped Bad Fork, and a few minutes later
crossed a sturdy bridge over the East Fork.
On the far side we found a lovely camping area in a flat forest of white
pine. We selected a site here, near the
confluence of the East Fork and the Chattooga River.
Our 4pm arrival allowed us
enough time to set up camp and gather firewood. Unfortunately, dry wood was hard to find after Friday’s
rain. Dave spent most of the evening
nursing the fire along, and we even managed to get a respectable blaze going
for a time. Eventually we let it die
out though, after a dinner of Jambalaya and dough. It should have been Jambalaya and bread, but I had placed Dave in
charge of the bread, and he had brought a can of biscuits. Since we didn’t have an oven, we resorted to
frying the biscuits in a pan. This worked
about as well as you would expect – burnt biscuits with raw dough in the middle. Yummy!
Luckily, the jambalaya was filling, and whiskey and hot cider served to
wash everything down. I slept great
that night, accompanied by the music of the river rushing by.
We started the next day much
the same way we ended the previous one – by eating too much. We indulged in a breakfast of eggs, sausage,
and cheese on toast before making a late effort to break camp. We were still packing when 3 backpackers
came by, heading downstream. They had a
pair of dogs, and Saucony and Sasha had a great time playing with them while we
talked. They had started where we had,
and had camped farther upstream. They
were hiking downstream to Burrell’s Ford Road, where they had left a second
car. Unfortunately, one of them had
left the keys to that car in the one at the original trailhead. The vehicle would be waiting for them, but
they wouldn’t be able to get in it.
None of them wanted to hike back to the starting point. Eventually they decided to finish the hike
and hitchhike back. They headed down the
trail, and we went back to packing our gear.
It was 11AM before we broke
camp, thanks to a late start that morning.
We hiked downstream, passing more great scenery and several fine
campsites. On the way, we spooked a Great
Blue Heron that took off over the trees.
After 30 minutes, we reached a vague junction where the trail sign was
missing. Fortunately I recognized it
from a previous hike. We left the
obvious route for a faint path that was sporadically blazed orange or
black. The new trailed led up a minor
valley before crossing a small stream and beginning a gradual but steady
climb. A few minutes later, we reached
a marked junction with the Foothills Trail.
We continued the climb on the Foothills Trail, heading back towards
Sloan Bridge picnic area and Dave’s truck.
We followed the ridge of
Medlin Mountain, and stopped for a light lunch near the wooded summit. From there, we continued on the ridge before
descending to cross the road to the Walhalla Fish Hatchery. From there, we hiked near highway 107
briefly before curving through a series of wet coves in a dark forest. The last mile of the hike brought us back to
the East Fork, where we hiked along a series of cascades nearly hidden in the
jungles of rhododendron. We passed a
few more dayhikers before reaching the car at 4pm. From there, we only had the long drive back through Aintry,
Walhalla, Seneca, and Clemson to look forward to. All in all, it had been a pleasant hike that reacquainted me to
the rigors of backpacking.
Back to South Carolina
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Please remember to Leave No Trace!