alpinista
Active member
It's been so long since I tapped into VFTT let alone posted a trip report. There's a simple reason for that: I haven't really done any hiking since I left New England and moved to Georgia 7 years ago. I'm hoping 2015 marks a change in that regard and that I have a chance to get back into the woods and the mountains more regularly.
Thankfully my itch to go hiking coincided with a friend's hope to thru-hike the AT when she retires next year and her looking for opportunities to build up her hiking legs. We hatched a plan to get away from the obligatory and celebratory gunfire on New Year's Eve _ a popular past-time in Georgia for some odd reason on holidays _ and head into the mountains of North Georgia. There were four of us _ three police officers (one retired, two still active) and this journalist, plus one dog and 2 K9s (one of the K9s retired). I was one well-protected hiker!
We settled on a part of the Benton Mackaye Trail in North Georgia. Think of this trail as "AT light." This footpath (which also goes by the acronym, BMT) is nearly 300 miles through the Appalachian mountains of the Southeast. It runs from Springer Mountain in Georgia to the northern edge of the Smokies, passing through three states (Georgia, Tennessee and North Carolina).
We would start at a trailhead (2028 feet) that is intersected by Route 60 in Suches, Georgia, part of an area known as the Wolf Pen Gap. Our destination was a campsite about 3.8 miles in, heading north to south along the BMT. It's relatively mild elevation but the guidebook aptly describes it as a bit of a "roller coaster" ride along the ridge that includes the summit of Toonowee Mountain (2720 feet).
I spent the days ahead of the trip shaking out gear I hadn't looked at or used in so long. I made several trips to REI to replace worn out gear, gear that no longer worked or just to switch it out because I felt like it. I discovered ahead of time, for example, that my beloved Mountain Hardware AirJet 2 tent had come apart at the seams from glue that eroded, leading the floor of the tent to become separated from the rest of it. Thankfully, it was purchased in 2004 _ before REI changed its return policy _ and I was able to get a store credit for the full price and bought a new tent (Big Agnes Copper Spur UL 2).
The appointed day arrived and the weather was chilly (in the 30s/40s) but clear. Balmy, I know, for my fellow native New Englanders _ but pretty darned cold for people who live down here. The trail instantly starts to climb and you find yourselves in groves of hemlock and rhododendron. I can see now why they call it "rhododendron hell," for it surely must've been hell to clear it to build this trail. These woods are hardwoods; the trails not at all technical. It reminded me a lot of my native Connecticut _ thick woods, not all that rocky or rugged but woods that quickly envelope you and shield you from the sights and sounds of civilization in the valley. There aren't many breathtaking views, but it's wonderful to feel, hear and smell the nature around you.
It didn't take long to get warmed up. And instantly the years in between hiking all seemed to melt away and for the backpack to feel as though it naturally belonged on my body. I got into the rhythm of the Leki poles toggling back and forth. I was absorbing that feeling of being energized by the hike.
We had the trail to ourselves until about three quarters of the way in to the tentsite, when we started to see a few small groups of day hikers. These were mostly families with young kids, and a few solo hikers out with their dogs. They had taken another trail in that is less than a mile from the most popular landmark: The Toccoa Swinging Bridge, a nifty 270-foot-long span over the Toccoa River, billed as the longest swinging bridge east of the Mississippi River.
We reached the tentsite in good time (less than 2 hours) and found spots right on the river that each had fire rings. Georgia clearly doesn't have quite the restrictions on camping so close to either a trail or a river as the Northeast, which felt odd to me. But it was nice to be able to set up camp so close to the river and to hear its lullaby of a current _ and to build a fire. We ended up being the only people out that night, having the entire section of river just east of the bridge to ourselves. Instead of gunshots, we popped corks and toasted our good fortune to be in the woods.
In the morning, our hiking itch scratched, we made our way back to the trailhead, vowing to get out more often. A great start to 2015!
Thankfully my itch to go hiking coincided with a friend's hope to thru-hike the AT when she retires next year and her looking for opportunities to build up her hiking legs. We hatched a plan to get away from the obligatory and celebratory gunfire on New Year's Eve _ a popular past-time in Georgia for some odd reason on holidays _ and head into the mountains of North Georgia. There were four of us _ three police officers (one retired, two still active) and this journalist, plus one dog and 2 K9s (one of the K9s retired). I was one well-protected hiker!
We settled on a part of the Benton Mackaye Trail in North Georgia. Think of this trail as "AT light." This footpath (which also goes by the acronym, BMT) is nearly 300 miles through the Appalachian mountains of the Southeast. It runs from Springer Mountain in Georgia to the northern edge of the Smokies, passing through three states (Georgia, Tennessee and North Carolina).
We would start at a trailhead (2028 feet) that is intersected by Route 60 in Suches, Georgia, part of an area known as the Wolf Pen Gap. Our destination was a campsite about 3.8 miles in, heading north to south along the BMT. It's relatively mild elevation but the guidebook aptly describes it as a bit of a "roller coaster" ride along the ridge that includes the summit of Toonowee Mountain (2720 feet).
I spent the days ahead of the trip shaking out gear I hadn't looked at or used in so long. I made several trips to REI to replace worn out gear, gear that no longer worked or just to switch it out because I felt like it. I discovered ahead of time, for example, that my beloved Mountain Hardware AirJet 2 tent had come apart at the seams from glue that eroded, leading the floor of the tent to become separated from the rest of it. Thankfully, it was purchased in 2004 _ before REI changed its return policy _ and I was able to get a store credit for the full price and bought a new tent (Big Agnes Copper Spur UL 2).
The appointed day arrived and the weather was chilly (in the 30s/40s) but clear. Balmy, I know, for my fellow native New Englanders _ but pretty darned cold for people who live down here. The trail instantly starts to climb and you find yourselves in groves of hemlock and rhododendron. I can see now why they call it "rhododendron hell," for it surely must've been hell to clear it to build this trail. These woods are hardwoods; the trails not at all technical. It reminded me a lot of my native Connecticut _ thick woods, not all that rocky or rugged but woods that quickly envelope you and shield you from the sights and sounds of civilization in the valley. There aren't many breathtaking views, but it's wonderful to feel, hear and smell the nature around you.
It didn't take long to get warmed up. And instantly the years in between hiking all seemed to melt away and for the backpack to feel as though it naturally belonged on my body. I got into the rhythm of the Leki poles toggling back and forth. I was absorbing that feeling of being energized by the hike.
We had the trail to ourselves until about three quarters of the way in to the tentsite, when we started to see a few small groups of day hikers. These were mostly families with young kids, and a few solo hikers out with their dogs. They had taken another trail in that is less than a mile from the most popular landmark: The Toccoa Swinging Bridge, a nifty 270-foot-long span over the Toccoa River, billed as the longest swinging bridge east of the Mississippi River.
We reached the tentsite in good time (less than 2 hours) and found spots right on the river that each had fire rings. Georgia clearly doesn't have quite the restrictions on camping so close to either a trail or a river as the Northeast, which felt odd to me. But it was nice to be able to set up camp so close to the river and to hear its lullaby of a current _ and to build a fire. We ended up being the only people out that night, having the entire section of river just east of the bridge to ourselves. Instead of gunshots, we popped corks and toasted our good fortune to be in the woods.
In the morning, our hiking itch scratched, we made our way back to the trailhead, vowing to get out more often. A great start to 2015!
