Target: 34.934662, -84.533787
Type: Random
State: Georgia

View on Map

The highpoint in Chattahoochee is Brasstown Bald, a circus like fee area and not a great candidate for me. I also considered the iconic Springer Mountain, the official start of the Applachian Trail, but I’ve hiked it before, and it also tends to be crowded. Considering the above I decided that a wildspot was in order, and as usual I was pleasantly surprised with the results.

I’ve logged a few dozen miles in the Chattahoochee, many of them while hiking the Georgia portion of the Appalachian Trail. My hike in Sumter NF followed the eastern border so I’ve seen quite a few miles that I haven’t walked through. My random spot turned out to be in a part of the Forest I’ve never really considered before, the far western section of higher peaks where the Blue Ridge has its last hurrah before petering out to low hills and the coastal plain.

Studying the maps, there didn’t seem to be much opportunity for car camping despite the apparent remoteness of the area. I did find an official USFS campground though and knowing I would get in after dark decided to point towards that and veer off if I saw something more likely. Sure enough, as I drove through Forest on gravel roads there were none of the unmaintained turnoffs or off road turnouts that I would normally choose for a first night camp. I pulled into the campground around 8PM and I was feeling lucky because I was the only one there. I chose a spot by a rushing stream and as I was making dinner, first one, then another camper showed up. I setup behind the Jeep and with the sound of the water I could almost pretend I was alone.

The bright sun woke me early, but the cold made it hard to get moving. I puttered about camp making breakfast and checking my maps for the umpteenth time to decide on the best way to get where I wanted to be. Finally the sunlight broke through the trees to hit me directly and unfreeze my motivation. I had a half hour drive to the trailhead and started that way.

The GPS was confused about the actual location the route and wanted me to drive through someone’s yard. I made a guess at the actual road, which was a few hundred yards away and marked as something else entirely, and eventually found my way. There were several options to get in the general neighborhood of my random point, but most of those choices started at the same trailhead. There was one other car at the parking turnout but I didn’t see anyone the entire day.

I had a vague plan that I would find the random spot and depending on how the day went, maybe carry on to Jacks River Falls. The Hemptop trail would take me in the general direction of both, so I chose that and started hiking. My pack was light since I only planned a day trip, the weather was perfect, sunny and cool, and I was feeling good. After a couple of miles I saw a trail that was not on my map but was heading off in the direction of my random spot. Since I had no fixed plan, I took it to see where it would lead.

Rising steeply, the trail was heading for the top of the ridgeline that formed part of the bowl my wildspot was in. Shortly before the crest it veered off so I decided to carry on straight, up and over. I could see some laurel starting to creep up the mountain side and made a few false starts trying to find a path that was reasonably clear of the frustrating thickets. A gradually descending shoulder took me part of the way, but a dry streambed that plunged precipitously down soon became my best choice. Careful movements soon became a controlled slide and I bounced from tree to tree to keep from getting too out of control. I was wearing my recently repaired heavy expedition boots and they were performing well, absorbing the shock of the descent and grabbing at traction when I needed it. And then suddenly one of them wasn’t.

I had taken a trip to the Grand Canyon the previous July and the temperatures deep in the canyon reached 115 degrees Fahrenheit. The trails leading down were carved our of the stone walls and radiated heat intense enough that the glue holding the sole of my right boot melted. By the time I reached the top it was completely loose all the way to the middle. When I got home from that trip I glued it back and this hike was a test of that repair. So far it felt great and I was ready to call it good. Unfortunately I didn’t realize that a similar issue had started with the left boot. The glue holding it had mostly melted, but there was just enough left to keep it from coming loose.

Suddenly I moved to plant my foot on a rock and instead felt something catch, causing me to get off balance and grab desperately at a too thin branch. Fortunately it was flexible and strong, despite its size and held enough for me to twist and recover. Looking down I saw the sole of the left boot was about a third of the way off and had apparently caught on a root that I tried to step over.

I carry duct tape for emergency gear repairs, but there was no where to sit down securely to dig it out and use it. I was near the bottom of the ravine so I carefully made my way down. There was a perfect spot to relax, have lunch, and sort out my boots. It was chilly since the sun didn’t make it here during the winter, but there were streams, rocks for sitting, and nothing but the sound of gently flow water disturbed the silence. I knew that my hike was cut short as I would have to make my way back to the Jeep now, so I took my time eating, simply enjoying being where I was. Afterwards I started rooting around in my pack for the tape. Except it wasn’t there. Somehow I’ve carried duct tape for countless miles and then when I really need it I can’t find it.

Being at the bottom I was facing a long slog no matter which way I went, so I decided to carry on to the wildspot. There was a very nice stream at the base of the hollow, flowing over rocks and sandy beds, but unfortunately it hides behind a thick wall of laurel. The Law of Laurel states that anything that can get caught on laurel, will get caught on laurel, and this was especially apparent as the flapping sole caught on everything I tried to step over or around. Finally breaking free I found myself on another steep hillside and scrambled as best as I could to the more gentle slope I saw ahead.

The actual wildspot was just out of sight as I cleared the worst of the uphill tangle and started a more moderate stroll up a long shoulder leading back to Hemptop on the top of the ridge. The undergrowth cleared out and even though the boot still gave me trouble I had developed an awkward gait that kept it from the worst of its transgressions. I crossed the hill to find the spot and was greeted with a stunning long range view down valley I was climbing out of. Because of the way it curves, I had seen little to suggest it carried on so far, and the sudden revelation caught me off guard. I sat for a while and pondered the mysteries.

After a while I moved on, climbing the rest of the way out and catching the Trail. I was a ways down from where I had turned off earlier in the day so I enjoyed the new scenery while duck-walking back. An hour or so later I was back at the Jeep and stowing my gear. As I tucked my pack into it’s crevice I noticed something grey on the floor and sure enough it was my duct tape.

It was only mid-afternoon so I took the time to find a more secluded camp, exploring the handful of roads that cut through the Forest. Not having any luck I had resigned myself to the campground for another night and headed that way. About a mile before I arrived I noticed a dirt track that I hadn’t seen the night before. Turning down it I found a great campsite for one complete with fire ring, views, and trees spaced just right for a hammock. I quickly threw one up and spent the rest of the daylight swinging the breeze, enjoying the views, and reading. Despite the difficulties this had been a good trip and this was a great way to end it. Early to bed, I headed towards home in the morning.