Land of Sharp Edges (Part 8 of 9)

The rock faces that I continued to encounter pushed me further and further away from the cascade and up the slope of the creek valley. I hated to lose contact with the cascade because I had visualized myself following it all the way to its source, but the ridge that I was ascending was too comforting to pass up. Although I had never been on this particular ridge before, it felt very familiar. It was steep but not dangerously so. It was heavily wooded so I knew there was enough soil to support the trees – another sign of manageable terrain. There would be less rock and more dirt than what I had been crawling on for several hours. Although I couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, I knew there was an end of the tunnel up ahead.

This ridge was thick with trees, Mountain Laurel, briers, and other obstructions, but it was a pleasant relief from the cliffs and cascade. My sissy gene liked this route better, so I followed the one main rule of hiking up a ridge – when in doubt, go up. My partners and I had become well acquainted with this rule. It’s one that never fails, and it didn’t fail me this day. Later on, after we were all reunited at the top, Greg said that he spent a few minutes sitting among the bushes, wondering what to do next, when he heard me pushing and crashing along the ridge less than 100 yards away. He watched me make my way toward the top. Once again, being a guy of few words, he didn’t say whether this gave him comfort or more frustration at his own plight.

Keith and Charlie had apparently crossed a rocky scar at a different place than Greg did which highlighted how much luck is a part of this process of picking your way around rocky scars and faces and through mountain laurel thickets. In this kind of terrain, you tend to hike in ten or twenty foot segments. You don’t usually have the luxury of looking far ahead and seeing the big picture. You just try to get from point A to point B, and point B is rarely more than a few yards away. Only after you arrive at point B can you begin to look for point C. Sometimes the route you take leads to the end of the tunnel, sometimes it runs you into another wall. It’s a lot like rolling dice. Sometime you get lucky and sometimes you don’t. Keith and Charlie managed to find a path of least resistance that evaded Greg. At one point he was in such tight quarters that he had to take his pack off and tie a rope to it so he could climb over a rocky spot and pull his pack up after him. I think that was one of those spots that he didn’t want to be in. If he has a sissy gene, it was probably causing him to wonder – like I had – if there really was a path to the top and how much a search and rescue mission costs, and who pays for it?.

About an hour after we had split up – yes, it took us about an hour to travel that final 300 feet – Keith and Charlie reached the top, a mere 100 feet from the northernmost overlook at the top of the Jumpoff. At about the same time, I pushed through the bushes at the top of my nameless ridge. As I stood on the trail at the top, it seemed too small to be the AT or the Boulevard. Could it actually be the thin trail that runs along the edge of the Jumpoff? After walking a minute or two, I passed the southernmost overlook of the Jumpoff. Somehow my ridge had topped out not near the AT as I had expected, but about 200 feet from the southern end of the Jumpoff.

I went to the middle of the Jumpoff overlook and yelled for Greg, wondering where he was. [To be continued]

 

The Land of Sharp Edges: “Park at Porters…” (Part 3 of 9)

While my three hiking partners and I had been talking for months about exploring Lester Prong all the way to the base of the Jumpoff, Greg Harrell was the first to actually do it. Of the four of us, he’s the one most likely to hike off-trail by himself. He may even prefer to go by himself; although, he hasn’t come right out and said so, probably because none of us have come right out and asked. It’s just generally understood among us that on any given Sunday, Greg may show up at church with tales of a Saturday hike that took him to some place that none of us had yet explored. He has topo maps at home with mysterious blue lines that he’s drawn up and down and across and along dozens of obscure creeks and ridges. It’s his three dimensional, Smokies “to do” list. To keep him from doing all these new trips without us, we’ve had to pressure him into solemn pacts with us – promises that none of us will explore Eagle Rocks or the Cat Stairs or some unnamed ridge until all of us are able to go. But we don’t have a pact for every blue line, so he takes off without us every now and then.

Greg seems to have a special “death wish” gene that the rest of us don’t have. The fact that he visited the Jumpoff by himself suggests the presence of this genetic defect. The fact that he went in February confirms it. Now we’ve all done February hikes before, and they are usually uncomfortably fabulous. You just have to put yourself in the right frame of mind by embracing the cold weather as a point of pride rather than discomfort. However, the thing that puts Greg’s initial Jumpoff trip in a special category is that much of it involves a wet, river hike – and by “wet” I mean hiking in the river. Not near the river. Not by the river. In the river, ankle to knee to waist deep. Yep, there’s definitely a genetic defect lurking under the surface. If it weren’t such dangerously bizarre behavior, he’d have our respect for such foolishness.

Like most of his hikes, the description of this one begins like this: “Park at Porters Creek ….” Greg seems to enjoy the fact that you have to hike almost four miles to the end of Porters Creek Trail before the real adventure begins. From the end of this trail there’s an old path that leads even further along Porters Creek, crossing it several times, and eventually crossing Lester Prong which flows into Porters from the southwest.

Actually, there are a couple of old paths, and the one that parallels and crosses Porters Creek is the less visible of the two. In August, 2009, a 70 year old, experienced hiker parked at the Porters Creek trailhead, hiked the four miles on Porters Creek trail and intended to continue on this old path along Porters Creek. Somehow he managed to lose this path, and instead of working his way up Porters Creek, he ended up lost and on the top of Porters Mountain, where he camped for several days until the search and rescue team found him.

My partners and I have been up this route many times. In fact, it was one of the first off-trail trips that we discovered in the Smokies. While I don’t know exactly how the hiker got off track and lost, I can visualize several spots where it could have happened. The most likely is at the end of the official trail, by the Porters Flats backcountry campsite, also known as Campsite #31. At this spot, the old path continues to the left, but within about a minute there’s a barely-visible split. At this split, the less-obvious, less-visible path to the right leads along the creek. The more-obvious, more-visible path bears to the left and heads up the western slope of Porters Mountain. After sending you up this slope, this trail quietly, calmly disappears. If you continue upslope, hoping to rediscover the trail, you’ll end up in the rhododendron thickets and rocky ridge of Porters Mountain. Without a good map and compass, at this point you’ll probably be lost. On the other hand, if you can figure out where you are, you can push your way along the ridgecrest to Porters Gap on the Appalachian Trail. I’ve done that trip once. I don’t intend to do it again. We weren’t lost, but we were roughed up a bit. It took over a week for my cuts and bruises to heal.

Of course, today we’d be avoiding Porters Mountain. We’d follow Porters Creek along the old, barely-visible path. Staying on this old path will lead you up the rough, slippery creekbed of Porters Creek to the Appalachian Trail on the main ridgecrest, near Dry Sluice Gap. But things get even rougher and more interesting if you hop off this path and slosh your way up Lester Prong because Lester Prong leads eventually to the Jumpoff.

 

One of the many beautiful cascades on this Porters/Lester trip.

 

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Here's the important detail to avoid unnecessary wandering: At the small wooden #31 marker at the end of the official trail, bear to the left. (Right goes to the campsite.) Once you bear left at the wooden marker, you'll almost immediately cross a small gully (sometimes water, sometime dry). Immediately on the other side of the small gully, turn right. Don't go straight. That's the same mistake the guy who got lost on Porters Mountain made in 2009.  So, if you'll turn right after the gully, you'll be on a pretty well-worn path that is the Porters Creek manway. If you'll follow the path, you'll be fine. There will be places where you won't be sure where to go as the path gets light or crosses the creek. At those places, look around for the small rock cairns. They are always exactly where and when you need them. It's a great hike. After about 45 minutes or so there's a quasi-obvious split in the creek. The right is Lester Prong. The left is Porters Manway (aka Dry Sluice Manway) which leads up to the AT near Dry Sluice Gap.