For many years, I assumed that every interesting feature in the Smokies had a trail going to it. If a trail stretched four miles to Ramsey Cascades, then stopped, it must be because there’s nothing more to see. It was as if the water cascading down that rock face didn’t actually come from anywhere. It just magically appeared at the top of the cascade and came tumbling down.
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| (Lower) Ramsey Cascade |
To make a long story short, someone informed me that there’s another cascade about a half mile upstream from Ramsey Cascades. (Actually, he told me it was a mile, but I’ve measured the distance using GPS coordinates, and it’s only half a mile. But, in his defense, it’s an hour-long, upstream slog, and it does feel like a mile when you are doing it.)
Soon after I learned about this second cascade, I hiked the trail to Ramsey Cascades, crawled through rhododendron and between boulders to the top, and sloshed my way further upstream to see the second cascade. Once I saw the cascade, I lingered for a few minutes, then left because I was tired and it was getting late. It was a long hike back, but within fifteen minutes I was already disgusted with myself. I had intended to fish a little between the two falls, but didn’t. I had stopped at the foot of the second cascade, but hadn’t crawled around to the top of it to see what was further upstream. Were there more cascades? Did the landscape level out? Were there fish upstream? The answer to all those questions was, “I don’t know because I didn’t bother to find out.”
Finally, a couple of years later, I decided that first trip would be my mulligan, so I went back, hoping to get it right this time. This wasn’t a once in a lifetime, “bucket list” kind of trip. It was just an excursion to fill in a couple of missing details. And for that reason, it took me awhile to get around to it. (The fact that it’s a hard, eight-mile day might also have had a little something to do with it.)
The four mile trail to Ramsey Cascades is a fine hike, of course, but it isn’t easy. It’s rocky and uphill, and it was made even harder by the fact that it was just the warm up for me. On this particular day, this four mile march was nothing more than the price to pay for the opportunity to explore above the falls.
The first question to be answered at Ramsey Cascades is how to get to the top. I had been to the top a couple of times, and both times I had crawled through a tangled mess of shrubs and rocks. The result, eventually, was that I’d emerge into the river about 10 or 15 yards upstream from the top of the Cascades, giving me the option of moving downstream closer to the precipice or heading upstream toward the second cascade. It’s a route that’s messy, but safe.
I had been told of another route, a light path leading to the top, which was much easier. I found this path, but I’m not going to say exactly where it is, and here’s why. Yes, it was much easier than my previous route. This path was even marked with small pieces of pink surveyor’s tape, so it was fairly easy to follow. But there was one significant detail that I hadn’t understood – this new route emerged from the thicket at the top of the cascade within 2 or 3 feet of the edge. I suppose that some people could simply walk along this narrow ledge at the top of the precipice, but I suspect that the four people who have fallen to their death at Ramsey Cascades walked where they should have crawled on hands and knees, perhaps in this very spot. So I crawled like a trembling, newborn kitten, not wanting to become a statistic on a wooden sign and leave Phyllis a widow.
Once I was across the ledge and in the river, I began to slog upstream. This type of river hiking is not usually intimidating, but it can be slow and tiring, which it was. I was wearing my felt-bottomed fishing boots, which made my wading less slippery, so as I stepped from one spot to the next there were no dramatic slips and slides.
Within 15 minutes I encountered a 20’ waterfall consisting not of boulders but a wide wall of rock. It was the kind of obstacle that can’t be climbed, only avoided. So, I waded to the shore and found a path leading around and up, and once again, there were strips of pink surveyor’s tape showing the way. As on many other occasions in the backcountry, someone had been here before and had done me the favor of providing a few helpful clues. Several times during the day, I’d encounter an impassible cascade and would move to the riverbank to walk around. I’d have my head down searching for good footing, and when I’d look up a pink clue would be hanging just a few inches from my face. I’d like to say that great minds think alike, but since small minds think alike, too, let’s just say I had picked the same route as the trailblazer and leave it at that. [To be continued]
2 comments:
I have been up both sides so I know exactly where you are talking about Greg. The first time I went up the most easily accessible way which was clawing at rhodo and dirt to climb up. The second time I decided to try the opposite side. To get over there though I would have to cross the stream. I made a mistake here. There were about 6 or 7 other people watching and they almost saw me buy the farm as they say. I jumped off the rock ledge where the trail is at into the water to walk across that shallow looking swift spot just before about a 10 foot fall there and when I jumped off that rock I immediately found the stream was very slick and I was sliding around like on ice. Somehow I got across. Finally worked up the nerve to continue on and lets say I found the kitty crawl spot you are referring too. Coming back across at the bottom later I stuck to the deep area and didn't go near that swift shallow section on the edge again. Lesson learned.
Adam
From acid rain in the high elevations it has poisoned the soil at the head of the Ramsey watershed. Whenever there is a big rain and washes away the soil and into the stream it poisons it. There is only a few fish up Ramsey prong at the turnaround. They die out soon. If you want to catch brook trout in greenbrier buck fork is the way to go.
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