Early Summer Part 4: Great Meadows Campground to Bandy Creek Campground

In my last post, I covered the 33 mile section between the US-27 trailhead and Great Meadows Campground. I was traveling through the Big South Fork, once the homelands of Cherokee American Indians, whose abodes were the rock shelters I hiked beneath, and the fertile creek bottoms I roamed thru on this hike. 

Was this once the home of a Cherokee family?

Then white settlers invaded the land, first engaging in fur trapping, then establishing homesteads and mining towns. I'd love to find out more about the lives of early American Indians in the BSF, but unfortunately information on the internet available about them is really limited. 

Back to the trail--It was Tuesday, June 1st. I left Great Meadows campground under cloudy skies, recovered from the grueling 25-mile day before.

I was hiking alongside rock creek for most of the morning, step-by-step closing in on the Kentucky-Tennessee border. I saw people enjoying their day, fishing, as I passed over scenic little streams and towers of rocks to my left.

Rock Creek, and some anticlimactic signage on the KY-TN border

At this point the Sheltowee Trace joined the John Muir Trail. The original end of the ST branches off from here, and continues on to Pickett State Park.

Creek Crossing right after crossin' the border

Ancient landscape touched by anthropocene design.

Small falls and towering rock walls along Massey Branch.

Mountain Laurels in the midday sun :)

I left rock creek and massey branch and traveled up to Divide Rd--the only lick of gravel I'd see that day, and the only point at which I had barely enough cell service to get a phonecall out all day. 

Signpost at divide road, and a (black or pipevine??) swallowtail on some mountain laurels.

After crossing divide rd, you're hiking along a sandy ridge, with views of Tennessee hills.

Vistas framed by mountain laurels--a lonely stretch, I saw no one else that day after crossing the state line.

The humble John Muir overlook--reminded me of overlooks in the Red River Gorge, a little closer to home and about 200 miles earlier along the Sheltowee Trace.

A wrigglin' newt, and another swallowtail.

Signs of a settlers past in the Big South Fork--creeks with ominous names like "Diffuculty" and "No Business", and some rock monoliths near where I camped that night, probably the remnants of a homestead along the creek.

That night I made camp near a bridge over No Business Creek, near stone pillars that remained from some structure of long ago. The woods had a definite vibe of solitude that erred towards the side of creepy. In the dark some woodland animal screeched like a siren wailing. From the cocoon of my hammock I heard rain beginning to fall in the wee hours of the morning--there was a steady drizzle as I packed up and ate breakfast. The rain would not cease all day.

Rock shelters and lush forest. A trail void of sun yet still full of wonder.

After just a handful of miles my boots were soaked by the undergrowth.

Once again following the Cumberland. The valley was full of fog on this rainy morning.

The trail became wider and sandy as it followed high on a bank of the big south fork. I remember it being full of mudholes and difficult to negotiate.

In this section of trail I crossed paths with two NPS employees on an ATV. I think they were surprised to see me out there with a big backpack in the rain. I probably looked like a bat out of hell--soaking wet with blood trickling down my legs from thorny undergrowth. But it was nice talking to a couple of people after a long period of solitude.

I pushed forth to Bandy Creek Campground, where I was ending my section hike for the week. Horseriding seems to be popular in the BSF as a lot of the trail was wide shared-use.

Trees make way for a clearing--IIRC, an experiment by the University of Tennessee at Martin to replicate natural grassland environments.

At this point I was nearing the end of the road, Bandy Creek Campground. I was wet and tired, and ahead I saw a wide, open clearing. and a big, unbroken sky of pure slate, clouds shedding rain, and heard wind that howled and commanded the grasses and gentle white flowers of the clearing to sway. 

Hordes of  red-spotted newts! These are juvenile land-roaming efts.

And thus ended my backpacking adventures of the summer. I got to the campground and a couple of families were there, kids riding their bikes around, and I re-read the entirety of Go Tell It on the Mountain while I waited for a ride to deliver me from the forests of South Kentucky/North Tennessee I'd roamed for the last couple of days. A total of 138 miles over two separate weeks. 

I was really bummed out in July when my little notebook containing all my writing from my backpacking trips was stolen while I was working. These notes were part of my heart. The rawest form of my experiences were taken from me. There's prose and poetry and drawings in there that I'll never be able to recreate and in all likelihood was tossed in some dumpster by the soulless crackhead asshole that nabbed my shit. There wasn't even any damn money in the bag of mine that they stole!!! 

Whatever. The hurt of loss falls away with the passage of time. The world slowly transforms. The Big South Fork will soon fill with the myriad of colors of autumn--warm tones touching the trees. And I will traverse the land again, taking nothing but my pictures and notes, leaving only my small footprints. And then winter will come, life sapped from the forest, and then springtime, again. And then the schoolyear will end, and I'll take another chunk of time out to try and thru-hike the sheltowee from the top again. Who knows--maybe third time's the charm.

Some flowers of the summer: Rhododendron calendulaceum (flame azaelia--with vibrantly red stamens) and Spigelia marilandica (woodland pinkroot)

Cheers to the ways of the world, to the mountain lions, the pileated woodpeckers, to the red-spotted newt ambling across the path, to the greenery and flowers staking their claim on lonely ridgelines and making their homes in the cool, wet shade of a rockshelter deep in a valley, to the cumberland river, mighty, constant, may you swell with the fertility of this coming spring--I will wait, patiently, for your return from the dearth of winter. I love you and I trust you.

Early Summer Part 3: US-27, again

Dan Faces the Big South Fork, TLDR:

60 miles from US-27 trailhead near Whitley City, KY to Bandy Creek Campground in TN from May 30th to June 2nd

Beings spotted: Hordes of red spotted newts, daddy longlegs, abundant flies, skinks, little snake, day hikers, backpackers, families, dogs, snails, centipedes

IAfter being home for a week I decided to restart my hike at about mile 232 of the sheltowee, near Flat Rock Missionary Baptist Church. Over a year ago my first ever backpacking trip had ended here, after I'd explored the hills around London, passed Cumberland Falls, and the many old mines by the Trace.

The trail here wound behind a string of homes by the Church. A family was at play in their backyard. Partitioned by a wall of trees, I don't think they noticed me hiking by. I passed by a homestead crawling with chickens, then made my way through the church's property, then crossed US-27 to begin my hike into the woods proper. 

Here the trees were thin and new, and the woods were crisscrossed by ATV tracks, and littered with beercans and tires of yeeyee boys past. I crossed a thin gravel road, a sign civilization was giving way to the wild. And now I was descending to the valley of the Cumberland River, and the trees shot up taller and bore many more rings, and the undergrowth bloomed thicker, cutting at my bare legs. It was clear few hiked this trail. 

The wilderness grew more evident--the first rock wall I saw going down to the Cumberland. 

I understood this rock shelter as a "gateway" into the wilderness of the Big South Fork--foreshadowing the great walls of rock and waterfalls to be found deeper in the park. Long ago Cherokee American Indians among other tribes lost to history called these natural recesses their homes. 

A small, seasonal stream of water trickled from the roof of the shelter. Trees competed with the rock, curving up to reach the sun. Great boulders sat in this pocket of earth, perhaps as tall as 4 or 5 grown men. This stretch of trail featured worn stone steps to help navigate the dips and rising of the earth.

You emerge from the shade of the inaugural rock shelter and walk alongside towering rock walls, weathered with a gap snaking along the base.

Walking beneath walls undulating, as a result of some drawn out process of nature.

Critter watch!

Finally I descended to the first creek of the hike. The stones poking out of the creek, the serenity, the greenery enveloping the stream--it all reminded me of the rocky creeks and streams I'd seen in the  Smoky Mountains.

All I could hear was the babble of a creek. It was peaceful. 

The sides of the trail were thick with ferns of all kinds, blanketing the slopes up to where rock walls erupted up along the trail. On the right, my first view of the cumberland river. it was still and turbid-looking here. 

I didn't see a single other person until I got up to my campsite at the end of the day. A lonely trail winding along the banks of the cumberland river, flanked on my left by high rock cliffs.

Seasonal waterfalls cascaded down to the river.

Water spills with abandon over slippery rocks down to the Big South Fork, waterfalls dance on their course to the river.

It was late in the afternoon now and I was headed for Alum Ford Campground, a small primitive camping area along the river, just past Yahoo Falls. 

At Alum Ford that night I met a couple of fellow backpackers, and another handful of people in 4wd vehicles--the road up to the campground was rough, washed out gravel. The campground had only 8 spots, and a newer looking privy in the middle. I strung up my hennessy hammock kinda awkwardly as there was a dearth of good trees to hang from at my spot. There was a little footrail going down the steep bank to the ford, which was placid and quiet at sunset.

I camped next to a stream that trickled water all night. This melded with the calls of whippoorwills, and animal screams, and boat engines in the distance, a cacophony that engulfed me in my sleep. The next morning held out for me a blue sky, and sunlight shining through gaps in the canopy of the woods.

As I ate breakfast and packed up, a few parties of backpackers passed through the camp, which the Sheltowee ran directly through. One was a couple whom I envied and one was a man with his dog, the smaller of which roved with a little pack of its own on its back. 

Pockmarked, moss-graced boulder bathed in sunlight

A sunlit trail on monday

Great mossy boulders by the edge of cotton patch creek.

Sunlight illuminating the waters of the Cumberland, tall grasses ruffled by the wind. A sweet smell of wildflowers wafts in the early summer air. 

Monday night I made it to Rock Creek, camping at Great Meadows Campground. Though the campground was free, it was unfortunately littered with food and trash from campers of days past. The only other family camping in the same loop as I was shut their generator off at nightfall. I was left in the dark with just the din of flowing Rock Creek to color my dreams. 

Six miles after leaving Alum Ford campground stood the bridge over the cumberlands at Yamacraw. 

The forest floors always looks enchanting dappled with warm sunlight.

From US-27 to Great Meadows campground was about 33 miles. The next post I'll cover the final leg of my early summer backpacking travels: Getting from Rock Creek to Bandy Creek Campground.