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Georgia River Wadin' The Conasauga River Trail October 3-4, 2003
[ Home ] [ USA-International Travel ] [ Southeast Travel ] [ Favorite Sunsets ] [ Content ] Trail Names: Chestnut Lead Trail and Conasauga River Trail Length: Chestnut Lead -1.8 miles, Conasauga River Trail -11.0 miles Location: Cohutta Wilderness in northern Georgia Difficulty: Easy (if the water levels are low) Interesting Feature: 38 River Crossings Backpack: 2 days 1st crossing, still upright
Our destination on this early autumn morning was the Conasauga River. The river, located in the 37,000 acre Cohutta Wilderness, is mostly 2nd growth oak and pine forest. With a 35,000 acre expanse in northern Georgia, the remaining 1,700 acres just brush across the Tennessee state line. Between 1915 and 1928, 70% of the Conasauga watershed was logged by the Conasauga River Lumber Company. Now the old railroad bed is part of the rail trails to wilderness trails program and is appropriately named the Conasauga River Trail.
We were hiking with the
Harvey Broome Group of the Sierra Club. Will Skelton, hike leader and regular
hiking companion is known for planning out-of-the ordinary backpacks. The
Conasauga River Trail was no exception. Our group of nine hikers included
Will, Steve, Terri, Sharon, Bob, Dave, Diane, John, me and oh yeah...3 dogs, Zoë
(a golden lab), Lucy (a black lab) and Wailen (a husky mix who did justice to
his name). We anticipated a weekend with lively conversation and a lot of
canine entertainment.
Our 3 hour travel time took us from Knoxville to Cleveland on I-75, over to US 411 and south just to the state line at Cixco, GA. After a left turn onto Old Hwy 2 to FS 17 we began the a lengthy and very dusty car shuttle from trail end to trailhead on FS 38. Anxious to finally get on the trail, we quickly locked the car doors, shouldered our packs and headed down the Chestnut Lead Trail. Three very excited dogs took the lead. Wearing my river footgear, I felt my ankles twist and turn under the pack weight. My choice of footwear??...old running shoes with liner socks (Smartwools® were on standby in my pack). I sorely missed my beloved hiking boots but soon realized the lightness of foot provided by the runners. Smart Beverly!!
While I left my boots locked in the car, John decided to wear his until he absolutely had to change into river shoes. His choice of river footwear??...Tevas and Smartwools®. Poor John!! The moment he put on his Tevas he risked stubbed toes and getting sticks and pebbles caught between his feet and sandals. He also had to carry his 5.5 lbs boots for the balance of the trip. The other members of our group wore an array of sandals, river shoes, runners and old hikers. All provided varying degrees of stability but the people wading in running shoes or boots faired the best. We also noted that regardless of the footwear, wool socks provided warmth and protection even when submerged in chilly water.
After a toe jamming 1000' drop over a 30 minute hike from the trailhead, we were standing at the river's edge. My thighs were feeling the burn as I surveyed the 1st of the 17 river crossings that we would make on this day. This crossing didn't look too bad so with the grace of a drunken sailor I rock hopped the Conasauga. Luckily the river was narrow and shallow at the headwaters so I was able to stay upright all the way!! Yeah, river crossing # 1 complete and my toes are still dry. Let the fun begin! Safely on the bank, I looked back to see John, ever agile, always the athlete, glide across the river rocks landing squarely on shore. Hmmm...the crossing were going to become an increasing challenge for me while John would continue to make them look completely effortless.
Will crossing with Lucy and Wailen waiting
Finding a safe spot to ford was an equally important concern. Every crossing presented a challenge... sometimes deep, cold pools, sometimes underwater boulders, often very slick rocks coupled with swift current. Since the crossing site determined the degree of difficulty, each time we reached the river's edge we walked up and down the bank hunting for the best spot to ford. Small rocks were our preference; the occasional sand bed was an incredible treat! Mostly we avoided the pools and stumbled through the current with slick rocks underfoot.
We had been hiking, uh wading
for a little over
four hours when we noticed that we had not crossed the river in maybe 15 minutes.
We were beginning to see signs of people, lots of people.
Will indicated that we were arriving in the outskirts of Bray Field, which I
found akin to arriving in the outskirts of a third world village. Tents, people and dogs were tucked
into every tiny campsite along the riverside of the trail.
The smell of campfires burned my nostrils, smoke was heavy in the air and
campers sat outside their tents watching hikers pass by.
Arrival in Bray Field meant arrival in one of the largest campsites I have ever seen. The field and surrounding woods are relatively flat and can discretely hide a number of tents. Access to the river (water source) is a stone's throw away. As Will started pondering "the perfect campsite" the rest of us laid down our packs and started hunting for a spot to call home. We knew what Will wasn't quite ready to accept...we were not likely find another spot Bray Field, backpack hitching post big enough for 7 tents, 9 people and 3 dogs. We moved in for the night setting up our own tent village and trying to maintain a bit of distance between us and the 6 tents, 12 boy scouts and 2 leaders that were camped in the outskirts of the field.
John and I quickly found our
perfect tent site. While others in our group may define "perfect" based on
view shed, John and I define perfect as flat. Flat means our sleeping bags
will not shift during the night, which would otherwise cause us to wake up in a
wad in a corner of the tent. We have spent many a night with our tent on a
slope such that we wished we could tie one end of a rope to our waists and the
other to a rock to hold us securely in place. But on this night, on this flat
spot, we set up our tent, unloaded our gear and went about the business of
backpack survival....warm clothes, dry footgear,
firewood, water and preparing for dinner and darkness.
Dinner is one of the highlights of backpacking. Not only does just about everything taste FABULOUS after hiking all day but dinner provides a perfect setting for socializing. The favorite dinner topic on almost any overnight backpack is what everyone is eating. Longer backpacks encourage longer conversations and sometimes vivid fantasies about what everyone will eat when they get off the backpack. John and I
Sharon preparing dinner for Wailen
are not known for creativity with trail dinners but we really shined
on this trip with grilled cheese sandwiches and steaming hot cups of McKenzie Chowder
(potato chowder). We capped off
the meal with a round of some ores'. Yum Yum! Diane delighted us by
sharing tastes of her homemade Pad Thai sauce. Terri discovered the lesson
that we learned in the Wind Rivers...Moushalacka Goulash (Enertia Foods) is
really not very good. Most
everyone else was eating some type of backcountry packaged meal, most by Enertia
and besides Terri's, all were very tasty.
After dinner we spent a pleasant evening gazing at the clear, star filled sky and talking around the campfire. The dogs were too pooped to move. Diane pealed off for bed about 9:00 and the rest of us followed by 9:30 pm. We had no excuse for our early bed time except that it was dark and our sleeping bags were calling. We fell asleep to the sound of Screech Owls high in the tree branches above us.
Hot Grilled Cheese Sandwich, photo by Will Skelton The sun rose too early and a nip of fall in the morning air left us less than anxious to crawl out from under our fluffy, down sleeping bags. We managed somehow and were on the trail just after 9:00 am. While this hour is considered late by some people's standards, it is just right by ours.
In the morning light we counted over twenty tents within a
2.0-mile radius of Bray Field. The number sounds staggering for a
wilderness experience but the forest provided a wonderful shield. Although
the night before
we were unaware that so many people were concentrated in the
area, the condition of Bray Field should have provided us with a clue. We
operate under the philosophy that "the harder it is to get to a campsite, the
greater care a camper will take to keep it pristine." With easy access from
several directions, Bray Field was trashed. Partially burned tin cans and
bits of aluminum littered the fire pit. Bits and pieces of cord and string
lay about. Will, long time defender of the wilderness and faithful to "leave no
trace" practices crushed the burned cans and fished out foil from under the
coals. Although he carried out the trash that others had so thoughtlessly
left behind, there was no doubt that the next campers would leave more than
their footprints in the forest and the trash cycle would begin again.
I doubt it will surprise you to know that we spent this day just like the day before... in the water, on the trail, in the water, on the trail. The only difference between the two days was the width of the river and the strength of the current. As the river flows away from the headwaters, it becomes wider and deeper with more instances of white water. We crossed the river 21 times for a two day total of 38. Five of the nine of us took unplanned dips including me Wailen rock hopping, Will, Diane and Sharon who is most always unlucky in water crossings. Only my left side got wet while my backpack stayed dry. Whew! Will, Bob, Steve and Dave each slipped once getting various degrees of wet. John?! He was the only dry male, the alpha male of course. This gave him bragging rights that his choice of wading-hiking shoes did not. Dogs Zoë and Lucy loved the water, Wailen was miserable. Not wanting to get wet, Wailen looked for the highest rocks to hop. When he ran out of rocks above or slightly below water level he would begin to wail. Due to her short statue, Sharon, Wailen's owner was often navigating in water above her knees. She had her hands full keeping herself upright (which she did). The guys took pity on Wailen and helped him across. He always looked relieved to be on the other side. The final leg of our hike was a steep climb away from the river and back to the car and a long wait on the car shuttle.
The end of another weekend well spent in the backcountry!!
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F
The
second crossing was similar to the first but the third required a tougher
execution and my toes touched down on river bottom. At this point I gave
up on all thoughts of dry feet. John decided to change into his Tevas even
though his feet were, of course, still dry. The rest of the day went
something like this: hike on trail, hike in river, hike on trail, hike in
river. We made 17 crossings in a scant 3.0 miles and I loved it! The
hike was a great combination of delightfully flat trail and challenging river
crossings. Our biggest concern turned out to be the lack of trail markings
and a maze of feeder trails. Since the main trail is not regularly
marked, it is easily confused with feeder trails leading to places we did not
want to explore. Poor markings also resulted in difficulty discerning
where the trail picked up on the far shore. Every crossing stirred
conversation as to whether we were looking toward the REAL trail or another
trail leading no where. 
