In my peregrinations to find interesting geologic
features of the state’s granitic gneiss high elevations, Sunday I set off for
the north side of Stone Mountain where Google Earth depicts a line of steep
exfoliation cliffs, rugged terrain below the cliffs, and a mature hardwood
forest. Unfortunately, the park has no official trails leading to the cliffs,
but I hoped that rock climbers had some guerrilla trails I might stumble on and
follow. Nope. Ain’t. The best I could do is hike up Rocky Ridge Trail (#75)
from Old CCC Road and then strike out off-trail. It was an easy start, only
about a 30 degree slope, and I headed a little east of north up to a saddle.
From there, I wanted to angle off more to the east, but thick rhododendron
contraindicated that so I continued on the previous direction to skirt it and
followed the contour. Still pretty easy.
The rhododendrons soon forced me to alter direction
toward the southeast and uphill, although still only a 30 degree slope. I was
at an elevation of 2900 ft at that point, which was about what I thought would
be the base of the cliff line. I tried to follow that contour but the rhodos
kept pushing me slightly uphill for a quarter-mile until I encountered a low,
wide rock shelter along the 3000 ft contour. This feature was at the base of a
talus field that was about 100 ft in elevation below the cliff-base line. I
stopped there for a moment and discovered that, alas, I had forgotten my
flashlight, so I bellied down and waited until my eyes were accustomed to the
dark to see what I could see. Not much. The shelter just got lower and lower
from its entrance, which itself was only about 2 ft high.
I continued to hike slightly uphill on the by now 45
degree slope. Talus fields are hard to negotiate. The ground around these
boulders ranges from a relatively easy 45 degrees to almost vertical, the talus
fields support dense rhodos with intertwining branches, dead twigs want to jab
your eyes, rhodo leaves are large and block your vision of the ground you walk
on, the terrain is dark and snaky, holes between the boulders are covered with
leaf packs that do not always hold your weight, and greenbriar vines are common
to abundant.
Time out. My Florida friends do not understand mountain
greenbriar (Smilax sp.). Florida has
much, much more greenbriar than these mountains harbor, but… Florida greenbriar
will prick you and draw a drop of blood or two, but if you are careful, you can
walk through infested landscapes receiving only a few minor scratches from
their flexible little (eighth- to quarter-inch) spines. Mountain greenbriar,
however, has up to half-inch long inflexible rakers that are flattened laterally,
the tips of which are way sharper than Florida greenbriar and their edges are razor
sharp. All you have to do is barely touch a mountain greenbriar and you have a
cut that will bleed profusely for several minutes.
Whatever, I scrambled up another 100 ft in elevation and
tenth-mile through that crap to the base of the first cliff and immediately
spotted an Eastern box turtle (Terrapene carolina
carolina). As the photo vaguely shows, there were some dings on the
chelonian’s carapace that looked like teeth marks from a mammal larger than a
canid or bobcat. I’m guessing the turtle was attacked by a bear, but don’t really
know. It seemed to have healed from the one-sided battle. I ate lunch (not the
turtle) and moved on.
Continuing more-or-less along the 3000 ft contour, I
inspected several more exfoliation cliffs, always seeking the path of least
resistance through the rhodo thickets. At that point I was pretty tired, but
determined not to return the way I came. You cannot go back the way you came,
it’s a Rule, so when I came to a non-rhodo-covered 45 degree slope I began
angling uphill toward a low lateral ridge that I hoped would take me to the
Stone Mountain ridgeline where an official trail would take me to my ride. It
almost did, but things changed after another tenth-mile to a horrid 60-70
degree slope covered with boulders, rhododendron, mountain laurel, wild azalea
that didn’t have the courtesy to be blooming, highbush blueberries that didn’t
have the manners to offer fruit, and greenbriar that was even more abundant
than before. Sigh. Furthermore, galax grew lushly and obscured the ground, and
I just knew that I was passing close by invisible timber rattlers and
copperheads. Man! In places like that, you’d better not reflexively stick your
hand out to the ground to steady yourself when you stumble. Grab the rhodo
stems instead! I spent an hour-and-a-quarter thrashing my way through 0.8 miles
in that horrible place. I could only think of my goal. Ridgelines are supposed
to be drier and support shorter trees and a more open understory, and that was supposed
to be my salvation. Nope. Wasn’t.
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse… I couldn’t
yet make it to the ridgeline, specifically up a knob along the ridgeline,
because that awful knob was worse than anything I had gone through so far.
Steeper terrain, denser rhodos, more greenbriar, downed logs and limbs, and everything
covered with slimy lichens and slippery sphagnum moss. I had no choice but to
continue through the lesser of the two evil rhodo thickets. I was out of water.
I thought I was gonna die there and be found only by hungry scavengers, my
wasted bones scattered amongst the rocks and rhodos, and eventually overgrown
by sphagnum.
But no! After only another fifteen minutes and a tenth of
a mile, I broke out of the thickets growing on and surrounding Hateful Knob and
onto the ridgeline and AN OPEN UNDERSTORY!!! Hallelujah! And to make matters
even better, there was a vague trail leading along the ridgeline exactly in the
direction of my parked pickup. I followed the trail west for another half-mile
and 20 minutes to the official mountaintop, gaining another 600 ft of
elevation. There, I was rewarded by scenic views that I could not have cared
less about and lowbush blueberries sporting a few ripe fruit, which I gobbled
down to quench my thirst. Wild blueberries are sweeter than ag blueberries
despite being smaller. Heh, most of the people I run into on the mountaintops
are afraid to eat them, and I shamelessly pander to their fear (“No! Wait!
Don’t eat that wild fruit! Let me save you!”)
After that, I grudgingly took the well-beaten trails back
down the hill, but only because you can’t
go back the way you came. Seriously! Total time was 5:25 and total mileage was
5.9. It was not a death march like some of my off-trail hikes, but it was hard,
maybe the hardest trek I have done since moving here. The friend who
accompanied me last weekend wearing a 40 lb pack will doubtlessly be glad that
she was not with me today and wearing another heavy load.
So Tom, bring Jimmy and the gang up from Florida sometime
and we’ll go out and play!
Note: I would have added a Google Earth pic of the route
I took, except that for some unknown reason my Garmin software won’t hand off
the track to GE. It used to do so easily, so I’m going to call Garmin soon and
see if this can be remedied. If so, I’ll update this missive.
