Wilderness Falls, TN

I recently learned something interesting – scientists estimate that nearly 80% of the species on earth have yet to be “discovered”. For every creature you can name, there are four out there undisturbed by human classification.

 

The world is huge. So large that the human mind can’t really conceive of how big it is; at least not without scientific notation and calculations of astronomical scale. There are over 7 billion people on Earth, yet every human could fit, shoulder-to-shoulder, in the Los Angeles metropolitan area. With that in mind, it’s no surprise that a sizable proportion of our planet remains unexplored. Tracts of land untrodden, valleys unseen. Siberia. Antarctica. The Sahara. The Amazon. On each continent lie regions so remote, so inhospitable, so inaccessible, that modern humans have yet to perceive their splendor.

Our region isn’t an exception. Though not nearly as inhospitable as the Sahara or inaccessible as the Amazon, our terrain is rough. Our mountains are steep. Our forests are dense. Our wildlife can be combative. And despite our relatively high population density compared to the world average, and especially that of those regions noted above, there are still wonders to be found.

 

I recently read of a waterfall here in northeast TN that was undocumented until a few years ago, and unknown even to the Forest Service. Wilderness Falls, as it’s so appropriately named, cascades from a towering rock cliff on the back of Rich Mountain. This NW face of Rich Mountain is rich in waterfalls – I’ve visited 6 significant ones myself (including this one) – and if someone hasn’t already checked each creek flowing from Rich Mountain for a waterfall, then we need to get started.

Despite this waterfall’s notoriety for being so elusive for so long, it’s readily accessible, especially compared to other waterfalls but a few miles away. So over Memorial Day weekend, with an extra day off work, I set out to see what had been unseen for so long.

 

My hike that day began at the Longarm Branch trailhead off of Clarks Creek Rd. – my gifted readers will recognize this as the access point for the falls of Devil Fork, Pine Ridge and Josiah Falls included, and so I was pleasantly familiar with the area. Normally, I would take the spur trail that splits from Longarm Branch Trail after ¼-mile, but my route took me deeper into the Longarm Branch watershed. I had high hopes for high water that day – we had received rain the day prior and a torrential downpour graced my drive to the trailhead. Alas, as I approached my parking area, the morning sun was burning away the clouds and blue skies could be seen above. Though a beautiful, blessed day, it wasn’t advantageous for the water-level I had wanted or the photography conditions I prefer.

So disappointing

Nonetheless, undaunted by the pleasant day ahead, I trudged on toward the waterfall. The higher I climbed into the valley, the more slight Longarm Branch became. Given that it’s much larger than its tributaries, I wasn’t hopeful for a good show. After 30 minutes or so of leisurely hiking, I came to the junction of the two creeks.

The hollow from which the Creek flowed was as steep and narrow as I had assumed – so rugged, in fact, I wasn’t sure how best to proceed. The Creek flowed through a chasm in the trail, which I detoured several feet down to creek-level to cross, and then it poured through a large drain-pipe presumably left from the logging this area once supported. At creek-level, I slowly climbed into the water and delicately moved upstream.

It didn’t take me long to get wet nor to realize how harsh of a creek I was hiking. The first 50 feet of the creek was a series of small waterfalls, cascades dropping the water through natural half-pipes of rock and a tunnel of laurel. The sun had just begun to touch the hollow that morning, and the fog, trapped by the vegetation, had just started to lift. I climbed into the giant pipe formed by the surrounding rock and plants, both to photograph the scene before the water from the earlier rain had run its course and to rest up before the predictably grueling hike ahead.

 

 

Once I left my seat on a cool, moss-shrouded rock, I noted a small trail ascending the ridge to the left of the Creek. I didn’t know if it was human- or animal-made, but it was a clearing heading in the right direction, so I didn’t argue. After a few hundred feet of climbing straight uphill (I didn’t say it was very well designed), the trail dumped me up onto an old logging road, scattered with small brush and a relief. I knew the difficult section of the hike would be climbing into and navigating the steep hollow – in my experience, if it looks steep on a topographical map, then you’re really in for a treat – so I welcomed the old road for as far as it would take me.

 

The road roughly followed the creek its entire route, staying 10-20 feet above at all times. It appeared to end as it descended to creek level at ¼-mile, where a much narrower trail picked up the route across the creek. The trail, which was barely that, wasn’t easy to follow – truth-be-told, I simply kept the creek the same distance to my left and continually found and lost the trail.

 

The trail eventually faded into the width of the Creek’s course, and though much clearer of brush and debris, the hollow had become much steeper. The ground was scattered with rocks of all sizes which made for clumsy hiking. The farther I hiked, the steeper was the hiking, and I could see the Creek falling from increasingly higher levels as I advanced.

 

Making my way upstream was an exercise in balance and creativity. Though the floor of the gorge was comparatively wide, the ridges on either side were steep and slippery. My best bet, though cumbersome, was the route directly up the creek-bed. Though I had been cursing the lack of water all morning, I could sense that the route I had chosen would be barely wade-able, and certainly not walkable, in high-water. The grade of the creek was such that the majority was one continuous waterfall – a long, complex cascade. Once I could see the impressive rock cliff of Wilderness Falls in the distance, it was difficult to judge where the waterfall ended and the course of the creek resumed.

 

The terrain directly below the waterfall is as gorgeous as it is rugged. Many small waterfalls drop several feet at its base, and the ascent had become more of a climb than a hike. I could see water spraying off the open rock face in the distance – so with my poor eyesight, I was close – but the bottom of the cliff was still far above my route within the creek. I had some climbing to do.

 

 

Despite the caution with which I approached the climb, it was difficult. Given the rock drop-offs within the creek-bed – some flowing with water, others simply moist – I chose a route along the northern ridge. The rain the night before and earlier that morning may not have been enough to produce impressive waterfalls, but it was certainly enough to impede my climbing. Rocks along the ridge were loose and unreliable; the ground was soaked and oozed out from my grip; moisture-loving critters – more millipedes, centipedes, slugs, and snails than I had ever seen – covered most surfaced or sprang to life from small mudslides. With every few feet I advanced, I would slide back down, bugs tumbling onto my head and shoulders. It was a mess, but I slowly made it to the base of the falls.

 

 

 

The cliff and the water flowing from its top were impressive – it’s surprising such a spectacle had gone undiscovered (or perhaps forgotten) for so long. I was disappointed that there wasn’t more of a show, as I could tell that the falls would be marvelous at full-force. Alas, that vision will come in time.

 

I sat at the base of the falls for a while, allowing the diminished mist to cool me from the late morning mugginess. I looked down the hollow at the impassable creek-bed well beneath me and thought, Now how do I get down?

 

Over an hour later, I slogged into Diana’s parents’ restaurant in Erwin  for lunch and a pre-shower respite (Toby’s Café– go get a burger). Diana’s mom noted, “Hey Ben, your butt’s wet.” ...That’s how I got down.

Thanks for reading!