Rocky Fork, TN

Of all the bad experiences I’ve had in the woods or as a result of my adventures, I can say without a revealing grin that I’ve never had a bad hike. Whatever spiritual gain with which I am blessed always outweighs whatever happens to me. That being said, after a rough day on the trail, sometimes you just have to laugh and say, “Yep, that kinda sucked.”

Well, this hike kinda sucked.

A few months ago, my good friend Ben Tolliver and I made a road-trip to Asheville, NC. As I gazed from the passenger seat, enjoying idle bro-talk and the rugged beauty of Unicoi County, TN, I spotted an impressive set of cliffs. My eyesight isn’t great – so neither of us could be sure if the cliffs were real, but I had caught enough of a glimpse to fuel my curiosity.

The cliffs, as I originally saw them

 

After some vague Google searches and a lot of map-study, I managed to narrow the location of the cliffs to the Rocky Fork area in Unicoi County. Recently purchased by the US Forest Service, this large tract of unbroken wilderness had been slated for conservation for some time – the area is home to salamander species found nowhere else – not even the Smokies – and Rocky Fork Creek is renowned for its trout-fishing (which turned out to be my saving-grace, but we’ll get to that later).

I hadn’t been out since my hike to Margarette Falls (a month or so prior), so I was anxious to lace up my boots and get dirty – and indeed I did. I watched as the chance of thunderstorms increased day-by-day, but it didn’t matter – I was determined to head out and explore those cliffs.

On the day of my hike, the chance of thunderstorms had reached 100%, but the morning was dry on my way to the trail. I reached the Forest Service gate at Rocky Fork at around 8:30am, but the heavy cloud-cover made it feel like 6:00. Still no rain. I took advantage of the dry weather and quickly made my way along the old road that follows Rocky Fork Creek, hoping to snap as many pictures as possible before the deluge came.

 

With the recent rains, Rocky Fork was impressively voluminous. It was difficult to hear much else while walking along the road, especially near one of the many small waterfalls and cascades. There were so many opportunities for nice pictures of the creek, I couldn’t help myself. The section of the road I was hiking wasn’t particularly long – it should’ve taken about 30 minutes to walk – but it took over 90 minutes with all the stops I made and diversions to explore the area. By the time I made it to the spur trail which leads up the knob that is home to the cliffs, it started to rain. And rain. And rain…

 

 

As I pulled up my big-boy hiking pants in preparation for the uphill climb ahead of me, the clouds burst open and dumped on me the rain my weather app had promised. I have never been in such a dense rain – it was like standing with your face toward a shower-head. At times, it was hard to breathe without taking in water. The wind was strong and bent trees all around me – I climbed higher and the rain became harder, the wind became stronger. It would stop for a moment, then start again. Like someone was pausing to refill the bucket. The higher I climbed, the steeper the trail became, and the sections which weren’t slippery rocks were muddy rivers. I’d take one step forward and slide two steps back.

After slipping and sliding my way 30 feet back down a particularly steep section, I swallowed my stubbornness. I was defeated. I don’t often abandon hikes, but this was a lost cause. Time to go home.

The hike back to my 4Runner was predictably short – the mud made for a quick descent down the knob and there were no stops to make this time. I was drenched. When the gate was finally within view in the last 200 feet of the road, the rain gradually began to slow. It stopped when I laid my pack in my back seat.

I walked over to the creek and marveled at the trout I could see darting in the crisp water and enjoyed a few final moments in the rain-awakened forest. Though I hadn’t reached my destination, and the rain had washed away the filth that had covered me, it was a wonderful walk in the woods. It’s remarkable how lively, how fresh the woods become during a spring rain. The smells are stronger. The leaves are greener. You’ll never see anything more alive. Those sensations and experiences made the whole mess worthwhile, and I was resigned to leave Rocky Fork with a quiet satisfaction found only by those so blessed as I…

…then my 4Runner wouldn’t start. The battery was dead.

Mere moments before climbing into my driver’s seat, two fly-fisherman had pulled up and parked at the Forest Service gate. What providence! They generously offered to help jump-start my battery – we tried for 30-45 minutes to get that thing to take a charge, but all we managed was to get the lights to turn on. It just wouldn’t turn over.

Having AT&T, I didn’t have cell-phone service, but one of the fishermen had Verizon – the one bar was enough for me to call Diana, who lives about 30 minutes away. My darling had to cancel her hair appointment (sorry about your split-ends, babe!) but was happy to come to my rescue. She had work obligations throughout that day, so once we made it back to Erwin, TN, I called in some backup.

Pictured: Benjamin "Backup" Tolliver

 

Ben and I took the battery to Advanced Auto Parts for a formal test (it was way dead), something that is ordinarily a painless ordeal. Hah! I carried the battery from Ben’s back seat over my shoulder, and sulfuric acid leaked all over me. Once inside the store, Ben – ever the observant Chemistry major – showed concern, “Hey, is that acid on your shoulder?”

Yes, yes it was. Thankfully, I was still wearing my trusty rain-jacket, which had repelled the acid long enough for me to calmly (ok, frantically) remove it. As I laid it on the tool cart, the jacket which had kept me dry since I began serious hiking began to vanish. Ben, the amused Advanced employees, and I watched as the acid ate through the $80 jacket I found for half-price 5 years ago. Selah.

Ben and I made our way back to Rocky Fork and installed a new battery - it did the trick. My day finally ended at 4:00pm. My debit card was $120 lighter, I had lost a dear piece of hiking gear, I inconvenienced Ben and Diana on a busy Saturday, and I felt like a bum – I didn’t reach my destination and didn’t have the blog-post I imagined.

...Still totally worth it.

I would like to extend a sincere thank you to the providential fly-fishermen, who so generously came to my aid (congratulations on your 9 brook trout, fly-fisherman #2!), my tolerant girlfriend Diana (yea, I know, Verizon rocks), and my boy Ben (ok, I get it – Verizon is awesome).

Oh, and thanks for reading!