Events beyond my control interrupted my hiking plans many times in 2018, either by forcing me to choose a different date for the new trail I wanted to hike that month or forcing me to choose another trail all together. I learned so much about exploring the great outdoors last year, but one of my most significant learnings was to always have a back up plan. And that back-up plan should include two critical elements: a date and a location. You may not need both, but I needed at least one on about half of my new hikes in 2018.
In 2019, the back-up plan trend continues. In January, a government shutdown and roads closed due to snow prevented my friends and I from accessing any trail at Mount Rainier National Park beyond the first trail that we encountered after entering the park, Paul Peak Trail. Throughout February, Tennessee endured record-breaking rainfall and flooding that resulted in trail closures across the state. Also, I had to wait three weeks into the already short month before experiencing a weekend day without heavy rain. This brings me to March, and one of the most bittersweet instances of ruined plans since this journey began fifteen months ago.
At the beginning of March, the company that I work for sent me to a brand marketing conference in San Diego. Sounds terrible, right? After a long winter filled with business trips to places like New York, Chicago, and Detroit, I pounced on this all-expenses-paid opportunity for networking and professional development in sunny, beautiful southern California. Additionally, I decided to extend my trip through the weekend following the conference and convinced my fiancé, Andy, to fly out and join me (he barely blinked before accepting that offer). I’d researched potential hiking destinations around San Diego and had my heart set on a network of stunning cliffside trails overlooking the Pacific Ocean at Torrey Pines State Park. Despite my anticipation and planning, however, a rare thing happened in San Diego in the days leading up to this adventure: rain. Enough rain to cause erosion and close all of the trails in the park.
Because of the rain, we’d waited until our final day in San Diego to attempt this hike, so when it didn’t work out, I knew I wouldn’t have another opportunity to hike there before going home. I shouldn’t have been disappointed by this, because regardless of the botched hiking plans, I enjoyed every single minute of my time in San Diego. When I returned to Nashville, I knew I’d need to start over and find a new hike close to home. At the time, I had little faith that I could possibly find a trail that would live up to the expectations I had for the hike I missed out on in San Diego. I’m happy to admit that I was wrong.
Walls of Jericho, an impressive natural amphitheater, lies barely north of the state line between Tennessee and Alabama and can be accessed by two different trailheads, one in each state. According to local folklore, Davy Crockett explored the area in the 1700s, and a minister who performed baptisms there in the 1800s gave the canyon its biblical name. I’ve had this trail on my radar for a long time, but it was never really high enough on my list to become a priority over other trails that I thought would be more scenic or challenging. Now that I’ve seen the breathtakingly beautiful Walls of Jericho in person, and endured a grueling seven-mile hike in the process, I regret that I didn’t explore this place as soon as I learned it existed. I’ve hiked so many gorgeous trails within a day trip of Nashville, and while there’s not a single one I wouldn’t revisit, I think I’ve found a new favorite Walls of Jericho.
The trailhead in Tennessee and the trailhead in Alabama are connected by a strenuous seven-mile trail, and Walls of Jericho lies around this trail’s half-way point. The Alabama side of trail is more popular due to its reputation as the more beautiful and dynamic section, although I’ve also read positive reviews about the Tennessee side too. When my friend, Anne, and I arrived at the small parking lot for the Alabama trailhead, shortly before 9:00 AM on a warm and sunny Saturday, we pulled into one of the last remaining spots available. Throughout our journey along the trail, we passed many other hikers, but the traffic was spread out pretty evenly and wasn’t significant enough to lessen the experience or slow us down.
From the trailhead, we descended into the canyon as the trail weaved through a heavily wooded area with scattered large rock formations. The forest was showing early signs of spring, as green leaf buds dotted the trees around us and countless wildflowers poked their tiny blossoms through the fading layer of dead, fallen leaves on the ground. The wildflowers displayed an array of colors from red to purple to bright blue and yellow, changing as we hiked through the canyon’s layers. At the bottom of the canyon, we passed a small, primitive campground before crossing a narrow wooden bridge over Turkey Creek, the same creek that flows between the Walls of Jericho and slowly carved them out of the earth over time.
After a stretch of flat and mild terrain, plus one more creek crossing, we passed two more camping areas along Turkey Creek before the trail narrowed and began climbing towards its namesake feature. As the canyon walls grew higher and the space between them narrowed, Anne and I slowed our pace enough to allow us to take in the beauty of our changing surroundings. To the left of us, a high canyon wall sloped upward about a hundred feet above us, and on our right, beyond the trail’s narrow ledge, Turkey Creek rushed over the rocky riverbed far below us. On the other side of the creek, the opposite canyon wall towered above the floor of the canyon. We knew that we must be getting close to Walls of Jericho, and when the trees opened up to reveal the trail’s main attraction, we had no idea that the incredible view before us was only the beginning of a unique and impressive space unlike anything I’ve ever seen.
Our initial view included a stunning bowl-shaped depression in the canyon, occupied by a wide, shallow pool at the bottom of a small waterfall cascading over the edge of a rock face that blocked our view of the upper sections of the Walls of Jericho. The trail descends into the bowl and ends at the edge of Turkey Creek, which at this point covers what’s left of the gap between the canyon walls. We crossed a string of barely submerged rocks to reach a raised, dry section of the creek bed. From there, we had a closer view of the waterfall and a better vantage point from which to determine the best route up and over the edge of the rock wall. Admittedly, we just followed a couple of other hikers who seemed familiar with the area, but even without anyone else present, we would have been able to find it eventually (I’d like to think we would have, anyways).
We continued this strategy as we climbed up and over the series of rock walls that led further up and back into the recesses of the canyon, which extended across a lot more space than either of us expected. After heavy rainfall, I’m sure this part of the canyon can become inaccessible, but part of the creek that carved out Walls of Jericho actually flows through tunnels in the walls. This creates a collection of seemingly random holes in the walls with water flowing out of them, downward toward the bottom of the canyon. The visual effect is whimsical and stunning, but the practical implications benefit hikers because this creates plenty of dry space to explore above ground.
At the far end of the canyon, a small but mighty waterfall flows from the rim down into a pocket in the walls. The only way to access the bottom of this pocket is by descending about thirty vertical feet of precariously steep rock wall. While there’s a rope available to assist with a descent for those who are bold enough to try it, I chose an alternative route that wasn’t as steep, finding hand and foot holds in the rock to lower myself down into the pit. (Side note for all my fellow Parks and Rec fans out there: I had Mouse Rat’s smash hit “The Pit” playing on repeat in my mind throughout my journey into this pit, but I’m proud to say that I did not actually fall in.)
Anne and I lingered at Walls of Jericho for as long as we could before returning to the trail, and I’d advise anyone who endures the hike in and out of this place to plan on spending at least an hour here, although it’d be easy to find reasons to stay longer. Also worth noting, the camp sites along the trail offer magnificent views of Turkey Creek and the canyon walls. As we passed these again on our way out of the canyon, I was still riding the high of the exhilarating views at Walls of Jericho. So much so that I forgot about the trail’s steep descent into the canyon, which translates into a steep (and much more difficult) ascent on the way out. As is usually the case, the trail didn’t seem nearly as precipitous on the way down as it did on the way up.
Before Anne and I resurfaced at the trailhead, we’d already started making plans to return to this area for an overnight camping trip along the trail. As beautiful as this place looked in early spring, with the wildflowers and the high volume of water rushing through the creek, I can only imagine how gorgeous the hike would be in the fall, when rusty orange and yellow leaves replace the bright green of spring. Regardless, I hope I don’t have to wait until fall before returning to this trail.
One thing that didn’t cross my mind during this hike: the disappointment I’d felt over the missed opportunity to hike along the high cliffs over the Pacific Ocean in San Diego. Discovering a gorgeous trail that’s close to home is always a humbling experience, and a reminder of how easy it can be to overlook an amazing opportunity simply because it’s the one that’s right in front of you. This definitely translates into my life outside of my outdoor adventures. The allure of exploring wild places far away from home is so attractive to me, and I know that my greatest adventures still lie in front of me. It’s a powerful feeling, and one of my greatest sources of motivation (that and Nick Saban, roll tide). Despite all of my big dreams and bucket list hikes, branching out into the world wouldn’t bring me much joy if I neglected opportunities to deepen my roots close to home. I think each makes the other more meaningful, and I have no plans to slow down on either front any time soon.
