tennessee hikes – Emily Takes a Hike

August 20, 2021

Mount LeConte: Hiking the Most Iconic Trail in the Smokies

When I hiked to the top of Mount LeConte via the Alum Cave trail in December, I achieved a milestone just as meaningful as completing the third iteration of my New Year’s resolution to explore a new trail every month. I feel immensely grateful for and humbled by the fortune I’ve had, to have been able to stick with this commitment for 36 straight months, and I’ve grown so much along the way, as a hiker and as a human. Every month, the new trail itself is a meaningful first, but I’ve accomplished other bucket list items that I never could have imagined possible when I started this journey. It took me all year to build up the courage, but with this grand finale hike of 2020, I crossed another milestone off my list. The night before my hike, for the first time ever, I camped alone.

views from the trail to the top of Mount LeConte via Alum Cave trailhead

I won’t spend too much time discussing the details of my first solo camping experience, but I’ll share a few key takeaways, in case anyone reading this is considering camping alone for the first time too. I’m certainly not an expert camper, as you’ll soon realize, which is why I rigorously vetted my campground options a couple of months in advance of the hike. I chose Greenbrier, a developed campground on the outskirts of Great Smoky Mountains National Park, with amenities like electricity and indoor plumbing, to help me ease into the experience of sleeping alone in a tent. Familiar comforts can provide a sense of security that soothes the inevitable feelings of vulnerability when you’re trying something new for the first time, especially when you’re doing it alone. Before my trip, I practiced the things I’d need to do alone at the campground, like assembling my tent and building a fire. I received this advice from a much more experienced member of my Middle Tennessee hiking community, and it’s proven to be one of the best pieces of camping advice I’ve ever heard. Doing something as a part of a group and doing the same thing alone can be very different experiences, and you need to be really confident in your ability to produce shelter and warmth on your own before you’re in a situation that requires it.

My tent assembly practice paid off, but I really should have invested more time and effort into my fire building skills. Outside of the Pacific Northwest, nowhere in the country receives more rain than the Smokies, which presents a real challenge for aspiring fire builders. I’d practiced building and maintaining a fire in the iron fire pit in my backyard in Nashville, but this experience didn’t exactly translate into success when trying to build a fire in a forest that stays damp 350 days a year. So, to make a long story short, I struggled to produce a meaningful fire and may or may not have taken some toilet paper from the campground bathroom to use as fire starter when my logs couldn’t sustain the flame. While one hand was feeding stolen toilet paper to my lackluster fire, the other was shoveling pasta salad into my mouth because I forgot to bring eating utensils. Camping alone certainly has its learning curves.

low quality tent selfie from a high quality (ish) first attempt at solo camping

Despite these obstacles and sub-freezing temperatures, I slept rather comfortably in my tent, tucked into my sleeping bag with my Grand Canyon camping blanket on top for an added layer of warmth (and security, if we’re being honest). I woke up feeling really optimistic about the hike ahead of me, undoubtedly fueled by the confidence of surviving my first night alone in the semi-wild. After packing up my camping gear, I headed off to the Alum Cave trailhead, located about 30 minutes away from the campground. Although there wasn’t snow on the ground where I camped, I knew there’d be snow on higher ground as I ascended the trail. I’d called the ranger station the previous day to ask about trail conditions (always a good idea when hiking a new trail, especially if you’ll be hiking alone) and learned that snow and ice covered the upper sections of the trail, but not enough to require additional gear like microspikes or an ice axe. This was good news, because I’d otherwise have had to call an audible and find a new trail. I don’t have enough experience hiking in true winter conditions to feel safe doing it alone, not yet anyways.

dreamy glimpses of the Smoky Mountains through the canopy of the evergreen forest

Unlike most other national parks, Great Smoky Mountains doesn’t charge an admission fee. I’d like to think that the reason for this has its roots in some rare act of altruism by the federal government, but that’s not exactly why admission to the Smokies will probably always remain free. I could create an entirely separate blog post on the pros and cons of free admission to America’s most-visited national park, but for now, I’ll link this article that covers the basics. Like many national parks, regardless of whether or not they charge admission, Great Smoky Mountains relies heavily on funding and volunteer efforts supplied by non-profit organizations. If you want to get involved, this list serves as a great resource, although there are plenty of other wonderful organizations that support this truly incredible park.

The hike to the summit of Mount LeConte from the Alum Cave trailhead traverses 11 miles roundtrip and includes nearly 3,000 feet of elevation gain. Despite the strenuous nature of the trail, it’s an incredibly popular one, and for good reason. If you search the AllTrails database for the best trails in the United States, this one currently holds the sixth place ranking. AllTrails rankings should be taken with a big chunk of salt, for the record, but they can be a telling indicator of the amount of foot traffic you’ll encounter. I’d intentionally waited to hike this trail until I could do it on a weekday in winter, hoping to avoid the congestion I’ve read about. I still saw dozens of other hikers, but I think my decision paid off because the trail never felt crowded. Also, I loved seeing the splendor of the Smokies covered in snow, but more on that later.

I had no trouble finding a parking spot at the trailhead at 8:00 AM on a frigid Friday in the middle of December. I’ve heard horror stories of cars parked along the road for a mile in either direction on weekends during warmer months, so go very early if you don’t go when it’s very cold. A half-empty trailhead parking lot in the Smokies should never be taken for granted though, so I embarked on my hike feeling too exuberant to be cold. The lower portion of the trail moves through a classically beautiful Smoky Mountains landscape of big trees and rushing water. In winter, patches of iridescent white adorn the numerous nooks and crannies that remain permanently shaded by the immense cover of the forest in winter. Icicles embellish the rocky outcroppings along the rugged mountain landscape. I absolutely adore hiking alone in winter in Tennessee. The vegetation that’s so thick in warmer months, despite its lush green beauty, often obscures dangers I don’t want to face by myself, like bears or copperheads, so I find comfort in the sparse and barren landscape of winter. God knew what He was doing when he decided which species would hibernate, and that’s a blessing worth counting twice.

the creek beside the lower section of the trail

The trail meanders across a primitive wooden bridge over a creek and up a spiraling path through the rock face of the mountain before it continues to climb along a more exposed ridge that offers stunning views of the rolling peaks of the Smokies. After two or so miles, the trail arrives at Alum Cave Bluff, which feels a lot more like a bluff than a cave. The towering rocky overhang provides a concave shelter with gorgeous views across the mountains. There’s plenty of space to accommodate social distancing on a quiet day, which I love because I always want at least six feet between myself and other hikers on the trail, and that has nothing to do with the pandemic. I stopped here for a snack and some water before tackling the next two-mile section, which proved to be the steepest part of the hike to the top of the mountain. As I climbed, the trail narrowed and the views expanded. Also, the patches of snow and ice on the trail that had been pretty sparse between the trailhead and Alum Cave Bluff became much more frequent and eventually swallowed the trail entirely. For the last couple of miles before the summit, I hiked carefully across a slick white blanket, relying heavily on the cables drilled into the mountainside on narrow and exposed sections to avoid slipping into the beautiful void of the pristine winter wonderland below.

I so rarely get to hike through true winter conditions in my home state, and I can’t overstate the joy of seeing a landscape that resembles a tropical rainforest for most of the year under a smooth layer of white. It’s an absolutely surreal experience, and the views on the upper portion of the trail are widely considered to be some of the best in the entire park, in any season. About a mile from the true summit of Mount LeConte, the trail rambles back into the cover of the woods as the elevation gain tapers off. The fragments of sunlight that penetrated the shroud of the forest created a glitter-like effect on the snow covered trail, and I could have turned around there and been satisfied with this dazzling end to a truly special hike. It’s a rare moment on a trail that feels so exhilarating that pressing on almost feels risky and makes you question whether or not the allure of the unknown is worth the effort when the hike has already exceeded your expectations. I rolled the dice and trudged onward, too intrigued by the opportunity to see the illustrious LeConte Lodge to turn back yet.

This primitive lodge near the summit of Mount LeConte accepts reservations through a lottery system. Guests can only reach the lodge by foot, and those seeking a coveted reservation must enter the lottery fifteen months in advance. LeConte Lodge is a community of rugged cabins surrounding a simple dining hall, and luxuries like electricity and showers aren’t available at this famed mountaintop oasis. They’ve got wine though, so keep that in mind on the long hike to the top if you’re lucky enough to secure a reservation. The lodge was closed when I hiked Mount LeConte, maybe due to COVID or maybe due to winter conditions, but spending a night or two here will remain at the top of my Smoky Mountains bucket list until I’m lucky enough to win the reservation lottery.

Mount LeConte’s true summit lies half a mile beyond the lodge. To my surprise, the summit didn’t offer the expansive views that I’d expected of this famous peak. Upon reaching the true summit, I encountered an alcove ensconced by trees, and in the center, there’s a massive cairn that invites hikers to add a stone to contribute to the height of the mountain. This established tradition doesn’t really make the mountain taller, but it does instill a sense of pride and loyalty amongst those who have visited this sacred place. Adding a stone signifies a dedication to the preservation of the mountain and a hope that future generations will have the same opportunity to add to its story.

If you don’t take a summit selfie, can you really say you made it to the top?

Heading back towards the lodge, I noticed a spur trail I hadn’t seen on the hike in. Enticingly named “Cliff Tops”, this spur seemed like a route worth exploring before heading back down the mountain. Until this point, I felt somewhat bewildered by the fact that the views at LeConte Lodge and the true summit weren’t nearly as spectacular as what I’d seen along the trail on the way up. Then I reached Cliff Tops. Less than half a mile from the spur at LeConte Lodge, this tangental journey is an absolute must for anyone who’s already hiked that far up the mountain. The view from Cliff Tops in winter is one of the most breathtaking sights I’ve seen on any hike, and in that moment, I felt so grateful to live in a state that hosts this kind of raw beauty that’s often unfairly overshadowed by bigger mountains out west. It feels so intimate, to experience a place like this in a season when it’s so rarely visited. The Smokies certainly aren’t a secret to anyone, but I think the heavy foot traffic depreciates its reputation within national and global communities of hiking enthusiasts. It’s sad, because this place has so much more to offer than most people give it credit for, but at the same time, I get it. Nobody goes into the wild in search of civilization.

I guess the point I’m trying to make is that seasons are short and time is powerful, in nature among other things. The definition of growth is expansion into new territory, whether that uncharted space is physical or just a change of perspective. That’s why, after 36 months (and counting, because eight months have passed since this Mount LeConte hike that I’m just now getting around to writing about, oops…), I’m still committed to my 2018 New Year’s resolution to hike a previously unexplored trail every month. It’s a familiar concept at this point, but the adventure changes and evolves with every new hike. Additionally, no two hikes along a single trail are really ever the same. Time and experience shape the journey in a gloriously serendipitous way that thrives on momentum. I’ll never be able to explore every trail on my bucket list, and that’s not the point. I’m just grateful for the opportunity to chase a destination that I hope I never reach.

March 31, 2021March 31, 2021

South Cumberland State Park: Savage Day Loop

If you read my most recent post about adventure gone awry on the Grand Canyon’s most difficult trail last September, you won’t be surprised to learn that I chose an easy trail to explore for the first time in October. Although Savage Day Loop in South Cumberland State Park couldn’t be more different from Nankoweap, my experience in the Grand Canyon heavily influenced my decision to hike this specific trail. I emerged from the Grand Canyon feeling utterly drained and defeated, but also inspired by the kindness of the strangers I encountered there. As soon as I returned to Nashville, I started looking for volunteer opportunities in the state parks I frequently visit in Tennessee. I felt so strongly called to pay forward the good will that the Grand Canyon park rangers and hikers from Sedona showed to me. As if by divine intervention, a representative from Friends of South Cumberland, a nonprofit organization that supports South Cumberland State Park, emailed me only a few days after I returned home and asked if I’d be interested in training for their Trail Friends volunteer program. I’m sure I received the email along with a massive list of other people who’ve donated money to this group in the past, but the timing made the message feel personal. I responded instantly and enthusiastically.

views from Rattlesnake Point, an overlook 2 miles into a counterclockwise hike of Savage Day Loop

Trail Friends volunteers support South Cumberland State Park by working shifts at the park’s more popular trailheads and advising park visitors on trails, park regulations, and hiker safety. We report visitor trends and trail conditions to rangers and often participate in other volunteer initiatives to protect the park and educate others about how to enjoy it responsibly. If you watched The Office, think of Trail Friends as something similar to Dwight’s volunteer sheriff’s deputy program, but we support park rangers instead of police officers. The program requires training, a test for certification, and an ongoing commitment of time and energy. However, it’s the most impactful way to give back to my favorite state park in Tennessee. South Cumberland State Park contains more than 90 miles of trails, ranging from very easy and heavily trafficked to brutally strenuous and remote, and I’ve hiked most of them. I’ve experienced this place in every season and know its cascading creeks and cavernous depths intimately. I felt like an awestruck imposter in the Grand Canyon, and although I’m often still surprised by the beauty of the most familiar places in South Cumberland State Park, I feel unequivocally at home here.

Trail Friends has given me the opportunity to share the majesty and perils of this incredible place with others, which brings me to my decision to hike the Savage Day Loop last October. I didn’t choose this trail for its ease and predictability compared to the previous month’s festival of danger below the rim of the Grand Canyon. I picked this trail because it’s the most heavily trafficked trail in South Cumberland State Park that I hadn’t already hiked. I wanted to experience this one firsthand so that I could share my thoughts and recommendations with others while volunteering for Trail Friends. In doing so, I discovered an immensely beautiful hike that was bursting with fall colors in late October. I’d always known about this trail but never prioritized it because I thought it’d be boring, compared to more challenging trails in this park. I humbly and wholeheartedly admit that I was wrong about this thoroughly lovely trail.

tranquil views of Savage Creek’s still waters upstream of Savage Falls

The trailhead at the Savage Gulf Ranger Station provides access to the Savage Day Loop, as well as other longer trails that eventually plunge into the delightfully and entirely rugged gulf. With this in mind, the trailhead is a popular starting point for casual day hikers and multi-night backpackers. There’s a hike-in campground near the ranger station and another about a mile and a half from the trailhead at Savage Falls, each with primitive toilets. The Savage Day Loop covers roughly 5 miles of mostly flat terrain, and the trail is marked and maintained well enough for novice hikers to navigate with ease. Hikers who don’t have the time or energy to hike the full loop frequently opt for a shorter 3-mile out and back hike to Savage Falls, bypassing the extended loop. The pooling creek at the base of Savage Falls was too cold for swimming when I hiked here, but in warmer months, it’d be hard to resist the temptation of jumping into these pristine waters. Although Savage Falls receives a decent amount of visitor traffic, this waterfall isn’t quite as prominent as its South Cumberland State Park neighbors, Greeter and Foster Falls, which are both overrun with swimmers in warmer months. Savage Falls provides a lovely alternative that’s further off the beaten path.

Savage Falls, a beautiful waterfall with a 30 ft drop into a shimmering pool of clear creek water

Due to COVID, parking at Savage Gulf Ranger Station was limited to designated parking spaces only when I hiked here, so I had to circle the lot for about 10 minutes before luck landed me a spot vacated by a chatty retired couple with a Border Collie. Sparse parking means sparse foot traffic on a trail that would have otherwise been busy on this spectacularly sunny fall day with temperatures in the low 50s and bold autumn colors adorning every tree along the trail. If I’d been in a hurry, I could have hiked this mild loop in an hour and a half, but I wasn’t and so I didn’t. I must have spent twice as much time on this trail, because Fall is a brief but beautiful season in Tennessee, and I wanted to savor as much of it as I could before getting back in my car for the hour and forty-five minute drive back to Nashville. I also felt a lingering desire to simply be present on this trail, with no obligation to a schedule. I often try to pack in as much distance as I can on my hikes, for the endurance challenge and the constant desire to do more and see more in my precious daylight hours. On the Savage Day Loop, however, I embraced the change of pace and absorbed my surroundings with an immense gratitude for the simplicity of an easy afternoon in a beautiful place.

I spent the whole hike looking up at the colors on the trees.

one more photo of Fall foliage from this basic white girl

February 26, 2020April 2, 2020

Waterfalls of South Cumberland State Park: Greeter Falls

Just when I thought I’d already seen the very best of the many magnificent waterfalls along the Cumberland Plateau, I hiked the Greeter Falls loop. Slowly but surely, I’m making progress toward my goal of hiking every inch of trail in South Cumberland State Park. I’ve hiked about 30 unique miles here so far, but I’ve got at least 60 more to go. This is my local hiking passion project. Not many people outside of Tennessee and its neighboring states have heard of South Cumberland State Park. It’s often unfairly overshadowed by the state’s other incredible hiking destinations, like Big South Fork and Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Both of those places are exquisite in their own ways, but there’s a much more secluded and intimate gem located less than two hours outside of Nashville. South Cumberland State Park is home to several of the state’s best hikes that you’ve never heard of (also Fiery Gizzard, which deserves its status as a household name, but it’s much more heavily trafficked than several equally gorgeous trails in the area). In addition to Fiery Gizzard, I’d hiked Big Creek Gulf and Buggytop Cave before I hiked Greeter Falls in December 2019, my last new hike of the decade.

Greeter Falls (lower) on Christmas Eve, with a rainbow reflection to the right of the falls

Completing my 2019 New Year’s Resolution with a waterfall hike at South Cumberland State Park felt like an appropriate move, so on Christmas Eve, I woke up with Christmas morning energy levels and hit the trail. I hiked a mild two-mile loop that included a spur trail to Blue Hole, a beautiful swimming hole along Firescald Creek. I definitely wasn’t jumping into any creeks in late December, but the area was pleasant and worth the short detour. The water was moving pretty quickly, likely due to recent heavy rains. Even if it’d been a hot summer day, I’d have been skeptical about swimming at Blue Hole based on the current I observed, and more importantly, its precarious proximity to the top of Greeter Falls. Water levels are usually lower in the summer months, however, and this sparkling creek certainly would have seemed more inviting under different circumstances. I was lucky enough to be alone at Blue Hole, but I’m sure the scene is much less pristine and quiet on a hot Saturday in August.

Back on the main trail to Greeter Falls, my solitude continued. Throughout my hike, I only encountered one other group, a father and two relatively young children. The trail to Greeter Falls, including the spur to Blue Hole, wouldn’t present much of a challenge for young or inexperienced hikers. It’s one of those hikes where minimal effort offers maximum reward. If you’re looking for a longer hike or more of a challenge, the trail continues beyond Greeter Falls, and after a mile or so, it connects with the Big Creek Gulf and Big Creek Rim trails at the Alum Gap campground. I’ve hiked the rugged eight-mile loop that these two trails form, but from the access point at Stone Door, on the opposite end of the loop from Alum Gap (If you’re interested, you can read about that hike here).

a throwback photo from my hike at Big Creek Gulf in August, 2018

I wasn’t looking for a long and solitary journey into the wild on Christmas Eve, and I couldn’t have been happier with the gorgeous views packed into this short hike. Greeter Falls is actually a set of two concurrent waterfalls, and while both are gorgeous, the lower of the two falls certainly outshines its upper counterpart. A spur off the main trail provides access to both, and there’s a sign that provides clear and foolproof directions. The trail to the upper falls is fairly easy, descending mildly over a rocky path before the trees open up and offer an expansive view of a broad, angular waterfall behind an oddly placed, massive boulder. I can’t imagine how the boulder got there. It’s much too large to have been placed by anything but nature, but it appears so out of context among its surroundings and obscures a huge section of the waterfall. It looks completely unnatural, but there’s no other explanation for its placement. In a way, sights like this one make me appreciate the randomness of nature. Sure, the views would be more photo friendly without this massive boulder in front of the falls, but I’d have plenty of unobstructed views of the lower section of Greeter Falls in my immediate future.

the upper section of Greeter Falls, mostly obscured by a boulder as big as an RV

I started moving back from the upper falls towards the split in the trail that leads down to the lower falls. Almost immediately after the split, the trail steadily descends along the bottom of a high rock wall over loose rubble before abruptly ending at an iron staircase. The staircase spirals tightly down the side of a nearly vertical rock wall and then connects with two more iron stair cases that lead down to the edge of the brilliant blue waters below Greeter Falls. The lower section is much taller than its upper counterpart and flows with much more force, creating an impressively beautiful scene when viewed from below. It appears as if the mighty waters carved out part of the cliffs over time, creating a bowl beneath, as indicated by the pattern of horizontal impressions running along the curved cliff walls surrounding the falls. The water was high and cold when I visited, so I couldn’t get closer to the falls than the outcropping of rocks at the bottom of the staircase. I’d imagine that these waters are safe for swimming on warmer days and would provide a sublime reprieve from the intense heat of Tennessee summers.

After ascending the iron staircase and returning to the main trail, I ventured onward to Boardtree Falls, a small but lovely waterfall accessible via a short, but very steep, spur. I mean no disrespect, but Boardtree Falls doesn’t compare to Greeter Falls. However, it’s an easy and worthwhile detour, and I’m all for maximizing my time on any trail by taking every spur available, as long as time and conditions allow for it. I considered hiking the extra 2 miles roundtrip to Alum Gap, to take in some views overlooking the expansive gulf. I ultimately decided against it and returned to the trailhead, choosing the road home to Christmas Eve with my husband and the dog instead. All things considered, I can’t imagine a better finish to two years of hiking a new trail every month, and I’m so excited to share my tales from the trails in 2020. Things are off to an amazing start, and I know they’ll only get better from here.

Boardtree Falls, a hidden waterfall just beyond Greeter Falls, provided an unexpected bonus on my Christmas Eve hike.

all smiles as I completed my 2019 New Year’s Resolution to hike a new trail every month, and Greeter Falls felt like a cherry on top of a spectacular year in the wild

November 14, 2019November 21, 2019

Buggytop Trail to Lost Cove Cave

I always look forward to September with excited anticipation. The month carries my birthday, and more importantly, it triggers the return of my favorite season: football season (roll tide). The only downside of September in the South: the sweltering heat is like a house guest who wears out their welcome after about three days, but three months later, they’re still around and it’s entirely suffocating. Also, Tennessee’s many spectacular waterfall hikes lose their luster in late summer as the rainfall tapers off and the creek beds dry up. In my humble opinion, September is the least appealing month for hiking in Tennessee, by a landslide. In September of 2018, I climbed the highest mountain Colorado, on my 30th birthday, to fulfill the September chapter of my resolution to hike a new trail at least once a month. Highly recommend. September may the best month for hiking in the Colorado Rockies, because the fall colors start to emerge but it’s too early for snow. In Tennessee, however, choosing a new trail to explore in the September chapter of the second iteration of my New Year’s resolution required some creativity and determination to beat the heat.

Here’s a selfie I took at the massive Buggytop entrance to Lost Cove Cave. The image doesn’t truly capture the size of the entrance, which measures about 100 feet wide and 80 feet high.

So, in September, feeling inspired by my underground hike at Mammoth Cave National Park in August, I decided to explore a cave trail with fewer rules and more risk: Buggytop Trail to Lost Cove Cave. This trail checks a lot of boxes for an ideal late summer hike in Tennessee. Round trip, the out-and-back hike covers roughly four miles of modest terrain. The trail lies entirely beneath the shade of a dense forest and twists along a rocky slope that rises above the gaping mouths of Lost Cove Cave.

Candidly, the trail itself isn’t as majestic as its neighbors in the brilliantly remote and enigmatic South Cumberland State Park. Buggytop Trail is certainly pleasant, with serene forest views and huge mossy boulders scattered generously across the surrounding landscape. However, the unique appeal of this particular trail, and the feature that makes it stand out among other trails in the area, is Lost Cove Cave. At roughly two miles, the trail splits at an overlook above the small canyon carved over thousands of years by Crow Creek, which flows steadily downward from the mouth of the Buggytop entrance . The fork to the left traverses the cliff’s edge before receding into the forest and towards the Peter Cave entrance to Lost Cove Cave. The path to the right of this overlook leads sharply downward toward the much more popular and visually magnificent Buggytop entrance.

Apparently, this stunning entrance to Lost Cove Cave received its name because the inward curve of the 150-foot cliff wall above resembles the shape of an actual “buggy top”.

One hundred feet across and eighty feet high, the Buggytop entrance to Lost Cove Cave is widely considered to be the most impressive cave entrance in Tennessee. Based on my own experience, which is limited but not entirely superficial (yes, “superficial” is my best attempt at an above-ground hiking pun), this cave entrance rightfully earned its reputation. The cave’s massive threshold, in the middle of an excessively average forest but almost large enough to encompass a football field, is entirely worth the relatively low investment of time and effort. Even on a scorching day in early September, the air surrounding the rugged exterior of the Buggytop cave entrance felt cool and refreshing, and the swift waters of Crow Creek instantly chilled my fingers to the bone. There’s a flat rock shelf extending from cave’s interior at the end of the trail, which provides an ideal setting to stop for lunch or a short reprieve to throw on an extra layer or two before entering the cave.

I encountered a group here as they were pulling on jumpsuits and headlamps and preparing to embark on the ultimate journey through Lost Cove Cave: climbing and crawling from the Buggytop entrance through the cave’s interior depths of darkness and emerging at the Peter Cave entrance. I’d read that this was possible and not entirely dangerous, aside from difficult route finding and the subsequent risk of getting hopelessly lost in the dark. I hadn’t read any reports of bears in the cave, so therefore, not a guaranteed death trap. However, I was hiking alone and had never explored the depths of a cave (I define “depths” as parts further back than where light from the outside reaches) by myself. I carefully considered these factors as I chatted with the group I’d just met at the Buggytop entrance, who quickly offered to let me join their journey through the cave. They’d never explored Lost Cove Cave either, but claimed to have deep cave experience from other adventures.

The sheer size of the Buggytop entrance allows light to flood the expansive open space that lies beyond the threshold. This part of the cave can easily be explored without a supplemental light source, but the passages extending from this room become much more narrow, dark, and treacherous.

Naturally, I accepted this exciting offer to follow a group of strangers into a deep, dark cave in the remote backwoods of Tennessee, with no witnesses or cell phone service around (Sorry, mom). The opportunity to explore further into the cave than I comfortably could have on my own, as a part of a group that appeared to know what they were doing, obscured any sense of stranger danger in that moment. Besides, these people just seemed normal. I’m not excusing my complete disregard for safety and wouldn’t advise anyone to do the same in my position. The increasing weight of second thoughts, along with the very quick realization that my inexperience was forcing this group to move more slowly than they could have without me, prompted me to abort the mission soon after we’d embarked. Guided only by my head lamp, I parted ways with the friendly group of strangers and carefully retraced our route back to the Buggytop entrance of Lost Cove Cave.

As I learned at Mammoth Cave in August, flash photography has an immensely negative impact on the dark ecosystems that exist deep within caves. However, if you’re within sight of natural light and want to capture a cave photo on your phone, work with angles until you find one that reflects light from your headlamp and natural light on an interior wall.

Part of me regrets this cowardly act of delayed responsibility, but another part of me acknowledges that I’ll have plenty of other opportunities to hike and climb through this cave under more appropriate circumstances. After the steep ascent back to the overlook on top of the cave, I hiked the quarter-mile trail over to an obscure third entrance to Lost Cove Cave, but I opted out of completing the very short remaining distance to the Peter Cave entrance. I still had plenty of energy and courage, and I genuinely wanted to see the group of strangers I’d met emerge successfully on the other side. I wanted to ask them about it and learn from their experience so that I’d be better equipped to accomplish this on my own in the future.

The view from the overlook on top of the Buggytop entrance to Lost Cove Cave is much more colorful than the landscape inside the cave directly below.

However, something didn’t feel right about completing the journey between the two entrances above ground when I’d failed to do so underground, even though I had plenty of good reasons for turning back inside the cave. I have no doubt that the group I met made it all the way through to the Peter Cave entrance, and I’m sure they’re all law abiding Sunday School teachers who run marathons to raise money for charity or cancer research when they’re not exploring caves. Their fortitude to attempt to conquer the mile-long route through the dark and complex cave passages, although none in their group had ever done it before, inspired me to do more research on the best approach for this. There’s surprisingly little information available, but in general, it doesn’t seem to be excessively technical or claustrophobic.

I’ve thoroughly enjoyed exploring these two cave trails over the past couple of months, and both provide exciting alternatives to escape the oppressive mid-summer temperatures above ground in Tennessee. However, I have a lot to learn about safe and secure navigation through caves before I’ll feel comfortable doing this on my own. It’s definitely an intriguing opportunity, but I think I’ll always prefer the diverse and colorful vistas above ground.

One more photo from inside the magnificent cave entrance, just before beginning my journey with the group I met and leaving the light from outside behind us

March 31, 2019April 30, 2019

Short Springs State Natural Area

Although I knew long before the end of 2018 that I wanted to keep my resolution to explore more going into 2019, one hesitation lingered in the back of my mind: Will I run out of new trails that I can access and hike as a day trip from Nashville? I travel frequently, both for work and for fun, so about half of my new hikes have occurred away from Tennessee. Aside from the obvious joys of discovering new places far away from home, regular travel makes this resolution more practical. I hate to say it like that, because Tennessee is home to many outstanding trails, and I’ve revisited most of the new ones I’ve discovered over the past year simply because I loved them and wanted to go back, regardless of my New Year’s resolution. However, time and geography absolutely impose limitations on how long I can reasonably continue this resolution, considering my other obligations (like paid employment and a dog, for example).

Machine Falls, the main attraction at Short Springs Natural Area

Finding new trails within relative proximity to Nashville hasn’t been much of a challenge yet, and I can say with relative confidence that if anything stops me from completing this resolution in 2019, it’s not going to be a lack of convenient trails. Sure, I’ll continue to have opportunities to hike while traveling, but even if those don’t work out (I try not to think about the remote possibility that I encounter a torrential downpour on every day of every vacation I take for the rest of the year… Yikes!), I still feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface on trails close to home. And that’s an amazing feeling.

At the beginning of February, I decided I’d take advantage of the first weekend day without rain in the forecast as my opportunity to explore a new trail. I had to wait three weeks into the month for this, and despite record-breaking rainfall and flooding across middle Tennessee that closed many of our state parks and trails, I discovered Short Springs Natural Area and Machine Falls Loop Trail. Located about seventy miles southeast of Nashville, the interconnected trails at Short Springs traverse sections of easy to moderate terrain. A couple of signature waterfalls are easily accessible from the main trailhead, but multiple spur trails off the main loop provide options to extend the journey for those who want to see more.

Bobo Creek, as viewed from a bridge a few dozen feet upstream from Busby Falls

I learned about this trail through AllTrails, and what the site define as Machine Falls Loop actually includes Bobo Creek Trail as well. Bobo Creek Trail leads past Busby Falls and forms a horseshoe shape that connects with Machine Falls Loop on both ends. Roundtrip, this is about a 2.3 mile hike. Off of Bobo Creek Trail, just past Busby Falls, there’s another loop trail called Laurel Bluff that extends the hike by about a mile and a half. I took this detour, and although most of the trail winds through a dense forest, the section that runs close to the edge of the bluff exposes idyllic views of the creek and several small waterfalls from above. While Machine Falls is certainly the main attraction and can be accessed by a quick 1.6 mile roundtrip trek, Bobo Creek and Laurel Bluff trails are certainly worth exploring too.

views of Bobo Creek from above on Laurel Bluff Trail

I hiked these trails on a Monday, President’s Day (I’m not sure how this qualifies as a holiday at the marketing technology company where I work, but some questions are better left not asked. I’ll take a work holiday however I can get one.). I ran into very few other hikers, and only on Machine Falls Loop. I ended up hiking most of this trail with a mother/daughter pair of hikers who live in the area. The daughter had visited all of the trails at Short Springs before and provided some insightful tips that helped confirm my decision to hike Bobo Creek and Laurel Bluff after Machine Falls Loop, instead of hiking a nearby trail at Old Stone Fort State Park. I’ll save that one for another month.

Although relatively short, Machine Falls Loop contains a couple of moderately challenging sections. I hiked this loop clockwise, because I intended to hike to Busby Falls via Bobo Creek Trail on the way to Machine Falls, saving the bigger waterfall for the last part of my journey. The trails at Short Springs are well marked, but because the trail map in AllTrails is inaccurate, I ended up hiking straight to Machine Falls, bypassing Bobo Creek Trail. Because of this, I hiked a short section at the beginning of Machine Falls Loop twice in order to circle back around to Bobo Creek Trail. In hindsight, this also allowed me to knock out the toughest pieces of my hike earlier on, as Bobo Creek and Laurel Bluff are both relatively mild trails.

beautiful view of the creek from Machine Falls Loop

About a quarter of a mile from Machine Falls, the trail sharply descends down a steep bluff, with stairs and even handrails in some places in order to provide extra support. The sun was out in full force on the day of my hike, but I proceeded with caution through this section because the trail was still slick and muddy from previous days of rain. After reaching the bottom of the gulf, the trail leads across a wooden bridge over Bobo Creek, downstream of Machine Falls. At this point, Machine Falls isn’t visible around a bend in the creek, and reaching the falls requires a short journey over slippery rocks along the edge of the creek. There’s not a trail, but the path forward is pretty apparent, and a close-up view of this magnificent waterfall is totally worth the extra effort.

As is always the case with loop trails, what goes down must come back up, and vice versa. When hiking the loop clockwise, the journey out of the gulf isn’t as steep as the way down, but there’s still several hundred feet of elevation gain over about a third of a mile. This section of trail runs along the edge of a bluff, overlooking a wider section of Bobo Creek that flows into the Machine Falls Branch of Normandy Lake. After curving away from the edge of the bluff, the trail loops back around the other side of Machine Falls, past an overlook that offers a beautiful view of the waterfall from above.

Although my hike at Short Springs wasn’t as long or as challenging as most of the new hikes I’ve taken since I started this journey, I never set out on a mission to complete the most strenuous new trail I could find every month. Difficult hikes generally lead to more rewarding scenery, because significant elevation change often means big views from high points overlooking expansive spaces. Longer hikes allow deeper access into wild and pristine spaces, which often results in lower foot traffic and the opportunity to enjoy some peaceful time alone on the trail. However, the trails I hiked at Short Springs are a perfect example of why it’s unfair to overlook easy hikes. There are so many things worth seeing in the wild that really don’t require much effort.

all smiles for this close up view of the Machine Falls

November 27, 2018April 30, 2019

Fiery Gizzard Trail to Raven’s Point

As much as I enjoy hiking with the people I love, there’s something empowering about tackling a new and challenging trail by myself. I frequently hike alone on trails I’m familiar with (Radnor Lake and Percy Warner Park offer access to amazing trails within the Nashville city limits), but I rarely embark on a solo hike on a previously unexplored trail. I’m not afraid to be by myself in the wild; I just usually prefer to have some company and love sharing new adventures with others who appreciate the experience as much as I do. Prior to last month’s hike at Fiery Gizzard, however, I’d only been alone on a new trail twice in 2018, and my bravery was at its peak after climbing Mount Elbert in September (pun intended, sorry about it).

Raven’s Point is the most expansive overlook on the trail, and luckily, I met another hiker here who was willing to take a photo of me.

The origins of Fiery Gizzard’s unique name are ambiguous and contested amongst Tennesseans, but locals unanimously agree on the trail’s status as one of the state’s most pristine hiking destinations. Located in South Cumberland State Park, the Fiery Gizzard Trail runs through a gorge only a dozen or so miles away from Savage Gulf, where I hiked in August. If you read that post, you may remember it as the place with all the snakes. Needless to say, I was acutely aware of this as I embarked on my hike at Fiery Gizzard, all by myself.

All things considered, I’d been looking forward to this trail for months, and I’d patiently waited to hike here until fall. I wanted to witness firsthand the accounts I’d heard about the magnificent colors of the changing leaves. Understandably, one rumor about the origins of Fiery Gizzard’s name credits the blazing fall colors. I planned this hike a week or so in advance, hoping that fall had arrived more quickly in the deep backwoods of southeast Tennessee than it had in Nashville. Unfortunately, it hadn’t. Despite this, I was grateful for the cooler temperatures and quickly realized that even without fall colors, every inch of this place radiates limitless natural beauty.

the aptly named Blue Hole Falls, as viewed from the Grundy Day Loop

The route that I hiked, Fiery Gizzard to Raven’s Point, forms a double loop, starting with the Grundy Day Loop. From the Grundy Forest trailhead, the journey covers nearly ten miles of mostly strenuous hiking. As it was at Savage Gulf, the trail through the bottom of the gorge at Fiery Gizzard is extremely rocky and uneven, but the final stretch (before the trail reconnects with the Grundy Day Loop) runs along a mostly flat three-mile section of trail along the upper rim. In contrast with my hike at Savage Gulf, however, I saw many other hikers at Fiery Gizzard, on all sections of the trail. I passed other hikers frequently enough to feel like I wasn’t completely alone on the trail, but not often enough to lose the sense of blissful solitude that I’d intended to find.

The trail begins its descent quickly, leading down into the gorge and past enormous rock walls and several small waterfalls. Despite fairly dry weather in the days prior to my hike, plenty of water flowed through the creek, dancing around boulders and rushing over rock edges as it traveled down into the lower section of the gulf. The trail leads over a couple of wooden bridges, crossing a few smaller streams that eventually converge to form Fiery Gizzard Creek. Throughout the hike along the bottom of the gorge, Fiery Gizzard Creek flows parallel to the trail.

Fiery Gizzard Creek (flowing lightly on the right) runs parallel to the trail (moving upward on the left)

The most challenging portion of the trail stretches four miles from the intersection of the Grundy Day Loop and Fiery Gizzard Trail through the climb out of the gulf. This section resembles a game of connect the dots, where the uneven and often vaguely marked dirt path connects numerous boulder fields that hikers must scramble across in order to find the trail again. These boulder fields reminded me of the rocky terrain at the bottom of Savage Gulf, but more numerous and slightly more difficult to traverse. Because many of the rocks are loose, I often had to pause to evaluate the safest route forward or test my footing before putting my full weight on the next stone.

one of many extensive boulder fields along the bottom of Fiery Gizzard

Due to the constantly changing levels across the boulder fields, the next trail marker isn’t always clearly visible, so it’s easy to take a few steps in the wrong direction and end up exiting a boulder field with no trail in sight. I accidentally ventured away from the trail countless times, and then had to back track across the boulder field and start again. I never felt truly lost, luckily, and always managed to find my way again within a few minutes. One of the many advantages of hiking with a partner: Two sets of eyes looking from even marginally different angles are more likely spot a trail marker than a single set of eyes limited to one perspective. I wasn’t in a hurry, however, and I appreciate obscure trail markers because they aren’t a distraction from their unspoiled natural surroundings.

As with any hike through a gulf, getting out is tougher than getting in. After the final boulder field, the trail starts to rise and venture away from its comforting proximity to Fiery Gizzard Creek. A merciless series of switchbacks traverse upward and out of the gulf, but much to my surprise, I didn’t feel nearly as breathless on this part of the journey as I did during the very similar climb out of Savage Gulf. To be clear, it wasn’t easy – don’t underestimate this stretch if you ever find yourself on the Fiery Gizzard Trail. I exclusively credit my experience here to timing – the cooler October temperatures (compared to the blistering heat when I visited Savage Gulf in August) and my leftover strength after a rigorous training routine in preparation for Mount Elbert a month earlier. Regardless, when I reached the top of the gulf, my muscles ached but I didn’t need to stop and rest.

the final glimpse of Fiery Gizzard creek before the trail begins to climb out of the gulf

The dense forest along the short spur to Raven’s Point blocks any view of the gulf below until the trail abruptly ends at the overlook. The point extends sharply into the gulf, providing views from above across miles and miles of the gorgeous wilderness below. The views from Raven’s Point rival any I’ve seen on my various hikes along some of the most beautiful trails in Tennessee. The trees at the trail’s end provide enough cover to shade hikers from the sun’s glare, but they’re sparse enough to offer unobstructed views of the gulf on three sides. There’s no shortcut or alternative route that bypasses the tougher parts of the trail. Even the return trail along the rim becomes steep and difficult for a stretch before it reconnects with the Grundy Day Loop. As is usually the case though, the journey is worth the effort.

the panoramic view across the gorge from Raven’s Point

Although Savage Gulf and Fiery Gizzard each offer distinctly different and unique charms, it’s difficult to avoid comparing the two. Their close proximity to each other, the similarities in the terrain and level of difficulty, and the length of each trail are only a few of many reasons why hikers consider these to be similar hiking destinations. Only having hiked each trail once, Savage Gulf seemed more difficult to me, but again, this could be attributed to timing. Also, the return route along the rim at Savage Gulf offered more opportunities to take in views across the gorge than the one at Fiery Gizzard, which ventured through a dense woodland with few overlooks. In my humble opinion, however, the trail through the bottom of Fiery Gizzard, with the creek rushing alongside the trail, offers more aesthetic appeal than the section of trail running through the bottom of the Savage Gulf (and not just because I didn’t see any snakes at Fiery Gizzard).

In short, I’d encourage anyone who’s able to hike both trails and form their own opinions. As my mom would say when my brother and I would argue about which one of us was the “favorite” growing up, it’s not a competition. That’s one of the many things I love about exploring out in nature: even when presented with very similar options, no two places are exactly alike.

one more photo of the lush wilderness at the bottom of Fiery Gizzard

July 23, 2018April 30, 2019

Window Cliffs and Burgess Falls

I never doubted that summer would be the most difficult season of my New Year’s Resolution. It’s not easy to find a trail close to home that isn’t fiercely hot at this time of year. And as much as I regret to admit it, I don’t have the resources, financial or otherwise, to travel to cooler hiking destinations outside of the Southeast once a month during the warm season . Maine provided a stellar escape from the southern heat for May, and I’ve got epic plans for September (I’m keeping my cards close to the chest on that one for now). My best alternative for the months in between: water, and not just the drinkable kind.

the gorgeous series of rapids located at the trailhead of the path to Burgess Falls

In previous posts, I’ve expressed my love for waterfalls at length, and I’ve been lucky enough to witness an assortment of these beauties on my hikes throughout the year so far (I highly recommend hiking at Virgin Falls and Fall Creek Falls, both in Tennessee). In hindsight, maybe I should have saved these trails for summer, because very few things in life are more refreshing than taking a dip in a creek or swimming hole on a hot day. Fortunately, Tennessee is loaded with trails that provide hikers with ample opportunity to get their feet wet.

Window Cliffs

When looking for a new hike, I naturally start by asking people I know, but beyond that, my search begins at alltrails.com. I’m a big fan of AllTrails because this site enables users to share data from their own experience on different trails, and then organizes this information so that it’s easily searchable for those who may not know exactly what they’re looking for. Think of AllTrails as a version of Yelp for hikers, only with a lot less whining. I discovered Window Cliffs by searching through AllTrail’s listings for the top trails in Tennessee. After I read that this trail features nine creek crossings AND a waterfall, in addition to the namesake cliffs that look like something out of a Dr. Seuss book, I was sold.

My friend, Megan, came down from Louisville and joined me on this hike. She’s been a big part of my hiking journey to date (Old Rag Mountain in 2017 and Red River Gorge in 2018), and I felt excited to share this new hike with one of my closest friends (Plus, we had a lot of important things to talk about; it’s almost football season).

One of the most challenging things about the Window Cliffs trail is finding it. Getting to this state park requires a journey down miles and miles of back roads, and you’ve got better odds of finding a unicorn in those woods than a cell signal. The last stretch of the drive leading to the park is actually a gravel path that runs through a privately owned farm. Although it feels like driving into the opening scene of a bad horror movie, the remote nature of this place is part of what makes it so appealing and special.

Window Cliffs is an out-and-back trail, which means that you turn around at the end point and hike out on the same route that brought you in. This essentially doubles the number of creek crossings, because the trail leads back across all nine of them again on the way out. I can’t speak to the water levels after significant rainfall, as the weather had been relatively dry during the week prior to my visit. Despite the lack of rain, only a couple of the creek crossings were dry, and walking through cold water so often throughout the hike brought welcome relief to our sweaty bodies and sore feet.

All of the creek crossings are spread across about a mile or so of the middle section of the 2.75 mile trail to Window Cliffs, and this part of the path is fairly flat. However, the first and final sections of the trail, though short in distance, are relentlessly steep. This includes a sharp descent from the trailhead into the canyon and a steady climb to the top of the cliffs at the end of the trail. Along this upward climb, between the overlook across from the cliffs and the last section of the path that leads to the top, there’s a stunning (yet nameless, as far as I know) waterfall. By ducking underneath a railing beside this part of the trail, hikers willing to take a risk and venture away from the main trail can access an overgrown path down to the top of the falls. It’s a short journey that’s definitely worth the effort.

After leaving the waterfall, we continued moving up the path that leads to the top of the cliffs. The trail doesn’t provide any view of the cliffs along this section, because of the dense forest, so we didn’t see them again until we’d reached the top. From there, the trail ends and the trees open up to reveal a narrow stretch of rocks that tower over the surrounding woodlands.

I wouldn’t advise anyone who’s uncomfortable with heights or exposure to climb up and over the rocks where the trail ends and venture out on top of the cliffs. The space is narrow, and the drop off on either side is completely vertical. However, if you’ve got the stomach for it, the views are magnificent in every direction, and unlike many of the hikes I’ve completed this year, the Window Cliffs trail isn’t widely known and receives few visitors. So, it’s likely that you’ll have the opportunity to enjoy the views from the top without anyone around to crowd the limited space or photo bomb your nature pics.

As with all trails that descend into a canyon, the hardest part of the hike isn’t going down, it’s coming back up on the way out. After nearly five miles of hiking under the blazing summer sun, we’d made it back across the trail’s first creek crossing. While the creek crossings provided sweet relief from the heat, hiking in wet shoes creates some serious blisters, which made the journey out of the canyon even more of a challenge. But the only way out is up, so that’s the way we went. After we emerged at the trailhead, tired and sore but inspired by a truly unique hiking experience, we moved on to the day’s next adventure.

Where there’s a flat rock in a shallow creek, there’s a basic white girl doing this, and it’s probably me.

Burgess Falls

Located a short distance from Window Cliffs, Burgess Falls is a popular destination for hikers and casual visitors. Although I’d heard of this place, I never gave it much thought. Fall Creek Falls receives so much praise as the highest plunge waterfall east of the Mississippi River, and most would agree that Virgin Falls ranks among the best trails in the state. I can’t debate the height of Fall Creek Falls, and in my limited experience, I haven’t found a better waterfall destination hike in Tennessee than the trail to Virgin Falls.

However, if asked to share my humble opinion on the most beautiful waterfall in the state, based on the waterfall alone and not any associated hike, I wouldn’t hesitate to nominate Burgess Falls.

The moderate half-mile trail to Burgess Falls runs along Falling Water River, beginning at a stunning cluster of small rapids (pictured near the beginning of this post), a space that’s easily accessible for those who want to wade in and cool off. Watch your step though, as Megan and I spotted a small water snake here. Water snakes are harmless and non-aggressive, but as a child growing up in a small town in Mississippi, I learned that it’s best to treat any snake encountered in the wild like it’s venomous, so we maintained a safe distance.

Surprisingly, this was my first snake sighting on any of the hikes I’ve taken this year.

The short path to the park’s namesake waterfall packs in a lot of scenery, as the fast-flowing river stays in view throughout the hike. This scenery includes the hauntingly beautiful remains of an abandoned, decaying bridge, hanging ominously above the powerful water below. The level section of the trail ends at an overlook that provides a magnificent view of Burgess Falls from above, before taking a sharp descent downward and then onto the top of the falls.

Unfortunately, the final section of trail that leads down to the bottom of the falls was closed when we visited, due to damage from erosion. Although this unexpectedly cut our adventure at Burgess Falls short, I’d still say it was well worth the trip.

Megan and I, at the top of Burgess Falls

In conclusion, the day was full of firsts and unexpected new favorites. Window Cliffs has officially claimed the top spot in my book for a summer hike in Tennessee. I enjoyed it so much the first time that I’ve actually already been back. I coaxed a couple of friends from Nashville into joining me on my second hike at Window Cliffs, two weeks after my first one. As for Burgess Falls, that one left me speechless. If you have the opportunity to see it in person, do it. This special place is only 80 miles east of Nashville, and the trail requires little effort to reach a spectacular view of the falls.

On deck for July: scorching heat and plenty of weirdness in Austin, Texas

May 22, 2018April 30, 2019

Fall Creek Falls State Park

Ever since my first hike of 2018 at Virgin Falls, I’ve been itching for another waterfall hike. I’ve always felt a fascination with waterfalls. There’s something majestic about the infinite motion of water cascading over a vertical rock face, always flowing and never stopping.

As the highest plunge waterfall (meaning the water drops vertically, losing contact with the rock surface) east of the Mississippi River, Fall Creek Falls has been on my bucket list for a while. Fall Creek Falls State Park and the surrounding areas endured a torrential downpour of rain for several days before I visited the park. Disclaimer: Wet conditions present a serious challenge on any trail, and I’d advise hikers to proceed with caution when considering a hike that may be impacted by weather. With that in mind, however, the best time to visit a waterfall is shortly after significant rainfall, when the water flow is at its peak.

Park visitors can catch a spectacular view of Fall Creek Falls from an easily accessible overlook. And when I say easily accessible, I mean this overlook has a parking lot attached and a set of bathrooms, no hiking required. Honestly, this surprised me, but then again, Fall Creek Falls is the most visited state park in Tennessee. After seeing the falls in person, I can understand why a view like this, that requires minimal effort, attracts so many visitors.

The overlook provides an immaculate view of Fall Creek Falls, which always appears to be shrouded in mist, resulting from the forceful impact of falling water hitting the creek below.

My friend, Lexi, joined me on this adventure. After parking in the lot at the overlook, we started out onto the network of trails that runs along the cliffs surrounding Fall Creek Falls. We didn’t have to hike very far before it felt like the civilized overlook was far behind us. The trails are designed to provide ambitious hikers with multiple vantage points of Fall Creek Falls, as well as the area’s other waterfalls. The main trail, Fall Creek Falls and Cane Creek Falls, has many short spur trails that provide worthwhile detours to secluded overlooks with expansive views.

a breathtaking view of Fall Creek Falls from a small section of cliff accessible from a spur running off the main trail

Wanting to make the most of our day at Fall Creek Falls, and having plenty of time to do so, Lexi and I decided without much hesitation to explore all of the spur trails that we encountered. The main trail is a 2.5 mile loop, and all of the spurs are relatively short (the longest one measures less than a mile, round trip). To say the least, some of these spurs were more worthwhile than others, but each presented a unique journey to a view that we’d have otherwise missed.

We actually ventured down the first spur trail by mistake. We assumed that the first split in the trail was the beginning of the loop, and that hiking in either direction would eventually bring us back to this spot. We veered to the left and didn’t think twice about it until we’d hiked almost half a mile further and found ourselves scrambling over roots and boulders along the edge of a high and precipitous cliff, several hundred feet above the floor of the gorge.

After some very careful and very exposed navigation on the edge of the cliff, we realized that there was no route forward from where we were. However, this happy accident provided us with some of the best views of the day, so this side trip set the precedent for deciding whether or not to explore the other spur trails that we encountered later.

We made our way back to the main trail, which eventually led across a wobbly suspension bridge, about twenty feet above the fast flowing water that runs over the edge of Cane Creek Falls. Although Cane Creek Falls can’t compete with Fall Creek Falls in height, it far exceeds the park’s namesake waterfall in volume. Cane Creek Falls is actually responsible for carving out the gorge, therefore making it possible for Fall Creek Falls and the other waterfalls in the area to form and thrive over time.

Although you can’t see it from the angle shown in the picture above, Rockhouse Falls, another of the park’s plunge waterfalls, is located just a few hundred feet away from Cane Creek Falls and cascades over the same rock face. The trail that leads to the suspension bridge runs along the top of the ridge that faces these two waterfalls, granting hikers access to idyllic views of both from above.

Lexi and I were lucky enough to see Rockhouse Falls and Cane Creek Falls from above AND from below, which brings me to our most exciting hike of the day: Cable Trail. “Exciting” is only one of many, many ways to describe our experience on this very short (but very dramatic) journey. When we initially reached the top of the cable, that first glimpse of the sharply downward trail to the banks of Cane Creek, at the foot of the waterfalls, sent waves of panic through my brain. I’d read that the Cable Trail was steep, but I didn’t expect it to be quite so intimidating.

We were the only ones on the cable during our descent, so we didn’t have to worry about the potential domino effect of someone above us falling and taking us out with them on the way down. Hikers (or climbers, as that’s the more appropriate description) on this trail are definitely at the mercy of anyone above them on the cable. Because the cable isn’t within arm’s reach the entire time, we had to plan ahead to put ourselves in favorable positions as we made our way down to the bottom of the gorge.

Despite the lingering fear of slipping and falling, this was an exhilarating journey, and the reward was an intimately close view of Rockhouse Falls and Cane Creek Falls.

I’ve seen photos from other hikers who’ve completed this trek when the water level is much lower, which creates an opportunity walk out into the shallow water of Cane Creek for a closer view of the falls. Unfortunately, the creek was way too high and moving way too quickly for this to be an option for us. However, it’s very uncommon to catch a glimpse of these waterfalls flowing as heavily as they were when we saw them, and we were very lucky to experience this extraordinary view with no other people around.

In case you were wondering, the journey up the cable and back out of the gorge is even more challenging than the journey down. More importantly, it’s absolutely worth it, whether the falls are barely trickling over the edge of the cliff above or blasting at full force. That’s another thing I love about waterfalls: they’re constantly moving and therefore constantly changing. You can visit the same one a hundred times and witness something different every time.

Up next for May: a highly anticipated trip to Acadia National Park in Maine. I’ve heard great things and can’t stop daydreaming about what this place must look like in person. I’ve seen some amazing new places in 2018, each one more wild and beautiful than I could have imagined, so I’m sure this one will be full of surprises too.

March 3, 2018

Harpeth River State Park: Hidden Lake Double Loop Trail and Narrows of the Harpeth

Short months mean short hikes. Right?

Seriously, I didn’t expect to have to improvise this early into my resolution , but as they say, everything happens for a reason. That reason in February: rain. Then more rain, followed by… you guessed it, RAIN. Compared to years past, Nashville and the surrounding areas received nearly three times the average amount of rainfall in February. Due to other obligations, a hike more than a day trip away from Nashville wasn’t realistic for me last month. So, I found myself approaching the second half of February, with only one dry weekend day left in forecast in the already short month.

And what a beautiful day it turned out to be.

Bluff Overlook Trail at Narrows of the Harpeth, Harpeth River State Park, Tennessee

I’d already ruled out several more strenuous hikes further away home, not willing to wade through mud and slip over perilous wet rocks for miles and miles when I can experience these trails in much better condition later in the year. So Fiery Gizzard, you’ll remain at the top of my list for Tennessee hikes in 2018 for at least one more month. In a scramble to find just one worthwhile hike close to home, on a trail that would still be relatively enjoyable despite wet conditions, I found two.

Harpeth River State Park, home to the Hidden Lake Double Loop Trail and the Bluff Overlook Trail at Narrows of the Harpeth, offers a pristine escape from the city. The park is only a 30 minute drive from downtown, or a 10 minute drive from the O’Charley’s in Bellevue, where I frequently meet my grandparents for lunch on Sundays.

After one of these Sunday lunches, my significant other and I drove out to the trailhead of our first hike, the Hidden Lake Double Loop Trail. Honestly, I didn’t have high expectations for this one. I’d never heard any friends or coworkers mention it, and the trailhead is only 1.5 miles away from a perpetually busy section of I-40. Despite these details, it didn’t take long for me to realize that this trail is truly a hidden gem, and our Sunday afternoon here was absolutely well spent.

swampy conditions in the woods surrounding the Hidden Lake Double Loop Trail

The first section of the trail runs parallel to the Harpeth River, which was abnormally high and muddy when we visited, due to all of the recent rain. However, the sun was out on this day, and the trail was actually in better condition than I’d expected. This part of trail winds through a dense forest, before it eventually splits to form the narrow and rocky loop around the lake. We followed the path to the left at the fork, walking through the forest beneath a high bluff to the right of the trail before arriving at the lake.

While the vast majority of the lake is surrounded by steep bluffs, there’s a short spur off the main trail that leads down to the water’s edge.

There’s no view of the lake from the trail that leads there until you’re basically standing right in front of it, hence the name: Hidden Lake. The lake is small (the the entire loop around the lake runs about half of a mile), and it’s gorgeous. The trail ascends steadily from the spur that runs down to the water, so the loop around the lake provides a variety of scenic views from above. Along the way, there are plenty of opportunities to venture off the main trail to explore the bluffs and take a closer look over the edge.

a view of Hidden Lake from the trail along the bluffs

Hidden Lake is pretty enough on its own to make the short journey worthwhile, but there’s more to this trail than the lake. After the trail loops around and starts to veer away from the lake, it runs past a series of abandoned, dilapidated buildings. Unexpected, right? This is the hike’s most unique feature. Despite the trail’s steady stream of foot traffic and relative proximity to civilization, these old structures have been left alone and mostly untouched, destined to decay on their own without much human interference. It’s oddly peaceful and nostalgic.

the eerie view approaching one of the decaying buildings along the trail

the remains of a home, sharing space with the plant life that’s grown up through its rooms over time

an abandoned shed in the woods close to the trail

Soon after passing the abandoned buildings, the loop reconnects with the main trail and leads down the bluff and back out to the trailhead. We completed the 2-mile round trip hike in about an hour and a half. It’d be easy to finish this hike in less time if you don’t veer off the main trail or stop to take in the scenery, but where’s the fun in that? Take your time with this one. It’s worth it.

After leaving the Hidden Lake Double Loop Trail, we took the scenic drive over to Narrows of the Harpeth, about 15 minutes away. Harpeth River State Park is surprisingly large, and these two trailheads aren’t within walking distance of each other. We set out on the Bluff Overlook Trail, which can barely be considered a hike because the total distance from the parking lot to the overlook and back is less than a mile. Unsurprisingly, the hike to the overlook is mostly an uphill journey.

Bluff Overlook Trail at Narrows of the Harpeth

As the trail climbs, the view of the surrounding scenery below expands, and the Harpeth River flows on either side. As the name implies, Narrows of the Harpeth is a small sliver of land wedged in between two sections of the river that are joined by a sharp bend. The overlook rises about 200 feet above the river, offering a panoramic view across miles of rolling hills, forests, and wetlands.

The absence of trees at the edge of the bluff’s highest point provides an unobstructed view of the scenery below.

view of the Harpeth River from the edge of the overlook

This trail was more crowded than the one to Hidden Lake, so I’d recommend going early if you’re interested in making this journey. The bluff faces east, so I’m certain that the overlook would provide a stunning spot to watch a sunrise on a clear day.

Overall, we thoroughly enjoyed our afternoon at Harpeth River State Park. Both of the trails that we hiked offer quick access to beautiful and unique scenery, without requiring much effort. We encountered hikers of all ages and apparent skill levels, and everyone seemed genuinely happy to be there, soaking up the afternoon sunshine during a much needed break from the rain.

Up next for me: a St. Patrick’s Day weekend overnight hike at Red River Gorge in eastern Kentucky with one of my closest friends. This one’s been on my adventure bucket list for a while, and although it’s an intimidating hike (with some alleged rock climbing), I can’t wait to get out there.