winter hikes – Emily Takes a Hike

April 2, 2020

Waterfall Hikes of South Cumberland State Park: Foster Falls and Denny Cove

If you’d have asked me two years ago, I’d have said that this journey wasn’t sustainable, and that I’d eventually run out of new trails reasonably close to home. Two years later, I still feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface. I travel as often as I can, and since I began this journey, almost half of my new hikes have occurred on trails outside of Tennessee. As much as I’ve loved the trails of amazing destinations like Maine, Colorado, Utah, and California… there’s no place like home. I appreciate the breathtaking beauty of expansive mountain views, but there’s something so intimate and comfortable about the hidden waterfalls and majestic limestone bluffs of the Cumberland Plateau. If you’re looking for views that extend far and wide, Tennessee may not be for you, but if you’re looking for pristine beauty that’s buried and unpretentious, come on in. The water’s fine. And so are the caves.

The icicles surrounding Foster Falls may be too small to notice in this photo, but the views of this area in January were a rare and magnificent treat when I hiked here.

Tennessee offers no shortage of incredible waterfall hikes, and nothing influences the kind of experience you’ll have on one of these trails more than timing. I’d love to tell y’all that any time is a good time for a waterfall hike in Tennessee, but I’ve learned from experience that this isn’t necessarily true. The magic of seasonality can make one hike feel like four unique experiences, and I wholeheartedly appreciate that. Hiking to Foster Falls and Denny Cove in January reminded me so much of how my journey began two years ago, with my winter hike to Virgin Falls. If you’ve got the layers for it, I highly recommend a Tennessee waterfall hike in January. We don’t get much snow in winter in this part of the country, but temperatures fall (and stay) below freezing often enough to create magnificent icicle formations on our waterfalls. With all of this in mind, a sunny January day with sub-freezing temperatures may not be an ideal day for hiking for most people, but fortune favors the bold… or the cold, in this case.

As an added bonus, Tennessee’s popular trails don’t receive much foot traffic in January. Most of the visitors to South Cumberland State Park drive in from other parts of Tennessee, and winters in the volunteer state just aren’t consistent enough for our Southern blood to properly acclimatize. It’s a mystery to me though, because winter can still be beautiful without the presence of snow-capped peaks and frozen lakes. Snow flurries against a waterfall backdrop and high cliffs draped with thousands of sparkling icicles decorate the Cumberland Plateau in winter, and the trails (usually) remain clear of ice and other winter obstacles. It’s rare to experience conditions that offer the best of both worlds, but when the opportunity presents itself, why not take advantage of it?

Thousands of gorgeous icicles drip from the jagged cliffs along the trail to Denny Cove Waterfall in South Cumberland State Park.

It was 20 degrees with a forecast of clouds and sporadic snow snow flurries when I started my morning at the Foster Falls trailhead, named for the landmark feature at the eastern terminus of Fiery Gizzard. I hiked a western portion of Fiery Gizzard, one of Tennessee’s most alluring and popular trails, in October of 2018, and a through hiker I met on the trail told me about the idyllic brilliance of Foster Falls. I’ve wanted to visit ever since, and I’m so grateful that I had the opportunity to witness this beautiful place for the first time without anyone else around. I’ve heard that visitors flock to this waterfall in the summer months, because of the gorgeous and spacious swimming hole at the bottom of the falls. The hike to Foster Falls is relatively short and easy as well. I hiked a loop trail that runs two total miles, starting with a steep descent from the top of the falls to the swimming hole and spacious creekside areas at the bottom. From the base of the falls, the trail follows a moderate incline along the base of one of Tennessee’s most popular rock climbing walls, which was dripping with icicles and thus understandably vacant in January.

After ascending to the rim of the canyon that Foster Falls flows into, the trail continues along the edge and provides an outstanding glimpse of the waterfall from above before returning to the trailhead. Overall, the this loop offers many gorgeous views for a relatively easy hike. There’s also the option to continue hiking along the rim of the canyon on the Fiery Gizzard Trail, which extends for 12 miles in one direction before meeting its western terminus at the Grundy trailhead.

Foster Falls as viewed from an overlook on the Fiery Gizzard Trail

I’d be lying if I said it’s worth the effort to drive two hours one way for a two mile hike in January, although I thoroughly enjoyed the beautiful scenery at Foster Falls. South Cumberland State Park’s newest addition, however, is accessible from a trailhead only ten minutes down the road from Foster Falls. Denny Cove offers about four total miles of trails. It doesn’t sound like much, but this trail packs in a lot of value over a relatively short and moderate distance. A vast and beautiful cliff runs parallel to the trail on the north side, and this area is accessible to rock climbers during warmer months. In winter, however, the tree cover between the trail and the cliffs is sparse enough to provide extensive views of this gorgeous landscape. Overall, the terrain is mild but not entirely easy, and the trail ends at a glorious waterfall that isn’t visible until you’re right beside it. As the trail ascends, it inches closer to the creek that runs through the cove. As the trail approaches the waterfall, the incline increases before leading to a small open space with unobstructed views of Denny Cove Falls.

views of Denny Cove Falls on the steep section of trail that runs upward toward the base of the falls

On the return trip from Denny Cove Waterfall, I hiked the spur trail to and from a secluded overlook off the main trail. This route extends the 3-mile roundtrip hike to the falls by a mile, but the views are worth the short detour. It’s worth noting that, for the first time since I started this journey two years ago, I was entirely and blissfully alone on this previously unexplored trail. I saw a few people on the Foster Falls loop, but I didn’t see anyone on my hike through Denny Cove. This surprised me, even though the trail is relatively new and the weather was brutally cold (for Tennessee, anyways). Most people avoid hiking on days like this, but I eagerly anticipate them and hope they land on weekends when I can actually get outside to enjoy the solitude of a sub-freezing hike.

This overlook along the trail to Denny Cove Falls offers stunning views of the valley below.

It takes more than just cold weather to make a hike like this possible. Cliffs and waterfalls need rain and the resulting runoff to sprout icicles, and then the sun needs to shine for a day or two to reduce ice and slushy mud enough to make the trails navigable. The sunny days need to be bright enough to warm the ground, but the temperatures need to be low enough to keep the ice on the cliff walls from melting. Rock surfaces warm more slowly than dirt, so it takes nothing short of an act of God to create the perfect conditions for a waterfall hike adorned with icicles. It doesn’t happen often around here, but when it does, the rare opportunity to see a sight like this in Tennessee is certainly worth the extra layers.

Here’s a low quality image (iPhones don’t work well during prolonged exposure to 20 degree temperatures) of a high quality moment alone at the base of Denny Cove Waterfall.

February 12, 2020

Hiking Near Salt Lake City: Lake Blanche Trail

In the midst of an emotionally turbulent weekend, celebrating my cousin’s wedding in Salt Lake City and mourning the sudden loss of my grandmother back in Nashville, I hiked Lake Blanche Trail in Wasatch National Forest. I explored this trail two days after an incredible hiking experience on Antelope Island in the Great Salt Lake with my parents, and my beloved grandmother unexpectedly passed on the day in between these two hikes. The trails pass through vastly different environments, despite their proximity to each other. They lie on opposite sides of Salt Lake City, separated by an hour-long drive, but they may as well exist on two different planets. This profoundly resonated with me, and still does, because in the midst of simultaneous joy and tragedy, I felt very thinly stretched between two extreme states of mind. The severe highs and lows aggravated emotional wounds that hadn’t yet healed after losing my grandfather only three months earlier and a week after mine and Andy’s wedding celebration in Nashville. I can’t really describe the amount of joy that my wedding brought into my life at a time when I so desperately needed it. However, the grief of losing my grandfather at the same time, filled me with so many intense and conflicting emotions, and all of these returned in full force when my grandmother passed away the day before my cousin’s wedding.

Lake Blanche, frozen and magnificent beneath the gorgeous profile of Sundial Peak

My hike to Lake Blanche, on my cousin’s wedding day and in the immediate aftermath of my grandmother’s death, felt incredibly selfish. I can’t think of a more accurate way to describe how I felt about it as soon as my boots hit the dirt. I honestly don’t know if I process grief in a healthy way, but I do know that the part of sadness that I struggle with most is the suffocating weight of it. I need room to breathe and time alone to grieve, and this (unsurprisingly) can create an inadvertent distance that raises concern among people around me who rely on the community of loved ones to carry them through difficult times. I certainly appreciate the power of family and togetherness in times of joy and sorrow, but I have little faith in my ability to provide comfort to others when the burden of our collective grief makes all my words and actions feel so insignificant. So much sadness under one roof just makes me feel like we’re all being buried alive by circumstances beyond what we can control. Spending time alone outside helps me find the clarity and strength that I need to heal.

There’s so much about my experience on the trail to Lake Blanche that felt surreal, but I can say with unflinching certainty that I felt the presence of my grandparents on this hike. Maybe that feeling was just the result of wishful thinking during a time of immense vulnerability. They never hiked this trail, but I felt their presence there as strongly as I felt the crisp mountain wilderness around me. This hike was a deeply personal experience for me, and as a result, I’ve been on the fence about sharing it. However, I’ve learned that writing about my hikes, especially the ones I take while I’m experiencing significant life events off the trail, helps me process my thoughts and emotions in a more rational way. Hindsight from a comfortable distance often provides perspective that makes me feel just a little less crazy than I may have in the moment.

I shed my outer layer to pose for a photo taken by the one other hiker I saw at the crest above Lake Blanche. It seemed like a good idea at first, but it was also 20 degrees and very windy, so that lasted exactly as long as the photo op.

Logistically, the trail to Lake Blanche and back covers about 7 miles and almost 3,000 feet of elevation gain. This one burns the glutes, but it’s entirely beautiful. As the trail climbs, the views get bigger and the spaces between patches of sparkling snow and ice get smaller. Hiking here in late November, on the verge of winter, I felt grateful for the opportunity to experience this trail just days before it’d become indistinguishable beneath a thick blanket of snow. Snow and ice presented a challenge in some places, especially on the upper mile or so of trail, but I didn’t use crampons or microspikes and managed to stay upright with some careful foot placement when necessary. The weather forecast on the day after my hike predicted at least a couple of inches of snow, which would have complicated this hike that’s far from easy under the most ideal conditions. The opportunity to hike this trail, on what may very well have been the final day before winter truly encompassed the area, felt like a magnificent and much needed byproduct of divine intervention.

This one’s easily among my favorite photos from any of my hikes from 2019. This is the final segment of trail to the crest above Lake Blanche. The lake isn’t visible yet, but the tree line has faded into the background, and Sundial Peak dominates the skyline.

Start to finish, views of stunning peaks and serene woodlands surround the trail to Lake Blanche on all sides. Everything within sight, in every direction I turned, appeared to be so naturally and majestically flawless. The trail’s strenuous and rocky incline, combined with the altitude, exhausted my body. Mentally and spiritually, however, I’ve hardly ever felt more alive and energetic. AllTrails and many other sources rank the trail to Lake Blanche as one of Utah’s very best, which shouldn’t be taken lightly in a state that’s home to five national parks and some of the country’s most diverse environments. After experiencing this trail for myself, during a time of seasonal (and personal) transition nonetheless, I’m a believer. I can’t appropriately capture the trail’s immense natural beauty with words or photos.

Even the lower section of the trail provided breathtaking and snow speckled views of the Wasatch National Forest during the final days of Fall.

The trail offers plenty of panoramic mountain views on the way up, but Lake Blanche isn’t visible from the trail until its crest at nearly 9,000 feet. The frozen lake, sparkling beneath the mighty profile of Sundial Peak, comes into view all at once in a moment of triumph after a grueling ascent. That’s the moment when I felt the presence of my grandparents more strongly than any other on this hike. I heard their voices and felt the excitement in their cheers as my tired body finally emerged on the rocky terrain above the edge of the lake. They followed my hiking journey more closely than anyone and loved hearing stories from my experiences. They read every blog post and cherished the photos I’d send after every new hike. They traveled all over the world when they were healthy enough to do so, and I believe they saw something of themselves in me as I developed a similar passion for exploring new places. I believe that brought them joy, and I find comfort in knowing that their everlasting spirits can experience these wild and wonderful places with me now.

When it’s hard to find something to smile about, go outside.

The purity of the Wasatch National Forest and the trail to Lake Blanche that runs through it, somehow made me feel simultaneously vulnerable and invincible. I needed to feel vulnerable to open myself up to the healing process, and I needed to hike this very challenging trail by myself to affirm the strength and courage I’d rely on to carry me through the difficult days ahead. Adjusting to life without their physical presence hasn’t been easy, but the legacy they’ve left behind inspires me to continue writing my own adventure. And from this first adventure after grandmother’s death until the day when I take my final hike, I know they’ll be with me every step of the way.

The blazing sun manifests itself in most of my photos from this hike, and even in the sub-freezing temps, the sunlight warmed my body. I like to think my grandparents nudged God about keeping me warm, in that affectionate but really persistent way that only grandparents have.

January 20, 2020January 22, 2020

Hiking Near Salt Lake City: Antelope Island State Park

November of 2019 was a month of firsts for me. It was a time of transition, vulnerability, and new beginnings. As I write this post in January of 2020, well beyond the hustle of the holiday season, I’ve spent the last few weeks trying to decide which of the two epic hikes I took in Utah in November to write about here. Since my New Year’s Resolution has been to take at least one new hike every month and document my experience, I’ve been so focused on writing about just that: a single hike every month, even in months when I’ve hiked more than one new trail. It took a month like this past November to make me rethink that mindset, not because of the trails I hiked, but because of the significance and stability of my monthly ritual during a time when so much else around me felt chaotic. My new hikes are always meaningful, but in some months, I need a higher dose of that sacred time of exploration. I’ll dive deeper into that later, but right now, I want to jump right into reliving my incredible experience at Antelope Island State Park, located a short drive west of Salt Lake City, Utah.

This is me, hiking on Antelope Island along the coast of the Great Salt Lake, in my New Orleans Saints hat, because my football allegiances are almost as important to me as hiking adventures, and I combine the two whenever I can.

I’d never been to Utah, so when I had the opportunity to travel to Salt Lake City for my cousin’s wedding in November of 2019, I decided to extend the trip and explore a couple of the area’s countless hiking trails. Winter arrives much earlier in Utah than it does in Tennessee, so I wanted to do some research to narrow down my realistic options. More importantly, this was my first opportunity to hike a new trail with my parents, who have been so encouraging and steadfast throughout my hiking journey. I wanted to find a trail that was close to Salt Lake City but removed enough to provide uninterrupted views of the Utah landscape. Also, I wanted to find a trail that all three of us could safely and comfortably enjoy. My sophisticated research strategy (Google) provided many viable options, but as soon as I discovered Antelope Island State Park, I knew I’d found our ideal hiking destination.

My parents are the cutest, and I’m so happy that we were able to experience this amazing place together.

When I saw the word “island” in the name of this state park in the middle of Utah, I had some questions. Eventually, I learned that Antelope Island is only an island sometimes, depending on the tide, and that the Great Salt Lake is plenty big enough to contain a 42-square-mile mountainous land mass that appears as nothing more than a tiny peninsula on state maps. The geography of Salt Lake City and its surroundings is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. The lush mountains immediately east of the city receive glorious amounts of pristine snow that attracts flocks of enchanted winter sports enthusiasts from around the globe. To the immediate east, there’s Antelope Island and the Great Salt Lake, a hauntingly beautiful desert landscape of treeless, mountainous terrain and colorful waters as still and reflective as mirrors.

Antelope Island, located barely west of Salt Lake City, offers couldn’t be more different from my familiar hiking destinations at home in Tennessee, and I loved every minute of the newness and uniqueness of this beautiful place.

I haven’t found an online map or trail guide that accurately documents the trail that my parents and I explored. We hiked the Lakeside Trail, which is easy to find if you follow the road signs to White Rocks Bay after entering the park, but the AllTrails and Hiking Project directions will lead you to a trailhead that only allows overnight camper parking, not day parking for non-campers. Follow the signs to White Rocks Bay, and you’ll see signs for Lakeside Trail after the turn off. The Lakeside Trail runs for three breathtakingly beautiful miles along the rocky shoreline above the Great Salt Lake, and there’s a new two-mile segment that connects the outermost points on the trail along the coast to each other via an inland segment. This creates a five-mile loop packed with impressive views of the Great Salt Lake and its surrounding mountains and rock formations.

My parents and I hiked this trail clockwise, but if I were to go back (and I sincerely hope that happens soon), I’d hike it counterclockwise. There isn’t any significant elevation gain or loss on the trail, so the physical effort would remain the same regardless of direction. We hiked the coastal portion of the trail first though, which meant that for the majority of the two inland miles, we had our backs to the lake and mountain views. The prairie landscape was gorgeous, and the small herd of wild buffalo that we encountered at very close range while on the inland trail segment was undoubtedly one of the best things I’ve experienced on any of my hikes. However, If we’d hiked counterclockwise, we’d have hiked past the buffalos during the first mile, and then turned a corner that would have positioned us to view the mountains rising above the lake and prairie in between for a mile or so before reaching the magnificent coastal segment.

The coastal trail segment provided epic views of the lake and many unique rock formations that created a stunning backdrop for our hike.

Hiking clockwise, we still experienced no shortage of incredible views. Hiking on a treeless island creates longer lines of sight than what I’m used to in the intimate woodlands and gulfs of Tennessee. The views of the lake and the mountains from the very beginning of the coastal segment were nothing short of spectacular, and we timed our hike perfectly. We hiked the Lakeview Trail on a Friday in late November, and we encountered about three other hiking parties during our entire time spent on the five-mile trail. I knew that my parents and I would thoroughly love this hike as soon as we got out of the car in the parking lot at the trailhead. When I’ realized we’d see more buffalos than humans on this hike, however, that was when I knew we were experiencing something truly special, and that this place and our timing was more perfect than I ever could have imagined it’d be.

From the trailhead, we hiked along a rugged, yet well blazed, trail that ran parallel to the shoreline of the Great Salt Lake. Frary Peak, the highest mountain on the island, towered above us on the left, high above White Rocks Bay, an inlet off the Great Salt Lake that’s named for a large and (you guessed it) white rock formation rising out of its waters. As we hiked closer toward the coast from the trailhead, we noticed the herd of buffalos less than half a mile into our hike and took a detour to get a closer look, not realizing that what we thought was a spur trail into the prairie was actually the back end of the loop we’d eventually make. Regardless, it was a short and worthwhile detour, and the buffalos were still in the area when we looped around at the end of the hike. The buffalos on the island are docile and accustomed to the presence of humans, so even when the trail passed within a few feet of a buffalo, we never felt threatened or uncomfortable. Hiking in such close proximity to a wild animal that big, and feeling perfectly safe while doing so, felt so surreal and exhilarating. Before our hike here, I’d learned that the island was home to Utah’s largest herd of wild buffalos, but I still didn’t expect to see so many of them at close range.

No zoom on this one, I promise. The island itself was gorgeous enough, but the buffalos were icing on the cake.

Seeing the buffalos at close range was such a memorable and rewarding part of our experience at Antelope Island State Park.

After returning to the coastal segment of the Lakeside Trail, we hiked across rocky but moderate terrain as the trail traversed the slopes above the shore of the lake and below Buffalo Point, an overlook accessible by car from the inland side. We drove up to Buffalo Point after our hike to take in the stunning views of the expansive scenery from a higher vantage point. There’s also a short trail from the parking lot at Buffalo Point that leads up to the summit, with amazing 360 degree views on the way up. It’s a quick and easy way to access some of the island’s best views of the lake, mountains, and local wildlife.

As we moved forward along the trail, we experienced truly magnificent views of the Great Salt Lake, a still and pristine body of water with mountains surrounding it on all sides. It was a cloudy day, but the landscape reflected a rainbow of colors. The brilliant bluish grey lake transformed into greenish gold when the sunlight hit it just right. The yellow fields of prairie grass created a perfect frame for rust colored boulders against that stunning silvery backdrop of the salt lake and the distant mountains rising above it on the opposite shore. If my description sounds overly romantic, that’s because this landscape presented an experience that was so unlike anything I’d ever seen before. I’ve hiked extensively through the wild forests and waterfalls of Tennessee. I’ve climbed mountains in Colorado and hiked through various other gorgeous spaces in this country. This hike stands out among the rest. I’d never hiked through a prairie surrounded by mountains. I’d never seen a body of water as large and as still as the Great Salt Lake. I’d never hiked within several feet of a thousand-pound animal and felt thoroughly comfortable and safe.

I felt like I was standing in front of a painting throughout this hike, and the rich colors of that desert landscape still amaze me.

The day that we hiked at Antelope Island was such an immensely happy day for me and my parents, and at the time, we didn’t know how much we’d need that glorious escape from the chaos of the days to come. We didn’t know that my grandmother would pass away unexpectedly the following day. We didn’t know about the turmoil and tension that would accompany her death, and we didn’t know that for the second time in three months, we’d lose a family member within a few days of celebrating another family member’s wedding.

The unpredictable chaos of life has only increased my appreciation for the time I have set aside to regularly explore new hiking trails. Sometimes it feels selfish, and other times it feels difficult to find the time to devote to this passion of mine. The reassuring constant, however, is the refreshing and healing quality of the time I’ve contributed to my adventures in the wild. With hikes like this one at Antelope Island State Park, a place I’d never have encountered by accident, I’m reminded of the bigger picture. Setting time aside for yourself, to do something you love or something that helps you feel balanced, may not always make sense in that moment, but it can provide so much inner peace and clarity to carry you through the unexpected that lies ahead. There’s beauty in the chaos, and small moments of happiness and routine can offer comfort in times of sadness or transition if we just let them.