Cohutta

I spent the last two-and-a-bit days in the Cohutta Wilderness on a spur-of-the-moment, this'll-be-a-good-way-to-try-out-the-new-spot-locator camping trip.

I happened across precisely five people during the course of this trip. Listed in reverse-chronological order (which also happens to be more-boring to least-boring order), they are:

1) just a couple miles from the car, on the last day as I was hiking up Pennitentiary Trail, a guy was hiking down. He said hi and asked how I was. I did likewise. He also startled me, because I hadn't seen anyone else in like thirty hours.

2) as I was coming down Big Frog Mountain, an enervate (found that one in my thesaurus) looking couple was making their way up. They asked how much farther to the top. They did not look happy to be there.

3) as I approached the top of Big Frog Mountain I saw what looked like a horse. Or maybe a statue of a horse. On a mountain? This *was* Tennessee, so, it wouldn't be totally out of place. I continued to approach. Then the horse was looking at me. Not a statue. Then there were two horses. And two guys. They were finishing up cooking lunch. We exchanged pleasantries. They were missing teeth. Each of the horses' saddles sported a revolver. I turned back to the redneck duo after dropping my pack and retrieving my jelly bean supply. They offered me a clear liquid in a mason jar with what looked like a wedge of peach floating in it. It was a wedge of peach. Home made peach schnapps - delicious. It warmed my tummy. They put out their fire and mounted their horses while one of them contemplated riding backwards because then the steep parts would be less scary. He yelled back: if you find me below with a broken leg, I'm going to want some of those jelly beans! And they were gone.

I've got twenty-one cuts on my arms from these stupid thorny vines that serve very little purpose from what I can tell. I wouldn't have any cuts if I had done a better job reading the topo map. Lesson learned.

I stayed the second night at a very unlikely (and very inaccessible) location down a ravine that carried a creek. It was totally away from everything (including trails). And I went to sleep listening to the water.

I'm definitely going back. Although only in the Winter (or late Fall). Those thorny vine things take over during the rest of the year (as I learned back in 2006).