Sunday, April 17, 2011

A River Runs Through It--and so do I

My last run before I hit the mid-century mark almost became a swim. Friday evening we had a torrential downpour and high winds and rain showers were forecast for Saturday. The winds arrived late and the showers gave way to sunny skies as I made my way down to Meigs Trail in the Smokies.

The trail head is at the famous Sinks approached in a drive up along the Little River--which it definitely wasn't this day. It was swollen and angry.This gave me a bit of angst because my 12 mile route was amongst many of the tributaries that fed this river.

The Meigs Creek Trail climbed quickly away from Little River but the roar of it followed me a long way. Cresting a ridge, the trail dropped just as quickly down to Meigs Creek which it follows for 2+ miles before the final ascent to Meigs Mountain.

"Follows along" is probably a misnomer. The trail meanders liberally through the creek. And creek itself was an inappropriate label this day, as well, given the prior night's deluge. Arriving at my first crossing, I stripped off my shoes and socks, removed the liners, found a sturdy stick and forded the swift water to the other side where I reversed the process after dumping water from my waterproof shoes (heretofore to be known as well-sealed vessels for storing water). Feet somewhat dry, I continued my run up the trail where 30 yards later--it crossed the creek again! I repeated the process with still fairly dry feet and socks and resumed my run. To reach another creek crossing 50 yards later.


Having learned my lesson, I plunged on through and continued this process for the next 17 crossings to come. Correct. Seventeen more.


Upper Meigs Falls was running wildly as I trudged and sloshed past to ford the swift creek feeding it just yards later.

Reaching Bukhorn Gap at the 3.3 mile mark and 45 minutes later (slow going with half the trail being a swim) I finally dropped the wet socks, contemplated dry ones, but decided to save those for the last descent just in case. A wise choice (I think) though still I earned a blister from running sock naked with wet feet.

The route from Upper Buckhork was largely 3+ miles of contour trail affording ample views of the ridge above me and Curry He and Curry She Mountains. At 3000 feet, the trees were just budding and a few early wildflowers had emerged.

Nearing Curry She Mountain lay the remains of a long deserted and now reclaimed village. Amongst it lay Polly Hatcher and her infant child who passed away in 1909 at the age of 43.

Near this ancient settlement, I connected to Curry Mountain Trail, itself an old wagon road, which dropped quickly back towards the roaring Little River.

I finished up the loop with a two mile run along the road back to The Sink where I had left the car. Total mileage was close to 12miles and running time was 1:54:22.

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