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Stalkers in the woods
It was a little tough getting to sleep again out alone in the woods... I kept hearing rustling noises moving through the underbrush. Back on Cumberland Island, GA, I would be okay with that, because the only rustling on Cumberland are horses, turkeys, and armadillos. But this is the Cherokee National Forest, and Black Bear country, so I was a little nervous.
Since I didn't sleep well, I decided to take a nap after breakfast. Well, wouldn't you know it, those damn wasps and hornets from Day 1 had followed me! There, hovering around my Defender, was the nasty-looking wasp with the menacing "stinger-appendage", and periodically, hovering in front of my face was a white-faced hornet. And, judging from his attitude, I wouldn't be surprised if he was the same one I swatted with the broad side of my machete at my first campsite!
So, having eaten breakfast (and more wonderful blackberries), I hopped into my tent to catch up on a couple of hours of sleep... away from the stinging hordes.
Didn't work.
The entire time, I heard bees and horseflies and all sorts of buzzing flying around my tent. If you've ever heard the sounds of a swarm, you can get some idea of what this sounded like. I don't know if they were just going about their daily bee-like business, or if they were trying to get into the tent to take their revenge, but it was like trying to sleep at a weed-whacker convention.
So I got up, packed the Defender, and set out on the trail again.
Paradise found
I took Forest Road (FR) 45 south to FR 221 toward the Georgia border (near the edge of the public forest). My intent was to work my way back west and up through the rest of this southernmost section of the Cherokee National Forest wilderness, finally circling back up to Hwy 64 to check out with the Ranger Station on Friday. This was Thursday.
The drive was great, with lots of little dirt roads to explore, and plenty of twists and turns in the shaded gravel stretches of the main forest road. And, because the road was near several streams, the air was cool and refreshing... begging me to take my time and enjoy the ride.
Up ahead, after a particularly winding downhill, I spotted a small concrete bridge spanning a beautiful little creek. On either side of the road were campsites. Not your "official" park campsites, but rather small clearings where previous hikers and campers had built fire pits, cleared the brush, and made a pleasant little rest stop for anyone who passes by to enjoy. I took the site nearest the water and set up camp.
This spot was ideal, and I could easily understand why people chose it. The shore was like an Oregon beach, full of coarse sand and rounded pebbles smoothed over by the water. At the bend of the stream was a clear swimming hole about 3 feet deep, and on the other side was a rock wall leading up the forested hill, with a little dribble of spring water, ferns, and moss splashing down its side.
This was home. (Well, for the night, at least.)
I did a little hiking, a little exploring, and generally relaxed by the gurgling sounds of the stream. At one point, I hiked upstream (actually in the stream) and found a beautiful concentration of rock formations with little hollowed-out pools and unique shapes causing the water to flow in myriad different directions. Some of these pools even had tadpoles in them... little schools for a new generation of frogs. (When you're out alone in the wilderness, even the little things become precious.)
When I got back, I cooked up a little pasta over the campfire, let the fish clean my dishes, and hit the sack.
It was a restful and pleasantly uneventful night in paradise and I awoke fresh the next morning ready for my last day of overlanding.
Next...
Yes, even with a map, a compass, marked roads, I can still get lost!
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