Day 9, Chestnut Ridge to Whiterock Gap

Polecat and I left our campsite a few minutes before 8 a.m. Soon after we were on our way, we met a couple of day hikers. They had parked at Beegum Gap and were now following the Bartram to the tower.

The first 1.5 miles of the day continued a descent we started when we left Rabun Bald's summit yesterday. The trail went steadily down until it crossed the headwaters of Holcomb Creek.

If we were to follow the creek downstream from the trail, we would soon come to Holcomb Creek Falls, which has an impressive 120-foot drop. The Foothills Trail never seemed to miss an opportunity to pass by a waterfall, but the Bartram did not go that way.

About where the trail crossed into North Carolina, it began a short climb up a slope of Osage Mountain. Through a gap in the trees, I got my first wide view of the sky.

I saw swirls and layers of clouds. Surely this was a sky that would bring rain, I thought.

About 90 minutes later, I got another view of the sky and this one contradicted my assumption. Clouds were still there, but they were now scattered among clear patches of bright blue sky.

After making my way down the other side of Osage Mountain, I came to a trail junction. A sign there pointed toward Hurrah Ridge. That spot must certainly have a story behind its name, but I have been unable to find it. Any place called Hurrah Ridge has to be a happy place.

Nevertheless, the sign was of no help to Bartram Trail hikers like me. Unless I knew the trail went to Hurrah Ridge, which I didn't, I had no information to guide me. I couldn't tell without looking at a map which way to turn at the junction.

I've complained about signage like this many times. It's hard for me to understand why no one questioned whether or not the sign provided useful information at the junction.

I consulted my mapping app, then turned left and didn't go in the direction of Hurrah Ridge.

Polecat and I arrived at N.C. Highway 106 shortly before noon. It was surprisingly busy, and we had to wait a couple of minutes before there was an opening to cross.

Although we couldn't see them from the trail, there were a couple of private residential areas nearby. The one closest to the trail was filled with million-dollar homes.

When we continued walking up a slope of Scaly Mountain, there were a few openings in the trees to get another wide view of the sky. Clouds were forming again, and they looked darker than before.

We arrived at the top of the mountain about 20 minutes later. The trail crossed the summit over large slabs of granite, which provided openings for better views of the sky.

The highest peak we could see was Rabun Bald, where we had been two days ago. Rain was falling in that area. Was it coming our way? I couldn't tell, but it seemed widespread enough to seem likely.

I wanted to check the weather radar on my phone, but cell reception was poor on top of the mountain.

The trail made a long, gradual descent from the top of Scaly Mountain. We stopped at a nice campsite at the bottom. It was next to Tessentee Creek and had a table and a pole for hanging a lantern. The time was only 3 p.m., and we agreed that was too early to stop for the night.

The creek appeared to be our last spot to get water for several miles, so we collected enough for tonight and tomorrow morning before beginning another climb.

The trail went up Peggy Knob, dropped a short distance to Hickory Gap, then resumed the long climb. This section of trail was unexpectedly difficult, partly because of the steep terrain and partly because of downed trees that blocked the trail in a couple of places.

Another view of the sky at 4 p.m. changed my mind again about the chance of rain. The clouds looked like they were breaking up and I didn't see any rainfall in the distance.

Conditions looked even better when I reached the top of the climb at 5:30. The clouds appeared to be drifting away, leaving wide gaps of clear blue sky.

Going up to Jones Knob felt like it took longer than it should. Then when I stopped to check the view, I began to chill quickly, so I didn't stay long.

The sun was low and filtering through trees as I approached Whiterock Gap. Polecat and I decided to look for a camping spot there.

Even after the terrain became relatively flat, I still felt as though I was moving slowly. I didn't arrive at the gap until 7 p.m.

The map showed no indication of water near here, and a hand-written note on a trail sign seemed to confirm that. "Not a creek. Don't do it," said the message written below directions to Stevens Creek.

When I pitched my tent, I made sure it was set up well in case rain fell overnight. Later and perhaps as an omen, a large frog jumped and landed next to me while I was preparing dinner.