Thru-hikers don't often stay in established campgrounds. When we do, we greatly appreciate them for what they offer. Although some can be overcrowded and noisy, we still like campgrounds because they usually offer a few amenities that are unavailable in the backcountry.
Some features are valued for their convenience, even when car and RV campers don't enjoy them. For instance, a thru-hiker will gladly use a smelly privy instead of digging a cathole. Of course, some campgrounds have flush toilets and running water, and when a thru-hiker finds one of those, it is a celebratory moment.
A site with just a picnic table and a trash can is always a luxury to us, and we will rarely want to pass it up. Amenities like these may seem trivial unless you've been hiking for days without any facilities.
One feature of a campground is prized by thru-hikers above all others. Car and RV campers often bring from home an abundance of food and drinks. When one of these campers sees a thru-hiker in a nearby site with their tiny tent and meager food bag, they sometimes offer food leftovers or a cold beer.
That doesn't always happen, however. In those cases, thru-hikers are likely to take it upon themselves to "yogi" for a handout. That is, they will find a way to ask for food or drinks without explicitly asking.
The amenities at Pine Glen Campground were limited. There was only one privy, and there were no faucets for drinking water. We had to scoop and filter what we needed from Shoal Creek.
What's worse, Tengo Hambre and I had no opportunities to score free food or drinks. Only four other campsites were occupied, and those campers stuck to themselves. Mostly, they stayed in their tents or trailers.
Alas, there was no way for us to yogi something to eat or drink. Still, we could have received some trail magic this morning if we had wanted it.
We met the first and only camper we talked to after we had already packed our gear and were on our way back to the trail at 7:30 a.m. A man walking his dog stopped to warn us about a prescribed burn that took place in the forest where we were heading.
He kindly offered to drive us to get around the burn section, but we declined. We explained we would rather find a way to continue walking and keep our footsteps connected.
If the trail were closed, we presumed, directions for an alternate route around the burn zone would be posted. The report of a prescribed burn turned out to be accurate because we found the trail blocked by pink surveyor's tape. A sign there said, "Take alternate route."
Oddly, there was no mention of what that route might be. A paper notice stapled above the large metal sign added only the barest of information. It said the burn was scheduled to take place yesterday.
I looked at the map to see if an alternate route was possible. It was but required a long detour on a road. Tengo and I agreed to continue down the trail. If the burn was conducted yesterday as scheduled, we surmised, the fire would be out by now.
After all, it was a controlled burn. The Forest Service wouldn't leave a fire burning unattended, right?
At first, we saw no signs a burn took place. I wondered if maybe the date on the notice was wrong. Or perhaps the burn had been canceled. At any rate, I hoped it hadn't been rescheduled for today because then we might soon walk up to a crew lighting fires.
We didn't have to walk far, however, before it became obvious fires had been set yesterday as scheduled. The forest floor was burnt and the air was filled with the odor of charred wood.
The farther we walked, the stronger the burnt smells became. Then I saw why. Here and there were smoldering stumps and piles of brush. Smoke was thick in some spots. There were even some small flames visible.
Large trees were only blackened around the base. The prescribed burn was intended to clear the forest floor, decreasing the fuel that can help to spread a wildfire and increasing the diversity of native vegetation. For this reason, there was no reason to think we were at risk of a falling dead tree or branch as we walked through the forest.
We also saw no flames directly next to the trail, so there was no chance we'd be burned. Despite seeing a few hotspots, I never felt I was in a dangerous situation.
Nevertheless, the smell of the charred wood and smoke was strong. It was worse than walking through a smoky old tavern back when it was still possible to do that sort of thing.
While still walking through the burn area, we met a southbound thru-hiker named Mowgli. He told us he started his hike from Erwin, Tennessee, on the Appalachian Trail. Then he picked up the Benton MacKaye Trail and followed that to where it connected with the Pinhoti Trail.
After Mowgli finishes the Pinhoti, he said, he will drive to Montana next month and begin a SOBO thru-hike of the Continental Divide Trail.
Mowgli provided us with some helpful information about the trail ahead. He told us we could find some slackpacking opportunities when we got to Cave Spring, Georgia. We expected to get there in about three days.
After chatting with Mowgli and going in our separate directions, Tengo and I didn't walk far before hearing a loud crack and thud. A large tree had fallen to the ground about 150 yards from the trail.
Perhaps my assessment of the dangers of walking through the burnt forest wasn't entirely accurate.
A large meadow was on the other end of the burn area. Mowgli had told us he never saw any signs about the trail being closed, and when Tengo and I came to the end, we didn't see any signs either.
Once we got past the burn area, the trail took us to a lake with two names. Some maps identify it as Choccolocco Creek Lake Number 7, while others call it Sweetwater Lake.
The lake is manmade and covers 58 acres. It was formed by a floodwater retarding dam. The U.S. Department of Agriculture built this dam and several others like it in the 1960s and 1970s to control the release rate of potentially flooding water from Shoal and Choccolocco creeks. In addition to the dam at Sweetwater Lake, the Pinhoti Trail crosses two others.
A man was fishing from a row boat in the lake, but he was the only person we saw there. We also passed a duck family. The mother duck scolded her kids as I walked by. She may have thought I was a threat, even though I tried to reassure her I wasn't.
The trail continued next to the lake's shoreline for more than a mile before turning away. Until now, we had been walking over mostly flat terrain. The next mile went over a hill, then dropped to Laurel Shelter. This was the start of several rolling hills.
I laughed when I arrived at the shelter. About 20 yards in front of it stood a large sign with a directional arrow pointing to the shelter. The sign said, "Trail Shelter," which struck me as absurdly unnecessary. I saw the shelter well before I reached the sign and there could be no doubt what it was.
Tengo Hambre and I stopped for a rest break at the shelter and collected water from the creek that flowed in front of the sign.
In a little more that 1.5 miles from the shelter, we passed Shoal Creek Church. Historians say it is one of only six hand-hewn log churches still standing in Alabama, but some details of its congregation remain unknown.
It is believed that two other churches stood on this site before the one standing here now was built between 1885 and 1890. Church records show there were 63 male and 76 female members in 1889. Congregants were expected to follow a published set of rules that prohibited under threat of expulsion "dancing, drinking, profanity, unChristian conduct, departing from the faith, card playing, and similar offenses."
Church membership began to decline in the early 1900s as lumber companies began buying up land for logging. It is believed that regular services were discontinued in 1914. The building continues to be used once a year for a traditional sacred harp service on Labor Day weekend.
The only spot we could find to stop for lunch was on a log in the sun, which was too hot to stay there for long.
Except for a section that was overgrown and in need of maintenance, the last five miles of the day were not particularly noteworthy. The trail went mostly downhill the whole distance, with several easy stream crossings. A small waterfall was at one of these and we stopped there for a short break.
The trail made short ups and downs. I found cell service was available at the top of one climb, so I sent a text message to the caretaker at Hearn Inn in Cave Spring. The conversation Tengo and I had with Mowgli prompted us to realize we would arrive there a day earlier than planned, so we needed to change our arrival date. Fortunately, we still expected to arrive on a weekday (Monday) and not a weekend, when the inn is often booked for weddings.
The last stream crossing of the day was the first time the trail crossed Choccolocco Creek.
"Choccolocco" is a word that's frequently found in this part of Alabama, which combines the Creek Indian words for "shoals" and "big." Choccolocco Creek may have big shoals downstream from here as it flows to the Coosa River, but at this crossing, it was shallow and narrow.
I started to get hot and feel drained during the last mile of the day. The trail went up and across another earthen floodwater retarding dam. No one was fishing on the lake formed by this dam when I crossed it.
There was also no one at Choccolocco Shelter when I arrived there at 5:45 p.m. Tengo got there before me and had already left to retrieve some water. After I did the same, we set up our tents near the shelter.
We thought we might have some company staying here tonight because this was a Friday night. The shelter was near a gravel Forest Service road, which meant this could be a popular spot for local weekend partiers. That didn't turn out to be the case, though for a time it seemed like it would come to that.
Shortly after I fell asleep, I began to hear in a dream the revving sound of a truck engine. The noise continued long enough that I eventually woke up and realized there was a truck or 4WD vehicle nearby. There were also sounds of people shouting, and though I couldn't hear what they were saying, I thought they were trying to get their vehicle unstuck.
Whoever it was, they never came to the shelter. After a few more minutes, the revving and shouting ended and I fell back asleep.
