Day 12, Choccolocco Shelter to Oakey Mountain Shelter

From Choccolocco Shelter, we followed a short side trail back to the Pinhoti. Then a climb took us to the side of a ridge that ran along the lake. The Pinhoti followed that north along the shore without dropping close to the water’s edge or going up to the ridge’s top.

The lake is sometimes labeled on maps as Greenleaf Watershed. The dam that impounds the water from Choccolocco Creek is named Choccolocco Site 2.

After walking above the lake for about a half mile, the trail turned to follow a small stream that fed the lake.

This section along the stream was a modest climb. At the top, the trail turned and crossed Rabbittown Road. A dirt parking lot was located there. At one time, a home and barn owned by Pink Edward "Pinky" Burns stood at this spot.

Except for his time serving in the U.S. Army during World War II, Burns lived there all his life. His niece says she never knew him to have a "real" job. He lived a simple life as a trapper, hunter, and fisherman. His house never had indoor plumbing or electricity.

When Pinky Burns died in 1999 at the age of 81, ownership of the land and home reverted to the U.S. Forest Service because of an agreement made years earlier. The Pinhoti Trail was constructed on his former land in 2004.

Arsonists burned down his house in 2009 and his barn in 2011.

After walking across the parking lot, the trail soon entered Dugger Mountain Wilderness. The bill to designate these 8,947 acres as a wilderness area was signed by President Bill Clinton the month after Pinky Burns died. The Pinhoti extends about eight miles through the wilderness area.

Dugger Mountain stands 2,140 feet above sea level and is Alabama's second-highest peak. The name comes from Thomas Dugger, who lived on 40 acres at the mountain's base after serving in the Civil War.

More than one description of Dugger's ownership of the land repeats the phrase "40 acres and a mule," as if he was awarded the land because of his service in the Civil War. This claim can't be true and must be based on the coincidence that Dugger owned 40 acres. Land wasn't given to Civil War veterans. It was given to freed slaves, and only in a limited area of coastal South Carolina and Georgia.

Like so much of Alabama and the rest of the southeast, nearly all of the trees on this land were cut down in the early 1900s. A few small areas weren’t cleared, however, because the slope was too steep.

Starting from the wilderness area's boundary, the trail went sharply up a slope of Red Mountain, climbing 360 feet in eight-tenths of a mile. Later, the trail passed through a "green tunnel" of mountain laurel that reminded me of the AT.

Farther up the trail, we had to walk through a wide patch of poison ivy. It encroached on both sides of the footpath, and I felt like I was walking on a tightrope to avoid stepping in it.

As I neared the summit of Dugger Mountain, I passed a cairn. I didn't realize until I was well past it that the stones marked where the wreckage of a plane crash could be found about 150 feet from the trail.

The crash of a Cessna plane with three men on board happened on November 2, 1998. They were returning to Georgia from a hunting trip in Iowa when their plane slammed into the mountain on a cold, drizzly evening near sunset.

The pilot survived. His father and brother died in the crash. According to a local newspaper account of the crash, the 35-year-old pilot suffered a broken leg and internal injuries. He made a crutch out of a tree branch before walking down from the mountaintop.

The Pinhoti didn’t go over the top of the mountain but passed near it. I didn’t see any notable views from there because it was covered in trees.

A fire tower used to stand at the top of Dugger Mountain. When the Dugger Mountain Wilderness Act of 1999 was enacted, a stipulation was included to remove the tower. The structure did not comply with federal wilderness area regulations and was no longer in use.

A private citizen purchased the structure, and it was lifted off the mountain by a helicopter.

Just below the mountain’s peak and not far from the trail was supposed to be a spring. I spent several minutes looking for it but never found it. The spring must have been dry because I also didn't find any water flowing down the mountain.

Making the 2.5-mile descent on the other side of the mountain was smooth and easy. I met three day hikers who were coming up the mountain. They told me they were hoping to find the plane crash site.

I wasn't concerned that I didn’t find the spring because I knew the trail would cross a flowing stream in less than two miles.

Tengo was at the stream when I arrived there at 1:15 p.m. We stayed for several minutes to eat lunch and refill our water bottles.

Most of the remainder of the afternoon went by fast. We didn’t bother to stop at North Dugger Mountain Shelter. One section of the trail followed an old logging road with a gentle grade.

By 3:30 p.m., I was getting close to Terrapin Creek. I knew this when I saw a small lake, which was formed by the third of the three floodwater retarding dams the trail crossed. This one’s official name was Terrapin Creek Watershed Dam Number 31, and the lake was called Forrister Watershed.

There wasn't much of Terrapin Creek to see when I looked down from the top of the 73-foot-tall dam. I didn’t see much water because trees made a complete canopy over the creek.

Before this dam and other flood control projects were completed, Terrapin Creek had a long history of "waters covering highways, wagons washed off roads and mules drowned.” The creek and farmland in the watershed were also badly impacted by silt and erosion.

There are reports that good spots for fishing can be found downstream from the dam. The creek is also popular for floating and paddling.

The trail descended from the dam to a couple of streams that fed the creek. Tengo and I stopped at one to get water. The time was now past 4:30 p.m., and we talked about our camping options for tonight.

We knew the next water source was a stream 2.1 miles away. We always prefer to camp near water, and comments in FarOut said camping sites could be found there. A shelter was 3.3 miles away and had spaces for tents, but it was a dry site.

We decided to give the stream a try first.

Getting to the potential campsite required going up and over the steepest climb of the day. The trail went up 900 feet in 1.6 miles. The next half mile made a descent to the stream we had in mind for camping that was nearly as steep as the previous climb, though not as long.

When we got there at nearly 6 p.m., much of the ground near the stream was wet. We didn’t find any spots that looked dry and suitable to pitch a tent. We had no choice then but to collect more water and carry it to the shelter.

Thankfully, the 1.2 miles to get there didn't include another big climb.

When we arrived at Oakey Mountain Shelter, another hiker was already there. He told us his name was Nicholas and he was section-hiking the trail going northbound.

I was momentarily baffled when I happened to glance at my phone. The time on it was an hour later than I expected. How could it be so late, I wondered. Then I realized my cell reception must have connected to a tower in Georgia, which is on Eastern time.

The shelter was about six miles from the state line, but there are still 20 miles of trail to walk before we cross into Georgia.