Day 14, Hawkins Hollow Shelter to Cave Spring

I wasn't as successful as I hoped with the first goal. Tengo and I only started walking about 15 minutes earlier than usual. However, I was in good shape with the second goal. I left our campsite at Hawkins Hollow Shelter carrying two liters of water. That would be plenty to get to the next water source, which was 5.6 miles away.

Most of the first 3.3 miles went up, with more than 1,100 feet of elevation gain. 

The trail followed a creek for two-tenths of a mile, then turned toward Indian Mountain. The trail left the boundary of Indian Mountain ATV Park on the way up and entered land acquired for the state by the Forever Wild Land Trust. 

Just because the trail was no longer on the ATV park's property didn't mean we were away from ATV trails. It wasn't long before we came across more. The Pinhoti didn't share a footpath with any of the deeply eroded trails, but we had to cross them. 

The first one we came to was a wide, deep gash in the forest. 

The next ATV trail was worse. Crossing it required extra effort to climb out of the deep trench.

An amendment to Alabama's state constitution established the Forever Wild Land Trust, giving the state the ability to acquire lands for conservation and recreation without spending taxpayer dollars. The land is purchased with money from offshore natural gas royalties and the sale of vanity license plates.

Once it is acquired, the land is managed by the Alabama Department of Conservation and Natural Resources.

A small cluster of trees was the only living plant life to be found on the top of Flagpole Mountain. The rest of the ground was barren, trampled by ATVs. Besides the few trees on this patch of dirt were a garbage can, a Christian cross, and a tall flagpole with a U.S. flag.

A flagpole is expected on a mountain called Flagpole Mountain. This is Alabama, so I suppose it's also unsurprising to find a cross on state-owned land.

The first two miles on the other side of Flagpole Mountain made a steady drop to the state line and Spring Creek Shelter. 

We didn't have to walk around or over any more ATV trails, but there were a couple of obstacles to negotiate.

The first was a thick bed of poison ivy. 

That was followed a few minutes later by large boulders. The footpath was sometimes indistinct through here, requiring careful navigating. A few blue blazes helped with that, but they were sometimes placed low on a rock and almost hidden.

I arrived at the state line at 10 a.m., and when I stepped across to the Georgia side, the time was 11 a.m. Flags of both states flew from poles mounted on a post.

I've hiked in 24 states and have crossed many state lines. The flags made this one the most elaborate of all I've crossed on a long-distance trail. Most state lines are marked only by a small sign or perhaps license plates from the two states. Some borders are identified in a minimalist way. The line between New York and New Jersey on the Appalachian Trail has only "N.Y./N.J." painted on a rock.

There were more rocks to step over and around on the way down to Spring Creek Shelter. It was one of the smallest shelters found on any trail.

Tengo was waiting for me there. We ate snacks and filtered water for the next section of the trail. We didn't need to carry two liters this time because a creek was only 3.2 miles away.

The creek would be our last opportunity to get water until we reached Cave Spring, and I reminded myself not to walk past it without stopping.

The day was heating up despite some shade provided by many pine trees. The trees were small and often spaced close together.

The blue blazes painted on the trees were helpful because the forest floor was covered in pine needles, sometimes obscuring where the trail went.

After several minutes of walking through the forest, it suddenly dawned on me that the blazes were no longer blue. They had been the same shade of blue since we left the southern terminus two weeks ago. Now I saw white blazes.

Then I remembered reading that blazes in Georgia were not the same color as in Alabama. Even though it was the same trail, the two states have different organizations maintaining it. I'm unsure why those first few in Georgia were blue.

(NOTE: The Pinhoti Trail Alliance organized an effort in 2024 to repaint all the white blazes in Georgia the same "pool party blue" color used in Alabama. They should now be consistent along the entire trail.)

The trail looped around a pond, passed a beaver dam, and crossed a stream on a wooden footbridge. After stopping for water again, I got behind Tengo and didn't get a chance to tell him about a suggestion I saw in FarOut. It said to turn on a road instead of continuing on the trail to where it crossed another creek. 

I decided to take the suggestion because the road would soon lead me back to the trail near the creek. As I walked down the road, however, the trail junction was poorly marked, and I failed to see it. Realizing my mistake, I doubled back and found the trail.

That's when I noticed Tengo was standing on the other side of the creek and looking confused. It turned out that the advice in FarOut was correct because the other creek crossing was flooded. There was no place to rock-hop across.

I told Tengo how I followed the road and then waited as he went around that way.

After Tengo caught up, we continued on the trail. A short distance later, there was a lovely curved boardwalk before the trail reached Georgia Highway 100.

Some FarOut commenters claimed the highway was a better route into Cave Spring than staying on the trail. Tengo and I thought about it, but the idea of walking on an asphalt highway on a sunny afternoon was not appealing. We stayed on the official route.

By the time we got to Cave Spring Road, my burst of energy was starting to wane. I was ready to be done, but there were still 2.4 miles to walk into town.

The road was narrow with no shoulder. The hard, hot asphalt pavement pounded my feet. This last section of the trail was a brutal way to end the day.

At least I now knew for sure we had gone the better way. If we had taken the alternate route on Highway 100, we would have walked on 5.3 miles of pavement.

My agony ended when we arrived at Hearn Inn at 5:45 p.m. The inn had once been a female dormitory for the Georgia School for the Deaf. It and other buildings in a large park are owned by the Cave Spring Historical Society and can be rented for weddings, meetings, and other functions.

When we arrived at the inn, I sent a text message to Callie, the historical society's facilities manager. She told me where to find a key to get in the front door and where to find our rooms. We were the only guests staying there tonight.

We found the inn was beautifully maintained and filled with antiques. After getting cleaned up, Tengo and I walked down the street for dinner at Southern Flavor, the only restaurant in Cave Spring that was open tonight. It was a small town with 1,200 residents.

We were able to do our laundry at the inn after dinner. While we did that, we arranged with Callie to slackpack tomorrow and then stay a second night at the inn. The way this will work is Callie's husband will pick us up in the morning at 7:30 and drive us to a trailhead north of town. We can then hike the trail south back to Cave Spring.

Callie said no one was booked to stay in the inn tomorrow night, so we could stay in the same rooms. The day after tomorrow, we will get another ride to start hiking north from where we started yesterday.

The distance we will walk tomorrow was about 20 miles, and because the entire trail section was on roads, slackpacking (walking with a nearly empty backpack) was ideal for this section.

Tengo told me tonight he found two ticks. I found one that was crawling and not yet embedded in my skin. As I had planned to do every day, I sprayed myself this morning with bug repellent. It looks like I'll need to do that more than once each day.