Day 16, Simms Mountain Trail to Taylor Ridge

The trailhead was where the Pinhoti Trail joined the Simms Mountain Trail, which had been converted to a walking trail from an old railroad bed. We followed it with its wide turns and no climbs for 11.5 miles.

Years ago, this trail was a line of the Central of Georgia Railroad, which connected Chattanooga, Tennessee with Macon and Savannah. The first trains to pass this way ran in 1888.

For long stretches, the footpath was covered in cinders. I'm sure these were remnants of the rail bed. The iron rails and wooden ties were salvaged long ago.

The gaiters I wore over my shoe tops didn't do well at keeping out the cinders. I had to make frequent stops to empty them from my shoes.

The first four miles of the trail had a shady canopy of trees. Then we crossed Georgia Highway 100, also known here as Holland Road. After that, we were in and out of shade until we crossed the highway again, several miles down the trail.

For the remainder of the Simms Mountain Trail, we walked alongside the highway. The first thing I noticed while in one of the open sections of the trail was a large chicken farm, which was only partially visible on the other side of the road. It was one of those factory farms with several long barns that raise thousands of chickens at a time.

The farm may have been hard to see from the trail, but apparently, it was often easy to smell. Some comments posted in the FarOut app mentioned objectionable odors coming from the farm. We may have gotten lucky with the wind blowing in a favorable direction because I didn't notice a bad smell.

Seeing the chicken barns and knowing about the complaints reminded me of a story about the Appalachian Trail. The original southern terminus of that trail was on Mount Oglethorpe, where there were several chicken farms. Hikers complained so bitterly about the stench from the farms that the terminus was moved in 1958 to Springer Mountain.

There was also a comment in FarOut that said the trail on this section was flooded six weeks ago. The hiker who reported that said there was so much water they had to walk on the highway.

We didn't get far down the trail before finding it wasn't yet completely dried after the flooding. There was nowhere to walk without getting our feet wet or caked in mud. The trail was either a large puddle of water or mud as thick as peanut butter that clumped to the bottoms of our shoes.

The old railroad bed made a wide bend before passing by the unincorporated community of Holland.

Trains stopped here for many years. The community was large enough to have its own post office from 1879 to 1953. Today, there were little more here than a few homes, a store that was closed when we walked by, and a church.

When it was time for lunch, Tengo and I sat on an embankment in a shady spot just off the trail. Some boys rode past on ATVs while we were there. I couldn't tell if motorized vehicles were allowed on the trail, but the cinders on the old railroad bed seemed to prevent damage to it.

That changed when we left the Simms Mountain Trail. The footpath was no longer a former railroad bed, but it was still used by ATVs. As a result, there was a lot of damage done to the trail.

The damage was so bad in a few spots that we had to walk around deep trenches filled with mud and water.

We stopped to collect water when we came to a creek. This would be our last chance to get water for nearly 15 miles. We were about to make a long climb to a dry ridge.

As I sometimes do when I've stopped for a short break, I pulled out my phone and looked at the map. This time, I didn't just look ahead to the next few miles. I was curious about what the trail looked like north of Dalton. That's when I hit upon an idea. If we could get a ride from Dalton to the northern terminus, we could then finish the trail by walking back to Dalton.

This idea may seem a little complicated, but I immediately saw some valid advantages to it. The biggest of these was to make it easier for my wife to pick us up when we were done. I decided to do more research on this as soon as I had a strong enough cellular signal.

After collecting 3.5 liters of water, which I hoped would be enough for tonight and tomorrow morning, we continued on the rough trail. It improved to a single-track after it crossed Highway 100 for a second time.

After the road crossing, we climbed steeply for two miles up the slope of High Point. The trail would not take us to the summit of this mountain. Instead, it circled its way up before reaching the top of Taylor Ridge on the other side of the peak.

The only view on the way up was a gap in the trees cut for a power line.

Turning at the cut to look toward the mountain's summit, I could see a fire lookout tower standing at the top of High Point. I was surprised that the trail didn't go to it.

According to my friend Baguette, who hiked the Pinhoti Trail in 2020, ATV riders like to drive up to the tower, sometimes at night. This was useful information as we looked for a place to camp.

The time was 4 p.m. when I took in the views from the power line cut. I still had 1.4 miles to reach the top of Taylor Ridge.

The climb to the top of the ridge was a slog while carrying a pack loaded with three days of food, a full fuel canister, and 3.5 liters of water.

When I reached the ridge on the other side of High Point, I saw the road Baguette mentioned. With the time approaching 5 p.m., it was time to start thinking about a place to camp.

FarOut showed a campsite was 3.6 miles away. Comments posted about the site said it was full of high weeds and poison oak.

Before that was a cell tower, and some comments noted a camping spot was nearby, though its suitability was questionable. There were reports of a guy living there for several weeks with his two dogs.

When we found the campsite, we didn't see signs of anyone homesteading there. The time was now 5:15 p.m., which seemed like a good enough time to stop for the night.

With a cell tower standing a tenth of a mile away, it was no surprise the reception at our site was strong. After I crawled into my tent for the evening, I took advantage of the connection to research how we might flip from Dalton to the northern terminus and hike back.

I found the phone number of a shuttle driver in the area, so I texted to ask if he was available. He replied quickly and said he could drive us to the terminus for $60. That seemed reasonable to me.

Just as I expected it would be, today was better than yesterday. The scenery wasn't especially memorable, but it wasn't more of yesterday's bland highway views. The trail was mostly easy, despite being a mess in a few spots and dishing out a long climb near the end.

And the day ended with a solution to something that had nagged me from the start. Until now, I wasn't sure where Kim could easily drive to when Tengo and I finished the trail.

All of these things had me feeling pretty darn good about the day. Then I discovered a mouse in my tent. It had chewed a hole in the netting to get in.