Fly Fishing Alabama's Sipsey Fork

You want to go fly fishing for trout in Alabama? Your only option is the Lower Sipsey Fork in north-central part of the state. Fishing is done in the tailwaters below Smith Lake dam, where the Sipsey Fork flows cold and free. This is a stocked fishery, rainbow trout are released every month except August and the water is cold enough to support a year round fishery.


Dawn on the Sipsey Fork

The best fishing is upstream from the Birmingham Water Works Pump Station, although there are over 12 miles of good fishing from the dam down to the confluence with the Mulberry Fork. The upper reaches are good for wading and stream side fishing; downstream is better for float fishing. The upper reaches are full of riffles, eddies and pools where trout congregate and the Sipsey on this stretch resembles a typical Appalachian mountain stream. 

The local chapter of Trout Unlimited is constantly working to provide improved fish habitat and, due to the cold water, fish survive and can grow up to 18 inches or bigger.

Caution: Alabama Power Company generates power on a frequent but irregular, check for release schedules before entering the river—a warning siren will announce any releases but don’t count on hearing it and water levels increases quickly. Be sure to have an escape route in mind. Generation schedules are available on the web at www.lakes.alabamapower.com; but the schedules are subject to change without notice.

For info on fishing conditions, access and other questions contact Riverside Fly Shop in Jasper, AL www.riversideflyshop.com

State Record Bird Sighting

On June 3, 2010 Sara Ress Wittenberg sighted a White Wagtail in Ruby Valley Nevada. It was the first ever sighting of a White Wagtail in Nevada and a rare sighting of the bird in the lower 48.

White Wagtail picture taken June 3, 2010 in Ruby Valley, NV

Thursday morning dawned bright and clear and—best of all—warm. Ruby Valley had experienced an exceptionally long and cold winter. It had in fact snowed just three days earlier, a scant frosting that covered the towering peaks of the Ruby Mountains with a thin veil of white, the last gasp of a bitter winter.

In Ruby Valley, surrounded by the towering 11,000 feet Ruby Mountains on the west and the Maverick Mountains on the east, the waterfowl were just starting to hatch their young. The first of the year’s Canada goslings and Mallard ducklings paddled through the expansive bulrush marshes of Ruby Lake National Wildlife Refuge and Sandhill Crane parents kept a close eye on their downy covered young.

Ruby Lake NWR is a 37,000 acre refuge that lies about two hours south of the town of Elko, the most remote national wildlife refuge in the lower 48. Its patchwork of marshland and open water boasts the largest population of Canvasback ducks west of the Mississippi River (excepting Alaska) and a myriad of other species—Northern Shovelers, Ruddy Ducks, Northern Pintails, Gadwalls, almost every duck species endemic to the United States. The marshes are surrounded by sagebrush and willow thickets that attract coyotes, mink, beaver, pronghorn, and mule deer.

It is also a birder’s paradise. Two hundred twenty five species have been reported on the refuge. That was before June 3rd. We had been birding in the far reaches of the refuge all week, and a fruitful week it was. We had spotted hundreds of birds and 85 species including Burrowing Owls, Short-eared Owls, Golden Eagles and White-faced Ibis. Sara Ress Wittenberg, my daughter and the wife of the assistant refuge manager, was our guide. An accomplished birder, she could spot birds way before the rest of us and we had enjoyed a good week of birding and wildlife watching.

We were taking a break from birding on Thursday and touring Gallagher State Fish Hatchery, located just south of the refuge headquarters. We were listening to our tour guide explain the workings of the hatchery when Wittenberg noticed a small black-and-white bird hopping in the gravel near the hatchery garage. I took a look – “Snow Bunting?” I proposed. “I don’t think so” she said. But we refocused on our tour guide for the moment, trying to appear much more interested in the fish and what he had to say than this intriguing bird that neither of us had ever seen before, whatever it was.

We finished the tour, thanked our guide and retreated back to Wittenberg’s house for lunch. But the bird was still nagging at us and Wittenberg pulled out her Sibley guide. She thumbed through it. “Oh my gosh,” she said, “I think we saw something unbelievable.”

“Don’t tell me.” I said, “Let me see if we agree.”

I paged quickly through her Sibley, passing quickly over the bunting (too small). What else is black and white? Magpie? Too big. Wagtail? Nah, not in Nevada. But I looked at the illustration in the guide. Same markings, right color, size and shape. That was it.

“Wagtail!” I said, “It was a Wagtail!”

“I think so too. We have to go back.”

We were upset with ourselves, first for dismissing the bird and going ahead with the tour and also for not having our binoculars and guide with us. They had been our constant companions all week but for the tour we left them behind. To make matters worse, my wife always toted her camera along, and we had not even considered having her snap a quick photograph of the bird!

We jumped in the car and tore back down the road to the hatchery. We glassed the gravel lots and split up to search around the buildings. No luck. How could this be? We were sure we had spied a very rare bird but if we couldn’t get a better look we couldn’t be sure. A combination of anguish and frustration set in. How could we be so stupid? We should have gone with our initial impressions and quit the tour and pursued the bird. Now it was gone.

"Over here!”

I ran around the corner of the hatchery building and there it was, blending almost perfectly in with the gravel, not 30 feet from Wittenberg. As she was glassing it, I raised my binoculars and did the same. It was a White Wagtail - matched the illustration perfectly.

“We have to get a picture,” she said. “No one will believe it.”

And we did. Many, in fact, good shots that confirmed the ID.

Wittenberg reported the sighting on the internet the same day and it was accepted, a first state sighting. Word spread quickly over the internet and birders were on their way to Ruby Valley the next day, some from as far as Las Vegas, seven hours away. Unfortunately, the bird was never spotted in the area again.

It was an exciting and fun experience. As Wittenberg said “I always read about people seeing rarities and thought ‘Who are those people?’ I figured they were all pro birders, no way someone like me could ever report a sighting.”

And we learned lessons from the experience. First, don’t doubt your sighting. If you think it’s something rare, it probably is. If it isn’t, you still have the momentary thrill of thinking it is and doing the detective work to verify or dismiss your tentative ID.

Second, verify the ID. Use your guides, and most importantly (especially for a rare bird), get a picture – crucial in validating the sighting for records. I am convinced that had Wittenberg not had a clear photograph, her sighting would have been doubted, and certainly not accepted as a state record. Like the vast majority of birders, she is not a recognized “regular” of accomplished birders within the birding community and her report would have undoubtedly been viewed with skepticism.

Third, don’t doubt your birding skills. No matter how impossible it seems that the bird you are looking at could be whatever unusual species you think it is, keep an open mind. If we had dismissed this sighting as my initial thought, a Snow Bunting, the most likely similar black-and-white bird in the area, we would have never correctly identified it. Think outside the box and consider all possibilities.

Finally, keep your binoculars with you all the time. We had ours with us all week, except for this one hour interval! Lesson learned!

(This article, originally titled "Who Are Those People? appeared in Bird Watcher's Digest)

Birding Northern Nevada

Far from the lights and tumult of Las Vegas and Reno, the other end of Nevada is a wild and isolated region that beckons to birders. Northern Nevada is a true remnant of the Old West; sparsely populated, starkly beautiful, and an outdoor delight. All those symbols of the Wild West—hardy cowboys on horseback, working cattle ranches, wild mustang, tumbleweeds—that you thought had faded into oblivion? They’re still here. This is one of the most remote and isolated places left in the lower 48, crowded with snow capped peaks, expansive high desert valleys, open marshes and plenty of wildlife. It is a great place to spot pronghorn, mountain lion, mountain goat, mule deer, bighorn sheep and badgers, as well as hundreds of species of birds.

All this means that if you love the outdoors, you’ll love northern Nevada. In addition to birding, this rugged area is a great place for flyfishing, hiking, skiing or just laid back driving through tiny cowboy towns. It is the antithesis of glittery, pulsating Vegas. It is also the perfect setting for an exciting birding adventure.

Within a day’s drive of each other there are a number of excellent birding spots: Ruby Lake National Wildlife Refuge, the Goshute Mountains, Lamoille Canyon, Ruby Crest National Recreational Trail and Great Basin National Park. Sprinkle in some intriguing historical sites and spectacular scenery for an unforgettable visit.

The jump-off point for exploring the region is the town of Elko, four hours due west of Salt Lake City on I-80. In the late 1800’s Elko was a stronghold for Basque sheepherders who emigrated from their homeland in northern Spain to raise sheep in the nearby Ruby Mountains. You’re about to embark into a remote region; this could be your last look at civilization for a while so don’t leave town without enjoying a hearty and traditional Basque meal at one of many Basque-style restaurants.

Ruby Crest National Recreation Trail

From Elko head south to the Ruby Mountains, named after the abundant garnets present in the range, and hike among 11,000 foot peaks and picturesque high altitude lakes on the Ruby Crest National Recreation Trail. The Trail is a rugged 38-mile trail that roughly traces the crest of the Rubies. It begins in Lamoille Canyon and ends at Harrison Pass. A strenuous hike? For sure, but it is perhaps the best way to encounter North America’s only population of Himalayan Snowcocks, a quarry that was featured in the movie The Big Year. These birds were introduced from their native Pakistan by the Nevada Fish and Game Commission in 1961 and a wild population has become established. Steve Martin and Jack Black hired a helicopter to bag the Snowcock in the movie, but you don’t need to go to that extreme, although the birds are very elusive. They stay above the treeline and have been reported at higher elevations on Thomas Peak, Wine Peak and Tipton Peak, among other locations on the trail. In addition to Snowcocks, the high peaks of the Rubies offer opportunities to spot Mountain Bluebirds, Golden Eagles, Clark’s Nutcrackers, Black Rosy-Finches and Bald Eagles.

Lamoille Canyon Scenic Byway

If you’re not up to the rigorous trek, opt for the easily accessible Lamoille Canyon. This ten-mile-long canyon features multiple peaks over 11,000 feet and the Lamoille Canyon Scenic Byway winds up through the canyon, offering optimal views of the glaciated walls where Bighorn Sheep, Mule Deer and Mountain Goats may be spotted from your car. Himalayan Snowcocks have also been spotted in the canyon, near the Island Lake area. Keep your eyes open for Clark’s Nutcrackers, Wild Turkey, Mountain Chickadees, Red-breasted Nuthatches, Ferruginous Hawks and Golden Eagles. And don’t go stumbling down the trails with your eyes focused on the trees; porcupines are seemingly everywhere and brushing up with one would definitely ruin your day.

Ruby Lake National Wildlife Refuge

After you leave Lamoille Canyon, catch a hearty dinner under the watchful eye of a mounted deer head at the quaint Pine Lodge in the town of Lamoille. Then drive south to Ruby Lake National Wildlife Refuge, a 35,000 acre expanse of marshland that is home to healthy concentrations of ducks and waterfowl. Drive the dike roads through the marshes looking for pronghorn and badgers and check off Burrowing Owls, Pinyon Jays, Short-eared Owls, Northern Harriers, Yellow-headed Blackbirds, Marsh Wrens and--the refuge's real attraction--thousands of ducks, geese and waterfowl. You can depend on a multiple species of ducks including Canvasbacks, Cinnamon Teal, Gadwalls, Ruddy Ducks, Northern Pintails, Green-winged Teal, Redheads, American Widgeons, Northern Shovelers, Bufflehead, Common Goldeneye, Ring-necked Ducks, Lesser Scaup and even an occasional Wood Duck plus the chance to spot Sandhill Cranes, White-faced Ibis, Double-crested Cormorants, Great Egrets, Western and Clark’s Grebes, Long-billed Curlews, and Nevada’s only resident population of Trumpeter Swans. Ferruginous Hawks and Golden Eagles can often be spotted in the tall trees near historic Bressman Cabin on the refuge and Northern Harriers are common in the marshes.

If your quest goes beyond waterfowl, the areas around Cave Creek near the refuge headquarters and the nearby Gallagher State Fish Hatchery are a haven for Broad-tailed Hummingbirds, Calliope Hummingbirds, Rufous and Black-chinned Hummingbirds, Yellow-headed Blackbirds, Black-billed Magpies, Lazuli Buntings and Williamson’s Sapsuckers. A fairly impressive number of Turkey Vultures roost in the trees near the refuge headquarters in the summer.

The hatchery is always a fruitful birding spot and a wide variety of birds can be picked up there--a state record White Wagtail was spotted in the hatchery parking lot in 2010. The willow trees ringing the outflow ponds just behind the hatchery are a reliable area for picking up Downy and Hairy Woodpeckers, Yellow Warblers, Marsh Wrens, a variety of sparrows and an occasional Long-eared Owl. The trail into Indian Creek, two miles north of the refuge headquarters is a good place to spot mountain goats, Loggerhead Shrikes, Chukar, Bushtit, Western Bluebirds, and Mountain Chickadees.

Watch for Lewis’ Woodpeckers on the telephone poles along the road to the refuge (for periods each spring it seems as if there is one on every third or fourth pole). Closer to the refuge headquarters, refuge staff recently added a number of artificial burrows to increase the population of Burrowing Owls. The refuge is essentially three-season birding, since the road across Harrison Pass from the west is often impassible and even the road from Wells can sometimes be problematic. If you do go in winter you can see Tundra Swans, as well as a good number of overwintering Rough-legged Hawks.

The refuge and adjoining areas are also home to some interesting historical sites. The infamous Donner Party temporarily camped about 300 meters south of the current refuge headquarters building near Cave Creek (although this was prior to their notorious culinary incident). And a few miles further south the original Pony Express Trail transected Ruby Valley. The crumbling remnants of Fort Ruby, an 1860’s era U.S. Army outpost which was constructed near the Pony Express Trail to protect riders and emigrant travelers from Native American raiders, are still evident along the refuge road. It was so remote it was called the “Worst Post in the West” by soldiers stationed there.

Great Basin National Park

From the refuge the drive to Great Basin National Park near the town of Baker, Nevada is a starkly beautiful drive on Highway 50, the “Loneliest Road in America”. Great Basin National Park is home to the 13,063 foot Wheeler Peak, glacial moraines, 5000-year-old bristlecone pines, mountain goats, bighorn sheep and mountain lions. Hike Wheeler Peak and spot Clark's Nutcrackers, Swainson's Hawks and Ferruginous Hawks.

The National Park elevation ranges from about 5000 feet to more than 13,000 feet so a diversity of habitats means a huge variety of birds. Hike Lehman Peak Trail, which climbs alongside Lehman Creek to spy Western Scrub Jay, Pinyon Jay, Steller’s Jay, Say’s Phoebe and Plumbeous Vireo. Alpine Lakes Loop takes you by two lakes above 10,000 feet and is great for seeing raptors include Northern Goshawk, Sharp-shinned Hawk, Rough-legged Hawk, Swainson’s Hawk, Ferruginous Hawk and Golden Eagle. The steep and rugged Wheeler Peak Summit Trail takes you to the top of Wheeler Peak and you can count on Chukar, Common Ravens, Mountain Bluebirds, Townsend’s Solitaire and Black-billed Magpies.

Spend the night in Baker and enjoy a hearty meal in the eclectic Lectrolux Café--the food is homemade and delicious.

Goshute Mountains

East of Ruby Valley are the Goshute Mountains, dominating the busiest raptor migration route in the western United States. Running north-to-south, the Goshutes act as a funnel, concentrating migrating raptors between the barren Great Salt Lake to the east and the Great Basin mountain ranges to the west. The Goshutes range up to 10,000 feet and in the fall thousands of migrating birds take advantage of this forested finger of bristlecone pines and fir trees to rest and forage during their annual fall migration. The result? A raptor watcher’s dream, with literally hundreds of migrating raptors soaring past on a daily basis.

For over two decades HawkWatch International has conducted bird counts and banding programs in the Goshutes during the migration season (late August to early November). Standing on the crest of the Goshutes, you can observe Golden Eagles, Red-tailed Hawks, American Kestrels, Northern Goshawks, Northern Harriers, Sharp-shinned Hawks, Cooper’s Hawks, Broad-winged Hawks, Swainson’s Hawks, Merlins, Ferruginous Hawks, Bald Eagles, Peregrine Falcons, Prairie Falcons and Rough-legged Hawks. Add in the chance to glimpse Flammulated Owls, Northern Saw-Whet Owls and Great Horned Owls and your raptor quota is pretty much filled up. HawkWatch International welcomes visitors to its observation area and at its banding site where you can observe birds in hand and the banding process up close—and from the observation area on the crest of the Goshutes you can gaze upon soaring raptors at, even below, eye level. Literally hundreds of raptors migrate past the Goshutes in a typical day and the HawkWatch banding station will capture, band and release dozens of birds daily.

Northern Nevada is the whole range of birding in a microcosm: raptors, waterfowl, montane species, woodland birds, prairie birds, and high desert species; all in an area that can be birded in a relatively short period of time. Throw in the harshly captivating mountain ranges, eye-pleasing scenery, cowboy ambience, and untamed spaces and you’ll have a hard time finding a better and more diverse birding destination.


Visitor Information:

Great Basin National Park
100 Great Basin National Park
Baker, NV 89311
(775) 234-7331
http://www.nps.gov/grba/index.htm

Goshutes Mountains Raptor Migration
HawkWatch International
(801) 484-6808

http://www.hawkwatch.org/conservation-science/migration-research-sites/78-goshute-mountains-raptor-migration-project

Ruby Lake National Wildlife Refuge
HC 60, Box 860

Ruby Valley, Nevada 89833-9802

(775)779-2237

http://www.fws.gov/rubylake/

Lamoille Canyon Scenic Byway

http://www.fs.usda.gov/recarea/htnf/recreation/fishing/recarea/?recid=75383&actid=43

Ruby Crest National Recreation Trail

Humboldt-Toiyabe National Forest

1200 Franklin Way

Sparks, NV 89431

(775) 331-6444

(This article originally appeared in the April 2013 issue of Bird Watcher's Digest)

Barber Vintage Motorcycle Festival

Set aside the second week in October for a trip to Birmingham, Alabama and the Vintage Bike Festival at Barber Motorsports Park. 

It's a weekend long celebration of old and older and the oldest two wheeled mechanical beasts with three full days of races, swap meets, vendors, air shows and good times set amidst Barber's natural beauty and the racetrack, one of America's best. Add in the Barber Motorsports Museum, the largest private motorcycle collection in the world and you have a biker's paradise.

Races are run based on engine size and age so you will see 1950's era 500cc bikes like Triumphs, Nortons and BSAs in one race and the next one may feature 750 cc Hondas, Suzukis and Kawasakis from the 1970's.  It's like a time capsule, pick your favorite bikes and eras and settle in for some hard core racing--because these guys don't baby their bikes around.  You'll see knees scraping on 60 year old bikes (and 60 year old riders).  One race features some of the oldest bikes in existence--motorcycles from the turn of the century--the 20th century.  Harleys and Excelsiors from 1903 speed around the racetrack.

The races are only part of the attraction.  Acres and acres of vendors and sellers offer everything from vintage parts to rare motorcycles. Spend your weekend walking among the booths and find that one-of-a-kind vintage bike you always wanted when you were a kid.  Brit and Italian bikes seem to predominate and production and custom Ducatis, MotoGuzzis, Triumphs, Nortons and BSAs are everywhere.  The famous Ace Cafe and Dime City Cycles have tents set up for visitors.

Florida Flats Fishing

A great winter trip fishing the shallow saltwater grass flats of Florida's Indian River Lagoon. Huge redfish and drum hitting our lines repeatedly for the entire trip. Constant activity on a warm winter day with Captain Rocky Van Hoose from Native Sons fishing. We combined the fishing with the 24 Hours of Daytona race--a fantastic weekend.

Redfish like this all day long

Another big one

And a few big drum

Details:  Native Sons ProFishing Team, http://www.nativesonsfishing.com/

Floating Alabama's Sipsey River

Alabama’s Sipsey Fork (commonly called the Sipsey River) flows south through the William B. Bankhead National Forest. Sipsey Fork is Alabama’s only stream classified as a “National Wild and Scenic River.” Floating the upper Sipsey Fork by kayak or canoe takes you through some of the wildest natural areas left in Alabama. High rock bluffs rise along the river’s edge, thick hardwood forests creep to the shoreline and the river meanders through isolated hills and valleys. Periodically you will glimpse waterfalls cascading from the bluffs and rushing tributaries flowing into the main channel.

The Sipsey Fork is an easy Class I float and low water may require short portages around shoal areas. The best times to float the river are April through June and September through November, not only to avoid hot summer temps and insects but also for the fishing. Bluegill, sunfish, spotted bass, white bass, largemouth bass, and channel catfish can be seen in the river.

There are three floatable sections:

The first section extends from the Thompson Creek access off Forest Service Road #208, downstream to the Sipsey River Recreational Area at the crossing of Winston County Road #60. This nine and one-half (9.5) mile stretch of stream will take about ten hours to float and is within the Sipsey Wilderness. Attempting this stretch should be restricted to the wetter months to avoid having to drag your canoe or kayak over the shoals.

The second section is from the Sipsey River Recreational Area at County Road 60, downstream to the access point at the Highway 33 crossing. This nine-mile trip takes about nine hours to float. It too can be difficult to float during times of little or no rainfall.

The final section is from the access point off Highway 33, downstream to Highway 278 bridge, about ten miles. This stretch starts out with a healthy current but ends up in the slow headwaters of Smith Lake and the last few miles are lined by summer houses and fishing cabins.

DETAILS:  Canoes and kayaks can be rented from Winston Outdoors, 205-489-5000, http://www.smithlakervpark.com/

Information on river levels can be checked with Winston Outdoors and with the local Forest Service Office, 205-489-5111. Always check water levels before going to avoid dragging your boat or encountering unsafe water levels.

Walls of Jericho, Alabama

For decades, northern Alabama has had an area that, due to its forbidden access, gained an almost legendary reputation among the region’s outdoors types. Stories have been traded among hunters, hikers, and climbers for years about the incredible natural rock formations, waterfalls and rugged hills and valleys hidden within the 20,000 or so acres of the area. Even the name—which some say was given to the area by a circuit riding preacher in the 1800s who was awed by the near-spiritual ambience of the cathedral-like canyon--carries a certain mystique.


This rugged wilderness, alluringly called the Walls of Jericho, which has been in private hands and off limits to the general public for decades, has been a cruel enigma for area outdoors enthusiasts—a place that acquired an almost mystical aura yet one that could only be experienced at the risk of being arrested for trespassing.

Since my move to Alabama over a decade ago, I would occasionally hear old timers talk about the towering cliffs and hidden canyons of the Walls of Jericho, about Hurricane Creek which runs clear and swift through the canyons, and about the two-hundred-year-old trees that supposedly stand by the hundreds. But I could never (legally) verify the stories--the land has been closed to the public since 1977 when then-owner, Texas oil millionaire Harry Lee Carter, died and the land became entangled in various legal and familial tussles.

As a result, like hundreds of others, I could never experience first hand the wonders I kept hearing about. All that changed in 2002 when the property came up for sale and The Nature Conservancy, a national conservation group, snapped it up in partnership with the Alabama Department of Conservation and Natural Resources Division of State Lands. The state of Alabama opened up the 12,000-acre portion that lies in Alabama (about 9000 acres are in Tennessee) to the public and is gradually adding facilities that enhance the outdoor experience.

What a bargain Alabama got. This huge tract of creeks, heavily forested mountainsides and tumbling waterfalls is spectacular. The centerpiece is a huge bowl-shaped 200-foot wide gorge that on a rainy spring day looks like a setting out of “Lord of the Rings”. Verdant beds of leafy ferns and velvety blankets of moss crowd the steep canyon walls and water splashes and cascades out of jagged fissures and onto flat slabs that overhang each other stair-step style. Standing within the confines of this natural amphitheatre, you feel like you are embraced in a cocoon of mist and rock. I’ve never seen anyplace like it anywhere else in Alabama.

Part of the reason for the uniqueness is the part of the state where it is located. Northeast Alabama doesn’t fit the Alabama stereotype of flat red clay cotton fields and white Gulf Coast beaches. Think of the mountains of east Tennessee or the hills of north Georgia and you’ll come closer to the terrain of northeast Alabama. And the Walls of Jericho exemplify this topography. From the moment you leave the spartan gravel parking lot and begin your descent into the arms of the Walls area your day is dominated by steep hills, rocky overhangs, and flowing creeks.

Don’t go expecting to be surrounded by elaborate infrastructure. There are no restrooms and no water. The minimal facilities consist of two parking lots, a few signs, a 2.5 mile hiking trail and an 8.3-mile horseback riding trail; other than that, you’re on your own. The main hiking trail is moderately rugged, descending in a series of switchbacks into the depths of the canyon. You’ll have to hike around gaping sinkholes and fallen trees and across a couple of creeks to reach the canyon floor. Until recently this involved wading across Hurricane Creek but a new footbridge means dry feet now.

You’ll know you’re near the valley floor when you see and hear Hurricane Creek rushing through the preserve. The creek hugs the steep valley wall on one side and opens up to a broad level field on the other. This flat field offers good camping sites and a place to graze your horses. Past the field the hiking trail begins a slow ascent along the bank of the creek and the going gets a little more rugged. The trail is muddy and narrow and in some spots you are treading a foot-wide path with a sheer cliff rising on one side and steeply falling away to a raging creek on the other. Just about the time you’re wondering if this trip was worth the effort, the canyon walls open up and the waterfall at the head of the bowl is sitting below you. No matter what time of year you visit, the Walls are spectacular. Although the lush springtime greenery is hard to beat, in the winter the Walls at the head of the creek are often a glistening display of ice falls, frozen columns, and icy sheets shimmering hundreds of feet up the canyon walls.

If your closet is packed with saddles and reins instead of hiking boots, you’re going to love this ride. There is a horses-only parking area that feeds directly into a designated equestrian trail that descends steadily to the valley floor. The horse trail and the hiking trails cross each other a couple of times but for the most part, the two groups will not be aware of each other’s presence.

The trip in sounds daunting but trust me, you won’t be disappointed, the Walls of Jericho is a real gem.

IF YOU GO:
The Walls of Jericho is located west of Scottsboro, Alabama near the town of Hytop. Take Highway 79 north from Highway 72 for about 20 miles. The parking lots are located on the left.

(This article originally appeared in the Huntsville Times)

Seven Southern Summits

In the world of extreme adventure one achievement stands out: climbing the seven summits. These are the highest points on the seven continents; Denali in North American, Aconcagua in South America, Asia’s Mount Everest, Europe’s Mount Elbrus, Kilimanjaro in Africa, Mount Kosciuszko in Australia, and Vinson Massif in Antarctica. Those adventurers who stand atop these seven can rightfully boast of an enviable feat.


For those of us who don’t have superhuman endurance and can’t afford $60,000 and six months off of work for a trip up Everest, we must set our sights a little lower. Like bagging the seven southern summits, the highest points in the states of Georgia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Alabama, Mississippi, Florida, and Tennessee.

Granted, bagging these peaks doesn’t have the same glamour as climbing the real seven summits, but at least you can say you got off the couch and did it. And that’s how I found myself standing atop the highest point in Florida. At least I think it was, according to the map; the hump I was standing on didn’t look much higher than the surrounding countryside. A church steeple off in the distance looked suspiciously taller. Nevertheless, Britton Hill, at 345 feet the lowest high point in the United States, was our first victory in our seven southern summits trek.

I figured attacking these peaks (OK, hills) would be a fun adventure and I enlisted the services of my daughter, Sara, to act as my porter and Sherpa. We quickly discovered that finding the summits was considerably harder than climbing them. Thank heavens for Mapquest because these are not commanding mountains you can see from miles away. Britton Hill, for example, requires some studying to discern that yes, it is higher than the rest of Florida. We climbed up it anyway--or I should say strolled up it, a 500 foot saunter from a nearby parking lot. An inauspicious debut for what we envisioned as a challenging and strenuous quest.

But we figured that we would face some real struggles as we attempted the other states’ peaks. So we headed for our next conquest, Mississippi’s Woodall Mountain. At least it had the word “mountain” in its name. Located just outside of Iuka, barely across the Alabama border, Woodall Mountain is hidden off of a country road. A small sign declaring the mountain as Mississippi’s highest peak points to a gravel road that leads right up to the 806-foot summit. We opened the car door and practically stepped on the US Geological Survey high point marker. The view of the surrounding countryside (you can supposedly see three states from the top) was hidden by a thick stand of trees and radio antennas. We could sight down a cleared power line and barely make out a few fields off in the distance. Oh well, this was still just a warm up, we had some real mountains ahead of us.

Off to Mt. Cheaha, Alabama’s rooftop. This was more like it. Situated in the middle of the Talladega National Forest, Mt. Cheaha is a commanding presence as you drive up to it. At 2,407 feet, it was our highest point yet. Alas, again we were able to drive right up to an attractive stone building that dominates the top. Our only exertion consisted of climbing the steps to the building’s tower to take in the breathtaking view of some of Alabama’s prettiest country. We spent the night in the State Park Lodge where we had a filling meal at the lodge restaurant and finished the day rubbing sore bellies instead of sore feet.

Up at dawn to conquer Brasstown Bald in Georgia. This crag in the Smokies promised to be our first real challenge and we could see it looming in the distance as we approached it. At 4,784 feet, it was the first peak that could legitimately lay claim to being called a “mountain”. We fought disappointment as the road wound towards the top and we feared that this would be another drive up. Fortunately, we came to a parking lot below the summit. For once, we could actually trek up a mountain instead of driving. We would be real mountain climbers, forging a rugged route to the top. Of course, this meant that while we hiked the half-mile trail to the top we had to ignore the shuttle bus that was chugging elderly vacationers and toddlers to the top from the parking lot. But hey, at least we hiked it. And it was worth it, a moderate climb up the mountainside through rhododendron thickets to the summit lodge. The view was tremendous.

Atop the "summit" of Sassafras Mountain

Next summit: Sassafras Mountain, South Carolina, 3,560 feet of grueling, punishing uphill slog. Or not. After burning gas up and down the backloads of Pickens County, with the humped back of Sassafras taunting us through the trees, we finally stumbled on the hidden road sign to the summit in the tiny village of Rocky Bottoms. Once again, a winding and rough road led to the summit which was cloaked in thick stands of sassafrass trees, blocking any view. My visions of achieving hard fought victories in the rugged mountains of the southern Appalachians were rapidly evaporating.

Our quest continued at Tennessee’s Clingmans Dome, the second highest mountain on our list at 6,643 feet. We had heard enough about this popular destination that we knew what to expect: a paved half-mile trail in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park that curves gently to the top where a commanding flying saucer shaped observation platform provides visitors with an above-the-trees view of most of the Smokies. We joined couples pushing strollers, people leading dogs on leashes, and one man with a decided limp in the leisurely amble to the top. The last bit of machismo drained from my body.

The grand finale was Mount Mitchell, North Carolina, the highest point east of the Mississippi at 6,684 feet. This was actually the prettiest peak of the seven. A short trail leads to a stone observation tower and the grave of Dr. Elisha Mitchell, who lost his life on the peak. The trail is about a quarter mile long but we took an alternate route which was a little longer and meandered through a thick conifer forest.

The bottom line: the southern summits trek is a soft adventure, to put it mildly. It’s not disappointing though. You’ll drive through some of the south’s most scenic areas including the Smokies and at least three national forests, stay at lodges and hotels at some of the best state parks and tourist towns. In short, a terrific road trip with plenty of nearby attractions and challenging hiking trails should you want to toughen up your adventure. Most of all, you’ll have an attention-grabbing accomplishment to casually mention back at the office. Just leave out the part about the drive ups.

(This article originally appeared in the Huntsville Times)

Wakulla River Florida

Good river, bad river.  The Wakulla kind of captures Florida; abundant wildlife, crystal clear water, impressive towering cypress trees and curtains of Spanish moss so what's not to like?

Well on a hot summer weekend how about crowds of drunken rednecks captaining flotillas of rubber rafts; fleets of pontoon boats; discarded beer cans bobbing in the current; and speedboats scattering birds, alligators and ducks as they motor up and down the narrow channel?  A beautiful river ruined.

A little bit about the place: The Wakulla River is an 11-mile-long waterway about 45 minutes south of Tallahassee and near St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge (see another of my posts on this wonderful refuge). The river carries the outflow from Wakulla Springs, site of the Edward Ball Wakulla Springs State Park, to the St. Marks River 3 miles north of the Gulf of Mexico. Along the way it flows past summer homes and boat docks, wooded islands and schools of fish.

The Spring moves a constant and high volume flow of water into the river, making for slow paddling upriver, an easy float downriver.  If you visit the Wakulla on a cool March weekday, as we did the first time, the potential natural beauty of the river is apparent--flocks of waterfowl, swallow tailed kites and osprey, clear water that reveals the sandy river bottom full of schools of fish. 

Probably how the river looked decades ago when several Johnny Weissmuller Tarzan movies and Creature from the Black Lagoon were filmed here.  Nowadays unless you float the river during the off-season the only thing likely to be filmed on th Wakulla is Girls Gone Wild.

I don't think I've ever seen an adult manatee in Florida
that doesn't carry scars from a run-in with a boat propeller.
This one is no exception.

Still, even with all this, during our second trip on a hot June day we spied a couple of gators and, just before we pulled our canoe and kayaks out of the water, we spied a family of manatees, two adults and a large baby.  Wild Florida at its finest.

Details: Kayaks and canoes can be rented from TnT Hide-a-Way, Inc., 6527 Coastal Hwy. Crawfordville, FL 32327.  Phone: 850-925-6412. E-Mail: tnthideaway@nettally.com

Shark Tagging, South Carolina

If you’re like me, you probably think that the numbers of sharks in the water around you on any particular day at the beach are few and far between.


That’s what I thought too until I spent a day with biologists with the South Carolina Department of Natural Resources. I hopped aboard a 21 foot boat and accompanied Brian Frazier and Ashley Shaw, two SCDNR biologists, into the shallow estuaries and bays around Charleston, assisting in an ongoing project to track and understand the population, birthing and migration of these beleaguered animals.

SCDNR has been conducting a shark population since 1998 in coordination with the federal government under a program called COASTSPAN. The study targets first year pups and juvenile sharks as study subjects. Sharks are captured, measured, tagged and released, numbered tags providing the means to track the animals’ movements and life spans. Six species are targeted: Atlantic Sharpnose, Bonnethead, Sandbar, Blacktip, Scalloped Hammerhead and Fine Tooth. Blood samples are taken from any mature females captured to assess reproductive status.

It was early morning as we motored away from the boat slip in the tiny fishing village of Bennetts Point accompanied by dolphins swimming and surfacing alongside our boat, seemingly curious as to our presence. We sped through meandering waterways, among islands and vast expanses of sea grass, and finally idled to a stop in Saint Helena Sound just off the edge of Morgan’s Island. Brian said that this spot was, for some reason, a place where sharks congregated.

There are two capture methods for sharks: longlines and gillnets. We set both out, first running a 300 foot longline with baited hooks every 6 feet or so. Once the longline was set, we ran a gillnet across the sound, setting it in about 7 feet of water. Then we waited, letting the sets soak for 30 minutes. As it turned, this was our last rest of the day.

Brian counted down 30 minutes and we ran the longline, pulling up each hook in turn. The first dozen or so were empty, not a good omen for the rest of the day I thought. But then things changed. The next hook revealed a two foot Atlantic sharpnose, then another and another. Three small sharks on the first soak—not bad. On to the gillnet and things got even better. Pulling the gillnet over the bow of the boat, I spied a large fish thrashing in the net—a four foot bonnethead, not happy to be entangled in the nylon. We heaved the shark aboard, avoiding its slashing tail and lethal teeth and finally extricated it from the tangled net.

She was a beauty, the first shark I had actually held in hand. Running my hand along her flank from head to tail her skin was smooth and silky, but rub in reverse and she felt raspy. Her eyes were cold, but she was a beautiful animal. We measured her, took a blood sample, inserted a small plastic tag in her dorsal fin and released her back into the water.

OK! This is what I came for! Sharks up close, an amazing sight. They are amazing creatures, even more so once you hold one and feel their powerful and lithe bodies in your hands.

We emptied the gillnet, time to go back to the longline, and so on for the entire day. We set and gathered the longlines and nets all day long, hot, tiring, grueling work—pulling in a gillnet encumbered with angry sharks against an opposing tide is backbreaking, hauling up lines hooked with unwilling sharks even harder. But the excitement never grew old and by the end of the day we captured 36 sharks, including a dozen mature females of four foot or more.

All of the sharks were caught in an area water of maybe 100 acres—many more sharks than I ever expected one would find in such a small area. It seems like a healthy number but these were pups and few will live to adulthood, falling victim to larger sharks, commercial fisheries, pollution. Sharks are in trouble worldwide, no doubt about it, but in the estuaries of South Carolina, you may want to think twice about dipping your toes in the water.

Paddling the Gnarly Nolichucky

On this cool April morning the Nolichucky River is running high and fast. Not a roiling mass of whitewater but definitely enough to grab your attention. We shiver in the cool mountain air and the sight of the wild river adds to our trembling.


"Gnarly," says the guide at the outfitter's store."You guys are definitely going to have some good rafting this weekend."

We've traveled a long way to reach the banks of this isolated river and we definitely do not want to hear that we won't be rafting today, so his words are music to our ears. Unlike many eastern whitewater runs, the Nolichucky is a free-flowing river, which means that no upstream dam provides reliable flows of rollicking whitewater. When you head to other popular whitewater runs in the southeast, like the Ocoee or the Gauley, predictable and planned releases guarantee specific water levels. When you run the Nolichucky you take your chances. You may be met with a raging — and dangerous — torrent of runoff from violent spring rains or a trickle over a rocky riverbed that makes for a bumpy, dragging ordeal. The Nolichucky is kinda like that old saw about the weather: You don't like it? Stick around and it'll change.

We stand on the riverbank 48 hours after a tropical storm worked its way up the Eastern seaboard, dumping some serious rain on the Carolinas, so we knew we'd have enough water to raft the river. Our worry was that we'd have too much water — the commercial outfitters refuse to run rafts when water levels are too high. Standing on the front porch of the outfitter's store and looking out over the rushing brown and white runoff churning past, we wonder if the water is too wild and we are concerned that we won't be rafting. But our guide assures us that we'll hit the water today.

With dozens of outstanding rivers competing for the attention of eastern whitewater enthusiasts, the Nolichucky is often overlooked. Part of this is due to its isolation — the river is hidden in the mountains of North Carolina on the Tennessee border near the tiny town of Erwin, Tennessee. Once you reach Erwin, which is nestled in the Appalachians of eastern Tennessee near Johnson City, it is still a good one-hour drive on snaking two-lane mountain roads to the put in point in North Carolina. By then you're WAY back in the mountains, so far back that you'll cross the Appalachian Trail to get to the river.

This is a true mountain stream, the headwaters originating near Mt. Mitchell in North Carolina, at 6684 feet, the highest point in the eastern U.S. The water flowing from the Mt. Mitchell drainage swells into the Cane River and the South Toe River and, after joining with the North Toe River flowing out of Iron Mountain and Roan Mountain, forms the Nolichucky. Imagine over eight hundred square miles of steep mountain peaks and valleys funneling water into one narrow 900-foot deep gorge. Add a heavy spring rain and a riverbed sprinkled with a healthy mix of truck-sized boulders and the result is exactly what you would expect: a churning maelstrom of standing waves, steep drops, and rushing chutes producing a staccato series of rapids that go on for miles.

The stretch of river we're rafting from the town of Poplar, North Carolina to Erwin is the most popular section of river for kayakers and commercial whitewater rafting outfitters. This ten-mile stretch is a challenging series of Class III-IV rapids and it drops an average of 33 feet per mile so there is not going to be any slowing down during this trip. The rapids here are the biggest on the entire 110-mile length of the Nolichucky. Minivan-sized boulders, plummeting drops, and technical chutes characterize this section of the river.

It looks daunting from the gravel bar as we push off. "Gnarly!" our guide shouts again. "The river's running above three feet on the gauge."  He tells us that this is just about the upper limit for commercial running and we quickly find that this is not going to be a leisurely laid-back float. The raft barely loses hold on the crunching pebbles and gravel before the current grabs us and jerks our bow around into its clutches. Within a quarter mile of the put in, we stumble into the Class III+ Railroad Rapid and paddle furiously to keep our raft just right of the main drop to avoid the hole below. One thought crosses our minds: This is going to be a great run!

We've hardly recovered from Railroad and our guide is yelling over the roar of the whitewater for us to set up for On The Rocks, a Class III-IV four-foot drop with two major holes below and a huge boulder exactly where the river tries to drop you. Next is Jaws, a Class III ledge that is a prime surfing spot for rafts and kayaks at lower water levels but is dicey today. We paddle into an eddy and watch a small coterie of kayakers playing below the ledge before pressing on.

Jaws spits us out into Snappy, a lively Class III and then a long, steep rapid called Quarter Mile-and it is at least that long. Quarter Mile is basically a continuous rock garden with boulders and ledges peppered along its entire length. This is probably the"gnarliest" part of the river (our guide tells us so) and an upset in Quarter Mile is no fun, what with boulders and rocks waiting to bang and bruise you. At the bottom of Quarter Mile is Murphy's, a four-foot drop that is high in entertainment value. We pull into an eddy below the ledge and wait for the inevitable disaster.

It doesn't take long before a raft comes through sideways, catapulting paddlers over the ledge and into the pool below. Of course, in the gallant code of the whitewater world, we guffaw and point mercilessly. Too much fun to miss, so we pull over for a lunch break and watch the carnage for the next 45 minutes.

The next three miles don't get a whole lot easier. A series of Class III-IV rapids; Roostertail, Rollercoaster, Surprise, Rock Garden, and Maggie's Rock offer a quality selection of standing waves, technical maneuvers, crunching holes, and chaotic drops. Below Maggie's, the character of the river changes a little. These first few miles of river have dropped an average of almost 67 feet per mile, but now the river starts to level out. The near-vertical walls of the Nolichucky Gorge, steep and constricted before, flatten out and broaden, angling into more gradual slopes. The gorge widens out here and so does the river.

The last four major rapids are Hole-in-the-Wall, Big Eddy, Shoo-Fly Shoals, and the Slide. These are big pillowy Class II-III rollers that give us a chance to lean back and enjoy the scenery of Pisgah National Forest and Cherokee National Forest. The stark gray bluffs disappear and lower tree-shrouded hills angle up and away from the river. The early-April buds are just beginning to appear on the redbud, dogwood, and poplar trees vying for space on the hillsides and vestigial leaves paint the slopes with just a hint of green. Thick patches of rhododendron and mountain laurel begin to appear, their waxy green leaves splashing the scenery with deep emerald swatches. The final four miles of the commercial section smooth out into gentle pools and eddies where ducks, geese, herons, and deer play.

Below the commercial section, the river flattens out even more and becomes a much tamer run. Rafts and kayaks are replaced by open canoes and, on hot summer days, by inner tubes. The Nolichucky mellows out and the big drops and rollers are replaced by lively riffles and Class I and II rapids. The claustrophobic towering walls of the gorge are replaced by long vistas of the Appalachians fronted by open meadows of wildflowers. This section is especially attractive in the late spring and fall, when you can enjoy the blooming wildflowers or the autumn foliage.

The Nolichucky is sometimes a questionable run in the summer. Be sure to check with one of the local outfitters for water levels before making the trek to the mountains. A level of less than 2.4 feet is marginal for paddlers and only experienced paddlers should attempt anything near 3 feet. As with any free-flowing river, caution should be exercised any time water is high. At medium levels, the surfing spots and playholes are full of kayakers who descend magically on the Nolichucky as if on some telepathic cue. The spring rains make March through April the best times to experience exciting water levels. If you catch it right — say, after a generous April storm as we did — you'll enjoy an almost continuous series of Class III and Class IV foam and experience eastern whitewater rafting at its finest. Or as our extremely eloquent guide exclaims as we beach our raft at the take out,"Gnarly!"


ACCESS:

Erwin is about fifteen miles south of Johnson City, Tennessee on Highway 19 or highway 19/23 north out of Asheville, North Carolina. The section described in this article starts in the Pisgah National Forest and then enters the Cherokee National Forest.

Although most of the 110-mile length of the Nolichucky can be paddled, the 30-mile section from Poplar, NC to Embreeville, TN is the prime section. This section can be broken into three smaller runs depending on your skills and time available. The run from Poplar to the railroad bridge near Erwin is nine miles of Class III-IV whitewater. From the railroad bridge to highway 81 you can enjoy ten miles of Class I-II Water. Another ten mile run from Riverview to Embreeville is a nice Class II paddle. The milder water of the lower sections is good canoeing water.

(This article originally appeared on GORP.com (Great Outdoor Recreation Pages))

A Rare Sighting on Fort Morgan Peninsula

I trekked down to Alabama’s Fort Morgan Peninsula, a thin finger of dunes and beach the juts into the Gulf of Mexico along the southern shore of Mobile Bay. My quest: to take a look at the bird banding efforts of a group called the Hummer/Bird Study Group (HBSG).

The HBSG is a group of volunteers is dedicated to studying hummingbirds and migratory songbirds and part of their study includes the capture and banding of migratory songbirds at various locations throughout the United States. One of their primary banding sites is among the dunes and coastal scrub of Fort Morgan. For two weeks every Spring and Fall, the group sets mist nets out in the dunes of Fort Morgan State Park to capture migrating birds.

For migrating birds, Fort Morgan peninsula is perhaps one of the most important pieces of real estate along the Gulf coast.  It is particularly critical to migrating birds because it is the first landfall for arriving Spring migrants and the last departure point when they head south in the Fall.  Uncountable numbers of birds fly through this funnel point each migration season.  Taking advantage of this dense concentration of migrants, HBSG annually bands thousands of birds as they pass through the peninsula.

I hiked into the scrub and found a small group of dedicated people busily extracting birds from capture nets, weighing them, measuring them, recording the species and then gently releasing them to continue on their way. The data the HBSG collects is important to understanding populations, migrating times and species fluctuations. I had been to the site many times before, but my latest visit in April of 2012 put me there in the middle of a slow period.  For various reasons, primarily due to weather conditions, the number of birds passing through Fort Morgan was low and banding activity was slow.

He's the good looking one on the left

So I took off into the dunes to do some birding on my own. The capture nets may have been empty but the trees were alive with migrants and resident birds and I quickly spotted Swainson’s Warbler, Wood Thrush, Eastern Towhee, Palm Warbler, Hooded Warbler and Prothonotary Warbler and a dozen other species.

My best spot was yet to come. I met another birder along the trail and joined up with him. It took me many minutes to realize that it was Scott Weidensaul, naturalist, author and an accomplished birder.   Scott is one of my favorite authors ( his works include Living on the Wind: Across the Hemisphere With Migratory Birds, Mountains of the Heart: A Natural History of the Appalachians and Return to Wild America: A Yearlong Search for the Continent's Natural Soul) and I think I’ve read every one of his books.  It was a real thrill to walk through the dunes with a famous author and birder. The high point of my birding day at Fort Morgan.