Thursday and on into Friday, May 24th, 2024, 2130-1000
Chimney Top Campsite to Foothills Trail Eastern Terminus at Table Rock State Park
13.2 miles, Gain: 2530′, Loss: 3690′, elevation 1150′
Finding myself riding out a thunderstorm at midnight in a privy, after having been run out of my campsite by 4 bears, got me evaluating my life choices. On the one hand, I was glad to be away from the bears, dry and safe. But on the other, I was in a privy, dead tired, and debating whether the smell and gross-factor was tolerable enough to spend the night or if I’d be better off moving on. I’d already covered over 3 miles in the dark, what was another 10?
Earlier, back at my lovely campsite with the bears, I’d had to make some tougher decisions. While some may find it shocking that I tried to chase the bear off by shouting and waving my trekking pole, it’s not actually out of line with how you’re supposed to act around black bears. I’d done it before. Juveniles especially need to be taught a lesson: humans are loud and dangerous. But I was the one that was shocked when I discovered that 1 bear suddenly morphed into 4. I saw the second as soon as I emerged from my tent, then the 3rd and 4th as I shooed the first 2 to the edge of the campsite. “How many bears are there?” I exclaimed in dismay.
I stopped my brazen bluff when it occurred to me that one of the bears might be mom, in which case, she would likely not take kindly to me chasing her 3 kids. I threw some rocks towards all of them, then retreated back to my tent. Three retreated into the woods as well, but the bold one seemed to view my rock throwing as if I were lobbing food at it, and started coming back towards me. These bears had clearly been fed before. The highway and houses were only a mile away, so no wonder. Town bears…the worst. The most habituated one was once again approaching my tent. I still wasn’t really that afraid of them, after all, they were all so little. But this wouldn’t do. In 17k miles of long trails, I’d never had a bear problem…at least one that wasn’t resolved quickly and efficiently by making noise. Ah! I had an epiphany. It was finally the perfect time to test my theory that bears are terrified of an open umbrella!
“Ha ha, take that!” I exclaimed while I jumped out of my tent, simultaneously deploying the Silver Shadow like a deranged Don Quixote. It sounds terrifying, doesn’t it? Well, it did have the effect I hoped for, just not the outcome. It caused the bear to run up the nearby tree, hissing and spitting. So I decided to throw some more rocks, actually hitting the bear with a few (don’t worry, I certainly didn’t hurt it). My throw was so weak and terrible, it should give readers an idea how close the bear was to me. Just as I bent over to grab some more rocks, slightly turning my back, the bear made an exceedingly loud hiss / huff and raised its fur, starting to look very menacing. It made me jump, in fact. Finally, rightfully, I started to get a little scared. Thankfully the other 3 were hanging back, but if they all got as brazen as this one, I could be in real trouble.
Without thinking through the situation more, I grabbed my food bag and hurriedly went to hang it on the cable. But I found the apparatus in disarray, laying on the ground where it had come off the pulley, with its anchor points ripped from the tree. It also looked like it had been chewed on, so I suspected that the bears had done the damage. I briefly thought about using the broken up-cable to throw over the cross cable (still intact) and somehow tie off one end to hang my food. Then I thought better of this. The bears would surely figure out whatever I rigged up. They were small enough to crawl out onto the cross cable pretty far. They were also obviously strong enough to rip out the up-cable from its metal anchors, so they could do it to the cross cable too. And they could simply undo the cable if I tried to tie it to the tree. I deemed the cross cable too short to rig up a proper PCT hang.
The hanging dilemma at least got me thinking about my alternatives. Maybe I should just get the hell out of there? No sooner had I come to this realization that I noticed the bear going for my tent again. It had come down from the tree and immediately went back to being a pest. I ran back to chase it off, armed with both my pole and umbrella. It was starting to get dark and I was sure it was going to rain again. The very last thing I wanted to do was pack a wet tent and go marching off into the woods in the dark and rain. I was already so tired from a really long day and had apparently just wasted more energy setting up my camp. Since I had cell service, I made some phone calls, talking it through with my partner and my local friend, Esther. If nothing else, I wanted them to know what was going on, in case they didn’t hear from me again. I wasn’t really expecting this to be the case, but I guess the point is, you never know.
I sat down and watched as the bold bear milled about, it’s eyes glowing hauntingly in the beam of my headlamp. That’s it, what point was there in staying? I wasn’t going to be able to sleep and I was so close to the finish line anyway, I might as well be walking if I couldn’t sleep. Besides, now that it was dark, I didn’t have a good way of keeping track of where all the bears were, which could get very dangerous indeed. I began packing quickly, stuffing everything into my pack haphazardly. It didn’t matter if things got wet or were disorderly, I could be back at my car in 5 hours. At least I’m very efficient and practiced in packing my minimal belongings, so it took me less than 10 minutes.
Meanwhile, all the bears went off to inspect the cable, certain that I’d left my food there. Ha Ha stupid bears, if their sense of smell was so good, why didn’t they know that my food was back with me? As I shook my ground tarp loudly, I heard them beating around the forest and saw all their eyes reflecting by the cable. Several were up in the tree, mounting their aerial assault on the cross cable. Yep, I made the right choice not leaving my food there. I’d also provided the perfect distraction, so they’d leave me alone to pack. “Ha ha stupid bears, SEE YA!” I said gleefully as I gave them the slip, stage right into the night. It was 9:30 pm. Day 4 began very early.
I felt pretty good back on the trail, happy that I’d made the right choice. I’d initially stood my ground, to protect myself and my food, but then had the sense to realize I was outgunned and needed to go. I’d heard lots of stories about territorial grizzlies and knew the best thing to do was get the hell out of there. The same applied to habituated black bears, I figured. Walking in the dark was not at all much of a concern to me. I’d done it so many times before, I felt very comfortable walking in the beam of my headlamp. I wasn’t even spooked by the potential for other critters being out along the trail…what could be worse than 4 bears? I was glad I had this skill in my toolkit because it made this situation so less stressful. I even kind of viewed as a fun and unique way to end a trail. But why did the first 3 miles have to be more uphill? Ugh.
In fact, the trail climbed to its highpoint on Sassafras Mountain, at 3548′, also the highpoint of South Carolina. All the way up, I walked in and out of pockets of fog, which made it really hard to see due to the backscatter of my light. At the top, I entered a small bald and briefly contemplated setting up my tent there. I decided to check out the observation tower, since maybe there was a shelter where I could hide from the rain. Or maybe I’d sleep right on top the tower? The thunder was growing closer again, another storm on the way. As I approached the tower, I saw lights and heard voices. I called out, “are you Foothills Trail hikers?” I couldn’t imagine who else would be out here on a night like this. A female voice answered back “Yes” but that was all. Oh cool, I wasn’t alone. But what were other hikers doing up here, anyway? Nothing surprised me anymore about the unpredictability of people. After all, here I was, a total loony.
I went up the tower for a quick peek, wanting to take in the view of the approaching storm. It was a pretty cool sight indeed. I felt a bit like LT Dan in Forrest Gump. “Screw you bears!” I yelled into the flashing void. Then I noticed a video camera and read a warning that the area was under surveillance and closed after sunset. There was a big “no camping” sign, and that violators would be prosecuted. Just try me, I thought. I had a pretty good excuse, but even still, I quickly left. This had more to do with the threat of getting hit by lightning than being a good law abiding citizen. I went below the tower to meet with the other hikers, whose lights I’d just seen as I descended the stairs. I rounded the corner and the lights were suddenly gone. I called out and got no reply. Had I just imagined them? Was I loosing it? Perhaps my LT Dan screaming had chased them off. Oh well, I shrugged.
I walked the path down towards the parking lot, barely able to see where I was going, the fog was so thick. It started to rain just as I saw a reflection off the privy. WhoHoo, saved in the nick of time! I walled myself in, locking the door, then took stock of my surroundings. It wasn’t bad, rather clean, with little smell and plenty of room to stretch out. The rain began to hammer and there were flashes and crashes all around. I got comfortable and brewed some coffee. I toasted to the bears enjoying their ghost food bag with a dessert of WET. HA! I had cell signal, so I posted some updates about my status.
I sat there for over an hour and a half before it stopped raining. I decided to go back up to the tower for a view, since it had cleared quite a bit. It was kind of magical, with the nearly full moon peaking through the clouds and the many lights of civilization twinkling below. Fog hung in patches in the valleys. I took the time to read all the display signs and even did some peak finding. There was a beautiful compass rose inscribed on the floor. What an incredible night this was turning out to be. Earlier I’d contemplated driving back up the mountain after my hike, but now I felt like I’d seen enough. Feeling my energy returned and nicer conditions setting in, I decided to keep hiking. I returned to the privy to grab my pack, thanked it for its refuse, er, I mean refuge, and headed down the trail. “You gotta at least try!”
I descended for awhile and everything was chill. I passed a few campsites but didn’t see anyone camped there. The coffee was still working, so I didn’t feel like stopping. Perhaps the other 2 hikers had been planning on stopping there too, but had been chased off the mountain by a mad woman, yelling into the wind. I really intended to make it all the way back to my car and crash there for a few hours. Then the rain came back, at least this time with no lightning. Up went my umbrella, which was a new twist to my night hiking experience. If the visibility was bad through the fog before, it was really crappy due to the blind spots imposed by the umbrella. But it was better than getting soaked.
Like clock-work, the trail began to get pretty rough, with some overgrowth, rocks, and more wood stairs, going uphill. Ugh. I thought I’d lost the trail when I came to stream crossing, with a cable going across. There was a strong sheet flow of about 3 or 4 inches across steeply angled slick rock, looking pretty sketch. Since all the other significant crossings had been bridged, I wondered, was I supposed to cross here? More doubts about this night crept in, like what the hell was I doing? What more could the trail throw at me? I could handle a lot of crazy variables in one night, it turns out, but there would eventually have to be a max. I scampered across the crossing using the cable, which didn’t play well with my umbrella, but I got by.
I passed the last few official campsites just after the crossing. It was raining so hard, there was no way I was going to stop and set up. The sites looked slanty as well. I made it up the last steep climb just as the rain began to let up. I was pretty damp and very tired by this point. I contemplated a site that was marked as “Forbidden Campsite” but of course there was a hammock hanging there already, so I didn’t want to disturb the occupant. I did mumble “not that forbidden!” as I slipped by. I’m sure they remained asleep, dry and comfortable while I continued on in my misery. I’d entered Table Rock State Park, so officially no camping was allowed for the remainder of the trail. Oh well, it was only 4 more miles downhill to my car. I could make it.
I started descending steeply on slippery, muddy and eroded trail, but at least the night was clear once again. I came to a rock outcropping with incredible views, even in the dark. The moon was shining brightly through the haze and it was hard to believe it had just been raining…except for the shiny rock all around. I sat down for a spell, taking it all in. I almost fell asleep, I was so tired. Ok, tally ho. These last miles wouldn’t walk themselves in the dark. Except it was then that I realized I had to go straight down the surrounding slick rock. Yep, there were the blazes, painted right on the rock surface. What the F? Are you kidding me? I had to laugh. This night had become about as ridiculous as it gets.
The rock face looked a lot like those along the AT in New England. Scary memories of skidding out of control down the Mahoosuc Arm in the rain came back to me. And here I thought the Foothills Trails would be a walk in the park, just an easy-going little hike to wind down my month in the SE US. I checked all the sides of the rock slab to see if I could skirt it through the vegetation, but it didn’t seem possible. I then tested the surface with my shoes and felt almost no traction, so I took the preemptive caution of going down to my butt. I even got my sit pad out so that I could kind of scoot down on it, crab walking and sitting intermittently. My sit pad was actually more grippy than my shoes, so it wasn’t a bad strategy. It wasn’t pretty, but at least I started making progress towards the bottom. Halfway down, I passed a frog going up the rock. I envied it for the ease with which it clung to the surface, and I imagine it envied me because I was a giant animal, able to cover the rock’s distance in no time. To the fog, the outcropping was like climbing Everest. There we were, two vastly different creatures contemplating each other in the early hours before dawn.
I reached the bottom without sliding to my death and breathed a big sign of relief. Suddenly there was a small flat spot, as if a gift from the trail gods. I’d finally had enough of all these surprises and didn’t know if there was more rock slab coming up, so I decided right then and there to set up an ’emergency bivy’ to wait until dawn. If nothing else, it was a nice spot to watch the sunrise. It was quick and easy to throw my tarp down, pull all the stuff wadded in ball from my pack, inflate my pad, and crawl into my quilt. It was around 4:30 am. If it rained again, I’d just pick up and keep moving. I figured I’d sleep for a few hours and knock out the remaining 3.5 miles in time for breakfast.
The nice thing about a bivouac on an exposed rock at the top of a mountain is that it’s a simple matter of opening one’s eyes to watch the sunrise. I drifted in and out of sleep as the light grew and the lovely bird song serenaded me. It was a far better view than my original campsite, so I daresay the bears did me a favor. I lounged until after 7 am, sipping my coffee. I would have slept longer, but didn’t want to surprise or confuse any early hikers. After all, this wasn’t exactly legal…but justified, from a safety standpoint. Before leaving, I climbed back up the rock to take some pictures. It was a breeze after the surface had mostly dried…and also now that there was light by which to see it fully.
The remaining 3.5 miles were also breeze, all downhill, and it was kind of fun to finish after so much drama…type 2 fun. I chatted with a number of day hikers, happy to see some people again. I passed a guy with a dog who warned me he’d just seen a bear along the side of the trail and was questioning if he should have brought bear spray. “Pshhh, just one?” I thought to myself. And with all these people around? That’s nothing and continued on without worry. The trail went along Carrick Creek for the last mile and I enjoyed some nice small waterfalls and immaculately groomed trail to end on. I cleaned up a little in the nature center bathroom, after shooting another lame selfie at the last sign I could find marking the trail. Foothhills Trail done in 3 days and a wake-up!
I didn’t waste any time in throwing my pack into the back of my car and driving away. It was only 50 minutes to my friends’ house and I made it just in time to go out to lunch with them. After, I slept for hours in a nice soft bed. I took an extra day at their place, catching up on sleep, going to farmer’s markets, and resting my body before the 12 hour drive to Miami. Thanks so much to Esther and Wayne for putting me up and feeding me afterwards…this was such a needed recovery! I can’t wait to go back to visit and do more in the area. In fact, after all this drama, I still wanted to hike the FHT again! After all, I needed to see some parts in daylight and I think the fall colors would make the whole trail that much more spectacular.
Post-trip Update: I reported the bear incident to the Foothills Trail Conservancy and promptly got a response from the Chair, Andrew Gleason. He went out to fix the cable only days later and also cleaned all the trash from the fire pit. I admired his dedication and support of the trail…no wonder it’s in such great shape! I just wished that all the trail users would show more respect in regards to LNT practices. Sadly, the bears were still coming back, last time I checked the FB page and Far Out comments. One person even had to spray one of them, it was being so aggressive. Unfortunately, all the bear spray in the world is probably not going to change their behavior. I suspect their short time on earth may be coming to a dismal end, prematurely. A fed bear is a dead bear, as the saying goes.