Pinhoti Trail Thru Hike: Part 1
Picking the Pinhoti
A while back, I started considering my next thru hike. I knew I wanted to do something in the 300 mile range, for a number of reasons. First and foremost, that is what my work schedule and finances allowed. It is also just a nice distance: long enough for several resupplies and to get into the groove but not so long that it feels damaging on your body. Three hundred miles is miniscule in comparison to longer trails like the AT, but it still certainly feels like an accomplishment. And for this hike I knew I would not be going with my partner, and I didn’t really have any interested in being apart from him for much longer than a few weeks.
I have had several trails of this length on my radar for quite some time, but proximity to my home in North Carolina was key. I didn’t want to deal with the hassle and expense of traveling cross country. Plus, I really do love hiking on the east coast. I also knew I didn’t want to hike a less populated trail alone, so I started to reach out to my friends in the hiking community. I had two friends, Hydro and Grey Squirrel who were interested in coming along and I knew Grey Squirrel had been interested in the Pinhoti trail for some time.
It didn’t hurt that I had heard mostly good things about this short but sweet recreational trail. The Pinhoti is about 350 miles long, running through Alabama and Georgia, almost like a southern extension of the Appalachian Trail. In fact, you can even connect the two via the Benton McKay Trail, and some more ambitious AT thru hikers opt to start their hike at the southern terminus of the Pinhoti for a longer continuous footpath. Having completed the AT myself in 2018, I liked the idea of continuing the footpath south. Plus, I had never hiked in Alabama before and was interested in seeing what the state had to offer.
A Misleading Start
With a start date of March 20, I am not sure what to expect as far as weather was concerned. I have been snowed on in the mountains in late April, so I come prepared with thick layers and a warm sleeping bag. My partner, Raphael, drives Hydro and I down from Charlotte and we meet Grey Squirrel near the northern terminus where he will leave his car for the duration of the hike. We drive south from there, stopping at trail towns along the way to drop of resupply packages. We arrive at the Pinhoti Outdoor Center, near the southern terminus, and enjoyed the hospitality of Kim and Nathan. They have been running the POC for a few years now and it has become cultural hub for the Pinhoti.
As it turns out, a mid-March start date is quite warm. I am used to the heat and humidity of the south, but normally I experience this in the summer and I am at least protected from the sun by the thick, lush canopy. But here, the trees are still bare, and I am sporting a fresh sunburn in the first few hours. We start at Flagg Mountain State Park in Alabama, and I take a wrong turn only five minutes into the hike. Backtracking, I catch up to my hiking partners in time for the ascent. We reach the iconic tower at the top of the mountain and enjoy the views. We have our eyes peeled for Nimblewill Nomad, a trail legend who resides in the park when he isn’t out breaking records on other trails. Sure enough, the Gandalf look-alike is doing some basic maintenance outside a cabin. We stop by and shyly start up conversation. I had been told by other hikers that Nimblewill (or Sonny) likes to talk, and we might have force ourselves away from the conversation if we expect to get any hiking in. But instead he offers us only one word answers and seems intent on his work. I get it- he has gotten a lot of notoriety in the last few years and I would imagine someone who spends that much time in the woods has an appreciation for peace and quiet. We forgo asking for a picture and continue our hike.
Trilliums are making an appearance along the trail. I stop and take pictures of every single one. I have been brushing up on my wildflower knowledge and am eager to spot all sorts of bearers of spring. We enjoy a lunch break by a pleasant steam and that evening find a peaceful campsite. We see only one other backpacker on our first day. We hike 17 miles- I have to stick to an 18 mile average in order to get back to work on time. It is an ambitious first day but we make it before sundown.
On our second day, we are greeted with a 10 mile road walk through a rural town. The first sign of civilization is Caperton’s Old South Store. A confederate flags snaps in the wind. The marquee sign advertises “Cash, Loans on Guns and Gold! Knives, Propane, Cold Beverages and Beer. Confederate Items. Quail”. Spray paint on the side of the building informs me that the government is stealing from me. There is no sign of anyone inside, but the windows are darkened by bolted bars covering the glass. It is anything but welcoming. I put my head down and hike fast. I understand that, as a white female, I am probably pretty safe here but I can still hear my heartbeat in my ears. Having grown up in the south, I have little trust for those that hang such boisterous signs.
We continue into town and slowly, we see more signs of life. Traffic, homes, and more roads appear. We take a break at a gas station where the attendant is more than friendly. We enjoy small talk with locals over cold soda. It’s a stark difference to the unwelcome entrance to the town. But as we continue walking through town we pass dozens of homes with confederate flags, “no trespassing” signs, barbed gates, and security cameras. I can’t help but chuckle at a “Smile, you’re on camera” sign posted in a hoarder’s yard. I am not interested in stealing your rusted out pontoon boat from 1981, thank you very much.
Dogs greet us at every turn. I have heard about the aggressive dogs that can be an issue on the Pinhoti. I keep my poles in hand and stand my ground. I think of my dog, back home. She is more than friendly, but reacts to strangers walking through her yard in the same way: barking until the leave. I have no issues with the pups. They mostly stay in their yard, chasing us to their property line and then barking until we are out of site. A few venture into the road for extra emphasis but as long as we continue forward they don’t get too close. At one point, I round a corner and am greeted by a pack of 5 dogs. They take me by surprise and I take a step back. They use this as a sign to creep in closer, and I backtrack until I meet my hiking partners. I use this as lesson to move forward with confidence and stand my ground.
Despite moving through town unscathed I can’t help but feel unwelcome. Greeted by controversial political signs, no trespassing postings, and snarling dogs has me wondering: does Alabama really want us here?
A Second Impression
After our road walk, we enjoy the peace and quiet of the woods. We climb up to a long ridge walk and enjoy a beautiful sunset from a great vantage point. We are able to make miles quickly, the trail is smooth and gradual. We were looking forward to our first resupply in the town of Talladega in a few days, but the forecast predicts a bad storm coming in. I look at the down trees scattered through the forest. They have been ripped from the earth in a more aggressive way than I am used to seeing. Alabama is no stranger to tornados. We look at a map and find an earlier road we can take into town. Nancy, who runs Next Step Hostel, is more than kind over the phone, and agrees to the earlier pick up point. We enjoy the shelter of their hostel while rain pounds the tin roof that night. The next day, we opt for a zero as Grey Squirrel has some gear repairs and is nursing a blister. Nancy and Jeff live in a home built in the 1800s. Jeff is the ultimate handy man and I impressed with his efforts to repair the ancient historic landmark. The town itself was hit hard by the recession of 2008 and most of downtown is abandoned. Dozens of ancient mansions line the streets, abandoned and in disrepair. It is beautiful in its own way and I feel like I am walking through the pages of a history book. The hospitality of Jeff and Nancy, and the town, is amazing. I realize that our introduction to Alabama a few days prior was probably not the best first impression.
Passing the time on our zero day by painting the historic buildings at Next Step Hostel
As we re-enter the woods, we realize the zero day was a good idea. We come to a creek crossing that is swollen and rushing. A hiker is packing up camp right before the crossing. He informs us that he slept there through the storm two nights prior, only to find the creek unpassable for the whole next day. It wasn’t until this morning that it had finally subsided enough to cross, and it was still a dicey crossing at best.
Moving forward, I am excited to find wildflowers brightening the forest floor. Dwarf crested irises, bellwort, chickweed, and anemone are flourishing. Bluets line every water source and red blooms are vibrant on buckeye trees. Dogwood petals fall around me like snow. I eagerly take hundreds of pictures, anxious to identify the flowers I am not familiar with once I have service again.
Three Hikers Minus One
Before we left for the trail, Hydro had complained about his knee hurting. It seemed like he was off to a good start, but I notice him limping a bit as we get into the end of our first week on trail. One morning, Grey Squirrel and I get an earlier start while Hydro finishes his breakfast. We cruise along, the miles coming easy. Eventually, we get a spot of service and find a text from Hydro. “My knee is killing me, I’ll be way behind you guys today”. We look at each other, concerned. We had just passed Adams Gap and started the ascent to Cheaha. Grey Squirrel is familiar with the area and has hiked here many times: the accent is nothing but rocks and its steep. We call Hydro and check in. We convince him to head back to Adams Gap and catch a ride to town to rest for a few days, he can meet us in the town of Heflin after taking some time to recover. I wonder if we are being overly cautious but as I greet the accent to Cheaha a realize that was the best decision. “And people complain about Pennsylvania!” I scoff as I rock hop 1000 feet of elevation gain. And then, to make myself chuckle, I shout “Rocksylvania?? More like Rocksabama!”
As much as I hated rock ascents like this on the AT, I find myself enjoying the challenge thoroughly. I think it is because my body is fresh, and I am not dealing with the same foot issues and pain I had on the AT. I feel strong as pull myself up boulders and navigate rock fields. When we reach the state park at the summit, we are disappointed to find the restaurant closed. We enjoy snacks from the camp store before continuing our way.
It is just Grey Squirrel and I for the next few days. We push into Heflin a day early where we meet up with Hydro, who is convinced he is much better after a few days of rest. He is disappointed to have missed a stretch of trail but reminds himself he can connect the dots later.
After leaving the revitalizing and hospitable town of Heflin we weave through smooth and easy trail. We camp at a shelter built at the beautiful intersection of two picturesque creeks. I notice Hydro limp up the steps at the shelter but he claims he feels fine.
The beautiful creek outside our shelter.
The next day, the trail weaves around some beautiful lakes. I imagine it would be an incredibly enjoyable and scenic hike, except the lakes are flooded and the trail is entirely submerged in places. I had heard this may be an issue, and expected it would just be a matter of getting our feet wet. But the water that covers the trail is stagnate with all sorts of weird green stuff growing on. We can’t see how deep it is or where it might emerge on the other end, so we opt for bushwhacking up the steep slope. It is a rigorous mile of thorns, branches to the face, and slick earth. We stumble and fall, and finally escape bruised and bloody. Hydro collapses a few times when his knee gives out on him. Back on solid trail, we have the hard conversation of whether he should continue, and he concludes that this trail just isn’t in the stars for him. We are able to contact a trail angel from Heflin and it is with a heavy heart that we see him off later that afternoon.
The Town Vortex
The day after Hydro goes home, Gray Squirrel and I have the pleasure of sharing a campsite with other hikers for the first time on this trail. There is a group of three older (well, older than me) gentlemen, also former AT hikers, that are doing a Nobo/Sobo of the Pinhoti: they have two cars with them and drive themselves north, then hike south to their other car. We’ve only seen them in passing so it is nice to camp with them and get to know them better. We also meet two guys from Tennessee that are out for a week-long trip on the Pinhoti. There is a buzz in the air as we all appreciate the opportunity to socialize with other hikers.
Gray Squirrel enjoying a break and a moment of cell service.
We read about an upcoming road crossing that provides the opportunity to visit the town of Piedmont, Alabama. We don’t need a resupply but there is supposed to be a coffee shop that caters to hikers. We request a pickup from the owner, Brandon, and he is more than happy to shuttle us into town. The shop is nestled into a mostly abandoned downtown area. It is part boutique, part coffee shop, with bible verses neatly embroidered onto pillows and Christian music playing in the background. The menu offerings are extensive for such a small space and Brandon and his staff are incredibly hospitable. We devour our breakfast and enjoy premium coffee beverages. The pastry shelf entices us, and we pack up cookies and danishes to enjoy back on trail. We relax in the couches as the lunch rush comes through, getting as much juice into our phones while we can. After a few hours, we eventually make it back to trail and lazily trudge up the next mountain.
Upon examining our map, we realize that the next day we will have another road crossing opportunity to get into Piedmont. A town double dip? Yes please! We wake up eager the next day, and rush through the first few miles until Brandon picks us up again and we feast on coffee and eggs. A storm is rolling in and we contemplate staying in town. It takes a lot of willpower, but eventually we decide to head back to trail. The miles are slow, as I am loaded up on pastries and crashing from a caffeine. The trail is rocky and I hear Gray Squirrel grumbling ahead of me.
Eventually we see two large flags snapping in the wind ahead of us: the state line. It is a great pick-me-up. We stumble over rocks in a hurry to get to the landmark. The full-sized state flags of Georgia and Alabama make for a great photo op. We snap our selfies and jump into Georgia. This is the only state line crossing of the Pinhoti trail and is more or less the halfway point. Revitalized, we hike the last few miles to a sturdy shelter. The storm we were promised rolls in around 1am but we are safe and dry in the impressive structure.
From inside Blue Mountain Shelter, looking out.