Hiking Cove Mountain

Laurel Falls, Hampton, Tennessee

A couple of days ago, consort and I decided to hike to Laurel Falls with the three mangy mongrels.  Laurel Falls is an 80-foot high waterfall outside of Hampton, Tennessee, about 45 minutes from our campsite.  (Everything is about 45 minutes from our campsite.)  It is named for the flowering shrub, Mountain Laurel, which grows along the trail and near the falls.  The trail itself is a part of the Appalachian Trail.  Roundtrip, the hike to the falls is 2.6 miles.  It was an easy trail to follow and well maintained.  The dogs were on retractable leashes and thoroughly enjoyed themselves.  Consort and I also enjoyed the hike.  It has been some time since we have done any real hiking, but our lack of participation did not seem to be a deterrent.

 

We encountered a dozen or so other hikers returning from the falls as we were heading out.  Each of the hikers looked as if they'd had a pretty hard day of hiking.  We had casual question-and-answer convos with the hikers we met up with and were told the stair climb was the hardest part of the hike, but the falls were worth the effort.  Consort and I continued on down the trail holding fast to our lifelong mantra of,  How bad can it be?  

Six-and-a-half years ago, my friend and I hiked this same trail to Laurel Falls when I came to Tennessee for a visit.  Aside from the beauty of the falls, I didn't remember much about the hike, you know, whether or not it was difficult, making me think it must not have been that hard.  The main thing I remember about that hike was that I "fell off the mountain," at least that's how my friend puts it.  She and I stepped off a narrow path at some point to allow other hikers to pass us by.  When I stepped backward, I lost my footing and began rolling down the mountain.  I eventually was stopped by a large tree I landed against.  When I opened my eyes and looked up the mountain, I saw a rather large boulder coming straight for me.  Luckily, it was stopped in the fork of a small scrub-type tree just above where I came to a halt and before it landed on my head.

Consort and I crossed the footbridge you see pictured and came to our first set of stairs.  The stairs are large, flat rocks that have been set into the mountain to aid hikers.  Over time, and with weather, the ground changes causing the rocks to shift and move the stairs.  But if these were the stairs that everyone was talking about being so difficult, we were going to be okay.  It was pretty easy going.

We walked perhaps another half mile when we came to the actual stairs referenced by hikers.

This is a picture of the stairs that lead down to the basin of the falls.  To reach the basin, you follow these stairs down a 250-foot drop in elevation.  It was a little tricky navigating the jumbled stones, especially with dogs in tow.  (The closeup of Bella is from the larger picture.  She kind of blends in with the stones.)

     About halfway down the path to the plunge pool, consort and I stopped to catch our breath.  I distinctly remember saying to consort that although I was willing to hike to the bottom of the trail, we  need to be aware that we will have to climb back up the stairs to get ourselves out.  To which he replied:  How bad can it be?

Here's a note from me to you:

It can be bad.

It can be very bad.

We got to the bottom of the trail and sat down to enjoy the scenery and catch our breath.  The dogs were not the least bit winded and set about sniffing everything within reach.  

Consort and I did not discuss the climb back to the top.  In fact, we actively avoided the discussion.  

We did notice an alternate route out of the basin once we got to the bottom of the stairs that looked pretty flat.  When we were ready to climb out of the basin, we discussed whether we should try the alternate route.  Not knowing where the route came out was a problem.  How to get back to the parked truck from wherever the route ended was another problem.  If we could have been certain of cell phone signal, I think we would have taken the flat route, regardless of outcome, and then called our friends to come get us.  Not knowing whether we would have a working cell phone led us to the conclusion we had to climb the stairs.

I will leave out the whining and near tears that ensued on the climb up the stairs.  Honestly, I didn't complain too much, and I did not cry at all, but only because I didn't have the breath to do so.  Consort had hold of all three of the mangy mongrels.  Bella and D.O.G. were hopping step to step without any problem -- although D.O.G. did sit waiting on each step for me to climb up before he jumped to the next step.  Annie is twice as old as the other two dogs and not nearly as agile.  Several times consort had to lift her from one stair to the next, but overall, she really was quite the trooper.

So here we are, the five of us, climbing the mountain.  Consort has control of two dogs with one hand, while lifting and helping Annie with the other.  Me, I grabbed onto his belt to help me climb.  He is my Rock of Gibraltar.

As soon as we climbed up the 350-foot elevation gain, I collapsed in a heap by the side of the trail.  As I sat beside the trail, a jumble of quivering muscles with a heartrate of nearly 200 -- I could not breath and I felt faint, but I mustered the strength to check my heartrate on Fitbit -- I was hit with a wave of nausea.  It wasn't long before I began retching; dry heaves that shook me to the very core of my being.

I wasn't paying much attention to anything that was going on around me during all of this, although I was aware of a young family that caught up with us during the climb.  I was trying very hard to be modestly unobtrusive, which is not an easy task when you are collapsed by the side of a hiking trail and vomiting into the bushes.  I remember hearing the dad of the family group warning his children to stay away from me and to keep their distance.

I guess it's just bad luck when you take your family out for a nice quiet hike in the woods -- a place you can go and avoid those potentially infected with CV-19 and all the while maintain social distancing -- and you run across a *beyond-middle-age* lady collapsed on the side of the trail, puking.  

The first picture is me when I reached the top of the climb and the dry heaves had subsided.  The second picture is once I recovered.

After all the physical exertion, we decided to have dinner out.  We headed for Elizabethton and some barbeque from Big Dan's BBQ.   I wasn't able to eat anything, but consort enjoyed every bite.  And, so, the day ended well.

Author's note:  Enjoy the pics of the falls.  We may never attempt another hike.  It's two days later and my legs still feel like wet noodles!