Bull Mountain

I've been wanting to do a little overnight bikepacking trip for months now, but all the rain we had this summer just really turned me off to the idea. Recently, though, it's been pretty dry, and this past weekend, it the forecast was 0% everywhere, both days.

Woohoo! Not going to pass up the opportunity.

Most of my gear has been lying on the bed in the guest room all summer, but Saturday morning, I spread it all out in the dining area. "That'll never fit" crossed my mind as I packed it all into my frame bags, but I always think that, and then it all fits, and it did again this time, like magic.

I grabbed some good camping food from my cabinet, threw it into the little sling that I used last time for such an outing, and hit the road. Lunch was an italian sandwich at Siracusa's. I usually just have a slice, but I figured I could use a few extra calories, so I splurged a bit. And, that was it. Bull Mountain was my destination. I'd been wanting to camp up there since an aborted attempt last spring.

When I arrived, there was another guy in the lot with a bunch of bags on his bike too. "Looks like we had the same idea." But, it turned out no, he was just lazy about taking them off. They were actually done riding and about to head home. We talked a bit, and it turned out they had a house or a cabin or something up near the TNGA route, and would watch riders come through every year.

Small world.

All summer, to beat the heat, I usually wear a cheap ass, super thin tri-kit with the chamois cut out of it, but it was a little cool - mid 70's, so I felt like wearing bib shorts and a jersey, as they are just a tad warmer. While getting dressed, it occurred to me that I might actually be able to fit all the food that I'd brought, including my cup and spoon, into the pockets of my jersey. If I could, then I wouldn't even need to carry that sling, which though it works, is definitely less comfortable than not carrying it. Hmm... Yes, it turned out that it all fit quite easily. Even my phone fit, and there was room for Clif Blocks.

I jumped around and rode around the lot a bit, and it was fine, no flopping around like a waist pack tends to.

Woo! Trimming the gear down.

Feeling good about that last minute adjustment, I hit the trail, headed west out of the lot.

The Bull-Jake Connector is a bit rough, but the junk in my pockets felt fine through all of it, and I only felt better about the decision.

There were a bunch of folks in the Bull lot. More than tend to park there. Two guys in cars had made a loop through the Jake Lot while I was there, only to leave. As I arrived in the Bull Lot, they had also just arrived, made a loop through that lot, and left. Not sure what they were looking for, but it looked like they hadn't found it yet.

The Bull Mountain Trail was dry and comfortable.

It was a weird cold-dry. I usually associate that level of dryness with extreme heat. If it's cold or even cool, there tend to be little wet spots everywhere that never quite evaporate. But, if the humidity is low for a while, which is rare in Georgia, then it gets really dry when it's cool. I guess it was one of those days.

I had a fine time climbing Bull. I was a little apprehensive setting out, as I haven't had the bike loaded in months. I used to just ride it around loaded everywhere, but I eventually realized that it was like only working out with heavy weight - it builds strength, but it's not so great for cardio or stamina. I eventually started riding my road bike more, and riding the mountain bike unloaded. I could keep my heart rate up, I wasn't just having to punch every hill, and my cardio, weight, and general fitness improved a good bit. I guess it's a bit like training for XC races by riding on the road. It's not immediately intuitive that it would help, but it really does. At any rate, I hadn't ridden the bike loaded since doing all of that, and I wondered if it would feel awkward and heavy. Turned out no. I didn't notice at all. I'm sure if I'd tried to ride hard, I'd notice the weight, but it didn't handle noticeably differently, and at the pace I was keeping, it just felt normal.

Obligatory pic at the truck:

The only trouble I had climbing, I'd have had no matter what. As I approached The Great Rift, I realized that there was a bit of a trail worn up the right side, that I could probably huck up onto and be able to actually ride, rather than have to walk like usual. I made it up the steep kick onto the trail, which I figured would be the difficult part, but no, right up near the top, there was a tree that I could barely make it around, and I ended up brushing the very end of my bar on it. This knocked me right over the edge, and I went crashing down into the rift. Fortunately, I was uninjured, and nothing broke, but I ended up having to walk after all.

I had an equally fine time shredding down Bear Hare as I'd had climbing Bull.

Again, the bike handled great, and the weight felt "normal".

Just after crossing Lance Creek, I ran into a couple out hiking. They were taking photos of the largest Garden Spider I'd ever seen. Isabel had recently shown me a huge one at her place, but this one was even larger than that. Its web stretched across the entire road, 30+ feet easily. None of us could really believe it.

From there, I climbed up through Booger Holler, and somewhere in there my butt felt like it was sticking to the seat. With every pedal stroke it would stick and unstick. Feeling around, I thought I'd gotten a hole in my pants that bare skin was poking through and sticking, but it turned out no. I'd apparently, somehow, gotten sap on my pants. Just one little dot of pine sap, and it was sticking and unsticking to my skin. I fiddled with it a bit, but I couldn't immediately make it any better, and it was absolutely maddening. I eventually picked a big maple leaf and stuck it to my butt, using the sap as adhesive. I hoped that it would stick more to either my butt or pants than the other, and provide a slippery barrier between the two sticky spots. I considered that I might actually have to use 2 leaves, one stuck to me, and the other to my pants, but it turned out that just the one was sufficient. The crinkly edges took a while to wear down, but even before they did, it was like night-and-day better. Eventually I didn't notice it any more. That evening, I just had a small circle of leaf still stuck to the sap spot. The rest of the leaf had disintegrated and the pieces had slid down my leg.

From there, I took 83 back around...

...to the Jones Creek Dam Trail...

...where it appears I set a PR, the only PR of the whole trip.

Then I crossed the dam...

...and climbed up to the switchbacks.

The last time I'd been up there, it was damp, I wasn't feeling so hot, and that climb was just miserable. This time, the whole thing felt easy and fun. It's amazing how different you can feel on the exact same trail, only a month or two apart.

Before getting to the switchbacks, I started feeling like I needed to eat, and realized that I'd forgotten to actually bring Clif Blocks. I'd determined that there was room for them, but apparently not actually stuffed them into my pockets. Great. I did have a bunch of little sausages, and hey, they count as calories, but I'd really have rather eaten blocks or bars or something more readily digestible. Hey, gotta run what you brung though, right?

Sausages it is.

They were a little spicy, but otherwise pretty good.

Obligatory ridge-from-switchbacks photo:

From there, I bombed down to Winding Stair, took it up to Turner's Creek and rode that. I skipped that sucky new trail and just climbed Little Bitch Gap on the road. Then I hit No-Tell and Montgomery Creek. The pipe gate at the southern end of Montgomery Creek had been painted blue since the last time I was there. It was open too, as it is now hunting season. I'm not sure if firearms started on October 1st or starts on the 15th (or some other day, but it usually starts on one or the other of those), but they open it for archery season too. I think I went through a second gate before crossing Montgomery Creek proper. If not then it was the next day, but either way, the gate was painted white. It made me wonder if they were "red, white, and blue", going counter-clockwise from Camp Merrill.

I also noticed lots of little side roads that I'd never seen before. Most led up the edge of a food plot, but some looked like old roads that had been cleared recently. They may all just go to camp sites, but I'll have to check them out next chance I get. You never know.

At Montgomery Creek, for like 20 years, there's been a channel beam on the left hand side, that you can walk across. Sometimes the rangers even put a little wooden bridge over it. Recent storms had washed it away though, and bent it all up too. It now lay all the way over on the right hand side of the road, trying hard to keep going downstream.

I'm not sure if it's salvageable or not, but I definitely couldn't use it to cross the creek. Fortunately the creek wasn't very high, and I managed to make it, only barely spashing one shoe. Later, it seemed like I hadn't even gotten my sock wet.

Somewhere around there, I started thinking about where to camp. It was about 6:30, I think, and I had about an hour to sunset. I had a head lamp, but it is nice to set up camp at dusk rather than in the dark, and I didn't really feel like fueling myself with sausages for the next few hours anyway. I was right at the entrance to Pen Cove, and I figured I could probably push up along Old Montgomery Creek Road until I either found a feeder creek that crossed the road, or made it to where the road itself crossed Montgomery Creek. There would likely be an established spot somewhere back in there.

It turned out that there was a good spot on a little spur, right where a little spring-fed feeder crossed the old road. Just what I was looking for.

It somehow didn't occur to me to get any photos of dinner and my sleeping arrangements, but I cooked a bunch of tortellini with tomato sauce. More than I could eat, as it would turn out. I ended up not eating any of the sausages, and the "Moon Cheese" that I'd brought just didn't taste good. Super salty and not very cheesy.

As there was a 0% chance of rain, I didn't bother setting up the tarp, just slept under the stars. Usually, when I'm camping, when I finally get in bed, I feel all relaxed and out-in-the-world, but I didn't this time. I had felt great around the fire, but not when I actually lay down. I even tried to do that "perpetual retrospect" thing, but it didn't help. It was like 9:30, but the forest was still kind-of noisy, and my eyes hadn't really adjusted to the dark yet. IDK, it just didn't have that same vibe that it usually does.

Still, I slept really well for like 3 hours. When I woke up, I immediately had that great relaxed, out in the world feeling that I usually had at the start of the night. The woods was a lot quieter, and I could see pretty well. The moon was full, but the trees kept it pretty well hidden. I guess all of that helped. I didn't even bother trying to go back to sleep right away.

I slept again for a few hours, only to wake up freezing. I was wearing a puffy jacket and puffy pants, sleeping on a Thermarest NeoAir, covered with a Sol Escape Lite bivvy that I'd slit open into a blanket. The puffy clothing and bivvy had worked great this time last year, and I'd taken the NeoAir instead of the other uninsulated pad that I have because I'd gotten a little cold with it. By rights, what I was running ought to have been enough. I couldn't see my breath, it couldn't be that cold... I pulled the edges of the bivvy-blanked under me, and after a while got warm enough and fell back asleep, only to wake up freezing again after a few more hours.

I knew it had been hours each time by the moon. I watched it march across the sky all night. It was so big and bright, you just couldn't miss it.

It took a while to get warm and get back to sleep again. I'm pretty sure I didn't get warmer though, rather it just got warmer outside eventually. That last time, I slept until about 8AM and woke up feeling fine. It didn't even feel cold. I discovered later that it had gotten down to 42 degrees in Atlanta. I'd bet that up in the mountains, down in a draw like I was, that it had gotten down into the high 30's. Looks like I need to reevaluate my sleep system, yet again.

I built a small fire, ate some mashed potatoes, and drank some hot chocolate.

Around then I realized I hadn't taken photos of actually camping.

This was my fire:

I slept here:

When I felt adequately awake, I headed back down, crossed the food plot...

...and finished out the Montgomery Creek Loop.

It goes without saying that I found a mylar baloon out there, but I'll go ahead and say it anyway.

It usually takes an hour or so to start feeling good on the bike, in the morning, after camping, and this time was no exception. On the upside, my riding clothes were actually comfortable. So often, they get soaked with sweat the day before, and don't dry out overnight. This time, it was cool enough, and also just not very humid, that they were dry before I took them off, and I was able to keep them down in the foot box of my bivvy-blanket all night. They were dry the next morning, and still dry as I rode. Mmm, comfortable clothes.

The gate at the northern end of Montgomery Creek had been painted red, so yes, they were red, white, and blue.

I headed back south from Montgomery Creek. I'd half entertained the idea of riding the Winding Stair Loop, or even Noontootla, but without blocks or bars, I'd be sustaining myself on sausages all day, and I had zero interest in that. As it was, I'd be riding 40 to 50 miles in total, and I figured that was a satisfying amount. It later turned out to be 41 miles, so on the low end, but still not too bad.

I picked up Black Branch across from No-Tell, and had a great time riding it.

I couldn't immediately tell if more logging had been done along FS28G, or not.

There was machinery out there though, which hadn't been there last time, so they are still cutting.

FS28B is often a slog at the end of a ride, but I actually started feeling really good as I climbed it.

I toyed with the idea of taking a right on Beaver Dam and looping back up 28B again before taking Jake back to the lot, but I was getting low on water, I'd used what ended up being the last of my iodine tablets the night before, and while I might drink directly out of a feeder way up Pen Cove that I can see the spring that produces it, I definitely wasn't going to drink directly out of anything in the general Jake area. So, no Beaver Dam for me.

Jake is great in either direction, but I especially like it heading north. It's just endless flow, all the way to Jones Creek.

I didn't worry about keeping my feet dry crossing, as I'd be back at the lot soon, and as luck would have it, the water wasn't as cold as I expected.

It was right about there though, that I realized that I needed to relieve myself, so I parked the bike, and walked about 100 yards back into the woods to get down to business. I hadn't seen a soul all day, but wouldn't you know it, somebody came riding by, right then. He saw my bike and yelled "Mark! Mark?" for a while before giving up and continuing on. I was too far away to tell who it was at the time, and it would have been too awkward to be like: "Not Mark, Dave, and I'm uhh... busy... at the moment." It's not likely he'd even have been able to see me through the brush, even if I had tried to get his attention.

It turned out later that it was a guy I know named Ed - Eddie Mercury on strava. In fact, I realized it was him when I saw where and when he'd ridden when I checked strava later. Ha!

He'd thought my bike was Mark Baldwin's, as they are the same color, so the "Mark!" that he was yelling was Mark Baldiwn. Once again, I drive 2 hours away from my house and run into someone I know, this time, yelling out the name of someone else I know. Gotta love it.

Oh, I almost forgot. When I got back on the bike, I realized I didn't have my gloves on, and it was quite a challenge to find the exact spot that I was crouched down at earlier. I did manage to find it though, and my gloves. I'm not so sure about my choice of gloves though. They're custom Mulberry Gap, Pinhoti-themed gloves - black, with little orange and green designs all over them. If I'd specifically tried to put together a color scheme that blends in better with the early fall colors, I couldn't have done a better job.

On the way back to the truck, I ran into 2 separate groups of hikers. I've seen more and more hikers and trail runners out there over the years. I don't think they're popular among hikers, per-se, but they are definitely adequate to be hiked, which is high praise for a horse trail.

When I finally got back to the lot, I was wide awake and kind-of felt like cranking out another 20 miles. I had stuff to do though, and figured I'd had a good enough time, no need to push my luck.

I popped the back hatch, grabbed the pile of street clothes that I'd thrown my camelback on top of, and realized that the bladder had leaked all over them. The bite valve has a little off switch, but it doesn't really work, and I'd managed to lay the bag on top of the valve, which it pushed slightly open. My clothes were completely soaked. Not just "a little damp" but absolutely sopping wet.

Goodness.

I ended up putting my regular shoes on and just driving back in my kit. When I got near the house, I was so hungry that I didn't bother changing out of it before grabbing lunch at the local pizza place.

I had apparently gotten quite cold the night before though. While I was riding, I didn't really notice it, but through the rest of the day, unless the heater was on, I felt chilly. I ended up putting my puffy jacket on at lunch, and it helped, but it didn't really solve the problem. The next day, I checked my temperature throughout the day, and it was in the 94's and 95's until late that evening. I feel like that's probably not good for you.

So, I had a reasonably satisfying time, but the camping part was less good than the riding part. That Thermarest pad is from like 2009, and it doesn't really stay inflated. It was great at the time, but I think it has an R-value of like 4. The modern equivalent has an R-value of 6.9, so I ordered one of those. Sol makes a new "thermal bivvy" with like double the R-value of the Escape-Lite, but made of similar, breathable material. So, I ordered one of those too. We'll see how they pack and perform. I'm going to try bringing different stuff to cook next time too. The tortellini is good, but I've been thinking about how to finagle fajitas of some kind. I've got some work to do on my bike too. The lower water bottle cage keeps coming loose. Some locktite might be in order. I also ordered more iodine tablets.

I was planning on heading over to see the folks this weekend, but a friend has a birthday party next week, during the week, so I may push it to next weekend. If I do, and if the weather holds, out, another overnight might just be in the cards.