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FALL HIKES: Fourth in a five-part series
For the Journal-Constitution
Published on: 10/14/04
A trout stream reserved for children. A one-mile nature walk where parents and grandparents can help search for birds, deer and wild turkey. Interpretive signs about forest plants and animals.
A sturdy lookout tower where children can scramble over camouflage netting to spy on a wildlife feeding area. And to top it off, a fish hatchery that nourishes thousands of baby trout.
Peter McIntosh/mcintoshmountains.com | |||
| Thomaston residents Greg and Emily Cromer lead their children David, 12, and Ethan, 8, on a camping expedition that stresses science and biology. | |||
Peter McIntosh/mcintoshmountains.com | |||
| A bridge at Hemlock Falls is a picturesque rest stop for Maggie and Bob Hatcher of Tiger, Ga. | |||
Peter McIntosh/mcintoshmountains.com | |||
| The fish hatchery at Moccasin Creek State Park nourishes about 450,000 trout, 90 percent of which are rainbow trout. | |||
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All of that — and more — await at Moccasin Creek State Park, two hours northeast of Atlanta, near Clarkesville. The special stretch of trout stream as well as a nearby catfish pond are reserved for children 11 and younger, adults 65 and older and disabled individuals. And just beyond the park, which includes family campsites, lies one of the most romantic short hikes in the Chattahoochee National Forest: Hemlock Falls Trail.
If there were only one time to take in the magnificence of Hemlock Falls, this post-hurricane October is it. Perry Thompson, the fish hatchery manager for 20 years, says he's never seen so much water rushing down Moccasin Creek. One of Chattahoochee National Forest's prime trout streams, it also supplies water for the hatchery. Each of the two major storms left a record 10 inches of rain. The Georgia Department of Natural Resources staff had to pump sand out of the hatchery's fish "raceways" — rectangular concrete pools where the small fish feed and swim. (The fish are separated by size and are considered able to fend for themselves in a creek or lake when they are "catchable" — 9 inches or more.)
Stepping over a few downed trees on the first part of Hemlock Falls Trail, the five of us are surrounded by sprays of white foam dancing in the air as the creek roars over rocks and logs. Tiny rivulets seep across glistening creek-bank rocks enhancing their layered colors: grays, tans and reds, dotted with vibrant green moss.
The 1.2-mile trail is easy enough for children 6 and older, but adults need to hold little hands tightly when close to the tumbling white waters.
Maggie and Bob Hatcher of Tiger, Ga., stop on the second bridge, which withstood recent storms, to dangle their feet and watch waters whirling in pools from all directions. But their Jack Russell terrier, Jazzy Belle, seems more cautious.
"She prefers terra firma," says Bob Hatcher, cradling the dog in his arms after she balks at going across the narrow bridge on her leash. Most trails are dog-friendly, but the forest service requires that owners keep dogs on leashes.
Looking up at the trail's hardwoods — red oak, maple and hickory — Hatcher, an Emory University professor of obstetrics and gynecology, quotes American poet Robert Frost: "Whose woods these are I think I know. . ." We nod silently, muttering lines from the rest of the familiar poem — none of us able to get it quite right— as we resume our hike on the other side of the creek.
Though humans could never create the Earth-born architecture of deep woods, it's comforting that the national forest belongs not to a single landowner but to all Americans.
According to Shirl Parsons of the Wilderness Society's Southeast office, the Moccasin Creek forest, crucial to the protection of Lake Burton and water resources for surrounding towns, was once set aside to be protected from roads and logging; now, it's open to both.
Jeffrey Kronsnoble, an artist and art professor at the University of South Florida, sees things some of us might miss — a crooked tree root jutting out from rocks above the footpath.
"Looks like a porpoise," says Kronsnoble. "A bird with a moss eye," says Maggie Hatcher. "Reminds me of a Rorschach test," adds Bob Hatcher.
At one point we see a perfect example that fits a warning the forest service has posted at the start of the trail: "Beware widows." We spot a poplar tree learning precariously against a tree that didn't survive the storm.
Hemlock Falls, our destination, is more magnificent than I've ever seen it — and I have hiked to the falls in all seasons, even in a winter snow. The pool beneath the thundering water is so high that it covers some of my favorite picnic rocks.
Kronsnoble comments on the giant rocks shaped like a couple of low contemporary chairs with rounded arms. "Nature rearranging the furniture," he says.
On our hike back, Maggie Hatcher talks about the delicious smell of decaying wet wood and newly fallen leaves crushed underfoot — earthy aromas that exist only in the deep woods.
Jazzy Belle prances in the sunlight as the shiny needles of towering hemlock trees, for which the trail is known, whisper in the wind.
We could stay all day, but physician-poet Bob Hatcher reminds us, in Frost's words again, that "we have promises to keep."
As lunch and the real world of work beckon my fellow hikers, I head off to meet state park ranger Tommy Crabb for a walk on the children's one-mile loop.
We head to the wildlife feeding area where clover and olive berry bushes attract birds, deer, wild turkey and an occasional black bear. Visitors shouldn't count on seeing a bear, though. Crabb has sighted only three in the past two or three years.
We meet the Cromer family from Thomaston, who haven't spotted any bears but are excited about the birds and salamanders. Greg and Emily Cromer home school their children, 12-year-old David and 8-year-old Ethan. This week's camping expedition is about science, Greg Cromer says.
The wildlife feeding area is a haven for birdwatchers of all ages. Leslie and Tom Curran of Roswell, with binoculars in hand, point out a rose-breasted grosbeak just yards from us. Grosbeaks are on their journey to Central and South America this time of year. Avid birdwatchers for the past decade, the Currans report seeing blue-headed vireos, a Swainson's thrush, which has a flutelike song, and a pileated woodpecker.
On our way out, we stop at the children's trout stream, a lovely stretch of creek running from a small dam to the creek's outflow at Lake Burton. Eight fish per day is the limit; at the nearby catfish pond, three per day.
Hatchery manager Perry Thompson says the hatchery nourishes about 450,000 trout; 90 percent are rainbow trout, the rest are brown trout. Fish are transported in trucks with temperature-controlled tanks to stock designated rivers and lakes from the first week of May through Labor Day.
The 32-acre Moccasin Creek State Park is one of the state's busiest. It is open year-round, with a ranger on duty daily from 7 a.m. to 10 p.m.
For a fall outing, especially for families with young children, it's ideal. And park officials say they love putting out the welcome mat for Grandma and Grandpa, too.
Martha Ezzard can be reached by e-mail at mezzard@alltel.net.
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