Second visit and new experience in Appalachian mountains

There is nothing quite like experiencing something for the second time, when it feels like the first time all over again.

This past week I returned to where I filmed a nature documentary, Hidden Corners: Appalachia, in 2022. The full-length documentary of this American wonderland, replete with incredibly unique biodiversity and human history, is available for free on my Owen's Hiking And Adventures YouTube channel.

My second visit to the mountains of Georgia, Tennessee, Virginia, plus North and South Carolina was different in two ways. For one, I researched totally new locations to explore. Secondly, I took this journey with my girlfriend, Maria. I have always vouched that enjoying new places with shared moments is an incredible human sensation to feel.

From my prior visit, I of course had an idea what to expect. When I use the word expectation, this does not mean a measuring stick of quality. We're not talking better or worse. Rather, I like to ask myself- was it different than what you expected?

There is something to be said about going to the same region but immersing yourself in a completely new way. It would be like meeting someone for the first time and getting to know their basics and a few good stories. When you meet them the second time, you may see other sides to them that make you further understand who they really are.

After a nearly 16-hour journey from Niagara-on-the-Lake to the tiny town of Blue Ridge, Georgia, we enjoyed a night with a clean mattress, running water and WiFi before plunging ourselves into some of the United States' most remote wilderness settings.

Before I even begin to describe the exceptional highlights from this trip, it should be noted that this region is the salamander capital of the world, the most bio-diverse region of the country, and second-wettest zone besides the Pacific northwest and Hawaii. The vegetation variety in this general area of the Appalachians, countless waterfalls, and the national high number of amphibian species present are testimony to this.

On my second hang-out with the Appalachian mountains, Maria and I drove paved, gravel, and consistently windy roads through the mountains for hours on end every day. What was remarkable to me was how there were vast stretches of zero cell phone reception, and barely a soul or man-made structure in sight. In fact, when hiking in these areas, we can remember and recount exactly how many people we saw all week.

Our first camp was in the Cahutta Wilderness of Georgia, perhaps not a state that others consider as a gorgeous mountain destination. Our 4.5 hour drive through gravel roads in the mountains was our first taste of true wildness to come. The views were beautiful, and it didn't take long to spot our first reptile, the verdant green Carolina anole lizard scampering across the dirt road.

On our second night, we stayed within Georgia and headed towards Tallulah Gorge State Park. This gorge is approximately six times as deep as our Niagara Gorge. Funny enough, I discovered an interesting description of this canyon, where a website said it was like the Niagara Falls of the southern USA. The evening we hiked up to the top of the canyon ridge for back country camping, we saw three people. In the morning when we packed up and hiked out, we saw a couple hundred, complete with paid parking, an information centre with staff, and cutesy souvenirs. We felt grateful that we got to experience a naturally significant place in a preciously rare, quiet form compared to most visitors.

Up next was the only repeat location that I had discovered two years ago. It was so spellbinding that I had to show Maria an ancient canyon called Burrell's Ford. Here, you can camp in any spot you like, providing you follow a trust system of environmental considerations and legalities. I found myself fishing knee deep in the icy and truly pristine waters of the Chattooga River while Maria relaxed in the calming cradle of her camping hammock. Not a road, dam, or farm field lies in its upstream entirety. We even had our own private sandy beach with white sand along the river's bank.

Fishing is like golf — you can do horribly on the score sheet and still have the best time of your life. I didn't catch the popular and prized brook trout, or one of the 25 nationally rare fish species in those waters, but there was something about where we were situated in the abyss of wilderness. My lure could cast into Georgia or South Carolina at the flick of a wrist, still more likely to catch a fish than catching a signal of cell phone reception.

We then got a brief dose of civilization in a quirky yet undeniably charming valley in North Carolina. With true southern hospitality, we were greeted by people of all walks of life. A genuinely excited and helpful camp owner, nomadic old men, and a charming suburban family who invited us to play volleyball. Yet, in the mountain secluded and tight-knit valleys known as ‘hollers,’ we were reminded of just how rural we truly were when we saw about 20 dogs tied to posts and kennels out in an open field clearing. These dogs are owned or rented out for bear hunting in the area. Speaking of bears, what's a woodsy trip without an encounter with such a respectable creature?

Maria and I visited an isolated, rare stand of old growth forest of Great Smoky Mountains National Park in Tennessee. Unfortunately, unchangeable, and much like Ontario, the vast majority of the forests in the Appalachian mountains were logged once or twice since European settlement. Given the hundreds of thousands acres of wilderness in some patches, I was naturally curious if the western domination left a hidden valley untouched for some reason. My research led me to a place called Albright Grove, where tree sizes make you feel emotionally moved and physically shrunken when in their presence.

We did a rough mathematical tree ring calculation on a fallen tree, and it was at least 400 years old. We saw a tree stump taller than your average house, and even heard a black bear groan loudly in the otherwise dead silent forest. I know that no other animal makes a noise like that, and it was close enough to spike our adrenaline in an exciting way. It was our wildest feeling of the trip, and to me, classifies itself as a top-tier human experience. Just imagine how many black bears those giant trees have seen and sheltered in their time.

For our last night, we indulged in a mineral hot spring in Virginia. It is America's first recognized hot spring, discovered by Lewis and Clark in the late 1700s. Before European footwear made contact with the lands, it was respected and used by the Indigenous for sacred and health-related purposes. Later, the spring was conquered and developed by the famous settlers, and then further enjoyed by the American elite, including more than 20 notable American presidents. Maria and I both agreed without hesitation that the water was magical. Our 50-minute bathing session left us in a naturally drugged state of euphoria and bliss. When you have bromide, sulphur, calcium, intense history and natural purity soaking into your pores, you receive a sensation beyond a placebo effect.

Fittingly, this was an excellent way to wrap up our Appalachian road trip before our eight-hour drive home the next day. Suddenly, it was Monday morning, and I was scrambling to select courses for my upcoming teachers program at 5:45 a.m. I then went to work, slightly stressed and back to the grind. All I could think about was the timeless peacefulness and indifference of the Appalachian wilderness, and take the next few days to write this article and let that trip truly sink in.

It's official — this is my favourite area of the U.S., and one of my favourite areas of the world. When you hear a bear growl and stand among trees half a century old, every narrative about America and life in general goes graciously out the door.