Unicoi Unity: A Natural History of the Unicoi and Snowbird Mountains and Their Plants, Fungi, and Animals

© 2013 Owen Link McConnell. All rights reserved.

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ISBN: 978-1-4918-0793-4 (sc)

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Published by AuthorHouse 02/10/2020

CONTENTS

Preface and Acknowledgments

Chapter One. A Wondrous Diversity in Unity

Chapter Two. A Rocky Start: the Forming of the Mountains

Chapter Three. Earth’s First Mercy: Non-flowering Plants

Chapter Four. Plants Harness Insects and Create the Big Bloom

Chapter Five. Human Footprints Before World War II

Chapter Six. Human Footprints Since the Onset of World War II

Chapter Seven. A Temperate Climate With a Temper

Chapter Eight. Woody Tapestries

Chapter Nine. Faces Called Flowers

Chapter Ten. Our Fungal Kin

Chapter Eleven. Spineless Magnificence

Chapter Twelve. Fishified Fantasia

Chapter Thirteen. A Giant Step for Fish: Walking on the Land

Chapter Fourteen. The Advent of Eggs With Shells

Chapter Fifteen. Hot Reptiles Exalted

Chapter Sixteen. Milk-fed Marvels

Appendix A. Native Trees of the Unicois

Appendix B. Native Woody Shrubs of the Unicois

Appendix C. Native Woody Vines of the Unicois

Appendix D. Butterflies of the Unicois

Appendix E. Fishes of the Unicois

Appendix F. Amphibians of the Unicois

Appendix G. Reptiles of the Unicois

Appendix H. Birds of the Unicois

Appendix I. Birds Banded by David F. Vogt at Whigg Meadow

Appendix J. Mammals of the Unicois

Bibliography

This book is

dedicated to my dear wife, Pat,

who has accompanied me in exploring the Unicois

and delights in their manifold forms of beauty as much as I do.

Preface and Acknowledgments

In the early 1930s, after lumber companies had extensively logged most of the forests in the Unicoi Mountains, our federal government purchased much land in the Unicois from the lumber companies, most of it having been denuded by logging. The Weeks Act of 1911 had given the federal government the authority to buy these lands in order to establish national forests that would protect the watersheds of rivers from erosion, reduce flooding, and prevent the siltation and clogging of navigable streams. A New York chapter of the Veterans of Foreign Wars petitioned the federal government in 1934 for a memorial to Alfred Joyce Kilmer, a heroic American soldier who was killed in 1918 in France during World War I after he volunteered to reconnoiter enemy machine gun emplacements. Kilmer was not only a brave soldier who had voluntarily fought for a cause he felt was his duty, but also a popular poet and literary figure who captured the hearts and minds of his comrades and others with his admirable personal qualities and spirit. Because Kilmer had written a poem entitled, Trees, that expressed his admiration for the beauty of a tree and its endurance during hard times, President Franklin D. Roosevelt instructed the U.S. Forest Service to select a suitable tract of forest as a national memorial to Kilmer. In 1936, the U.S. Forest Service purchased from the Gennett Lumber Company 13,500 acres of uncut, old-growth forest in the Unicoi Mountains in the Santeetlah Creek and Little Santeetlah Creek watersheds. The tract harbored one of the few uncut forests still remaining in the eastern United States. The Forest Service magnanimously offered 3,800 acres of forest with exceptionally large trees in the Little Santeelah Creek Watershed (almost the entire watershed!) as a memorial to Kilmer. The tract was officially dedicated as the Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest in 1936. In 1936 the federal government also organized the national forests along state lines, creating the Cherokee National Forest in Tennessee on the western side of the main Unicoi Mountain ridge and the Nantahala National Forest in North Carolina on the eastern side.

In 1964 when I first visited the Unicoi Mountains, they comprised a vast mountain area that still had been little explored by scientists and therefore possessed tremendous and exciting possibilities for discoveries. Since the Wilderness Act of 1964 was just being enacted, no wilderness areas had been established, few trails existed and no trail guides had been published; only a few rough, dirt roads, subject to erosion and washouts, followed creeks into the backcountry. To reach high mountain summits such as Haw Knob, Hooper Bald, Oak Knob, Huckleberry Knob, and Bob Stratton Bald required long and strenuous uphill hiking; and the U.S. Forest Service had not yet cut the trees on Oak and Huckleberry knobs to create the Grassy Balds that are present on those knobs today. The only motor vehicle routes that passed over the main Unicoi ridge, connecting Monroe and Polk counties in Tennessee with Graham and Cherokee counties in North Carolina, were through a few gaps on dirt roads that often deteriorated to the extent that only a vehicle with high clearance and four-wheel drive could travel on them. The Unicoi Mountains were, in effect, one of the last frontiers in both Tennessee and North Carolina, cut off from the populated areas of both states by a lack of good roads through the surrounding mountains. They also served as a barrier, preventing Tennesseans and North Carolinians from crossing over the main ridge to partake of the treasures on opposite sides of the state line.

Change has been slow in coming to the Unicoi Mountains, but it has occurred recently at a rapidly accelerating rate. The improvement of highways leading from large urban areas to Tellico Plains, Tennessee and Robbinsville, North Carolina (the western and eastern gateways, respectively, of the Unicois) and the completion in 1996 of the scenic Cherohala Skyway, which winds along the highest Unicoi ridges and connects the two towns, has led to a marked influx of people. The diverse attractions of the Unicois are luring persons with many different interests. Many persons are visitors coming either to simply enjoy the outstanding scenery, flora, and fauna of the Unicois or for a variety of recreational activities, including hiking, backpacking, camping, fishing, swimming, horseback riding, hunting, canoeing, kayaking, and rafting.

The surging use of the Unicois in recent years is stimulating economic development on privately owned land because there is an increased demand for lodging, food, equipment, and guides. Although most of the land in the Unicois is either in the Cherokee National Forest or the Nantahala National Forest, increased use of these public lands has created a greater call for the development and maintenance of recreational facilities such as campsites, boat-launching ramps, swimming beaches, and hiking trails. With so much development and change taking place so rapidly, the need to interpret the value of special natural features of the Unicois and to enhance a determination to protect them is urgent. With people desiring multiple uses of the natural resources of the Unicois, there are bound to be conflicts of interest. Misguided use of the natural assets of the Unicois could quickly destroy the very features that made these mountains valuable and attractive in the first place.

Since the mid-1960s, a considerable amount of scientific research on the natural history of the Unicois has transpired. The enactment of the 1964 Wilderness Act not only led to the permanent protection of several biologically rich areas of the Unicois (the Joyce-Kilmer-Slickrock Wilderness and the Gee Creek Wilderness in 1975, and the Citico Creek Wilderness and the Bald River Wilderness in 1984) but also stimulated scientific studies of their flora and fauna. The Endangered Species Act in 1973, along with the subsequent development of state Natural Heritage and Non-game programs, resulted in intensive surveys of rare or endangered plants and animals in the Unicois. The identification of endangered species has led in turn to efforts to conserve them by learning more about them through research, by protecting or improving their habitats, or by aiding them in other ways. Efforts to restore and preserve the Tulula Wetlands in 1994 led to five years of research in which the hydrology of the area was studied and the plants and animals were inventoried. The recent re-licensing of Alcoa’s dams in the Unicois was preceded by studies on the effects that past water management practices had had on aquatic plants and animals (especially on endangered species). These studies led to Alcoa’s reducing the maximum drawdown in water levels allowed for Lake Santeetlah and to Alcoa’s increasing the water released from Santeetlah Dam into the Cheoah River. Biologists have also recently reintroduced some historical species that had been extirpated from the Unicois. The more we learn about the natural history of the Unicoi Mountains, the better able we will be to insure the survival of their valuable, diverse ecosystems.

Much of the information that I have used in writing Unicoi Unity is scattered among various published books and journals, in theses and dissertations in various University libraries, in unpublished reports to diverse state and federal agencies, and at internet sites. Some of the information in Unicoi Unity was gleaned through personal interviews or mail correspondence with persons whose names, agencies, and contributions are acknowledged below. In addition, since 1980 I have kept specific records on many plants, mushrooms, and animals that I have seen in the Unicois. Unicoi Unity attempts to integrate and synthesize information from these many, diverse sources into a coherent natural history of the Unicoi Mountains, that is, to present in a unifying way what I have been able to learn about what exists in the Unicois now and how it came to be. Although much progress has been made in recent years in learning about the natural history of the Unicois, much still remains unknown.

I hope Unicoi Unity will enhance your appreciation and understanding of the Unicoi Mountains and spark in you a determination to preserve the region’s precious natural resources and beauty. In spite of their isolation, these mountains have been changed considerably by human activities, sometimes for the better but sometimes for the worse, and this book attempts to describe these effects. If Unicoi Unity helps us learn from past mistakes, gives encouragement by describing previous corrective and positive actions of conservation, stimulates further discovery and understanding of the Unicois, and promotes uses that protect and preserve their unique features and forms of life, everyone, including myself, will be richly rewarded.

Many persons have my deepest appreciation for providing the information and assistance that made Unicoi Unity possible. First, Unicoi Unity is a tribute to the persons who produced the scientific literature from which much of the information in this book is derived. Second, many thanks are due to those persons who contributed data through providing me with unpublished written reports by e-mail or U.S. mail or through communicating with me in person or via telephone.

For the considerable assistance they provided, I am especially grateful to Christine Kelly, wildlife biologist, N.C. Wildlife Resources Commission, for information about rare species in the Unicois, especially about her work in the Unicois with the Carolina Northern Flying Squirrel and for providing photos of the squirrels; to Harry LeGrand, Jr., Vertebrate Zoologist, North Carolina Natural Heritage Program, for reviewing the section on butterflies in Chapter Eleven and providing information about butterfly sightings; to Jim Herrig, fisheries biologist for the Cherokee National Forest, for reviewing and contributing to fish species lists for rivers and creeks of the Unicois in Tennessee and for information about endangered mussels, the native Brook Trout, and the reintroduction of the Spotfin Chub, Smoky Madtom, and Yellowfin Madtom into the Tellico River; to Laura Mitchell Lewis, Forest Wildlife Biologist, the Cherokee National Forest, for data about Unicoi birds and mammals (including a Northern Saw-whet Owl that she heard calling near Little Haw Knob) and for providing a copy of an informative research report to the Forest Service by Harvey, Chaney, and McGimsey on the distribution, status, and ecology of small mammals in the southern district of the Cherokee National Forest; to Joy M. O’Keefe, biologist, Indiana State University, for articles and data from her research on bats in the Unicois and for reviewing the section on bats in Chapter Sixteen; to David A Parton, a close friend whose expertise in building and his many hours of voluntary work helped me build a cabin on West Buffalo Creek where Pat and I could live while we explored the Unicoi area; to James W. Petranka, Dept. of Biology, University of North Carolina at Asheville for maps of Tulula Wetlands and for data about the amphibians and reptiles of the wetlands, including information about the Bog Turtle and plans to restore it; and to David F. Vogt, ornithologist and artist, for reports of birds that he or others had sighted, for welcoming me as an observer and participant during his bird banding sessions at the Whigg Meadow and scheduling me to be with other participants who could add to my knowledge of the Unicois, and for permitting me to include his data from the first ten years of bird banding at the Whigg Meadow (see Appendix I).

Others to whom I owe special thanks are Quentin Bass, archeologist for the Cherokee National Forest, for information about the history of the area and about Gee Cave; Mark A. Cantrell, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, Asheville, N.C., for reports of studies made along the Cheoah River that were commissioned by Alcoa Power Generating, Inc. as part of the process of re-licensing Santeetlah Dam; to Steve Fraley, Aquatic Nongame Coordinator, Western Region, Division of Inland Fisheries, N.C. Wildlife Resources Commission, for lists of fishes collected by TVA in 1997 in the Cheoah River and in Santeetlah, West Buffalo, and Snowbird creeks; to Timothy J. Gaudin, Dept. of Biological and Environmental Sciences, the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga, for data on mammals collected in the vicinity of Hooper Bald, Huckleberry Knob, and Stratton Meadow; to Leigh Griggs, graduate student, University of Georgia, for data on rare plant communities on Little Toqua Creek, Haw Knob, and Starr Mountain; to Robert M. Hatcher, Endangered Species Coordinator, Tennessee Wildlife Resources Agency, for information about Tennessee’s rare and endangered species and the programs to aid them; to Ronald S. Hughes, wildlife biologist, Virginia Game and Inland Fisheries, for information on the Carolina Northern Flying Squirrel, Northern Saw-whet Owl, and Eastern Spotted Skunk in the Unicois; to C. Scott Loftis, District 9 Fisheries Biologist, N.C. Wildlife Resources Commission, for results of surveys of fish in Santeetlah and Hiwassee lakes and for management plans for the Hiwassee River Basin and for the Cheoah River Basin and Lower Little Tennessee River; to Garland McGuire for information about Hooper Bald and the hunting lodge on it; to Doug Peterson, Regional Fisheries Biologist for Tennessee Wildlife Resources Agency, District 4, for information about Paddlefish and for data concerning Tellico, Chilhowee, and Calderwood lakes; to Mark J, Pistrang, Forest Botanist and Ecologist, Cherokee National Forest, for information about Bullet Creek Bog and for allowing me count White Fringeless Orchids there with him; to Arthur Floyd Scott and William H. Redmond, Austin Peay State University, for data from their files on Tennessee amphibians and reptiles; to Peter D. Weigl, Dept of Biology, Wake Forest University, for much literature on the Carolina Northern Flying squirrel and its status in the Unicois and for information on how to contact Ron Hughes.

In addition, I am indebted to many others who provided specific information or help. In particular, I would like to thank Ed Clebsch, botanist, for information about the Small Purple Fringed Orchid he collected near Stratton Meadows; David Ekkens, Southern Adventist University, for data on mammals trapped at North River Campground, Hooper Bald, and Whigg Meadow; John Finnegan, N.C. Natural Heritage Program, for element occurrence reports of rare species of Graham County; T.J. Holland, Tribe Historian of the Eastern Band of the Cherokees, for information about the language of the Cherokees and their towns in the Unicois; Rob and Robin Mason for information about their sighting of an American Mink; Jonathan Mays, biologist, for contributing the picture of the Carolina Northern Flying Squirrel shown in Plate 16.8 that he took in the Unicois; J. Christopher Haney, wildlife biologist, for an annotated checklist and records of birds seen in the Unicois in Tennessee; Shirley Jackson Oswalt for information about seeing a Long-tailed Weasel on Cornsilk Branch; Dan Pattillo, Dept. of Biology, Western Carolina University, for providing literature on vegetational changes in the southern Appalachians during the Ice Ages; Jacob Perry for an account of his catching an Eastern Hellbender in Santeetlah Creek and for finding a Southern Red-backed Salamander for me; Charles Saylor, TVA, for facts about Tellico Lake and its fishes; Eric C. Soehren, Terrestrial Zoologist, Alabama Dept. of Conservation and Natural Resources, State Lands Division, Natural Heritage Section, for contributing the photo of the Northern Saw-whet Owl (Plate 15.1) which he took at the Whigg Meadow and for information about a road-killed Long-tailed Weasel he found in the Unicois; and J. Larry Wilson, Dept. of Wildlife and Fisheries, the University of Tennessee, for the results of fish collections in Chilhowee Lake embayments.

Last, but foremost, I am indebted to my two sons, James (Jim) and David McConnell, and my wife, Patsy (Pat) Washam McConnell, for accompanying and assisting me on many of my explorations of the Unicois. Jim and David were especially helpful in finding and identifying birds. Pat has my deepest gratitude for her continuous support and encouragement, and for reading the manuscript and giving helpful editorial advice.

Chapter One. A Wondrous Diversity in Unity

Whenever we try to isolate anything in nature, we find it is hitched to everything else in the universe.

John Muir

The Northeastern Section of the Unicois in North Carolina

Like a pair of mountaintop ravens my wife, Pat, and I perch at an elevation of 5,180 feet on a protruding topknot of jagged rocks known as the Hangover, the highest point on a knife-edged ridge that drops away precipitously in front of us, creating a sheer cliff. We are in the northern part of the Unicoi Mountains in southwestern North Carolina near the state line with Tennessee and are in the Joyce Kilmer-Slickrock Wilderness within the Nantahala National Forest. We hiked 3.4 miles from the Wolf Laurel Trailhead along the crests of high ridges in the wilderness to reach our position on the edge of the cliff (see Plate 1.1). The Joyce Kilmer-Slickrock Wilderness contains the never-cut 3,800-acre Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest, renowned worldwide for its magnificent old-growth trees, including a grove of giant Tuliptrees having massive trunks of up to almost seven feet in diameter and crowns that soar above the other trees at heights of up to 140 to 150 feet. The Hangover on which we are positioned, however, is a treeless promontory on the northwestern edge of the Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest. It is 0.4 mile north of the summit of a 5,249-foot peak called the Haoe (pronounced Hay-oh) on a spur ridge that extends northward like a compass needle from the Haoe and forms the eastern rim of the Slickrock Creek watershed. I feel wonderfully exhilarated and alive looking northward from our lofty crow’s-nest across the gulf of space below and out into the distance where the Hangover Lead continues below the cliff, descending steeply to Big Fat Gap (elevation 3,060 feet), rising slightly again over Cold Spring Knob (elevation 3,500 feet), and then making a final plunge to Calderwood Lake (elevation 1,086 feet) on the Little Tennessee River—a total drop of 4,163 feet over a distance of about five air miles from the Haoe to the lake!

Plate 1.1. Owen and Pat on the Hangover in 2011 with the

Haoe, the Wall, and Stratton Bald in the background

I have a spectacular 360 degree view since our rocky perch rises above the dominant Catawba (Purple) Rhododendrons, Mountain Laurel, Black Chokeberries and other head-high shrubs that grow on this treeless portion of the Hangover and comprise what botanists call a Shrub Bald but which is locally referred to as a Laurel Slick, or Laurel Hell. Because of its impenetrable tangle of stems and foliage, it is easier to crawl across the outer surface of a Shrub Bald than to worm through it; so, we had gladly used an existing narrow trail through the head-high growth. Within my view are not only the rhododendrons on the Hangover but also the rhododendron-capped summits of other ridges located a short distance beyond and to either side of the Hangover. On this day (May 28) a cloak of unimaginable beauty utterly and magically hides any pernicious aspect of these Shrub Balds. The dense growths of Catawba Rhododendrons that dominate these balds have burst forth in concert with a profusion of rose-lavender blossoms, fashioning a flowing mantel of exquisite purple across the ridge crests around me.

While I am admiring the purple aura of the Shrub Balds, I notice two croaking Common Ravens (probably a mated pair) circling over the Slickrock Creek basin, flying side by side and turning repeatedly in unison. At the same time two Mourning Cloak butterflies flit close at hand over the Black Chokeberry and Catawba Rhododendron blossoms on the Hangover, like small echoes of the ravens overhead. How connected and unified everything seems to be in the Unicois, I think; a Laurel Hell and a Laurel Heaven are but opposite sides of the same coin.

My gaze passes slowly over the dazzling rhododendron blossoms around the Hangover toward more distant horizons. All around me are gently undulating ridgelines and dome-shaped mountaintops with convex slopes that become steeper as they descend into deep valleys. These mountains are etched with a complex dendritic network of drainage channels, linking all the parts together into a unified whole like the veins of a leaf. Old and worn are these mountains, polished to perfection by 250 million years of weathering. And totally embellishing them are a host of soft, fluffy, round-topped trees wearing the multicolored shades of fresh green so characteristic of new deciduous growth. There is a profound softness to the lovely scene before me, made even more so by a thin blue haze—the diaphanous veil called smoky that conceals little, but softens the glare of the sun, enhances perspective, and creates an aura of far-away distance and mystery even to objects that are fairly close. How different in appearance, I thought, are these ancient, long-eroded, and well-watered mountains with their cloak of soft, broadleaved foliage from the much younger mountains of western North America with their harsher kind of beauty composed of jagged peaks, large rocky areas devoid of trees, and forests dominated by evergreen, pointed conifers!

Looking from the Hangover to the northeast beyond the eastern boundary of the Unicois (the Cheoah River), I see the pastel greens and blues of the Yellow Creek Mountains, glimpses of the shining waters of Cheoah and Fontana lakes (reservoirs on the Little Tennessee River upstream from Calderwood Lake), and beyond them, on the horizon, the huge smoky and enchanted purplish bulk of the western section of the Great Smoky Mountains, rising up from Deals Gap like a prehistoric brontosaurus (Apatosaurus) with its head, Clingmans Dome (at 6,643 feet the second highest mountain in eastern North America), barely discernible on the skyline farther to the east.

The immediate sight of the Great Smoky Mountains causes me to think about the connection between that range and the Unicois. Together they comprise a continuous section of a long, high ridge called the Unaka Mountains that stretches along the western edge of the Blue Ridge Physiographic Province from Virginia to Georgia. The Unaka Mountains are the western counterpart of the Blue Ridge Mountains that lie along the eastern edge of the province. The Unaka Mountains on the west and the Blue Ridge Mountains on the east together comprise much of the bulk of the Southern Appalachian Mountains, although a number of transverse mountain ranges run between them, uniting them. The long, north-south trending Unaka massif has been divided into segments by four rivers that have cut through it crosswise from east to west, breaking it into four separately named ranges, namely (from north to south) the Northern Unaka Mountains, Bald Mountains, Great Smoky Mountains, and Unicoi Mountains. The Little Tennessee River separates the Unicoi Mountains from the Great Smoky Mountains.

Calderwood Lake is the easternmost of three reservoirs on the Little Tennessee River that together form the northern boundary of the Unicoi Mountains. Like a narrow twisting snake, the cold waters of Calderwood Lake wind westward from Cheoah Dam at Tapoco, North Carolina, through a deep gorge to Calderwood Dam in Tennessee, both dams having been built by the Aluminum Company of America (Alcoa). The Cheoah River, which forms the eastern boundary of the Unicois, flows northward and spills into Calderwood Lake just below Cheoah Dam, their juncture marking the northeast corner of the Unicois. It is over nine miles along Calderwood Lake’s shoreline from Cheoah Dam to Calderwood Dam but only half the distance in a straight line by air. Downstream and west of Calderwood Dam is Chilhowee Lake, another sinuous ribbon of water that has also been created by an Alcoa dam, namely Chilhowee Dam. Chilhowee Lake is about the same length as Calderwood Lake but is wider, shallower, and warmer. West of Chilhowee Dam, the Little Tennessee River is impounded as Tellico Lake: its channel gradually broadens as it flows downstream to the west, at first covering low terraces that were sites of the former Cherokee capitals of Chota and Tanasi and then spreading out amoeba-like over rich bottomlands. It expands to a lake about 1.5 miles wide just before it reaches Fort Loudon State Park and Historic Area. On the west side of the state park the Tellico River prong joins Tellico Lake, marking the northwest corner of the Unicoi area described in this book. The Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA) operates Tellico Dam, which is farther downstream near the Little Tennessee River’s confluence with the Tennessee River. All three reservoirs forming the north boundary of the Unicoi Mountains lie within the state of Tennessee except for the easternmost mile of Calderwood Lake near Tapoco, which is in North Carolina.

On early maps the present Unicoi Mountains were labeled either White Mountains (e.g., a map of North and South Carolina made in 1824 that I found in the library of the University of North Carolina in Chapel Hill) or Unaka Mountains (e.g., a map of North Carolina made in 1882 by State Geologist, W. C. Kerr ). In the glossary of his book, Myths of the Cherokee, James Mooney (1900), the renowned ethnologist who gathered extensive information about the Cherokees through field studies conducted from 1887 to 1890, states that the word, Unicoi, is "Probably a corruption of une′gă, white, whence comes also Unaka." How une′gă, was changed by the English to Unaka is easily comprehended since in the Cherokee language "e" sounds like the a in hate and "g" at the beginning of a syllable sounds like k. It is not as apparent how une′gă was anglicized to Unicoi, but T. J. Holland, the tribe historian of the Eastern Band of the Cherokees, told me that the Cherokee language adds "hi, pronounced hee, at the end of a word to designate a place; hence, une gă ′-hi, meaning white place, was probably the origin of the name, Unicoi. White" is an apt name for the Unakas, for they are often white with rime ice or snow in winter, with the blooms of Downy Serviceberries and Carolina Silverbells in spring, and (until the chestnut blight) with the whitish catkins of American Chestnuts in summer.

Why did the name Unicoi Mountains replace the earlier map name, Unaka Mountains? The problem with continuing the use of the name, Unaka, for the present Unicoi Mountains was that the same name was also being used in referring to another segment of the long Unaka ridge, one that was north of the Great Smoky and Bald mountains. Since Unaka and Unicoi had been in common use as alternative names for the northern and southern segments of the Unaka ridge for many years, Horace Kephart (the writer who chronicled the language and ways of people living in the Great Smoky Mountains) proposed in the late 1920s that Unaka be retained as an official name for the northern segment and that Unicoi be used for the southern one. In 1932 the United States Geographic Board endorsed Kephart’s suggestion by making Northern Unaka Mountains the official name for the northern section of the Unaka Mountains and Unicoi Mountains the official name for the southern section. At the same time, the board defined the location of the Unicoi Mountains as Monroe and Polk counties, Tenn., and Cherokee and Graham counties, N.C., forming in part the common boundary line of North Carolina and Tennessee (Cameron 1932). The Geographic Board also clearly defined the northern boundary of the Unicois as the Little Tennessee River and the southern boundary as the Hiwassee River but did not attempt to define the width of the Unicoi range (that is, its east and west boundaries). Therefore, I will need to establish them for the purposes of this book as we proceed with our exploration of the Unicois.

Together, the Unicoi Mountains and the Great Smoky Mountains form a continuous natural corridor that follows the sinuations of the main Unaka ridge for over 100 miles, interrupted only by the narrow Little Tennessee River flowing between them. As a unit they reduce the negative effects that are associated with the over-fragmentation of habitats. In their unity each mountain range has more diversity than it would have separately. The diversity is increased because some species require large territories and others need the interior of large forests to avoid predators that stalk along the edges of woodlands. As a rule, the larger the island of habitat that is preserved intact, the greater the diversity of species it can harbor.

Having enjoyed a view of the Great Smoky Mountains from the Hangover in the Unicois, I shift my gaze from the northeast to the northwest where I can see almost the entire elongated Slickrock Creek watershed of 10,193 acres, a basin that is about six-miles long and no more than half as wide. Since I am on the upper part of the Hangover Lead, which forms the eastern rim of the Slickrock Creek basin, my gaze easily drifts westward across the beautiful emerald valley of Slickrock Creek below me until on the far side of the valley it encounters a majestic ridge that forms the basin’s western slope and rim. The ridge is, in fact, the main ridge of the Unicoi Mountains—the central and continuous backbone of the Unicois from which many spur ridges emerge.

Although only the north end of the main Unicoi ridge can be seen from the Hangover, its other parts are so vividly etched in my mind that I can imagine I am viewing the front end of another prodigious replica of an ancient dinosaur, a Stegosaurus in this instance, a dinosaur armored with bony plates along its spine and facing northward with its head lowered for a drink from Calderwood Lake. Across the valley of Slickrock Creek some of the bony plates that lie along its backbone are rising up before me in a series of arching knobs separated by plunging gaps. From north to south the knobs and gaps with their elevations are as follows: Stiffknee Top (2,400 feet), Stiffknee Gap (2,340 feet), Little Fodderstack (3,723 feet), Big Stack Gap (3,380 feet), Big Fodderstack (4,346 feet), Harrison Gap (3,820 feet), Rockstack (4,400 feet), Glen Gap (4,100 feet), Chestnut Knob (4,320 feet), and Cherry Log Gap (4,420 feet). The main Unicoi ridge then climbs to an elevation of 5,150 feet at its junction with Stratton Bald, a long, high mountain that runs almost due east from the main ridge, blocking my view of any mountains beyond it to the south. I know, of course, that the dinosaur continues on beyond my field of view, forming its highest dome (Haw Knob) in its mid-section before bending southwestward and ending with a tail that displays a final spiked tip (Buck Bald) near the Hiwassee River.

Stratton Bald forms part of the southern, uppermost rim of the Slickrock Creek basin. The ridge-crest of Stratton Bald rises steeply at first as it runs eastward from the main Unicoi divide but then levels off and continues for a little less than a mile to its high point at an elevation of about 5,360 feet. The elongated, rather flat-topped Stratton Bald is the fifth tallest mountain in the Unicois and the highest in this northern section of the Unicois. About three tenths of a mile east of where Stratton Bald joins the main Unicoi ridge there is a beautiful, secluded meadow of two or three acres that extends from the forest’s edge on the keel of Stratton Bald’s ridge down a gently descending, south-facing slope (see Plate 1.2). Sometime in the mid-1800s Bob Stratton, the son of an early white settler named John Stratton, built a cabin near this meadow and lived there with his wife and eight children until bushwhackers (Civil War renegades) killed him in 1864 (Brewer and Brewer 1975). Apparently, Bob Stratton originally cleared the land where the meadow now exists, but in 1985 and 1986 the U.S. Forest Service reclaimed the meadow from invasive plants and now mows it periodically to prevent the encroachment of woody plants. Since the boundary of the Joyce Kilmer-Slickrock Wilderness runs along the ridge-crest at the upper edge of the meadow, the meadow is outside of the wilderness; therefore, the Forest Service is allowed to maintain it. The meadow is usually called Bob Bald to distinguish it from Stratton Bald, the mountain as a whole; but both are named for Bob Stratton. At an elevation of about 5,262 feet, the open meadow affords a scenic view to the south of the highest Unicoi Mountains, Huckleberry Knob and Haw Knob, which we will visit later.

Plate 1.2. Bob Bald with Huckleberry Knob in the distance

My view of Stratton Bald from the Hangover invokes many unforgettable memories of special moments there. On July 18, 1996 my wife, ten-year-old grandson (Brennen), and I backpacked 2.2 miles from the Wolf Laurel Trailhead (see Homan 2008) to Bob Bald and found it inundated with the blossoms of pink Carolina Phlox. Our green Eureka tent was pitched like a small boat in the middle of a sea that seemed aglow from the pink rays of sunset reflected on the pink phlox. During the night a ferocious, gusty wind howled and pounded the tent, causing its nylon sides to heave in and out like billows. I also vividly recall the day of April 9, 2000 when Pat and I and some friends hiked across freshly snow-covered ground to the summit of Stratton Bald and peered upward towards a deep blue cloudless sky through an intricate lattice-work of leafless beech tree branches, all coated with rime ice and brilliantly reflecting the sunshine. Stratton Bald is a perfect place to have peak experiences!

A high ridge runs northeast from near the peak of Stratton Bald to the Haoe, forming the remainder of the upper rim of the Slickrock Creek basin. Although nameless on maps, this ridge is sometimes called the Wall, and it sags towards a gap called Naked Ground at 0.6 mile from Stratton Bald’s ridge-crest, then continues for a mile to the summit of the Haoe. Shortly, we will hike across the Wall and through Naked Ground on our way to our car at Wolf Laurel.

The Slickrock Creek watershed (10,193 acres) constitutes the largest part of the original 14,033-acre Joyce Kilmer-Slickrock Wilderness that was established in 1975. The North Carolina Wilderness Act of 1984 then added 2,980 acres to the wilderness east of the rim of Slickrock Creek’s basin, raising the total acreage of the Joyce Kilmer-Slickrock Wilderness to 17,013. Most of the Slickrock Creek basin lies within the Nantahala National Forest in North Carolina, but 3,881 acres in its northwest corner are in Tennessee’s Cherokee National Forest. On June 9, 2010 Senators Lamar Alexander and Bob Corker introduced in the U.S. Congress a bill called The Tennessee Wilderness Act of 2010 that would add 1,836 acres to the north end of Tennessee’s part of the Joyce Kilmer-Slickrock Wilderness. Although the Forest Service had recommended the addition in 2004, the senators had to repeatedly introduce the legislation until it finally passed in 2018.

The Tennessee Wilderness Act of 2018 increased the size of the Joyce Kilmer-Slickrock Wilderness to 18,849 acres, extending its area northward and westward beyond the rim of Slickrock Creek’s basin. The addition not only better protects the Slickrock Creek watershed but also preserves the headwater forests of several other creeks that flow into the Little Tennessee River. Slickrock Creek, which flows lengthwise (from south to north) through its namesake basin, is such an absolutely clear and gorgeous stream that every effort should be made to protect it. It contains two notable waterfalls. Lower Falls, which is about a mile upstream from Calderwood Lake, is about fifteen feet high overall with two tiers and an unusually deep catch (swimming?) pool. Wildcat Falls is in the wild heart of the basin about four miles upstream from Lower Falls; it has four high tiers (the lowermost cascade dropping about twenty feet) and a pristine beauty that is enhanced by the complexity of its raceways and chutes. Moreover, the Slickrock Creek basin is one of the most botanically rich watersheds in the southern Appalachians. As a cool and moist, north-facing cove with an elevation change of 4,294 feet from its highest to lowest points, it is an outstanding environment for plant growth and diversity.

Babcock Land and Timber Company began cutting the Slickrock watershed in 1915, but the building of Calderwood Dam (finished in 1930) interrupted the logging before it was completed. Pockets of large old-growth Carolina Silverbell, American Beech, Yellow Buckeye, Red Maple, Sugar Maple, and Eastern Hemlock were left in the upper third of the watershed. Even though the lower sections of the basin were virtually clear-cut, the forest is vigorously recovering there since no further harvesting of timber has taken place in the basin since Babcock’s operation. Tuliptrees in the rich lower cove have already reached heights of over 100 feet, with trunks two feet or more in diameter; and slower-growing shade-tolerant trees are overtaking early-successional, shade-intolerant ones. In time, if left undisturbed, the Slickrock Creek basin could harbor one of the foremost, if not the greatest, old-growth forests in the Unicois.

Trails exist along almost all the creeks and ridgetops in the Unicois, and guidebooks about the trails by Homan (2008) and Skelton (2005) provide detailed information about most of them. One of the trails described is the Fodderstack-Benton MacKaye Trail, which courses north-south for 13.2 miles, closely following the crest of the main Unicoi ridge on the western side of the Slickrock Creek basin from Farr Gap on the north end to Beech Gap at the south end. When the trees are leafless in winter, a hiker along this trail can view not only the Slickrock Creek basin but also much of the terrain of the 15,891-acre Citico Creek Wilderness in Tennessee that adjoins the Joyce Kilmer-Slickrock Wilderness along the ridge’s crest. A description of the Citico Creek Wilderness will be provided later in this chapter as we travel along its southern and western borders.

In order to visit other Unicoi areas before nightfall, Pat and I must now leave the Hangover. We look forward to seeing, on the hike back to our car, a bird’s eye view of the greatest of all the treasures of the Unicois—the Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest. We follow the trail southward through a corridor-like cut in the rhododendrons and at 0.2 mile arrive at Saddle Tree Gap where we pass through a stand of beech trees that are mostly in two layers: an upper one of scattered, weather-twisted old men whose arms form the canopy and, beneath them, a multitude of eager youths springing up under their shelter, ready to seize a canopy space when an old tree falls. A lush, soft growth of Pennsylvania Sedge on the ground makes the saddle a tempting spot to stop for a rest or to camp overnight, as many backpackers do. After climbing 0.2 mile more on the Hangover Lead South Trail, we reach the summit of the Haoe where a fire tower stood before it was removed when the area became a wilderness. We turn southwestward (to the right) onto the Haoe Lead Trail, which leads us down and along a narrow forested ridge-top that is the loftiest and most attractive ridgeline in the wilderness: the trailside is lush with Pennsylvania Sedge and wood ferns, and the beech forest is open enough to occasionally offer distant views. This ridge we are on (the Wall) is the divide between the Joyce Kilmer portion and the Slickrock Creek part of the Joyce Kilmer-Slickrock Wilderness. After hiking for a mile from the Haoe’s summit, we come to the gap on the ridgeline called Naked Ground.

Naked Ground Branch of Slickrock Creek flows north from the west slope of Naked Ground, and Little Santeetlah Creek runs southeast from the opposite side of the divide. Although the waters of these two creeks rush off in opposite directions as though separating forever, Nature’s circular processes will soon unite them again. Slickrock Creek’s waters head directly for the Calderwood Lake section of the Little Tennessee River, whereas those of Little Santeetlah Creek reach Calderwood Lake by a more circuitous route. Little Santeetlah Creek waters flow into Santeetlah Creek, which deposits them in Santeetlah Lake. From Santeetlah Lake they either flow over Santeetlah Dam into the Cheoah River, which carries then northward to Calderwood Lake, or they are delivered through an Alcoa pipeline to a powerhouse on Cheoah Lake, from which they go through Cheoah Dam into Calderwood Lake. After the waters of Slickrock and Little Santeetlah Creeks enter Calderwood Lake and unite, they are carried to the Gulf of Mexico via the Tennessee and Mississippi Rivers, where they may be lifted by the sun’s energy, carried by southwesterly winds, and possibly fall again on the Naked Ground divide.

Naked Ground is a former campsite of the Cherokees, and my son, Jim, once found an unbroken arrowhead there. Though Naked Ground was formerly more open than it is today, I still have a magnificent view to the southeast of the Little Santeetlah Creek watershed. During a conversation I once had with John W. Greene (1986), an Eastern Band Cherokee who wrote Shifting Shadows in Cherokee History, John said ruefully, I wish I could have seen this land 300 years ago, before it was changed by the white man. I wish that John were standing beside me at Naked Ground, because the view before me is as close to the fulfillment of John’s wish as any person can come today. I am looking eastward into the Little Santeetlah Creek watershed, better known as the Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest, a 3,800-acre primeval forest from which timber has never been removed. I feel the deepest gratitude toward all of those persons who had a part in saving this most precious remnant of the once-extensive southern Appalachian forest. That story is told in Chapter Five.

The original 3,800-acre Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest, established in 1936, covered the entire Little Santeetlah Creek watershed except for the lowest 0.6 mile of the creek where it now flows along FS 416 from the Joyce Kilmer Parking Area to its junction with Santeetlah Creek. In 1975 the Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest was combined with the land of the adjoining Slickrock Creek watershed to create the Joyce Kilmer-Slickrock Wilderness. In 1984, when 2,980 acres were added to the Joyce Kilmer-Slickrock Wilderness, the addition included the lower 0.6 mile of the Little Santeetlah Creek basin (a forty-acre strip), creating protection for the entire 3,840-acre Little Santeetlah Creek watershed. The addition also included adjoining land in the Horse Cove Branch watershed and the Deep Creek watershed that provided a much-needed buffer zone for the protection of the Little Santeetlah Creek basin on its eastern and northern sides, respectively.

The Little Santeetlah Creek watershed is shaped like a thumb pointed downward to the southeast from the high ridge (the Wall) from which we are viewing it. It is about four air miles long and two air miles wide. Little Santeetlah Creek bisects the basin lengthwise, then exits the basin through a bottleneck opening at its lower end (tip of the thumb) and immediately enters (Big) Santeetlah Creek. The Wall, on which Naked Ground occurs, forms the northwest rim of the Little Santeetlah watershed. The Haoe Lead, a long ridge that descends eastward from the Haoe (at the north end of the Wall), forms the north rim of the watershed for about 1.5 miles from the Haoe. From that point the northeastern watershed rim is formed by an unnamed spur ridge that descends from the Haoe Lead to the southeast for about two miles to the bottleneck opening near the mouth of Little Santeetlah Creek. Although this spur ridge is unnamed, the Jenkins Meadow Trail courses along it (mostly on or near its crest) for its entire length (see Homan 2008). On the opposite side of the Little Santeetlah Creek watershed, the rim of the basin is formed primarily by Horse Cove Ridge. Horse Cove Ridge descends southeastward from the junction of Stratton Bald with the Wall (at its south end). When Horse Cove Ridge approaches the bottleneck outlet near the mouth of Little Santeetlah Creek, an unnamed spur ridge curves to the northeast off of Horse Cove Ridge, completing the final watershed basin rim. The elevation of the Little Santeetlah watershed ranges from 5,280 feet near Stratton Bald to 2,120 feet at the mouth of Little Santeetlah Creek, but much of the elevation change along the creek occurs rapidly in the steep, upper half mile of the watershed.

Some coves in the Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest along the north-facing slope of Horse Cove Ridge are among the richest ecosystems in the entire northern hemisphere. The most famous of these coves is a large one called Poplar Cove. It is in the southeast corner of the Little Santeetlah Creek basin, recessed into the bend where the unnamed spur ridge curves to the northeast off of Horse Cove Ridge. Tourists from all over the world visit it to see its magnificent trees and wildflowers. On reaching our car, I will drive there and give an overview description of the cove and of the trail circling through it.

Leaving Naked Ground, Pat and I continue southward on the Haoe Lead trail along the ridgeline of the Wall to a junction with the Stratton Bald Trail near the summit of Stratton Bald. A turn to the right and a hike of 0.7 mile more would take us to the meadow of Bob Bald. Instead, we turn left, descending for about 1.2 miles along the keel of Horse Cove Ridge. Twice we stop along the way to enjoy the charming beauty of several colonies of Bluebead Lily (Clintonia borealis) with loose clusters of bell-shaped, greenish yellow flowers hanging gracefully from foot-high stems encircled by broad, glossy-green basal leaves (see Plate 9.19). This northern species is near the southern limit of its range in the Unicois, where it occurs in only a few shaded, high-elevation sites. Reaching the Wolf Laurel Trail, we hike 0.2 mile along it to the trailhead where our car awaits us.

After driving west about three miles on the winding dirt and gravel Wolf Laurel Road (FS 81-F), we see on our right a dirt road, which, if the gate at its entrance is locked, can be walked for a short distance to a picturesque, old-time log cabin at the edge of a large, maintained clearing known as the Swan Meadow. John Swan of Pennsylvania settled here in 1890 with his wife and eight children. He was one of the few early white settlers to live at such a high elevation (about 4,400 feet). John’s original cabin deteriorated and was removed; John’s son, Frank Swan, built this present cabin in 1931. The U.S. Forest Service now owns most of John’s original 300 acres of land, and also the cabin, which it rents to the public for overnight use. The Swan Meadow is a beautiful, isolated, wild place—always worth a visit.

Two miles beyond the road to the Swan cabin, we come to a T-intersection where Wolf Laurel Road ends at another dirt and gravel road (FS 81). If we turn right, we could drive uphill approximately four miles to the Cherohala Skyway at Stratton Meadows on the main ridge crest of the Unicois. Instead, we turn left, following Santeetlah Creek downstream. At 3.3 miles we pass a pioneer cabin built between 1840 and 1870 by James Archibald Arch Stewart but now owned by the Forest Service. After crossing wide, double-channeled Santeetlah Creek at a little over five miles, we climb uphill for about 0.4 mile more to a parking area opposite Stewart Ridge Road, an old Forest Service logging road that is blocked by a locked gate but can be used as a hiking trail. The trail traverses a north-facing Rich Cove and Slope Forest having a superb variety and abundance of spring wildflowers. A mile farther on FS 81 we arrive at Santeetlah Gap (our first junction with a paved road).

Santeelah Gap (elevation 2,660 feet) is the beginning or end, depending on which way you are traveling, of the Cherohala Skyway, a national scenic byway which courses through the Unicois along high ridges for forty-two miles, providing a link between Robbinsville, North Carolina and Tellico Plains, Tennessee. Since the skyway provides access to many of the most spectacular and interesting sites in the Unicois, we will later explore the Unicois from it. But now we turn left onto paved SR 1127, drive northwest for 2.2 miles to a four-way intersection, and turn left onto a Forest Service road (FS 416) that immediately enters the Joyce Kilmer-Slickrock Wilderness.

An enchanting 0.6-mile drive on FS 416 along tumbling, crystal-clear Little Santeetlah Creek through a tunnel of overarching trees brings us to the parking area for the Joyce Kilmer National Recreation Trail (commonly called the Joyce Kilmer memorial trail), a trail within the original 3,800-acre Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest. The two-mile-long trail consists of two interconnected loops that form a figure 8; the lower loop is 1.2 miles long and the upper one 0.8 mile. The elevation is 2,200 feet at the entrance to the trail, where there is a bridge over Little Santeetlah Creek (see Plate 1.3), and 2,640 feet at the top of the upper loop. Embedded in a huge boulder at the intersection of the two loops is a plaque with an inscription stating that the forest is dedicated as a memorial to Alfred Joyce Kilmer, the poet and heroic American soldier who was killed in France during World War I (his story is told in Chapter Five). The two loops of this memorial trail course through a north-facing cove that is the basin of a small, unnamed creek formed by four branches that fan out and collect drainage from the upper part of the cove. The lower loop circles through an Acidic Cove and Slope Forest that was formerly dominated by old-growth Eastern Hemlocks; it harbors a dense understory of Rosebay Rhododendron (Rhododendron maximum). Since the Asian Hemlock Wooly Adelgid began killing hemocks in the Unicois about 2001, the forest bordering the lower loop is now undergoing a major ecological reformation as the dead, defoliated hemlocks permit more sunlight to reach the cove floor. The upper loop of the memorial trail winds through a Rich Cove and Slope Forest, one that has been named Poplar Cove because it contains a grove of giant Tuliptrees, commonly called yellow poplars. Since Poplar Cove contained few hemlocks, most of it was spared the change that is occurring along the lower loop.

While visitors understandably marvel at the size of the Tuliptrees of Poplar Cove, it is the diversity of the old-growth ecosystem in the cove that is most precious. No single species of tree dominates the cove: many tree species co-exist and compete for space (see Chapter Eight). Poplar Cove also has an open understory and a sparse shrub layer, allowing enough space and sunlight at ground level for a spectacular variety and abundance of ornate spring wildflowers (see Chapter Nine). The almost synchronous blooming of a host of wildflowers in this natural garden is among the greatest wonders displayed by deciduous forests in the Northern Hemisphere. Many herbaceous species hasten to bloom and reproduce before canopy leaves open and the shade of summer darkens the floor of the cove.

Plate 1.3. Entrance to Joyce Kilmer

Memorial Forest

Many animal species also inhabit Poplar Cove. The abundance of plants and fungi occurring in the cove make it a cornucopia for insects, spiders, millipedes, and other small invertebrates that form lower rungs of the food pyramid. Its creek branches and seepage areas provide moist homes for a variety of salamander species (see Chapter Thirteen), including the attractive eight-inch Blue Ridge Spring Salamander with its stout salmon-colored body covered with small black flecks (see Plate 13.12). Pileated woodpeckers and barred owls are commonly seen or heard year round in Poplar Cove. In spring Poplar Cove comes alive with the music of bird songs, as neotropical migrants (such as warblers, vireos, and tanagers) return to either nest there or stop-over briefly on their way to breeding grounds farther north (see Chapter Fifteen). On June 19, 1982 I even heard the melodious, high-pitched warbles and trills of a Winter Wren singing near the memorial plaque (McConnell 1982). The Winter Wren usually nests at much higher elevations in the Unicois, but apparently this wren found the moist, cool, old-growth forest of Poplar Cove similarly appealing. Many mammals also use Poplar Cove, including Bobcats, the exotic European Wild Boar (see Chapter Sixteen), and Black Bears (I saw one resting on a high limb of a Tuliptree near the lower loop trail). Visitors, however, are rarely lucky enough to see these larger mammals because they are usually nocturnal and very wary of humans since regulated hunting is permitted in the national forests of the Unicois, including their wilderness areas.

Few uncut tracts of primeval forest remain in eastern North America, and the Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest preserved a more intact remnant than most because it encompassed the entire watershed of Little Santeetlah Creek except for the forty acres along FS 416. As a rare remnant of the primeval forest, the Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest serves as a standard, or measuring rod, by which other less mature ecosystems can be gauged and their growth understood. We will visit the Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest again in other chapters of this book in order to further explore its richness and attempt to fathom the mystery of its complex and still only partially understood ecosystems.

Leaving the Joyce Kilmer parking lot, we backtrack 0.6 mile on FS 416 to its intersection with SR 1127 and turn left (north) onto a paved road (a continuation of SR 1127). The road has rust-colored guardrails like those along the Cherohala Skyway because it was built in the 1960s as the first North Carolina section of a scenic skyway to Tellico Plains, Tennessee. The construction of this scenic road stalled in 1970, after the first 4.5 miles of it had been completed, for reasons explained in Chapter Six. The route of the North Carolina portion of the scenic road was eventually changed to that of the present Cherohala Skyway, and this road (SR 1127) was terminated at a scenic spot on the Haoe Lead called Maple Springs Observation Point.

Plate 1.4. Lake Santeetlah

As we drive uphill on SR 1127 toward Maple Springs Observation Point, we cross Horse Cove Branch and wind upward along a southeastern slope of the Haoe Lead for 2.8 miles to a pull-off on our right that affords a view (best when trees are leafless) of Santeetlah Lake from an elevation of about 2,960 feet. Alcoa created the lake in 1928 when it built Santeetlah Dam on the Cheoah River. Below us to the southeast, the 2,850-acre lake lies nestled in the mountains at an elevation of 1,940 feet. The bluish green mountains surrounding the lake and the lake’s clear, deep waters that reflect the blues of the sky and the greens of the forest make the scene a thing of beauty (for a closer view of the lake see Plate 1.4). The prong of Santeetlah Creek connects to the main lake channel near the dam, and midway up the lake the prongs of West Buffalo and East Buffalo creeks diverge like human arms from opposite sides of the channel, while at the far end of the lake the prongs of Snowbird and Tulula creeks extend like two legs. Since the Cheoah River is the generally accepted eastern boundary of the northern part of the Unicois, I have adopted the main channel of Santeetlah Lake (the impounded Cheoah River) as a logical southward extension of the eastern boundary of the Unicoi area described in this book. The U.S. Geographic Board defined the Unicois as extending from the Little Tennesse River southward to the Hiwassee River; therefore, it is necessary to define the eastern boundary of the Unicois all the way to the Hiwassee River.

Continuing up the road, we pass a strip of roadbank that is covered with sprawling American Climbing Fern (see Plate 3.5), an uncommon Unicoi fern that is described in Chapter Three. Between miles 3.5 and 4.1 we pass several coves (recessed into the mountain slopes on our left) that have superb displays of trilliums and other wildflowers in the spring. At 4.5 miles and an elevation of 3,400 feet we reach the trailhead and parking space for the Haoe Lead Trail, a trail that switches between south and north slopes and the ridgetop as it climbs along its namesake spur for 5.1 miles to the summit of the Haoe, providing great views of Santeetlah Lake in winter and an interesting variety of wildflowers in spring and summer. Just beyond the trailhead we come to the end of the road at Maple Springs Observation Point, park, and begin walking on a paved trail, suitable for wheelchairs, that leads from the parking area across a wooden bridge and then splits to form a loop that encircles a ridgetop crowned with oaks. After strolling about 100 yards, we arrive at the far end of the loop and step out onto a wooden platform that was built around the trunk of a large White Oak. We are enthralled by a magnificent view! To the east, across the valley of the Cheoah River below us, rise the Cheoah Mountains toward our right (the southeast) and the Yellow