Glen Falls Madness

It was an absolutely beautiful day, sunny and 60 degrees, as Brady and I parked along Ochs Highway at the Glen Falls Trailhead just up from Sanders Road on the west side of Lookout Mountain. I wanted to try some photography while the sun was shining on this side of the mountain (we typically hike in the afternoon when the sun is fading fast).

Before visiting Glen Falls proper I climbed down into the gully to examine the cascades below the trail, where we spent a half hour taking photos. In truth, these waterfalls are perhaps more impressive than the main falls, which is mostly hidden from view.

Brady the Mountaineer had brought along a length of his trusty Goldline rope, and in fact we used it for a safety while working around the top of Glen Falls. Looking at the pictures now, the rope makes it even more suggestive that we are in a cave, not outdoors.

We noted a lot of graffiti in the "tunnel" leading up to the top of the falls, done these days with magic markers since today's teenagers don't carry paint. Stupid, idiotic graffiti that reflected the ages of its authors! However, we did note the much older message, "All to the Legion of Honor," on the outer rock. Did a Frenchman visit this place years ago?

I had been to Glen Falls many times (including memorable adventures such as finding a blow-up doll that had been flung over the cliff, and having my rescue pager go off for a rescue at Glen Falls while I sat there at Glen Falls) but had never been to what I now call Picnic Rock, a most comfortable large plateau of a rock just above the lip of the falls on the northern side. It would have been a great place to eat lunch, had Brady or I brought along a lunch to eat.

Rather than retracing our steps back to the truck or walking the road itself, we plunged into the woods on the uphill side of the road and made our way along the steep hillside until the truck appeared below. Unfortunately there was a steep slope and/or cliff between us and the truck. I climbed down while Brady used the goldline to do a body rappel, possibly the first done on Lookout Mountain in several decades.

Once down the road in St. Elmo we headed up Old Mountain Road (which starts right there at Mojo Burrito). This is the old Whiteside Turnpike, the original toll road up the mountain. It passes three times under the modern Incline, the third time becoming just the overgrown remains of a road. Back down by Chattem, we explored up Church Street and found the former Patten Memorial AME Zion Church (1886) is apparently being renovated extensively to become a private residence--and what a place it will be, with the tower, the big glass windows, and all that history. I didn't realize it at the time, but the Incline #1 (of the very same period since it started service in 1887) came down what's now the kudzu-infested slope next door to the church. According to my own trail guide, the lower station was right there at what's now a small basketball court.

Our next stop was the Old Wauhatchie Pike Greenway. A hundred years ago the mountain above St. Elmo up to the broad gauge railroad (now the Guild Trail) was a shanty-town of small homes. You can still see traces of the old roads and driveways, one of which connects to Old Wauhatchie just around the corner from the concrete barricades. Walking down the kudzu-filled greenway (very green indeed in summer but quite brown today) it was difficult to believe this was a public road just 15 years ago, one that I drove almost daily. At Mystery Falls we met a group of cavers from Missouri who had just exited the cave (gated). I was amazed that they had been able (with permission) to drive back to the cave...which makes sense, and helps cavers change out of their muddy clothes.

Our final adventure occured at the railroad overpass on Cummings Highway at the base of the mountain at the Old Wauhatchie intersection. We pulled over and noticed a sign that read, "St. Elmo - Lookout Mountain Greenway & Trail, sponsored by the Chamber of Commerce Southside Branch." What, a greenway here? Unfortunately, it was the shortest and sorriest greenway we'd ever seen, not more than 200 feet in length and quite steep and rough! Halfway down the greenway was a tent and shanty where a homeless person was evidently living--laundry was hanging from the trees and pallets were being disassembled to build a wooden structure. On the other side, two identical signs confirmed that this was the official greenway. A great idea for sure, but somehow one that evidently never progressed past the signs. I'd be interested in learning more about this (a Google search turned up nothing).

In all, we had spent five hours on the hill!