Jason Love got interested in microplastics by way of mussels. A wildlife biologist by education and training, he’d long been interested in the reasons behind the decline of Southern Appalachian mussel species, and in particular that of the federally endangered Appalachian elktoe. He was interested while working in his previous position as site manager for Coweeta Hydrologic Laboratory, and he’s interested now in his new position as associate director of the Highlands Biological Station.

“It used to have a stronghold in the Little Tennessee River, but beginning around 2004/2005 the populations just crashed, and they’re possibility extirpated from the Little Tennessee,” Love said. “That motivated me to understand what’s going on.”

In summer 2018, he had a few interns who needed a project to work on. Love saw that, while literature was starting to show that microplastics were showing up everywhere from the Arctic to the oceans, no research had yet been published examining the situation in Southeastern streams. So, with the students’ help, Love set about investigating the issue.

“We need to start thinking about plastic not just as trash that’s unsightly, but as low-level toxic waste that needs to be dealt with,” he said.

The team collected samples from the Little Tennessee, the Tuckasegee River and Cartoogechaye Creek. “We expected to find microplastics, particularly in the streams that had wastewater treatment plants, which is both the Little Tennessee and the Tuckasegee, but Cartoogechaye did not have a wastewater treatment plant,” said Love.

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Located in the far southern region of the Smokies, near Fontana Village and the Little Tennessee River, Twentymile is an area of the national park that is a little less traveled. Primarily used by backpackers as a means of accessing remote park highlights like Gregory Bald or Shuckstack Fire Tower on the Appalachian Trail, Twentymile can also be enjoyed by day hikers or creek seekers year round. Like so much of the mountainous Smokies, Twentymile is blessed with water, water everywhere. Two-thirds of the length of this loop is alongside rushing streams that are the life blood of the forest. Twentymile is a nice place to just lose yourself in Nature. I walked the loop on Friday, October 16, 2015 from 9:15AM to about 1:45PM. My plan was to take the Twentymile Loop clockwise along the Wolf Ridge and Twentymile Trails.

October, of course, is prime leaf peeping season along Hwy 441 through the heart of Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Reports I have heard and seen online indicate that this year has been more popular than ever, with huge lines of traffic backed up for miles. What to do? What to do?

The Smokies is so much more than just Newfound Gap and Chimney Tops and Elkmont and Cades Cove. There are hundreds of thousands of acres of backcountry out there just waiting for you to put on your hiking boots. One such area is Twentymile, named for the Twentymile Ridge that stretches from Shuckstack to the Little Tennessee River that marks the southern boundary of the national park.

I didn’t know quite what to expect upon my arrival, and was somewhat surprised to see that 2/3 of the parking was already taken when I got there. What I remembered, though, is that lots of hikers are setting off from here on multi-day treks on the Appalachian Trail, or up Wolf Ridge to Gregory Bald and beyond. Me? I was just here to explore the 7-mile Twentymile Loop. Now that’s confusing.

The trail starts out following Moore Springs Branch on an old logging roadbed for a half mile to a footbridge crossing. There it meets two trails that form a “V” at the base of this loop. On the left is Wolf Ridge Trail and on the right is Benton MacKaye Trail (known as Twentymile Trail here). At the top of the “V” the Twentymile Loop Trail connects the two to form the loop. I chose to start on the Wolf Ridge Trail, thereby taking the loop in the clockwise direction. Wolf Ridge Trail is also an old roadbed that follows Moore Springs Branch for 1.1 miles to the next junction. The Kitchen Lumber Company logged this whole area in the 1920s and built railroads up Twentymile Creek and Moore Springs Branch.

The trail was covered with fallen leaves meaning it was hard to walk quietly. The swish-swishing of my footsteps would certainly alert any wildlife that may have come to the creek for a drink. Despite so many fallen leaves, the forest was still mostly green, somewhat of a disappointment in my quest for fall color. It is, after all, less than 2,000 feet elevation here. Look for this area to be colorful around November 1.

It is a very gradual ascent up Wolf Ridge Trail, most of it right beside Moore Springs Branch. There are plenty of places to stop and listen. I love the sound of rushing water in the forest. To me it signals freshness. Along the pathway, there are seven distinct footlog crossings of the creek, each their own opportunity to sit down, hang your legs over the side, and revel in the sights, sounds, and smells that accompany the clean mountain water. The photo up top is one.

Since I was hiking alone, I had lots of time to observe little things along the ground that caught my eye. I spent a good portion of the day sitting at woolly worm level pointing the camera at moss and nuts and flowers and fallen leaves. It was fun.

At the junction between Wolf Ridge Trail and Twentymile Loop Trail hang a right. Wolf Ridge Trail continues for several more miles past backcountry campsites and eventually on to Gregory Bald. Unlike all the other trails on this loop, you are now on a single-track tread through mixed forest. This connector to the Benton MacKaye Trail is 2.9 miles long, and climbs nearly a thousand feet in the first half of that distance. Again, it isn’t strenuous. I hardly broke a sweat.

You quickly leave Moore Springs Branch behind and the forest becomes much more quiet. Even the swishing of fallen leaves was gone now. The silence enabled me to hear it. As I rounded a turn, off to my right, I heard the clop-clop of hooves striking the ground. I looked quickly to see the fluffy white tail of a deer bounding away, melting into the woods. Another advantage of hiking alone. It seems I rarely see wildlife when I’m with companions. The conversations warn them that we are approaching.

There aren’t any long distance views, or waterfalls, or rocky outcroppings along the Twentymile Loop connector. But I wasn’t disappointed in the least. I found so many little things all along the pathway, just by paying attention to my surroundings. In addition to the climb, I got some great exercise simply by sitting, then standing, sitting, then standing as I stopped to take pictures of the ground-level scenery. I’ve intersperse them throughout the gallery below.

When I reached the crest of Long Hungry Ridge it was time for a snack. There was a perfect log to sit on, and listen. At first it seemed totally silent. But as I listen more intently, I hear a chipmunk chirping, and a bird calling, and a fly buzzing. A wisp of breeze blows the maple leaves. A few yards away a hickory nut falls. I guess maybe it isn’t so silent after all.

It’s now downhill for a mile, again very gradual. As you reach the joining of several small streams there is another footlog crossing as this trail makes one final short climb to Proctor Field Gap. I’m told that this area of adjoining streams is flood prone during snow melt and after heavy rain, so be aware. Aside from the trail sign, another way you’ll know you’re there is from the looping grapevine that hangs from a tree at the junction.

To complete this loop, turn right on the Benton MacKaye Trail, also known as the Twentymile Trail. However, if you turn left, you will reach the Appalachian Trail in a mile and a half, and eventually climb to the Shuckstack fire tower. Perhaps another adventure for another day. For the next three miles back to the beginning you will descend all the way. After the first half mile you are joined by Twentymile Creek, a little larger than Moore Springs Branch.

I also began to see several backpackers coming up as I was going down, no doubt headed for a weekend in the Smokies wilderness. They were usually in groups of three or four. By now it was afternoon and I was getting kinda hungry. There was a rocky beach area at the base of a small waterfall that seemed ideal for lunch. While I was munching I played around with some water-level photos and watched the fallen birch leaves float in circles in the eddies of the stream. A few more hikers passed by, not even aware that I was 25 feet away. Makes me wonder how much wildlife we miss so close to us on every hike we take.

The farther down Twentymile Creek you get, the more rugged the terrain. There are lots of little 4-5 foot falls and slides. Also, unlike the footlogs of Wolf Ridge Trail, there are several full-fledged footbridges across this creek. They make excellent platforms for shooting photos of the cascades. About two miles from the trailhead is backcountry campsite #93.

Speaking of cascades, near the junction with Wolf Ridge and the entry trail, there is a series of small waterfalls that is actually named Twentymile Cascades. Unfortunately, at this time of day the lighting was very harsh with bright sunlight, so photos were quite difficult. Still, it is an impressive display, one very worth the visit.

On the inward third of the loop you’re following Twentymile Creek. Several footbridges cross the creek and offer vantage points for pictures. Look for the rhododendron to bloom in June.

Soon after Twentymile Cascades, I reached the junction, crossed Moore Springs Branch, and made the final half mile return to my car. All in all a totally delightful day that took me four and a half hours. Obviously, you can make it a lot quicker if you don’t pause so much for photos like I did, but you might as well stop and smell the flowers as they say.

While you’re in the area, you might also want to take in some of the other sights like Cheoah Dam or the Tail of the Dragon off to the west. Eastward you will find Fontana Village and the marina at Fontana Dam. Look for the best leaf peeping in the area around the first of November.

To summarize, this is a very nice hike that isn’t too difficult but will enable you to spend several hours in the forest. Definitely an all-season hike, I’ve heard the trails are lined with wildflowers in spring. Because of its lower elevation, even the winter won’t be too bitter. There are plenty of water features along the way, and beautiful mixed hardwood forest that includes oak, maple, hickory, buckeye, and so many others that fill the Smokies. The trails are certainly child friendly, but with more than seven miles total distance, it might be a bit much for those under 6-7 years of age.

If I had one thing to do differently, I might choose to take the loop counter-clockwise in order to see Twentymile Cascades in the morning when you aren’t faced with the harsh lighting of afternoon. Otherwise, I don’t think it’s any easier or more difficult based on the direction. Remember too, there are plenty of options for longer hikes as well.

This post was created by Jeff Clark. Please feel free to use the sharing icons below, or add your thoughts to the comments. Pack it in, pack it out. Preserve the past. Respect other hikers. Let nature prevail. Leave no trace.

Joyce Kilmer-Slickrock Wilderness straddles the North Carolina / Tennessee line near the southern borders of the states, with about 75% of its 17,000 acres contained in NC. Six trailheads provide access to more than 60 miles of trail within the designated wilderness, which typically follow ridge tops or drop into the shady drainages. Perhaps the most atypical trail though is the Slickrock Creek Trail to Lower Falls in the far northern corner of the wilderness. A series of dams on the Little Tennessee River nearly a hundred years ago created Calderwood, Cheoah, and Fontana Lakes providing recreational opportunities for those who visit this region. Slickrock Creek feeds the river and offers the setting for this hike. I joined the Smokies Thursday Hiker’s group on September 10, 2015 from 9:15AM to about 2:30PM to tackle this rugged wilderness trek. Our plan was to follow Slickrock Creek Trail along Little Tennessee River to Lower Falls on Slickrock Creek, then return the same way.

Most of my 2.5 hour drive southwestward to the far corner of North Carolina was undertaken in darkness, but the sun did rise in time for me to enjoy the magnificent views in “lake country.” Between Stecoah on Hwy 28 and the pre-arranged meeting place at Deal’s Gap is some of the most stunning scenery you will find anywhere in WNC.

As you pass the Fontana Dam area and then Fontana Village… as you make the first crossing of Little Tennessee River at the base of the massive grey-brown bluffs that overlook Lake Cheoah… as you wind your way in and out, up and down to Deal’s Gap (home to the infamous motocycle adventure known as “Tail of the Dragon”), you will likely find yourself in awe of the picturesque river valley and forest. This area is without question on my to do list for autumn foliage.

I was meeting up with a Tennessee contingent known as the Smokies Thursday Hikers for a foray into the northern confines of Joyce Kilmer-Slickrock Wilderness. For them, Thursday morning hiking has been a regular thing for years and years. For me, I was representin’ for North Carolina on my first trip with the group. I couldn’t have been greeted with a more warm welcome.

The sky looked threatening over Fontana Lake, but the combination of cold water and damp, warm air made for an interesting fog-shrouded setting. The Smokies national park is on the north side of the lake (right), while the south side lies in Nantahala National Forest.

We all did the meet and greet thing at Deal’s Gap then headed south and down on Hwy 129 to another crossing of the Little Tennessee. This one lies beneath the massive Cheoah Dam, made famous in the 1993 movie “The Fugitive” starring Harrison Ford. After escaping from a train in the Bryson City area, Ford’s character Dr. Richard Kimble eventually ends up making an incredible leap from the top of Cheoah Dam into the frigid Little Tennessee far below. An interesting backdrop for our trailhead for sure.

The Slickrock Creek Trail begins on the south side of this bridge, right after you cross it. There are no signs that mark its presence, just know that immediately after crossing the bridge you need to turn off Hwy 129 onto a short gravel road with minimal parking. The four vehicles in our group were stretched out a hundred feet along the side of the highway.

Just as we were all smiling for a group picture on the bridge in front of the imposing dam, the threatening skies decided to become more than just a threat. We all scrambled for rain gear and began hiking a few moments later all bundled up against the wet. Within a hundred yards we came to the Nantahala Forest sign that denotes the entrance to Joyce Kilmer-Slickrock Wilderness.

For the first two miles of this hike, in a northwesterly direction, the trail parallels the Little Tennessee, or as it is known in this area: Calderwood Lake. There are three dams in the region, part of the work done by the Tennessee Valley Authority nearly one hundred years ago. Fontana Dam created Fontana Lake at the southern foot of what would become Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Cheoah Dam, where we started, confines the river again several hundred feet lower, and then a few more miles downstream the Calderwood Dam creates the lake alongside this trail. Each has its own special appeal.

The forest is deciduous hardwood, a mix of buckeye, oak, hickory, fraser magnolia, and other aromatic varieties. It was nut season, as we saw the droppings of each along the path. So too did we find buffalo nut, a new one for me. These pear shaped nuts were about the size of ping pong balls and hid beneath the leaves of the host tree.

Along this two mile stretch the trail itself rollercoasters, though the elevation difference never exceeds 50 feet or so. We hollered at a lone kayaker on the lake below, and crossed a few very slippery man-made foot bridges over the occasional drainage tumbling down from the Unicoi Mountains. Our group of 11 tended to spread out along the trail as good conversation, and shedding of rain jackets on this very muggy day led to each setting their own comfortable pace.

The day started with umbrellas and rain jackets. That didn’t last long, however, as the very high humidity made us wetter from sweat than from rain.

After about an hour we heard that tell-tale sound of whitewater ahead. Rushing water in the forest is unmistakable. We were approaching Slickrock Creek, where it plummets with a force into the river/lake. Slickrock Creek is the state line between North Carolina and Tennessee. The trail turns decidedly to the southwest as it now follows along the NC side of the creek. This is drainage from Bob Stratton Bald, a scenic high-mountain vista we had enjoyed just a few short weeks before.

With the new direction, and new water companion, we also encountered much more treacherous terrain. Over the course of the next mile-and-a-half as we followed Slickrock Creek, we would gingerly navigate the layered strata that lines the gorge of this waterway. It became exceedingly obvious how this stream, and wilderness in general, got their name. It is VERY slick rock indeed. To make it even more difficult, it began to rain again. In fact, as we proceeded deeper and deeper into the wilderness, members of our group wisely chose to drop out at particularly gnarly obstacles along the way for safety reasons.

Between carefully chosen steps, though, we were treated to bright, beautiful cardinal flowers springing up from the creek bed. So too did we find the appropriately named hearts-a-bustin’, as well as teeny-tiny radiant orange cinnabar chanterelles mushrooms hiding within the thick carpet of verdant partridge vine. Many of these were flowers I had only heard about, or seen in pictures, but finally got to enjoy in person. It’s amazing really, the length of the wildflower season in the Smokies. Starting in late March, with varieties changing weekly through October, we are blessed to experience something blooming for our delight more than half the year.

By the time we reached the creek crossing just a quarter mile from Lower Falls, we were now down to only four of our crew. We paused to make sure we had our footwear ready, the electronics safely stowed, and our nerves properly prepared for the wet and wild passage across Slickrock Creek. On the other side of this boulder strewn, 30-foot-wide stream lies Tennessee, and access to our destination.

We wouldn’t be Meanderthals if we stopped now, so into the current we stepped. Surprisingly, the water wasn’t especially cold. The deepest point was probably no more than a foot, not even reaching our knees. Some of the rocks were like walking on loose, rolling, wet bowling balls, but mostly it was a piece of cake. All four of us reached the other side without incident… good news knowing my history.

The rest of the way to Lower Falls is simple. First we went beyond the falls for a view from above, then backtracked. We had to descend a pretty steep embankment about 20 feet to get to water level, and an island that was a great spot for lunch and the best view of the waterfall. Lower Falls is a twin waterfall, with each cascade separated by about 15-20 feet. I called them the North Carolina falls (on the left) and the Tennessee falls (on the right), as the state line is split right down the middle.

While we enjoyed lunch and our surroundings, to make things all appropriate, I sat on the North Carolina side of the island while the other three sat on the Tennessee side.

Thankfully the rain stopped, so we were able to relish the scene in relative comfort. From the base of the falls you can see the summits of the Unicoi Mountains high above. On the other side lies Cherokee National Forest and Citico Creek Wilderness. The Slickrock Creek Trail actually continues on, 12 miles total, to Wildcat Falls and Big Fat Gap. But this was today’s destination.

Fully nourished now, it was time to head back. We didn’t want the others to worry, or to have to wait too long for our return. We stopped briefly at a much smaller waterfall just off the trail that has a unique piano wire or angel hair drip. Once again, we all made it safely back across Slickrock Creek. It was time to put on dry socks and remove all the wet gear to make better time on the return trip.

Things did seem to go smoother. While still occasionally disconcerting, the terrain didn’t seem quite as treacherous on the way back. Perhaps I was more prepared for what to expect. There is one stretch where the trail is basically hanging on the strata with the creek only abut 3-4 feet straight below. I can imagine during the spring runoff that this may be completely underwater.

When we got back alongside Calderwood Lake, apparently there had been a release from the dam because a shroud of fog now covered the surface. Colder water, released from the dam, mixed with the warmer air produced an eery, but beautiful cloud in the woods. The forest was really, really green from all this day’s moisture.

The rest of the crew was patiently waiting when we got back to the trailhead. We swapped stories, patted each other on the back, and shared an ice cold beverage. It had been a really good day.

In summary, despite the conditions, I thoroughly enjoyed this hike. Good company, beautiful scenery, plenty of wildflowers and nuts, and a brand new place for me. Some in our group, particularly the older ones in their eighties, thought this a little too dangerous in the wet, slippery weather. Take that into account when considering the hike for yourself.

The drive to the location is stunning. I would recommend it no matter the season. The hike won’t wear you out physically, but it might wear you down mentally. You won’t be huffing and puffing from exertion, but you may get stressed by the nature of the terrain. Perhaps come on a dry day though, so the Slickrock Wilderness isn’t quite so slick.

This post was created by Jeff Clark. Please feel free to use the sharing icons below, or add your thoughts to the comments. Pack it in, pack it out. Preserve the past. Respect other hikers. Let nature prevail. Leave no trace.