The drive up was a little tedious, about 1.5 hours, and the GPS took us to the wrong entrance where iron gates blocked the path and a nice note explained that this was not the entrance but maps were available to show us where to go. The actual entrance is off of Alt. 75, which required a drive through Helen, where we stopped for lunch. I used my Droid GPS to find a pizza joint (have never found a great place to eat in Helen proper) which was now under a new name (which I forget, of course) and sat next to the river. The hostess and all of the waitresses seemed to have been instructed to call everyone "sweetie," but not in a nice, that's-just-the-way-they-talk way, so it was pointed and awkward. Twenty-year-old girls should not be calling me or Jac sweetie. But the slices were good, and the fried zucchini sticks appetizer was fantastic. It was a cold morning, and we were sat next to a giant fireplace that was really cozy.
The real Smithgall Woods entrance wasn't far, and there were only a couple of other cars parked in the lot at the visitor's center. Several large maps of the park were posted outside the center, and I (fortunately) studied those with Moby while Jac and Milo went inside. This conservation area is a rehabilitation project where the land was strip mined in the late 19th century. In the 1980s, Charlie Smithgall had bought up parcels of private land around Duke's Creek except for a couple of conspicuous tracts in the middle who wouldn't sell, one being a Baptist church. A great pictorial history and lots of stuffed animals were inside. Milo warned me against looking at the bear skin because he believed it would upset me, but what really got me were two black bear paws mounted with vinyl stoppers over the ankles like they were intended to hold up a love seat.
A nice ranger said he was giving a tour in a little while, even though there was no one around but us, but we decided to take our own tour using a crappy hand-drawn map Jac picked up inside.
As we closed the loop, we swung up the Tsalaki Trail, a main vein through the center of the park paved with clean asphalt but where private vehicles were not permitted. According to the big maps posted at the visitor's center (which looked nothing like the paper map we carried), this trail led past several side loops, including a beaver pond and a couple of falls. Those maps, however, did not contain scales, and we had walked a little while before we noticed that the falls we were headed for were 6 miles away. Fine for me and Jac, not so for Milo. So we headed for the Beaver Pond 1.5 miles up the trail.
We were surprised along the way by signs warning of bees. A few feet into the woods, a fenced area held dozens of honeybee hives, and the humming air smelled of sawdust and honey, that distinctive beehive smell. An adjoining field was wilted and overgrown but looks to have contained a mixture of wildflowers and something cultivated, I suppose to cater to the bees.
While unspectacular, the trail was incredibly refreshing, reminding me more of cultivated country than state park, but peaceful, easy, and just a nice walk. We only ran into one fisherman (wearing hip waders and marching off a fishing trail looking incredibly satisfied) and a group of 3 casual hikers who warned us about the bear poo along the beaver pond trail.
Sure enough, about 100 feet in, a large pile of hardened poo, smooth and artful, almost like black soft-serve ice cream, sat in the middle of the trail. Moby found its aroma invigorating. A logging road led about 1/2 mile into the woods to the edge of a marsh, and then an arrow pointed along the back of the marsh through a squishy field of tall grass and brambles. Another almost invisible trail led to a long viewing dock leading into the pond. The dock ended in a lowered platform where we could observe the water up close. The pond was reedy and quiet, but a large pile of bare sticks in the reeds indicated the top of what I'm sure was a pretty extensive beaver lodge. We spent a while there observing the water and the reflected sunlight ripples on the underside of the dock.
Finishing the 1.5 mile loop, we happened upon a dirt road that crossed the creek via a covered bridge named Bea's Bridge for Charlie's deceased anthropologist daughter. The creek here was rocky and shallow with several man made obstructions meant to stymie erosion. The road continued past a group campsite, but since we were a couple of miles out and Milo was beginning to get tired, we headed back to the car.
Before we left, I stopped back into the visitor's center to ask about the smooth-barked pines we saw throughout the park. The young growth on the saplings and the top 2/3 of the older trees was smooth, while the lower trunks was rough pine. The ranger said they were white pine, identifiable by their 5 needle bunches w-h-i-t-e. She also told me about the field of little pines called floridellis (?) pines and explained how they were imported from the panhandle where they are all but extinct because of a fungus that cannot thrive in our cooler region. Atlanta Botanical Gardens are monitoring the 30 pines and harvesting pods from them to propagate a population at the garden.
According to my GPS, we walked almost 7 miles of trails, most of it easy, but some places steep enough to make your knees hurt. The GPS was not very accurate within the park, mislabeling a side trail as one of the small internal roads. Since there are very few labeled roads within the park, relying on the GPS map would be tragic.
For future visits, we should print out our own maps to bring along and head straight back to the falls if possible. This would make a good spring or summer hike since the creek looks clean and wade-able in spots. Maybe we could bring a picnic.
Several other great hikes are nearby, as are campgrounds.
