NC Waterfalls: Gage and Charley’s Creek Falls

I really said I wasn’t coming back to North Carolina this month, but here I am in North Carolina. I have an appointment to get my locks tidied-up in Knoxville on Sunday, so I was already going to have to be most of the way here. Additionally, I found out during my last visit that Shooter had contracted a tick-borne illness called Anaplasmosis, and we needed to go back to the vet for some further testing and a medication refill. So I had a good excuse, and here I am. Since I was going to be in North Carolina, I reached out to my friend the “Fearless Leader” (FL, from a previous post) to see if she wanted to hike. I love having the kinds of friends that always say yes to these sorts of questions, so we planned to hit a few waterfalls in Nantahala National Forest.

First up is Balsam Falls, the upper-most waterfall on Wolf Creek that I skipped on my last visit due to being too tired after our trek down Wolf Creek to the three lower falls. Allison and Claude decide to join us again, and the three of us meet at the Balsam Lake Picnic Area, again much earlier than I prefer to be awake, to start our hike. The three of us gals, this time with no husbands in tow, are chatting away when FL, who has just passed through a narrow spot in the trail where a tree has fallen into the lake, yells, “YELLOW JACKETS!” and takes off running. Allison and I, who have not yet passed through the area where the ground nest is now swarming, slam on the brakes and back-pedal as quickly as we can. I end up getting stung on the leg before we get far enough away. Now, Allison and I and two dogs are on one side of the nest, and FL and one dog are on the other. We loudly yell at each other from very safe distances away trying to decide what to do. We are awfully close to the waterfall, but there is no good way around this nest other than swimming around it in the lake, and Allison and I aren’t too keen on that idea. In the end, FL and her dog friend Leap decide to bushwhack far around the nest back to Allison and I, and we call this waterfall a loss today. We will come back and attempt it again in late fall, after the yellow jackets are gone.

Back at our vehicles, we nurse our wounds. FL has some ointment that is supposed to stop the sting of yellow jackets and other flying assholes and offers it to me for the sting on the back of my leg. I apply it, and we decide to head to our next destination: Gage Creek Falls.

Gage Creek is the only waterfall we are seeing today that requires leaving the paved road. A decently graded, if narrow, gravel road leads uphill to a wide ford of Gage Creek, which is where we stop and park. We take an old road bed from the parking area that follows a logging grade up Gage Creek. Eventually we cross Gage Creek and the going gets slightly rougher, but not terrible. There is no trail here, but with FL leading the way through the doghobble, it’s manageable. Before long FL signals us to scramble down to the creek, and we make our way down the slick embankment to the creek bed. The last couple hundred feet of the short hike is in the creek bed, but it’s a fairly easy rock hop and soon the waterfall is in sight. What a sight to behold it is! Gage Creek Falls isn’t large or impressively tall, but the setting it’s in is absolutely magical. There’s dark rock and bright green moss and ferns, and the waterfall is unobstructed: no deadfall or hanging limbs obscure the view. Once again, Nantahala National Forest has left me mesmerized.

Hiking out, we stop to admire dozens of different species of mushrooms and other fungi. The last several days have been warm and damp, and the little decomposers of the forest are out in full force. I’m happy we haven’t encountered anymore angry ground nests, and we soon arrive back at the trailhead.

There’s one more waterfall on the agenda today: Charley’s Creek Falls. Back down the gravel road and on pavement, we meet up at a small roadside trailhead and somehow squeeze all of our cars into the tight space. A “roadside” waterfall called “Charley’s Creek Bridge Falls” flows underneath the road here and tumbles over a ledge on the opposite side. We all walk over to view it, but none of us are very inclined to climb down the steep, garbage-littered bank to get a better view. I’m content to check it off my list and move on.

We finally approach the waterfall from a viewpoint well above the creek. The dogs and FL decide to clamber down the steep, slick bank for a closer look while Allison and I determine that the view is just fine from where we are and there’s no need to risk life or limb to go further. This waterfall has a lot of potential to be very pretty, but today (and historically, from other accounts I’ve read) it is covered in deadfall. We all snap a few photos and then proceed to debate whether we are going to continue our nettle-whack further up the old road bed to see Rocky Knob Falls. I opt out, my yellow jacket sting throbbing each time it makes contact with the underbrush, but encourage the others to go ahead to the waterfall if they’d like. They both decide not to as well, and together we head back the way we’ve come. FL and I assure each other we will come back and hike to Rocky Knob in the fall when the nettle have died off.

We are approximately ¾ of a mile from our cars when a faint static fills our ears, gradually increasing in volume to a full-on roar. The rain starts somewhere far behind us and rushes toward us like a freight-train, eventually overcoming our group and soaking us to the bone mere minutes before we are finished for the day. Personally? I don’t mind. I quite enjoy getting caught in a summer rain shower and find the tapping of hundreds of rain drops on my skin cathartic and relaxing. I consider us lucky it didn’t rain on us the entire day, until the very end. We reach our vehicles, quickly say goodbye, and drive off into the downpour.