Day Two, the view from my hammock
When I decided to stop at Fiddler Spring, I forgot to check its orientation to the rising sun. It was a long chilly wait until the sun climbed high enough to reach the campsite. It was also “Surprise! Suprise!” a lot colder than forecast. At seven-thirty it was twenty-four degrees.
The ground around the campsite was soft and rough. Either feral hogs or armadillos had thoroughly turned it over. I suspect the latter as I had already encountered two or three of them on yesterday’s hike. The overnight freeze had hardened the ground up a bit. Fiddler Spring campsite lived up to the messy reputation it had. Someone had left a tarp lying on the ground, and there was some other trash scattered around too.
The good news was, exploring the area, I found what promises to be a much better camping area nearby. Albeit on the other side of Whites Creek, which may present problems if the creek is running. It was bone dry while I was looking around. Hanging my food bag, I discovered an unofficial trail that looked to head straight up to the ridge. I had an idea of where it might lead, and I decided to leave via that trail. Doing so would save me from having to backtrack to the official Whites Creek Trail/Fiddler Spring junction. And I know from experience, that that section of trail is blocked by several downed trees and lots of catbriers.
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