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Getting wet at Wildcat Creek might unleash some wild campers, too
Campers come from all across North Georgia to take in the scenery at Wildcat Creek and also test their courage on the sliding rock. - photo by Ashley Bates

For one last summer jaunt before school started back for our fourth- grader, my husband and I decided to take her on a little adventure.

We decided on Wildcat Creek in the Chattahoochee National Forest in Rabun County because of the more primitive camping and the sliding rock on the creek.

To make the trip even more fun our next-door neighbors joined us and we brought along our 7-year-old niece Emily, so Kendra, 9, would have a playmate.

Quickly upon arrival, tents were erected and it was off to the sliding rock.

The rock seemed much larger than it actually was while sitting on the top of the waterfall getting ready for the plunge — it’s maybe 15-feet tall and definitely slick. The ride down was pure fun, and fast, even though there was no getting out of landing in the frigid water.

There were plenty of other riders enjoying the rock as well, so be prepared for some guests that are mostly children. One problem is there isn’t much parking, so get ready to wedge your car or truck into a tight spot.

As mountain fun goes, I would definitely suggest the sliding rock at Wildcat Creek and the trout fishing seemed very popular, too.

But after nightfall is when the camping trip got a little strange.

Just a couple camping spots from us there was a group of middle-aged men that literally stayed up until the sun came up, drinking some kind of clear liquid that made them the most amazing singers. I truly loved the rendition of "Hotel California" best.

The partying honestly probably wouldn’t have bothered myself or my husband, but with two little ones it did make the night nerve wracking.

Once I finally fell back asleep — after shoving wads of toilet paper in my ears to dampen the drunkards — we woke up about 8:30 a.m., had some bacon and eggs and headed back to the sliding rock.

The morning ride on the rock was amazingly cold, invigorating and exciting because we were the only people there. The girls could scream at the top of their lungs and the guys were able to twist and turn down the slide without the threat of injuring an innocent victim.

That hour or so on Sunday morning all but made me forget about the drunk men from South Carolina.

The memories we made with family and friends I will remember fondly and can’t wait to go back.

Next time though, we’ll probably stay at Moccasin Creek State Park where there seemed to be a park ranger and nice rest rooms.

Ashley Bates is a writer and columnist for The Times. She can be reached at