THE WHOLE SHEBANG
Bob and I have hiked the
full length of the Black Mountain Range several times, but prior to last week
we’d never done the whole thing at one time.
We’ve always tackled it in pieces, largely because of the monster car
shuttle required to hike from northern trailhead at Bowlens Creek to Mount
Mitchell. When Bob suggested we hike
the whole thing in mid-June I agreed, but with one stipulation. Instead of ending the trip on Mount
Mitchell, we’d continue on to the Black Mountain Campground. Over two days we’d hike 18 miles and climb
approximately 6500’. That would provide
the dog and I (more than) enough of a workout to help us get ready for our
upcoming trip to the Rockies.
Saucony and I met Bob at the
Black Mountain Campground at 8:30 Thursday morning. We left Bob’s Honda Element (I pinch!) there, and headed for the
Bowlens Creek Trailhead. We drove up
through Burnsville, down route 197, and onto Bowlens Creek Road. Finding the trailhead was a little
difficult, as the name of the road to it has changed since the last time I was
there. We eventually determined that
Water Shed Road is the correct road.
The road sign indicates that the road is private, but my understanding
is that it is open to public access. I
attempted to drive my Corolla to the trailhead at the end of the road, but
found the road rougher than I remembered.
Instead, I drove back to Bowlens Creek Road and parked at a small
cemetery just up the road from Water Shed.
I was surprised to find another car, with Ohio plates, parked there.
We hiked back up the road,
passing a couple of houses before crossing into National Forest property. A few minutes later, we found the remains of
a bridge over Bowlens Creek. Crossing
the bridge looked dangerous, so we chose to rock hop the creek, which was easy
considering the low water level. Once
on the far side, we followed an old road upstream, passing numerous boulders,
slides, and cascades. Even at low
water, Bowlens Creek provided a pleasant place to hike.
Before long, we began the
grueling climb towards Celo Knob and the crest of the range. We continued to follow an old road, although
parts of it were overgrown. Stinging
nettles created enough of an obstacle that we were forced to wear long
pants. This was uncomfortable, given
the warm day. Fortunately, the climb
wasn’t entirely unpleasant. We passed
large quantities of blooming rhododendron, mountain laurel, and flame azalea,
and several small streams provided water for Saucony.
After about 2 ½ hours we
passed the final spring (a tiny trickle) and climbed to the meadows below Celo
Knob. From the meadows, we had a
spectacular view of the entire Black Mountain Range, as well as the Craggy
Mountains and additional ranges to the south and west. I think this area offers the best views
along the entire Black Mountain Crest.
We continued on to a
campsite tucked in between Celo Knob and Horse Rock for lunch. At the campsite we had fine views and we
were surrounded by blooming rhododendron.
It was a great spot, but we couldn’t stay. We packed up at 2pm, and Saucony looked at me in disbelief that
we’d be moving on from such an ideal site.
The next 3 miles was quite
an adventure. As expected, the trail
was partially overgrown. It’s not a
heavily traveled trail, and by late summer it can become nearly
impassable. In mid-June it isn’t
hopeless, but it helps to have thick skin.
Fortunately, the weeds don’t contain many briars, and there were no stinging
nettles at this elevation. The
condition of the trail did create some difficulties though. Keeping any sort of normal pace was
impossible, and at one point we veered off the correct route. Soon we were following a faint path along a
line of cliffs just east of the actual crest.
This ended badly – we climbed, crawled, and thrashed our way through a
dense tangle of rhododendron before stumbling back onto the trail. Ironically, right where we regained the
trail I found a lightweight pair of weed clippers. We considered carrying them to clear the trail, but that would’ve
been as efficient as cutting the lawn with scissors. I guess we should’ve brought a machete.
Despite the weeds, it was a
wonderful hike with perfect weather. In
any five minutes we would hike through a jungle of weeds, a tunnel of blooming
rhododendron, and across a rocky spine with startling views in every
direction. It seemed like every time
the trail threatened to become tedious and frustrating, we’d pop out of the
undergrowth to be greeted with another stunning vista.
We reached the crux of the
hike at the base of Winterstar Mountain.
We hiked along the base of a cliff, before beginning the grueling climb
up the peak. After a fair climb, we
reached the chute, which requires a bit of rock scrambling to ascend. This is fairly easy with a daypack, but carrying
a large pack up it is more challenging.
Saucony also had some difficulties, but when I removed her pack she was
able to scramble up without any trouble.
We passed one more view at
the top of the chute before resuming the climb. We reached the summit a few minutes later before beginning the
rocky descent towards Deep Gap. We
passed another fine view about halfway down.
From there we could see the promised land of Deep Gap just ahead.
We reached the gap and
continued to the far side to a campsite in a meadow. Deep Gap is one of the few likely (and legal) places to camp
along the crest. In nice weather on a
weekend it can be quite busy. One
advantage to do the hike during the week is that we had the whole area to
ourselves.
We set up camp and went in
search of water. Across from our
campsite is an old, rocky jeep road. We
followed it downhill for a couple of minutes to a tiny spring and basin. We managed to get over a gallon of water out
of the basin, but there was no more to be found. The spring was running so slowly that we didn’t expect the basin
to refill until the next morning. We
returned to camp, and I began preparing dinner while Bob searched for water at
the other end of the gap. Some time
later he returned with 2 buckets half full of muddy water. He’d found a poor spring a few minutes down
the Colbert Ridge Trail, but nothing more.
The water eventually became drinkable after we let it settle. However, if the current weather conditions
continue, there won’t be any drinking water in or near Deep Gap.
We enjoyed a colorful sunset
before eating dinner. While eating, a
made a spontaneous vulgar joke that can’t be repeated here, and rice came out
Bob’s nose. It was definitely a
highlight of the evening. Later we
enjoyed brilliant stars in a moonless sky.
I was so exhausted that I didn’t last long though. I nearly fell asleep before making it into
the tent for the night.
The next morning we had
oatmeal and broke camp. The biggest
challenge of the second day came immediately as we climbed out of Deep Gap to
Potato Knob and Cattail Peak. We found
more views and blooming rhododendron at the top of each peak. However, the usual summer haze, which had been
conspicuously absent the previous day, had returned. At one point though we had a fascinating view straight down the
path of rockslide towards the valley far below.
The hiking along this
stretch of trail was much easier, especially after we finished the initial
climb out of Deep Gap. The trail was
clear, and it largely stayed in the shade of the spruce and fir trees that
cover most of these summits. A long but
gradual descent brought us to Big Tom Gap and a junction with the Big Tom Gap
Trail. I had read that this side trail
was closed, but there weren’t any signs to that effect there.
Another tough climb
followed, and we crested Big Tom before starting up Mount Craig. We stopped on Craig’s northern flank just
below the summit at a nice viewpoint for an early light lunch before resuming
the journey. A few minutes later we crested
Mount Craig, where we met a dayhiker.
He was the first person we’d seen since leaving the Bowlens Creek
Trailhead Thursday morning.
He was the first, but
certainly not the last. We passed a few
more hikers before reaching the picnic area below the summit of Mount
Mitchell. We got water there, before
climbing to the park road and crossing the parking lot. The park was fairly busy for a Friday, and
all I wanted to do was get across the summit and out of there as soon as
possible. First though, we stopped to
use the toilet and check out the menu at the snack bar. Unfortunately they don’t sell ice
cream. I guess there isn’t much demand
for ice cream there most days of the year.
We climbed up the steps to
the summit but decided to skip the tower.
The summit tower doesn’t excite me much on the best of days, and this
wasn’t one of them. The area was
crowded, and the view was still very cloudy and hazy. We hurried on down the Mount Mitchell Trail towards Commissary
Ridge, leaving the chaos of the summit behind.
I suppose the highest point in the eastern US was a bit anti-climactic.
Shortly before Commissary
Ridge we passed a guy leading a family up the mountain. He informed us that we still had 3 ½ hours
of hiking ahead of us. I confidently
informed him that we planned to be at the car by 4pm. It was already 2:20.
We passed a regular outpost
at Commissary Ridge. The camping area
included several tents and a tarp that was big enough that it might’ve been
stolen from a circus. From there we
marched down the rocky switchbacks.
This section of trail is a bit tedious, and it’s a bit marred by the
power line that runs up the mountain from the valley to the state park
buildings near the summit.
Some time later we reached a
pleasant stream. Saucony needed water
and our feet were aching, so we took a 15-minute break. That ended any chance of reaching the car by
4pm, but I was still confident we’d be there shortly thereafter.
The heat and humidity
increased as we descended. It really
had been quite pleasant up on the crest, but that was just a memory as we
neared the South Toe River. Once we
could hear the river, we knew we were getting close. A few minutes later we hiked through the campground, which was
already completely full. We made it to
the car shortly after 4:30, where we paused for a celebratory beer. Then we headed back to Bowlens Creek to
retrieve my car.
I was late getting home that
night, but it had been a pretty full day.
I headed home with a sense of accomplishment, even though I hadn’t hiked
a single step of trail that was new to me.
Still, hiking the whole Crest of the range in two days was an event that
I’m unlikely to forget. I may do it
again some day, but I think I’ll try to avoid the summer months. Hopefully I’ll remember that long after my
wounds have healed.
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