CLOUD ART
On Friday evening, I got on
the internet to check for road closures in the area around the Black
Mountains. I was planning a solo
backpacking trip that weekend, and wanted to make sure I could get there. While I was browsing, I noticed that Mount
Mitchell State Park was closed because of damage to the Parkway during the
hurricanes. I had been planning a loop
in the northern Black Mountains, but began to reconsider. If the park was closed, there would be no
crowds at the summit of Mount Mitchell.
Climbing Mitchell is always something of a disappointment. You hike uphill all day, only to encounter a
huge crowd of people who had reached the summit in the comfort of their
cars. It definitely takes away from the
experience.
With the Parkway closed, I
had a unique opportunity. I’ve been to
Mitchell in the winter, and in nasty weather, and there have still been at
least a few cars there. For this
weekend, there was the chance that I could have the peak to myself. It was too tempting to pass up.
I planned an ambitious route
starting from Carolina Hemlocks. I’d
climb 3000’ in 4 miles to reach Deep Gap on the Black Mountain Crest. From there, I’d follow the rugged ridgeline
over a series of 6000’ peaks before culminating my hike on the summit of the
highest mountain in the eastern United States.
Then, I’d descend to Commissary Ridge to camp. On Sunday, I’d return to Carolina Hemlocks on the Buncombe Horse
Trail. It was a challenging plan, but a
fitting one for experiencing Mitchell in a more primitive state.
I drove to Marion on
Saturday morning and stopped at a rest area.
I found out that highway 80 to Spruce Pine had just reopened the day
before. On the drive up 80, I past several
spots where rock and mudslides had recently been cleared. I passed under the parkway and continued
into the Toe River Valley. Is there a
more dramatic view from a road in the southeast than the one from highway 80 up
to the Black Mountains? The jagged
cliffs of the range towered directly overhead, and my pulse began to race. I had the same thought I always have when
confronting that view. Am I really
going to climb up there?
I reached the Colbert Ridge
Trailhead after only a 2 ½ hour drive from Charlotte. I readied my gear and had a snack before Saucony and I headed up
the trail.
The path starts gently
before reaching several unmarked junctions.
I took all of the turns leading uphill, and soon the climb was quite
steep. After an hour, we stopped at a cliff
that provided great views to the east and south. I gave Saucony some water before we resumed our grunt to the top
of the range.
The trail eventually left
the ridge and began angling to the south towards Deep Gap. I worked my way around one fallen tree, but
an immense spruce blocking the trail was a bigger challenge. I remembered this fallen tree from the last
time I’d hike Colbert Ridge, some three years ago. I crawled under it and pulled my pack behind me. Once past the trunk, I still had to crawl
over, under, and around a tangle of branches before I was in the clear. After that, the rest of the climb to Deep
Gap was easy. I stopped for water at
the first of two streams, and reached the saddle on the ridge a few minutes
later. I had lunch in a pleasant grassy
clearing, although the views were now obscured by clouds that had rolled in
during my climb.
While I was eating, I was
startled by a dayhiker coming from Mitchell.
He had started at the same trailhead and hiked all the way to Mitchell
and was on the return. His hike covered
16 miles, with a huge elevation gain. I
was impressed, though he wasn’t carrying a pack like mine.
After lunch, I tackled the
climb out of Deep Gap. I knew this
would be one of the biggest remaining challenges of the hike. I was pleasantly surprised that I was feeling
pretty good. I’ve done plenty of easier
hikes and found myself dragging, so it was a relief that my legs still felt
strong.
I reached Tater Hill, and
generally stayed above 6000’ in elevation for the next 4 miles. Unfortunately, I missed out on the views
from Tater Hill and Cattail Peak since the peaks were surrounded by fog. I was still a pleasant hike, especially
since the worst of the climbing was behind me.
I hiked on through a dark forest of spruce and fir, enjoying the scent
of fresh balsam the entire way.
A final stiff climb led to
the top of Big Tom Mountain. From
there, it was only a minor ascent to Mount Craig. Craig is only 20’ lower than Mitchell, and actually offers better
views. The clouds had cleared
partially, allowing views west to the Craggy Mountains, north along the crest
of the Blacks, and south to the summit of Mitchell itself. I stopped for a snack, and Saucony had a nap
right in the middle of the trail. I was
enjoying a great hike, but I think she was getting more than she bargained for.
I descended into the forest
before the final climb to Mount Mitchell.
Near the top, I stopped in the picnic area and filled up on water at a
fountain. From there, I ascended steps,
followed by pavement, and more steps.
Another stretch of pavement led to the Mount Mitchell ghost town. The concession stand, weather center, and
museum were all closed up. Tumbleweed
blew across the empty expanse of pavement that normally serves as a parking
lot. There wasn’t a single SUV,
minivan, tour bus or motorcycle to be seen.
There were no screaming children nor dysfunctional families. The silence was deafening.
I crossed the parking lot
and hiked the final 100 yards to the summit.
I’ve been to Mitchell many times where we skipped the summit tower out
of indifference. Not this time
though. After the climb I had
completed, passing it up would have been a crime.
I climbed the steps and
emerged at the top, where I was startled by a person. There was another solo backpacker there enjoying the solitude. He had come up the same way I had earlier
that day, but oddly planned on returning to Deep Gap to camp. I was curious as to why he hadn’t set up
camp there and dayhiked to Mitchell, but decided not to ask.
He left a few minutes later,
leaving the summit to me. The tower on
Mitchell stood out of the clouds like an island in a sea of white. The clouds rolled in and crashed against the
highest peaks like some sort of crazed tide.
More clouds raced overhead in a bizarre display of ever-changing patterns. If you believe in clouds as an art form,
this was the place for you. For my
part, I felt like a mad sorcerer, standing on top of my tower in the midst of a
storm of my own creation.
The setting sun put an end
to those fantasies. I hustled the last
mile and a half down the Mount Mitchell trail to Commissary Ridge to camp. I found a nice campsite in the meadow near
the site of the old shelter. I was just
setting up camp when a group of backpackers arrived. They had hiked up that afternoon from the Black Mountain
Campground on the Mount Mitchell Trail.
The meadow is the only likely camping spot, and they asked me if I cared
if they camped at the other end. I told
them I didn’t mind, but it was nice that they asked.
That evening I enjoyed a jambalaya
dinner and some liquid pain killer courtesy of my friends at Seagrams. I reflected on my hike. I had gone 8 miles to the summit of
Mitchell. In the process, I climbed 6
peaks over 6000’ in elevation, and climbed approximately 5000 feet. On the way, I’d consumed 6 quarts of
water. Statistically speaking, it would
be hard to come up with a tougher day of hiking in the southeast. I was surprised that I was still feeling
pretty good by the time I headed for the tent at 9:30.
BLOODY HELL
I could barely walk the next
morning. My legs were tight and my left
foot was killing me. So much for
feeling good. I was up early because
the blue sky was tempting me to hike the mile and a half back up to the
Mitchell’s summit. I’ve heard that the
sun only shines on Mount Mitchell 2 days out of 10, and Saturday had not been
one of those days. That pain in my foot
changed my thinking quickly though.
Instead, I used my early wake up to get an early start on the trail
home.
The Buncombe Horse Trail is
poorly named for a couple of reasons.
First, it’s not in Buncombe County.
Second, it’s hard to imagine that a horse has ever traveled it. The path is so overgrown, it’s hard for a
person to get through, never mind a horse.
In fact, the trail is such a mess, I would strongly discourage anyone
from hiking it if it weren’t so scenic.
The views are so good, it’s almost worth the misery. Not quite, but almost.
The first section of trail
from Commissary Ridge to the Big Tom Gap Trail junction was a marsh. I crossed about a dozen streams and even
more expanses of boot-sucking mud.
Occasional views took my mind off the muck though. The best scenery on this stretch is from a
small clearing not far from the Big Tom Gap Trail junction.
After the junction, the
trail became more primitive. Some
sections are badly overgrown. I reached
a fork, and went left. This was a
mistake. The path led through a
miserable tunnel of weeds before reaching Maple Camp Bald. At the bald, it rejoined the other trail,
which is fairly clear. If you hike
here, stay right at the fork!
From the bald, expansive
views open up to the Black Mountain peaks, the Blue Ridge, and more mountains
in the distance. I enjoyed a long,
pleasant break here, and noted that clouds were already building around the
peaks. The morning’s blue sky was
disappearing fast by the time I resumed my hike.
I backtracked for 50 yards
on the lower path to a vague junction.
Here the trail heads down through an overgrown meadow, but no signs or
markers indicate the turn. The trail is
so faint, no normal person would think it was the correct route. Luckily, I’m not a normal person. Instead I plunged forward through the
undergrowth, using my hiking stick like a scythe. I didn’t hesitate until I reached the first brambles. The thorns added blood and pain to the
misery of the hike. I thought about
turning back, but knew I’d have to backtrack several miles and climb three
6000’ peaks to get back to the Colberts Ridge Trail. My only other option was to plunge ahead. The only good thing about this section of
trail was finding two portraits of George Washington among the brambles. They would pay for a well-deserved post-hike
beer.
I sacrificed most of the
skin on my legs and forearms, but finally found myself in a gorgeous forest of
white pine. I love white pines,
especially when it means the end of bushwhacking through a mile of thorns. Surprisingly, I was still on the trail. I realized this because, comically, there
was a blaze on the first pine tree. I
hadn’t seen a marker in miles, but the next ½ mile of obvious trail was heavily
blazed. Go figure. I did stop in the forest for lunch before
resuming the hike.
Beyond the White Pines, I
descended steadily on switchbacks.
Initially I passed a rock outcrop with another nice view. From there, the path descended quickly into
hardwood forest. I was surprised to
find many leaves changing color, despite it being nearly a full week from the
first of October. On the other hand,
many green leaves were already on the ground thanks to the hurricanes. The so-called experts at the department of
tourism are predicting a fantastic year for fall foliage, as usual. Call me skeptical, but I’ll believe it when
I see it.
On my descent, I crossed a
stream that had been diverted during the flood. Most of the water was now running directly down the trail. The trail has enough challenges, so I
grabbed a stick and went to work. I
cleared out the proper channel, and built a dam out of rocks and mud to keep
the water off of the path. I was at it
for 30 minutes before I realized that I hadn’t done this sort of thing since
I’d been in elementary school. I guess
being able to stop and play in a creek for 30 minutes is one of the benefits of
hiking solo.
So far, the Horse Trail had
started out ugly, was pretty briefly, then ugly again, followed by beautiful,
then horrible, and once again pretty.
Fittingly, it ended on an ugly note.
The final descent was on a rocky roadbed that was not kind to my aching
feet. At the lower end, I passed
several unmarked junctions, but somehow guessed correctly at each one. My only error led me to someone’s
house. If you hike this trail (even
after reading this report), look for a large Tuliptree (a.k.a Yellow Poplar)
with a strange curve in the trunk about 20 feet up. The tree is just past a 4-way junction on the left side of the
trail. The path actually turns left
here and ascends for some distance before arriving at a large stream. I rock hopped the creek without any
trouble. I passed a couple of campsites
here, and signs of horse use were everywhere.
The horses don’t make it to Maple Camp Bald any longer, but there is
some horseback riding going on in the valleys.
In fact, I saw 2 people on horses just before reaching the
trailhead. They were the first people
I’d seen all day.
I passed a gravel parking
area and followed a narrow dirt drive out to the main road. From there, it was a ½ mile of walking on
the pavement to get back to the car. It
was the end to a great adventure, but I’m not in any hurry to hike the Buncombe
Horse Trail again. At least not until
the scars heal.
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