OLD & STUPID
There I was, high on a
remote mountain ridge, struggling through a dense thicket just short of the
summit. I crawled through a
particularly nasty patch of Hawthorn shrubs, and reached a temporary escape
from the jungle on a scenic rock outcrop.
The view was great, but it wasn’t the summit. That lay 100 yards further on, just beyond another tangle of
thorns and shrubs. For the fifth time,
I considered retreating. Then I crawled
on.
How did I get myself in this
situation? In the usual way, of
course. For me, crawling around in the
bushes is just an average weekend. I
should work in landscaping. On this
occasion, Joel was interested in hiking, and I agreed to join him for an
attempt at The Peak, the highest point in Ashe County. Somehow, Dorcas convinced Myron to join us.
The most difficult part of
summiting The Peak is simply accessing the mountain itself. I believe the upper elevations are owned by
the Nature Conservancy, but the base is surrounded by private land. Joel had spent considerable time and energy
finding a route. One early attempt had
been thwarted by a hostile landowner, who had refused permission to cross his
land. On his next trip though, he found
a route up an unposted road. That was
our plan for Sunday.
We drove a back road along
the north side of the mountain, but Joel couldn’t find the trailhead. In the past two years, new houses had been
built, and the route was no longer apparent.
We drove up and down the road for a while, before stopping at a house
with a sign advertising a vacation rental cottage. Joel and Myron spoke with the proprietor, who turned out to be
very friendly. She let us park in front
of her house and guided us towards a gated dirt road directly across the
street. She suggested that we follow
the road up to a house, and then continue uphill along the edge of a Christmas
tree farm. She urged us to avoid the
posted roads and property to either side though, unless we wanted to dodge
buckshot through most of the hike.
We thanked her and headed up
the drive under sunny skies. It was a
beautiful day, but chilly. It marked
the first day I hiked in long pants since the previous spring. The chill was fortunate though, as it
probably allowed me to keep some of the skin on my legs.
We hiked up through the
Christmas trees, giving the farm to the right a wide berth. We reached the woods, were we found an old
roadbed. We followed it, as it was
heading directly towards an obvious gap on the ridge we were trying to
reach. Unfortunately, it died out well
below the gap. From that point, our
only option was to bushwhack steeply uphill among boulders, seeps, and
springs. Luckily, the forest was fairly
open, and we didn’t have to crawl through Laurel or Rhododendron.
Thirty minutes later, I
crested the ridge amid a large clearcut.
I found myself on a new logging road.
My surroundings were ugly, but it was a relief to be on the road after
the strenuous bushwhacking. I waited,
and Myron and Dorcas caught up to me a few minutes later. Joel came along awhile after that, and we
pushed on up the mountain.
We climbed along a series of
logging roads, always heading uphill at each fork. Eventually the road petered out, and we followed a faint path
into a lovely forest comprised largely of Beech trees. The path led out to a cliff, which provided
an outstanding panorama. We were
looking out towards the Iron Mountains to the north, but the view extended all
the way from Mount Rogers to the northeast to Snake Mountain, Elk Knob,
Grandfather Mountain, and Roan Mountain to the southwest. Far below, we could just make out the tiny
shape of Myron’s truck at the foot of the Christmas tree farm we had crossed on
our ascent.
We stopped for lunch,
enjoying the abundant sunshine and spectacular views. Eventually, conversation rolled around to the merits of making an
attempt at the summit. This brought to
mind a climb to the summit of Three Top Mountain, a neighboring peak, a year
earlier. We reminisced about the thrill
of that rock climbing and bushwhacking ascent. Myron, being the sensible one, pointed out that that had been when
I was young and stupid. As descriptions
go, young and stupid is kind of cute, but it implies that you might eventually
develop some wisdom by learning from your mistakes. I know I am no longer young, and I’m still making the same
mistakes, so I guess I’m old and stupid.
I can’t say the same about
Myron and Dorcas, though they do keep showing up for my hikes. At least they have the sense to know when to
turn around. We hiked along a virtually
untraveled ridge, scrambling over rock outcrops and squeezing between trees the
entire way. We reached another cliff at
the top of a deep notch, with a fine view along the ridge to the twin pyramid
summits in the distance. Myron and
Dorcas saw the cliff as a perfect place for a nap. Joel was moving too slowly to make a push for the summit. It was already 1:30, and we’d have to turn
in around in another hour to be sure of making it out of the woods before
dark. If I wanted to reach the summit,
I’d have to push on alone.
So that’s how I found myself
crawling through the undergrowth alone.
I had descended steeply into the gap, before beginning the climb to the
summit proper. It had started easily
enough, and even the first peak wasn’t too difficult to reach. The view was great, and the hike would’ve
been a success even if I had turned back then.
Of course, I didn’t. The final stretch
to the second, and higher, peak, was nasty.
Branches poked at my eyes and ears, and briars tore at my flesh. Somehow, I forced myself on to the very top, which was wooded and
lacked much of a view. If I ever return
to The Peak, I’ll be more than content with reaching the first summit.
I returned quickly, and
rejoined Myron and Dorcas at 3pm. I was
relatively unscathed, beyond the normal flesh wounds, but I was exhausted. According to Dorcas, steam was billowing off
of me in the chilly afternoon air.
After a brief rest, we headed back down the mountain. It was a huge relief to reach the logging
road. The final bushwhack was steep and
tedious, but was over quickly. We
returned to the car at 4:30, and began the long drive home. It had been a successful hike, with
adventure, scenery, and perfect solitude.
The next time I hike though, I think I’ll stick to an established trail
for a change.
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