Few places in the Southern Appalachians are more scenic than Max Patch along the Appalachian Trail on the state line between North Carolina and Tennessee. Even more so when the magic of Fall coloring surrounds the mountaintop.

You can see my complete trail report for Max Patch and Buckeye Ridge, and learn about an unexpected adventure I had a few years ago on my first visit. This time, rather than going straight up to the top, I took the path that goes around the mountain, then ascends the Summit Trail from the west side. It takes a little longer, but offers a different perspective of the terrain.

I couldn’t have asked for more perfect weather. It was bright and sunny with wispy white clouds. A breeze on the summit helped to keep the air clear and provide very long distance viewing, an always desirable condition when standing on the top of a bald mountain with 360° views. The wind was enough to support a kite that was high-flying from one of the kids that must have been playing hooky. I don’t think Halloween is a school holiday, is it?

Among the 50 other sightseers that climbed Max Patch along with me, I didn’t see anyone in costume, but the forest was dressed in autumn’s finest. The trees along Scenic Byway 209 and the backcountry roads on the way were displaying bright hues. Those closer to the top were perhaps 2-3 days beyond peak. Still, it was a delightful visit to Max Patch. It always is. See what you think.

This post was created by Jeff Clark. Please feel free to use the sharing icons below, or add your thoughts to the comments. Pack it in, pack it out. Preserve the past. Respect other hikers. Let nature prevail. Leave no trace.

Ho. Hum. Just another day at Roan Highlands. Now, obviously I’m being facetious. Roan Highlands is probably my favorite place to go in all of Western North Carolina, especially in mid-June when it is catawba rhododendron and flame azalea time.

It’s exciting to hike on the iconic Appalachian Trail, the views of Tennessee and North Carolina on either side of the ridge are among the best you will find anywhere, and the flowers are, to put it mildly, simply gorgeous.

This visit was on June 15, 2017. I arrived at 6:45AM with bad weather expected to approach around noon. I managed to get all of the hike along Grassy Ridge in before the weather started moving in. You will notice in the following gallery that I enjoyed bright blue sky on the way out with fog and overcast on the way back. Weather can change in a hurry in the high country, so always know before you go.

Please feel free to leave your comments and suggestions below the gallery. Thanks for visiting!

This post was created by Jeff Clark. Please feel free to use the sharing icons below, or add your thoughts to the comments. Pack it in, pack it out. Preserve the past. Respect other hikers. Let nature prevail. Leave no trace.

Eastern Tennessee and Western North Carolina can get pretty warm and muggy in mid-summer. Great Smoky Mountains National Park is not exempt from that. So when I hike in July and August I like to head for the high country… and there’s nowhere higher in the Smokies than Clingmans Dome. In fact, it’s the third highest peak in the East and the highest point along the full length of the Appalachian Trail. Taking the A.T. from Clingmans Dome to Newfound Gap on the North Carolina / Tennessee state line is a great workout through boreal forest of spruce and fir. Ken and I ventured to this lofty location on Monday, July 25, 2016 beginning at 9:00AM and ending about 3:15PM. Our plan was to take the Appalachian Trail from the summit of Clingmans Dome to Newfound Gap. What we didn’t plan was a torrential rain storm.

If you’ve been hiking for decades as I have, you learn from experience that sometimes you have good hiking days, and sometimes you have bad hiking days. It’s an energy thing. Some days the climbs just seem harder and the muscles get tired faster. This was one of those days for me, and as a result, this hike turned out to be hard… very hard. Throw in an hour’s worth of downpour and I was ready to cry “uncle” by the finish.

We stopped at Newfound Gap first to scope out the beautiful morning views before heading up Clingmans Dome Road to begin hiking. The roadway had the typical Smokies morning fog and mist wafting through the gaps and filling the valleys far below. There are few views in the Southern Appalachians as stunning as from Clingmans Dome — that is if the view isn’t totally obscured by fog. We were fortunate on this day as we appeared to be between two cloud layers. The grey layer above us, however, was an ominous portent.

You get warmed up right away climbing the very steep half mile paved pathway from the parking area to the summit of Clingmans Dome. It’s nearly 300 feet straight up the mountainside. When you get near the top you will see the Appalachian Trail coming up from Mt. Buckley on the left. DON’T TAKE THIS TRAILHEAD! You want to continue all the way up, to the base of the observation tower where there is another A.T. trailhead on the left. It is also marked as the Mountains to Sea Trail.

The woods that cover the slopes of Clingmans Dome are what is known as boreal forest or snow forest, a biome characterized by coniferous trees consisting mostly of pines, spruce and fir. Boreal forest is typically found in northern climes, like Canada or Russia, but, due to both elevation and ice ages, the mountain ranges of Southern Appalachia share many of the same traits. Unfortunately though, much like the hemlock infestation at lower elevations, the fir trees have been decimated by adelgid on the high ridges. The “grey ghosts” are quite evident on Clingmans Dome.

Once on the Appalachian Trail you will come to a junction in just a couple hundred feet. For this hike, turn right, towards Mt. Collins shelter. As it does for its entire length through Great Smoky Mountains National Park, the A.T. straddles the Tennessee/NC state line. For the next two miles you will be heading steeply downhill through the boreal forest. Through much of the distance the trail is trench-like, from both overuse and erosion. The bed of the trench is filled with slate, making it not particularly comfortable on the feet.

There are also many large boulders embedded within the trail that create large steps down, or up, as the case may be. Combine that with a typically moist surface because of the rainforest qualities and the slipping hazard is pronounced. It pays to take your time and insure your feet are firmly planted before taking your next step.

Slate is a fine-grained, foliated, homogeneous metamorphic rock derived from an original shale-type sediment. It tends to crumble from the larger shale fins, then wash into the trail bed during rain storms.

The first couple miles of this hike are on the opposite side of the Clingmans ridge from the Dome Road, so it is relatively quiet. You are more likely to hear songbirds and breeze rustling the tree canopy than you are motorcycles and diesel pickup trucks. That changes though as you approach Collins Gap where the trail crosses back over to the east side of the ridge and follows directly beside the road.

What also happens at Collins Gap is that the downhill ends, and the uphill begins. Think of the trail like a rollercoaster, up and down, up and down. For the rest of the length, that is what it’s like. The 1.5-mile climb from Collins Gap up Mt. Collins is quite strenuous. It’s one of those that requires frequent breathers. I found myself wondering when the climb would ever be over.

If you take a look at the elevation profile above, below the GPS track, you will see that it climbs from roughly 5,600 feet to nearly 6,200 feet on Mt. Collins. I have climbed many mountains that were longer and steeper, but this one really seemed to wear me out. Good days and bad days.

There was one nice thing that helped pass the climb. Both turk’s cap and Carolina lilies were blooming along each side of the trail. These bright orange beauties are an annual sign that summer has arrived in the high country. The forest also changes somewhat. The trees are younger, and smaller, and more densely packed. Apparently 6,168′ Mt. Collins was more heavily logged in the early 20th century than was the Dome summit area.

Soon after topping Mt. Collins you will approach a series of trail junctions. The first is with the Sugarlands Mountain Trail on the left and its path to Mt. Collins shelter. Soon after is the Fork Ridge Trail on the right. This is also where the Mountains to Sea Trail departs the Appalachian Trail. Beyond these two junctions, the A.T. once again hugs close to Clingmans Dome Road, so there are also occasional spur trails that enable you to end, or start your hike part way.

At one of these openings I caught a brief view down the Deep Creek drainage and saw that there were some pretty ominous looking clouds hovering just above our level. It wasn’t supposed to rain until well into the afternoon, so I didn’t think much of it. Da-da-dumb.

We came to a nice level place in a deep, dark forest with many logs alongside the trail that was just perfect for lunch. It was quiet. It was cool… and we had comfortable seats. It was nice to get the pack off. Ken’s wife had put together some homemade burritos for us that were scrumptious as well as re-energizing.

This is where we rested while eating lunch. Fungus on the old logs and ferns along the trail side gave us plenty to study.

The break, and the food, helped me recover some of my lost energy. We began another brief uphill stretch as we entered a protected beech forest. Apparently the National Park Service has encountered a problem with feral hogs here over the years, so they have surrounded a region of the woodland with a protective fence to keep the hogs from tearing up the beech habitat.

As we topped the rise, we heard a different sound ahead of us and below… and it seemed to be moving up the hillside. We listened closely. We looked each other in the eye and said, “That sounds like rain.” It got closer. We dove into our packs for the rain gear. Then, WHOOM! It was on us.

The two minute warning we were given to get out the rain gear didn’t make much of a difference. The rain was torrential. Within a matter of minutes the Appalachian Trail was a small creek with 2-3 inches of water running between its sidewalls. As we reached the next climb, the perspiration from the exertion and the humidity made me nearly as wet inside as outside my jacket. It was like a sauna suit.

For the next hour we marched through the downpour, splashing in puddles, gingerly navigating the even more slick boulders and moss. Exposed roots were slick like a baby seal. We were fortunate that neither of us slipped and fell. The wetness now added even more weight to my already tired shoulders. By the way, thanks for allowing me to whine. I feel better now — but I didn’t then.

I didn’t take any photos from mile 6 through mile 8 of this hike. My camera and lens are supposed to be waterproof, or at least water resistant, but this was one really, really hard rain. I chose not to chance it. It was still raining when we reached the opening in the forest at the junction with Road Prong Trail.

I debated in my mind about finishing the final mile and a half on Clingmans Dome Road, but convinced myself to cowboy up and stick to the trail. Wouldn’t you know that the trail immediately did another climb 200 feet above the road? There were two more descents and two more climbs before finally reaching Newfound Gap.

About 20 minutes before we finished the rain finally abated. It was a relief to take the hood off and unzip the jacket to get some air. I managed to get a few pictures of the misty clouds lifting above the drainage. When we finally got to Newfound Gap there was actually blue sky. I had enough energy to take one last photo before collapsing on the stone wall from exhaustion. This hike, and the elements, whipped me.

It was funny looking at the other folks looking at us. There were the usual hundred people milling about Newfound Gap, nearly all in clean and dry shorts and tees. We looked like drowned rats. Usually when I finish a hike, I ask myself if it was worth it. Invariably I conclude… absolutely! I love hiking. It is my passion. This time I had to think for a moment. But eventually I decided that yes, yes it was. There are a lot worse things in life than hiking in a rain storm in the breathtaking Smoky Mountains.

Summarizing, you better put on your big boy and girl pants for this one. It is very strenuous, and rugged, even without an apocalyptic storm. Be sure to get your fill of vista viewing from Newfound Gap and Clingmans Dome, because there isn’t much to see once you’re on the trail. This is a forest hike pure and simple. The forest is stunning of course. Between evergreen aromas and flourishing ferns and moss, what there is to see is right at your feet. Take your time so you don’t slip and fall, and also so you don’t burn out all your energy too soon. But even in the dog days of summer, the cool clean air in the high country can’t be beat.

This post was created by Jeff Clark. Please feel free to use the sharing icons below, or add your thoughts to the comments. Pack it in, pack it out. Preserve the past. Respect other hikers. Let nature prevail. Leave no trace.

You can see them from Roan Highlands. They appear when viewed from Linville Gorge and Grandfather Mountain too. The long, green balds that comprise Little Hump and Big Hump Mountains stick out like limes in a grapefruit basket. And, you can see all those other landmarks from the Hump Mountains. The iconic Appalachian Trail (AT) arrives from the Highlands of Roan to traverse these two treeless knobs that stand well over 5,000 feet at their summits. Begin from the headwaters of Roaring Creek, near Spruce Pine. Climb for about ¾ mile on the Overmountain Victory National Historic Trail to reach Yellow Mountain Gap. From there, turn right on the AT and navigate meadows and forests along the spine dividing North Carolina and Tennessee. Prepare yourself to be in awe. My brother Dave, my friend Ken, and I visited the Hump Mountains on Monday, June 6, 2016 beginning at 8:15AM and ending about 3:10PM. Our plan was to take the Overmountain Victory Trail to its meeting with the AT, cross Little Hump and Big Hump Mountains, then return.

This is a hike I’ve been wanting to do for some time, really ever since I laid eyes on the Hump Mountain pair from atop Grassy Ridge in Roan Highlands. I had been somewhat confused about how to get there without hiking all the way from Carvers Gap, a round trip of well over 20 miles. Many thanks to Brenda Wiley for offering impeccable directions to the trailhead. It made this a very doable day hike.

We arrived just past 8:00 after a nearly two hour drive from home. The “we” was my brother Dave, visiting from Colorado, and fellow Meanderthal Ken, my regular and steady companion. The trailhead for the Overmountain Victory Trail is at the end of Roaring Creek Road, a drive that could not possibly be any farther from anything else. This is really, really out there. All the better… the remote nature of this location made it all the more adventurous.

The trailhead is right in the cul-de-sac at the end of Roaring Creek Road, on the right hand side. It’s hard to find the trailhead marker as it’s kind of hidden in the weeds, but there is an old rusty open gate there. We discovered immediately that the trail was already overgrown by summer’s foliage. I could swear (seven hours later when we finished) that the weeds encroaching on the trail had already grown another foot. The old roadbed follows the headwaters of Roaring Creek as it tumbles down from Yellow Mountain Gap.

Just past a quarter mile up the hill, the Overmountain Victory Trail makes a hard left turn into an open field. There is a trail marker here, along the treeline. The field couldn’t look more like an old abandoned ski slope if Lindsey Vonn came schussing past. Both Dave and Ken are skiers, and they were wondering aloud about hiking up here with a pair of skis after a winter snow storm. The trail crosses the “ski slope,” then re-enters the woods on the other side to resume the climb to Yellow Mountain Gap.

As you near the gap, a side trail comes in from the left, one that goes to an Appalachian Trail shelter. Weary AT thru hikers can use this shelter for overnight rest before resuming their next day. As we approached, we just happened to meet one, a nice fellow who was struggling, but determined. 25 yards later you reach the gap, and the junction with the Appalachian Trail. Turn right here toward Little Hump Mountain.

The “ski slope” found as you climb the Overmountain Victory Trail.

“To those living beyond the Appalachian Mountains, the American Revolution was a faraway war that had begun in the villages of New England and concerned places like New York and Philadelphia. Most of the “overmountain people,” as they were called, descended from immigrants who had come not from England but from a vast Irish territory known as the Ulster Plantation. These Scotch-Irish had defied King George III’s 1763 proclamation that prohibited private settlements west of the mountains. They claimed the forbidden wilderness for their own, felling trees to clear the land for small farms, building dirt-floor log cabins, growing what they needed and living as they pleased—a people apart.

The Overmountain Men are best known for their role in the American victory at the Battle of Kings Mountain in 1780 during the American Revolutionary War. They hailed from parts of Virginia, North Carolina, and what is now Tennessee and Kentucky. On September 26, 1780, the Overmountain Men began their long trek over the Blue Ridge, marching from Sycamore Shoals to Shelving Rock at the base of Roan Mountain, where they camped for the night. After crossing the mountain at Yellow Mountain Gap, they followed a well-worn path up the North Toe River Valley to Bright’s settlement (modern Spruce Pine, North Carolina).

Some 11 days later, on October 7, the Overmountain Men reached King’s Mountain and prepared for battle. Loyalist casualties included 157 killed, 163 so severely wounded they were left on the field, and 698 captured. Patriot casualties were 28 killed and 62 wounded. British General Cornwallis abandoned his invasion of North Carolina and fell back into South Carolina. In later years, many of the Overmountain Men played important roles in the establishment of Tennessee and Kentucky. In 1980, Congress appropriated funds for the establishment of the Overmountain Victory National Historic Trail, which follows the original marching route of the Overmountain Men.” [cite Wikipedia]

For the next mile the AT climbs along the treeline adjacent to large fields of tall plants like angelica, indian plantain, and yarrow. There is a magnificent view of the Roaring Creek valley, although at times it was obscured by morning fog that wafted through the hollow with the breeze. Once you get a couple hundred feet higher, if you turn around, you can see the AT shelter down below. We also saw a lone deer standing chest deep in the field, keeping a close eye on us.

We happened upon an oddity: a tree struck by lightning that had split vertically in the trunk. It reminded us of those stilt men you see at carnivals perched high atop 12 foot poles with pant legs all the way to the ground. We called it the “stilt man tree.” It was blackberry blossom season, and we also passed a few blooming wild cherry trees. As we rounded a corner and reached a plateau we got our first glimpse of Little Hump Mountain. This was about to get really exciting.

From the moment you can see Little Hump, it is a long steady hike of about a half mile to the summit. Along the way is a gathering of large rocks, a perfect place for our first break of the day. We each grabbed a snack while Dave took about five minutes of time lapse photos of the fog rolling through Yellow Mountain Gap. It created quite the scene, but obscured most of our view of the surrounding mountains.

From the rock outcropping near the summit of Little Hump, fog obscures the view.

When we crossed to the other side of the summit, the low-lying fog continued. We wouldn’t learn until later, on the way back, what a magnificent view of the southern face of Big Hump Mountain we were missing. Still, it was amazing enough anyway with all the tenuous clouds floating on the wind. We could feel the sun. It was trying to burn off the overcast. We continued on our journey.

On the west flank of Little Hump, the AT enters a really cool beech forest. The trees are twisted and gnarled from decades of battling the fierce wind and storms that blow across the Southern Appalachian balds. For the thru hikers, there are a couple campsites and a spring contained within this forest, useful for water resupply. You also lose a few hundred feet of elevation as you drop into the gap between the two Hump Mountains. All the more to climb later.

On the other side of the beech forest, we got our first glance at the dignified expanse of Big Hump Mountain, and the sun was shining on its southern face. From this spot, not quite all the way down Little Hump, you can see the complete ascent. Familiarize yourself with what you are approaching, because as you climb Big Hump Mountain you will reach a couple of faux summits that will dash your hopes. Are we there yet?

The bare tract up Hump Mountain is imposing. We found another outcrop about a hundred feet up for another break. The nourishment would hopefully steel us for the 500 foot climb up this grand mound. The sky continued to clear. We could now see the summit of Little Hump behind us. We could also see Grandfather Mountain to our east, and the ridges of the Tennessee Smokies to the west.

I don’t do climbing steep mountains well. You’ve heard me whine about that before. Ken, however, is a monster when it comes to uphill. I think he gets his lung power from biking. Anyway, he took off on a speed burn and soon became just a blur hundreds of feet above. Dave, on the other hand, is a slow and steady climber. He can go for hours in the twice-as-high Rockies back home, but gradual and quiet. Me, I just suffer.

But, we all made it. Some 30 minutes later, there we all stood on the 5,587 ft summit. There were others enjoying a picnic lunch, so we continued a little bit down the north face to a plaque honoring Stanley Murray on Houston Ridge. Murray, quite the conservationist, was instrumental in bringing the Appalachian Trail to Roan Highlands. Now, it was time for lunch. We sat down on a rock outcrop and breathed deeply.

From Houston Ridge we could see Little Hump in the foreground, with the Roan Highlands behind.

The views are astounding. The clouds, now puffy whites, had lifted enough to recognize the surrounding landmarks. Each of the balds of Roan Highlands were distinct. This was now the opposite view of what had intrigued me about the Hump Mountains. It was every bit as fantastic as I envisioned. Grandfather Mountain and Linville Gorge are in plain view. I’m not as familiar with the mountain ranges on the Tennessee side, but they are all there to behold.

We stayed for probably a half hour. Even then, I still didn’t want to leave, but we had three hours of hiking and a two hour drive ahead of us. The return trip was remarkable. Everything we couldn’t see earlier in the morning was now in plain view. There were also now more hikers out enjoying the stellar day, including a couple more thru hikers, and our old pal we had first encountered back at Yellow Mountain Gap. He was hiking his own hike, steadily plodding along.

There were more wildflowers now in bloom in the afternoon sun. The birds were in full chorus, including what we later learned was a red breasted grosbeak… a loud and persistent fellow. The climb from the gap between the Humps back up Little Hump was a whole lot easier than summiting Big Hump. After we cleared the beech forest on the upward side and turned around, there it was — what we had missed in the morning fog — a magnificent view of the whole of Big Hump Mountain. You will see it in the photo gallery below.

We didn’t dawdle though. Ominous dark clouds were building over Grandfather Mountain and the recognizable Hawksbill and Table Rock at Linville Gorge. We certainly didn’t want to be on a bald mountaintop if the clouds started waging war. The section between Little Hump and Yellow Mountain Gap seemed longer on the way back. Perhaps we were just a bit apprehensive about approaching bad weather. No worries though… we made it back to the car without a drop of rain.

Best Hike How to summarize the brilliant day we all had? This is a hike you must do. If you aren’t in shape, get yourself fit. It is soooo worth it. Allow plenty of time to enjoy everything the Appalachian Trail through the bald Highlands has to offer. So get there early in the morning. Take some good friends so you have others to share the wonderment with. Keep one eye on the weather, but be sure your other is tuned to the absolute magnificence that is the Hump Mountains. I consider this trip to be a best hike, and think you will too.
 

Here is a video my brother Dave put together of our adventure to the Hump Mountains.

This post was created by Jeff Clark. Please feel free to use the sharing icons below, or add your thoughts to the comments. Pack it in, pack it out. Preserve the past. Respect other hikers. Let nature prevail. Leave no trace.

The Appalachian Trail splits the states of North Carolina and Tennessee through most of the breadth of Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Hugging the state line as it traverses the rugged and remote ridges, the AT is a favorite destination for day hikers and thru hikers alike. There is a three and a half mile stretch from Newfound Gap to the summit of Mt. Kephart, and beyond to a magnificent overlook known simply as The Jumpoff, that provides an excellent example of what high country Smoky Mountains terrain is all about.

I’ve written a trail report for this hike and the eventual destination of Charlies Bunion from a previous occasion. Here, I merely wanted to share some new photographs from a recent winter visit to this picturesque mountain backcountry.

My friend Dave and I climbed the nearly 1,200 feet from Newfound Gap to Mt. Kephart’s summit on Sunday, February 28, 2016. Only a couple days had passed since the last snowfall. The 3-4″ ground cover was packed down from the boots of many hikers who had made the same trek in the preceding days. Ice traction on the feet was the order of the day.

The mixed spruce and fir krummholz forest with a fresh coating of snow. This poor tree succumbed to the constant beating of winter storms at 6,000 feet in the Great Smoky Mountains.

At the 3-mile mark the Appalachian Trail meets the Boulevard Trail. To get to Mt. Kephart and The Jumpoff you need to turn left onto the Boulevard, and then almost immediately take a right on The Jumpoff Trail. It’s then a pretty strenuous climb of a couple hundred feet to the summit of Mt. Kephart, named for a famous author who was quite instrumental in the creation of the Smokies national park.

From the summit there is an absolutely breathtaking view of the massive shoulders of Mt. LeConte off to the west. On this particular day, the sky was cloudless, perhaps the most crystal clear viewing of LeConte I have seen in several visits to this spot. Just a few hundred yards more down the other side of the summit leads to the perilous overlook called The Jumpoff.

From there, you are peering down into the Lester Prong basin, following the Appalachian Trail on its journey east past the craggy outcroppings of Charlies Bunion and onward toward Mt. Guyot. On the north side of The Jumpoff is a view of the rock face known as The Gorilla, and the ridge below called Horseshoe Lead. Far in the distance is the Tennessee community of Sevierville. Directly below is Masa Knob, named for the faithful photographer George Masa who was Horace Kephart’s constant companion.

I hope you enjoy these new photos from this visit to the high country along the Appalachian Trail as much as we enjoyed the day. Please feel free to leave your comments below the gallery.

This post was created by Jeff Clark. Please feel free to use the sharing icons below, or add your thoughts to the comments. Pack it in, pack it out. Preserve the past. Respect other hikers. Let nature prevail. Leave no trace.

When the Southern Appalachians are your home, the month of June simply isn’t complete without a visit to Roan Highlands for the annual rhododendron and azalea bloom. Like Julie Andrews sang years ago, “these are a few of my favorite things.” From the first time I set foot on Round Bald, I knew this was someplace special. The grassy ridge of the Highlands bald mountain tops runs for 14 miles, the longest stretch of unobstructed vistas on the entire Appalachian Trail. Add to that the brilliant colors of the flowers, and you will understand why this is a must see destination.

I have already written a trail report for Grassy Ridge in the Highlands. To learn how to get there, and where to hike, you can get all the details here. Rather than repeating the report, I wanted to share my photographic experiences from the most recent foray across the balds. This visit occurred on Wednesday, June 17, 2015.

I arrived approximately 7:45 AM to bright, glorious sunshine. It became apparent almost immediately that the catawba rhododendron blossoms were already gone. The Spring bloom season is fickle. Two years ago I visited Roan on June 19th, and was probably two days early for the peak bloom. This year June 17th was about four days too late. Not to worry though, the flaming azaleas were still out in abundance; and I found the elusive Grays Lily, the rare mountain perennial.

I hope you enjoy these recent photos from Roan Highlands. Feel free to leave your comments below the gallery.

The morning sun was just peaking over Round Bald when I arrived. It brought with it a summer breeze that added a wispiness to the native grass.

I’ve been to Roan Highlands for the June flowering three times now. This was my first Grays Lily. I was treated to another before the day was through.

I arrived on Grassy Ridge Bald about 10:00 AM, as did the clouds, first white, then grey.

Updated October 6, 2015: Autumn must mean it’s time for another visit to the Highlands, chasing the ever-illusive colors of the new season. Timing the Roan Highlands fall foliage chroma display is a fool’s-errand. It is never the same two years in a row. I started with a visit on September 28th, only to find a mountain covered in fog so thick that I was breathing moisture. Oh well, there’s always the exercise, I told my disappointed self.

Following a week of torrential downpour over the Southern Appalachians, it finally cleared on Monday, October 5th, so I was there ready and able the next morning. This time the weather totally cooperated. As you will see in the photos below, the sky was magnificent and the clear air enabled long distance viewing that extended well into Tennessee and maybe even beyond to Virginia. The coloring was a mixed bag of earth tones, some past peak, others yet to fully impress. Regardless, it was quite a distinction from my last spring-time visit in June.

I love the earthy tones color spectrum that Fall brings to the mountains.

Updated January 6, 2017: It seemed only natural to add a winter gallery of Roan Highlands. With that in mind, Ken and I set out in search of the white stuff. We didn’t find snow, but what we did find was a wonderland of rime ice, hoar frost, and frozen fog. The only downer was the thick clouds that had settled on the Highlands making long distance viewing impossible. Still, focusing at ground level revealed a world of ice at 6,000 feet.

The climb up Jane Bald was particularly rewarding. The alderberry, rhododendron, and azalea bushes were all covered with a thick coating of rime ice.

This post was created by Jeff Clark. Please feel free to use the sharing icons below, or add your thoughts to the comments. Pack it in, pack it out. Preserve the past. Respect other hikers. Let nature prevail. Leave no trace.

Clingmans Dome is the highest point in Great Smoky Mountains National Park, in the state of Tennessee, and along the Appalachian Trail. Standing 6,643 feet, it is also the third highest peak in the East, only 41 feet lower than the tallest. Several hiking trails surround the summit of Clingmans Dome, including the Forney Ridge Trail that heads south to the picturesque Andrews Bald, and the iconic Appalachian Trail that crosses the summit. You can connect these trails at various junctions to make a six-mile hike that straddles the North Carolina/Tennessee state line, and offers a grand overview of the beauty that is the Smokies. Meanderthals visited Clingmans Dome on Monday, June 15, 2015 from 8:00AM to 11:45AM. Our plan was to enjoy the azaleas and rhododendron at Andrews Bald, then take the connector to the Appalachian Trail and the observation tower on the Dome.

Directly after turning onto Clingmans Dome Road from Highway 441, there is a one-car pullout on the right. If you would like to see a Civilian Conservation Corps stone tunnel under the road, then stop here. Walk less than a tenth mile up the road and take the footpath down below the level of the road. Voilà! Legend has it that the Appalachian Trail at one time passed through this tunnel.

OK. Now you can resume the drive out to the end of Clingmans Dome Road. When visiting Clingmans Dome, no matter the day of the week, I highly recommend you get there early, like 9:00 AM at the absolute latest. We arrived about 7:45, and there were already 20 cars parked there. When we finished our hike at 11:45, all of the 100 available parking spaces were full, and the cars were lined up waiting for someone to leave. It gets very popular in a hurry.

The trailhead is at the north end of the parking lot, just past the large signboard. You can take the paved path straight up to the summit of Clingmans Dome, but we were headed to Andrews Bald first. So we headed down the dirt and gravel Forney Ridge Trail on the left. You are immediately met with a series of water bars constructed to help prevent erosion on this fragile hillside. These water bars will be with you for the entire descent.

After 0.2 mile you will come to a trail junction. Turn left for Andrews Bald, or turn right for the Appalachian Trail. We started out left, but would return the other direction later. Soon you enter the dark and mysterious elfinwood forest as you descend 550 feet in the next mile. The trail is quite rocky here, so watch your step. Keep your eye out too for wildlife, and for the occasional view through the forest of the surrounding Smoky Mountains.

Krummholz, also known as elfinwood, is a particular feature of subarctic and subalpine tree line landscape. Continual exposure to fierce, freezing winds causes vegetation to become stunted and deformed. Under these conditions, trees can only survive where they are sheltered by rock formations or snow cover. Common trees showing krumholtz formation include various species of spruce, fir, and pine. Instances of krumholtz are found in the northern Canadian boreal forests, and surprisingly in the high country forests of the Smokies and Blue Ridge in Western North Carolina and Eastern Tennessee.

You will reach the low point of this hike at the junction with the Forney Creek Trail. On a previous visit to this area, we hiked down to the Forney Creek Cascade, but to continue to Andrews Bald, go straight ahead. The next three-quarters mile is a roller coaster, going up and back down, then up once again. Lots of moisture from the near-constant cloud inversions falls on this area, so the park service has constructed boardwalks to help with mud and erosion control.

When you arrive at Andrews Bald, you will know it. The trail pops out into the open of a large meadow that overlooks the southern, eastern, and western slopes below Clingmans Dome. On a clear day like we enjoyed, you can also see Fontana Lake far below from this vantage point. However, the primary reason for coming to Andrews Bald in mid-June is the heath shrubs. Catawba rhododendron and flame azalea dominate the grassy bald, and blueberries are just beginning to take flower.

The bright orange azaleas were putting on quite a show, but the rhododendron was surprisingly missing. On some plants the blossoms had already come and gone, likely knocked down by heavy rain that pelts this area frequently. On others, there were a few buds of those still waiting to bloom, so it was difficult to say if we were too late, or too early. I have noticed in general that this just seemed to be a bad year for catawba rhododendron. It happens.

We met a happy family from Michigan, a dad and his two teenage daughters, and chatted for awhile about the Great Smoky Mountains. They travel quite a bit throughout the United States, and had been quite impressed during their week in the Southern Appalachians. They told us how lucky we were to live nearby. I agreed.

After lots of picture taking and a snack, it was time to continue the next phase of our adventure, so back we went the way we came. Pace yourself on the return. It isn’t particularly steep, but you will be climbing pretty much the entire way. We went back past the Forney Creek junction, and then when we reached the first trail junction, we continued straight ahead on the A.T. connector rather than going back to the parking lot.

This half mile stretch hasn’t received as much love from the trail building crews as the way to Andrews Bald. You will notice the absence of the water bars as you contend with the very rocky and rooty pathway. It remains uphill all the way, so by the time you reach the A.T., you will have climbed continuously for a mile and a half. A good workout to be sure. When you reach the junction, however, it will all seem worth it when you are presented with the magnificent view of Mt. LeConte seen at the top of this post.

At this meeting with the Appalachian Trail you have a choice. Turn right (northbound) to go the 0.3 mile to the summit of Clingmans Dome, or turn left (southbound) to cross Mt. Buckley and begin a steep descent along the state line. We explored some of the southbound direction, keeping our mind on the pitch of the decline. Knowing that every step we went down we would have to come back up, we continued perhaps a quarter mile down the west side of Mt. Buckley, then returned to the junction.

Once we started heading to the summit, it suddenly got a lot more crowded. The handful of other hikers turned into dozens, and then — when we reached the paved portion of the trail just a hundred yards from the top — it was a mad house.

The observation tower on the summit of Clingmans Dome offers spectacular 360° views of the Smokies and beyond. On clear days views expand over a 100 miles. Clouds, precipitation, and cold temperatures are common at Clingmans Dome. Temperatures at the dome can be 10 -20 degrees cooler than in the surrounding lowlands. Dress in layers and be sure to bring a jacket, even in summer. This is the view to the east from the observation tower.

Despite the mass of humanity on the observation tower including crying babies and excited teens shooting selfies with their bff, we enjoyed a few minutes soaking in the surrounding landscape. The massive summit of Mt. Leconte dominates the northern view. Off to the east are Newfound Gap and Mt. Guyot. If you happen to hit it on a rare clear day, you can see all the way to the Black Mountains Range a hundred miles away.

To the west are Shuckstack and Gregory Bald among others, with Cades Cove lying in a valley between ridges. Although you can’t see Andrews Bald from the tower, the southerly view is of the area where we had been hiking earlier. We could also see there were scores more people coming up the paved pathway for their chance to peer out into the heart of the Smokies, so it was time to make room for others on the tower.

Keep in mind that Clingmans Dome is more than 6,600 feet elevation. Among other things, that means the air is thinner than what you are probably used to. As we descended the fairly steep half mile to the parking lot, I listened intently to some of the comments from those who were walking up. For example, one somewhat overweight lady leaned in to her friend and said, “My lungs don’t seem to be working right today.” Another who had stopped to rest on one of the numerous benches along the way was overheard saying, “Whose idea was this, anyway?”

Summarizing, there is a lot more to explore at Clingmans Dome than just the observation tower at the summit. Treat yourself to some time on the Appalachian Trail and/or the Forney Ridge Trail. There are a number of ways to make this hike quite a bit longer if you wish. You can continue down Forney Ridge beneath Andrews Bald. In fact, the trail goes all the way to Fontana Lake, meeting the Noland Creek Trail several miles below. You can go a lot farther southbound on the Appalachian Trail than we did, and you can continue on the Appalachian Trail from the summit of Clingmans Dome northbound to Newfound Gap, and beyond.

Keep in mind too, that there are other trailheads along Clingmans Dome Road, including the Noland Creek Trail that traverses nearly 15 miles all the way to Fontana Lake, and Fork Ridge Trail (also part of the Mountains to Sea Trail) that meets Deep Gap Trail for a long descent into Bryson City, NC. It is warm weather hiking though, because Clingmans Dome Road is closed from December 1 through March 31, and whenever weather conditions require.

The best times for wildflowers and wildlife are May and June, and of course, don’t miss the Fall extravaganza of colors that bless the Smoky Mountains in September and October. Just GET THERE EARLY!

Updated August 26, 2015

Ken and I enjoyed our visit to Clingmans Dome in June so much that we planned another, this time with the friendly crew from Tennessee. We intended to explore two sites we missed last time — an old, derelict logging boiler located off the Forney Creek Trail, and a magical field of angelica, ferns and blackberries alongside the Appalachian Trail on the south face of Mt. Buckley.

There were nine of us on this fine Smokies day, plenty to keep each other entertained and occupied. For the first venture, we headed down the Forney Ridge Trail toward Andrews Bald, but stopped at the junction with Forney Creek Trail. Once we had all been herded back together, we proceeded down Forney Creek. Just a few minutes later we took a right into the woods.

A surprisingly easy-to-follow manway took us west through the delightful high-elevation forest, passing remnants of the old railroad bed that were easily identifiable by straight patches of grassy turf. Along the way we passed numerous artifacts including trail rail, brakes and tools, water piping, and the occasional bucket or washtub. Some may call it junk or debris, but when you consider it has been here for a century, others will call it history.

After 10 minutes of tracking through the woods below Clingmans Dome, we found it. This old coal-fired boiler was abandoned by loggers in the 1920s. Not really a locomotive, this was a boiler that produced steam to operate a winch that pulled logs up and down the mountain to log-loader train cars. It is perhaps 15-18 feet in length, so not powerful by any means. While somewhat rusty, it actually has more of a mossy tint to it from decades of decay. If you peer into the firebox, you can still see the coal that spilled after the wreck.

We enjoyed a snack as we traded myths about the history of logging here in the shadow of the Dome. Then, back to the Forney Ridge Trail, we next took the connector up the south shoulder of Clingmans Dome to the Appalachian Trail. We crossed Mt. Buckley, started down the south side perhaps a half mile, then plunged waist deep into a luscious field full of blossoming angelica, the thickest fern forest I’ve ever seen, and enough ripe blackberries to feed the Smoky Mountain bears for weeks.

Just over a year ago, some in the Tennessee crew came to this site to plant a stand of Fraser fir saplings, a project conducted by Miss. State University. They spent an entire day mapping, planting, and tagging hundreds of the 4 inch tall specimens. They endured multiple rain showers, mud and sweat, and lots of corny jokes as they did their part to give back to the wilderness that has given so much to them. It was fun to watch and hear them call out the tree tag numbers as they excitedly discovered that almost all of their plantings have survived and are very healthy.

As you will see in the new photos below, it was another great day in the Smokies; ideal hiking weather, beautiful scenery and wildflowers, stimulating exercise and conversation, and rewarding companionship. You should bring your family and friends to explore the trails around Clingmans Dome. You will find that the fresh air agrees with you.

This post was created by Jeff Clark. Please feel free to use the sharing icons below, or add your thoughts to the comments. Pack it in, pack it out. Preserve the past. Respect other hikers. Let nature prevail. Leave no trace.

Hot Springs, NC is an Appalachian Trail Community that sits along the French Broad River in the Appalachian Ranger District of Pisgah National Forest. The Appalachian Trail was built through Hot Springs more than seven decades ago, and today white blazes still mark the path through town and over the bridge across the river, before heading north up to the vista, Lover’s Leap. The AT is unequivocally intertwined with the town — it is the first town, headed on a northbound hike, through which the AT literally overlaps the town’s main street. This brief, but testy, 2.5-mile loop will take you to Lover’s Leap for a picturesque overlook of Hot Springs, the French Broad River, and the tall mountains that surround the valley. My brother Dave and I visited Hot Springs on Wednesday, May 6, 2015 from 9:00AM to 10:30AM. Our plan was to climb the Silvermine Trail to the junction with the Appalachian Trail, check out Lover’s Leap, then descend back to town on the AT.

This trailhead was a little bit hard to find. Everything was cool with the directions above through “turn left at the first intersection.” After that I got confused. There is a large parking area beside the French Broad River for the Nantahala Outdoor Center. That parking lot is right beside where the Appalachian Trail exits the forest. This point actually turned out to be the end of the hike. The Silvermine Trailhead is farther up the road, past several homes, across a small stream. Just keep going. You’ll find it.

Once situated in the right place, Dave and I began the somewhat steep ascent of the Silvermine Trail. Since this was the first week of May, the wildflowers were plentiful, including the first mountain laurel of the season. After a little less than a mile, the Silvermine Trail meets the Appalachian Trail as it comes down from the ridge above. For a longer hike, continue northbound on the Appalachian Trail to Tanyard Gap where the trail crosses Hwy 25/70 about three miles away by car. It’s a challenging uphill hike of nearly six miles. For this hike, though, we took the southbound fork.

This point is also the first of three overlooks of the river valley more than 400 feet below. Almost immediately, we began encountering Appalachian Trail thru hikers coming up in the opposite direction from us, beginning their new day after a night in Hot Springs. Most seemed in good spirits… always a positive sign.

Less than half a mile later we reached a short, but difficult, spur trail to Lover’s Leap. It was obvious from the rocky outcropping at the end of the promontory. Seeing it was one thing. Getting there was another. The spur trail was covered with loose dirt and pebbles, making it quite treacherous to maintain footing on the very steep descent. We both slipped on the way down, but made it to the overlook without any permanent damage. The view was (is) spectacular.

The French Broad River flows 218 miles from near the town of Rosman in Transylvania County, North Carolina, into the state of Tennessee. Its confluence with the Holston River at Knoxville is the beginning of the Tennessee River. The river flows through the counties of Transylvania, Buncombe, Henderson, and Madison in North Carolina, and Cocke, Jefferson, Sevier, and Knox in Tennessee, and drains large portions of the Pisgah National Forest and the Cherokee National Forest. It is the third oldest river in the world, older than the mountains it passes through. It is so old, in fact, that it is practically devoid of fossils. This view looks south from Lover’s Leap.

Past Lover’s Leap the Appalachian Trail descends in earnest until is meets the French Broad River. The last half mile of the hike is along the riverbank, where we found numerous tents of those thru hikers who had not yet resumed their journey. These were the ones missing the positive glow of those thru hikers we had seen earlier. Here there were more surly faces and hunched shoulders. The AT will take a toll.

There are shoals in the river that create occasional whitewater, and you will pass an old gauging station that used to measure water flow. Soon after we popped back out of the woods at the Nantahala Outdoor Center parking area I mentioned before. We completed the loop back to our car on the road we came in on. There isn’t much to this hike, about 90 minutes for us, and we dawdled quite a bit to chat with the AT hikers.

As long as we came all this way, we crossed the bridge into Hot Springs to look around. In the heart of Hot Springs is the 100 acre Resort and Spa. Natural hot mineral water is heated deep within the earth and pumped to the surface. This crystal clear carbonated water is world renowned for the mineral content and legendary healing powers. If pampering is your thing, then this may be for you.

Not only does the AT run right through town, you can also find whitewater rafting, tubing, mountain biking, horseback riding, fishing and, of course, additional hiking. Hot Springs has quietly placed itself on an area smaller than a city block, yet offers adventurers more than enough to keep busy. Hot Springs has many rental cabins where you can enjoy the beautiful Appalachian scenery from a porch, completely surrounded by the woodlands of Pisgah National Forest.

If you have a morning to kill, why not take a visit to Hot Springs, and hike the famous Appalachian Trail to Lover’s Leap.

This post was created by Jeff Clark. Please feel free to use the sharing icons below, or add your thoughts to the comments. Pack it in, pack it out. Preserve the past. Respect other hikers. Let nature prevail. Leave no trace.

The Cosby area in the Smokies offers quite a few long and rugged hikes from valley floor to mountain tops, including this leg-wrecker from the Cosby Campground to the Appalachian Trail on the Snake Den Ridge Trail. Even up top there are multiple potential destinations. We chose Inadu Knob and the old search & rescue helicopter pad at Deep Creek Gap for the views from Tennessee into North Carolina. Included on the nearly 4,000 foot climb are a 19th century cemetery, two creek crossings, magnificent old growth forest, wreckage from a 1984 military jet crash, and spectacular views of the surrounding Great Smoky Mountains. We tackled this adventure on Thursday, June 26, 2014 beginning at 8:30AM and ending about 5:00PM. Our plan was to take the Snake Den Ridge Trail from Cosby Campground to the Appalachian Trail, then take the AT to Inadu Knob in search of long distance vistas.

This was one of the hardest hikes, physically, that I have ever done. In fact, as I’m sitting here two days later typing this, my hips, calves and thighs are still sore. I’m not usually affected by hiking that way. I do enough of it that I’m in pretty good condition, and my legs are used to it. Not this time though.

If you studied the hike statistics above, you will see there is nearly 3,800 feet of elevation change, and more than 4,700 feet of total elevation gained. This is only the 2nd time I have done more than 3,000 feet of change in one day hike, and the first just barely topped that mark. So, while it was good to test my limits, and it’s the Meanderthals way, this one may have been a bit more than my legs were prepared for. Fair warning before I proceed to tell you about it.

This was the 2nd time I have been to the Cosby Campground in the northern part of Great Smoky Mountains National Park to begin a hike. The first was nearly three years ago when the Meanderthals ventured to Mt. Cammerer. One of the joys of traveling from Western North Carolina to here is the short stretch of the Foothills Parkway that connects I-40 with Cosby, TN. I always enjoy its beauty.

Once arriving at the Cosby Campground, the Snake Den Ridge trailhead is in the southwest corner near campsite B51. As you walk from the “hiker’s parking” through the campground, just keep bearing right. The trail begins on an old gravel road and climbs gradually through mature hardwood forest. A little more than a quarter mile up you will meet the Cosby horse trail coming in from your left. If you have a sudden change of heart, you can take this trail over to its meeting with Low Gap Trail.

Another quarter mile further you will come to Williamson Cemetery on your right, a small patch of tombstones mostly from the 19th century. The prominent names are Williamson and Campbell, but Ella Costner is also buried here, a former poet laureate of the Smokies. A third quarter mile will take you to the end of the gravel road at a cul-de-sac and the beginning of the trail tread up Snake Den Ridge. There is a spur trail on the right to Rock Creek, but the main trail is at the end of the cul-de-sac.

As you hear the sounds of Rock Creek along your way, you will soon reach and cross it on one of the old-time foot logs the Smokies park is noted for. Watch your step when its wet as the moss and lichens can be quite slippery. There is also a place here for your equine pals to ford the stream.

Continuing upward over the next mile, you are surrounded by a very heavy understory and begin to pass through old growth tulip poplar, hemlock, and pine. Some of the tree trunks have reached 4-5 feet in diameter. I was especially delighted to see the healthy hemlock, as most of the park has been ravaged by the woolly adelgid blight. Maybe there is hope.

It’s hard to see in summer, but occasionally you will get a glimpse through the trees of the Snake Den Ridge crest far above. Beginning at a mile and a half there are a couple switchbacks as you hear the sounds of Inadu Creek plunging down nearby. At the two mile mark you will reach the Inadu Creek rock hop crossing, and the small waterfalls that are both above and below the crossing. If you need to refill your water, this is the last good chance. Be sure to filter.

Now begins a steep northerly incline out of the Inadu Creek drainage and up to the ridge crest. Fortunately, when you reach the crest there is a great place to take a break, and to get a marvelous view of the Cosby Valley below. That’s the pic at the top of this post (click it for a larger image). We could also make out the octagonal fire lookout on the summit of Mt. Cammerer many miles to the east. We took about 10 minutes to marvel at the scenery, enjoy a snack, and catch our breath.

Here at the crest, the trail takes a decided turn west and begins a relentless ascent of Snake Den Ridge. For the next mile and a half you will encounter numerous switchbacks on the trail, as well as switches in the forest botany. It will change from hardwood to heath and finally to mostly coniferous woods that will fill your nostrils with an aromatic delight. There were blooming rosebay rhododendron, and lots and lots of galax and ferns. The beauty almost makes you forget how much your lungs and legs hurt. Almost.

There are sections along the ridge where you can see down on both sides, and there are granite fins protruding from the earth… a reminder of the long ago upheaval that created these ancient mountains. To the north are occasional views of Camel Hump Ridge, and to the south the endless ridges of the central region of the Smokies. While difficult hiking, this would be a particularly scenic section of trail in winter when the leaves are down.

When you enter the coniferous forest at the 4-mile mark it gets quite dark. Not much sunlight passes through the tall timber. For me, it was a small relief. The air temperature dropped a half dozen degrees helping to cool my sweat-drenched body. By now, though, I was beginning to feel pretty whupped. Even the straps on my pack were saturated. The final half mile to the Maddron Bald Trail junction was quite difficult for me. I stopped about every 200 yards for a 30-second breather, then forced myself to plod onward. My companion went on ahead, just to see how far we were from the junction.

The trail itself through this area is difficult as well. It is made up of broken shale and lots of exposed roots. The margin for error is thin, so be aware of your fatigue and watch your step. It would be easy to turn an ankle, or worse, through here. When I saw my friend at the junction, I could only muster a mental “Whoopee!”

Much like the overlook before, the Snake Den/Maddron Bald trail junction is a nice place to take a break. There really isn’t anything to look at, other than the dense krummholz forest, but there are plenty of nice places to sit and take a load off. We took another 10 minutes here. I ate half a sandwich to renourish, and we talked about whether to go to Maddron Bald or to Inadu Knob. In the end, we decided on Inadu, and talked about maybe trying the bald on the way back down if we had any energy left. Hah!

The climbing isn’t done yet. It is three-quarters of a mile to the junction with the Appalachian Trail… all uphill. It continues on that treacherous broken shale that is very hard on the soles of your feet. Not far beyond the Maddron junction the summits of Inadu Knob and Old Black are visible through a break in the trees. Finally, a look at the destination. Maybe, just maybe.

When you reach the AT, you still aren’t quite at the top of Inadu Knob yet. We took another 10 minute break at the junction, and I somehow willed myself on for the final mile to what we hoped would be spectacular views at Deer Creek Gap. Heading west on the AT now, we still had to go up another 200 feet to cross Inadu Knob. Along this stretch an F-4 Phantom military jet crashed in 1984. There is still quite a bit of wreckage debris strewn about the hillside. It is unfortunate that both the pilot and navigator lost their lives.

Once we topped out, the ridge was level. The Appalachian trail runs right along the state line between TN and NC in the national park. On our left, to the east, we could begin to see the North Carolina Smokies. Well, now things were looking up. Ahead of us was 6,335′ Old Black with Mt. Guyot (the 2nd tallest mountain in Tennessee) peaking out from behind.

We reached a half-acre clearing on the ridge that meant we had reached Deep Creek Gap. There is a concrete helicopter pad here that used to support search-and-rescue operations in the Smokies. I say used to because this clearing in now pretty overgrown, and you have to look closely to see the concrete slabs. That’s where we sat to have lunch, let out a “whew” or two, or nine, and reveled in the magnificence surrounding us.

Luftee Knob is to the south, and Big Cataloochee Mountain and Mount Sterling to the southeast. Old Black and Mt. Guyot are southwest. Even with the haze that is common in the summer Smokies, we could still see probably 20 miles or more. Despite being out in the sun in this clearing, it was still nice and cool at 5,900 feet. We stayed for a half hour, took lots of pictures, ate lots of food, and rested. We rested hard.

If you continue westward along the AT just beyond the landing area, on the slopes of Old Black, there are several breaks in the treeline opening up views of the Tennessee Valley to the northwest and Clingmans Dome and Mount LeConte to the west. By this time we had had enough. It had taken us five hours to get to the top, so we figured at least four to get down. And we still had a two hour drive back ahead of us as well.

On the way back across Inadu Knob we noticed quite a bit more of the airplane wreckage. In a way, it was a little surprising there is still so much debris left 30 years later, but the more we though about it, who wants to add that weight to their downhill burden anyway? Besides, it’s kinda like sacred ground because of the airmen who perished.

There isn’t too much to say about the return trip, other than that it’s long, and will pound your legs. When we reached the Maddron Bald Trail junction we pondered going the mile and a half out there… for about a microsecond. That is another hike for another day (if I can convince my brain to brutalize my body again). We passed a few groups of other hikers making their way up to the AT, including a collection of trail maintainers with the Appalachian Trail Conservancy.

There were more wildflowers that had popped out since morning. When we reached Rock Creek, I posed in the nice shirt the friendly folks at Flow397 had sent me to enjoy on my excursion in the Smokies. If you get a chance to purchase something from them, $3.97 out of every item sold goes to the National Park Foundation to support their efforts at maintaining our national parks. As Park Service budgets continue to be cut in Washington, it becomes ever more important to help the Foundation however possible. Surely we want our grandchildren to be able to enjoy these wild places as much as we do now.

It’s hard to describe the relief I felt when we reached the car. We made pretty darn good time, taking right around three hours to make the descent. Didn’t need to stop as often to do a lung check. Still, I was exhausted. But it was that good kind of exhaustion, y’know, like when you finish a hard job and tell yourself, “well done.”

So, I know you’re going to ask, “Well, was it worth it? Seems like all you did was whine.”

As I sit here writing this, even with the soreness still in my legs, hips and back, I will say absolutely, without a doubt. Now, there is no question you must know your capabilities before tackling this hike. It turned out to be right near the limit of mine. But let’s face it, doing anything out in the woods is better than sitting in an office, or pouring asphalt on a highway, or just about any job out there. And it beats just sitting at home wondering what to do with yourself.

There were any number of benefits to me from climbing to Inadu Knob. I learned what I am capable of physically at age 61. I saw old growth forest, creeks and streams, many varieties of summer wildflowers, and some of the best mountain views anywhere in the United States. For more than eight hours, I thoroughly enjoyed the companionship of my hiking friend. Was it worth it? You bet!

As you become more and more familiar with this Meanderthals Hiking website, you will find that I break down the trail descriptions by easy, moderate, and difficult, and by forest, water or vista. You need to hike your own hike. If you’re a beginner, try some of the easy hikes. As you build your stamina and endurance, go for some of the moderate trails. If you keep at it, within half a year you will be undertaking some of the more difficult climbs, perhaps including this one.

Enjoy the photos!

This post was created by Jeff Clark. Please feel free to use the sharing icons below, or add your thoughts to the comments. Pack it in, pack it out. Preserve the past. Respect other hikers. Let nature prevail. Leave no trace.

Northeast of Mars Hill, NC, the Big Bald Range straddles the Tennesssee/North Carolina border and marks the boundary between Pisgah and Cherokee National Forests. The Appalachian Trail (AT) follows the state line, as it does for nearly all its length between these two states. The destination for this hike is 5,516 foot Big Bald Mountain, another of the grassy balds that are common in this area. You can make your day as long or as short as you like by exploring the AT in either direction. At least be sure to also check out Big Stamp, another of the balds with a lengthy grassy ridge. This hike occurred on Tuesday, July 30, 2013 from 8:45am to 11:35am. Our plan was to take the Appalachian Trail over Big Stamp and Big Bald, and hike the AT for an hour or so.

If it’s a long section hike on the Appalachian Trail you’re looking for, you can access Big Bald Mountain from Sams Gap — where I-26 crosses the North Carolina/Tennessee state line. It’s a 13-mile round trip from there. From the northeast, you can also access the AT from Highway 19W, but the distance is about double.

The best way to get to Big Bald and Big Stamp is through the Wolf Laurel Resort community. From there, it’s little more than half a mile to the Big Bald summit. There’s just one hitch, though. Wolf Laurel is private property, with an entrance gate monitored by a security guard. So, you need to make arrangements with the resort’s administrative office before you go. Otherwise, you will be turned back at the gate.

Provided you’ve done your homework, once you clear security, you’ll drive through the Wolf Laurel community that includes a ski mountain and a country club. Follow Wolf Laurel Rd. to Big Bald Mountain Rd., then go all the way to the dead end. Park at the cul-de-sac and begin your hike through the gate on the gravel road. From there it is 1/4 mile to the Appalachian Trail.

For Meanderthals, this was another foray to the state line on the AT. It seems we’ve done quite a bit of exploring on the high mountain balds this summer, including Unaka Mountain earlier this month, and Roan Highlands during peak flowering season last month. Speaking of wildflowers, there was still quite a bit of bee balm blooming in this Big Bald area, of multiple colors.

Where the Appalachian Trail crosses the gravel road you have a choice. You can go left and immediately climb Big Bald, or you can go right and climb Big Stamp. We chose the latter. The sun was still low in the sky, so there was a delightful golden glow on the waist-high native grass that lined the trail. About once a month, trail angels come to the grassy balds with lawnmowers and string trimmers to keep an 8-foot-wide swath cropped, and easy to follow.

It was early enough that the morning fog was still hanging around — quite the sight watching it waft over and around the balds. Since long-distance viewing was muted by the fog, we decided to explore eastward on the trail, and come back to the balds later, once the fog had lifted. We encountered another pair of hikers, coming down from Big Stamp.

The morning dew tickled our legs as we crossed Big Stamp bald and entered the forest. The trail began a gradual descent, heading to the next gap between ridges. The forest here is primarily birch and beech. There was still mud on the trail from all the rains of July. This has been an incredibly rainy season in the Smoky Mountains with more than a foot of precipitation above the annual norms. At least there were no creek crossings today.

One thing the mud does is enable clear imprints of wildlife tracks. The unmistakable cloven hooves of deer were quite evident, as was the impression of a juvenile black bear. This area would also be a haven for wild turkey, so keep your eyes and ears peeled.

Half a mile into the forest we passed the spur trail to the AT Big Bald Mountain Shelter, and another quarter mile beyond that we came to a water source for the thru-hikers. If you plan on spending a few days in the Big Bald Range, keep these in mind.

We went just five minutes past the spring, decided not much was changing in the way of scenery, so we opted to reverse track and see if the fog had lifted around the balds. Sure enough, when we popped back out of the woods on the eastern end of Big Stamp, the low-lying fog had given way to that vaporous haze that gives the Smoky Mountains their name.

The AT takes a twisty path up the northeastern flank of Big Bald Mountain, cutting its way through shoulder-height berry bushes and other ubiquitous scrub. The trail itself is well maintained, albeit somewhat rocky. We didn’t encounter any areas of overgrowth on our climb to the summit.

It’s about a half mile from the gap between Big Stamp and Big Bald to the summit, climbing just under 600 feet along the way. It isn’t particularly difficult, so you should give this one a try, no matter your fitness level. The panoramic views from the top are definitely worth the exertion to get there.

We found a nice rocky outcropping on the east side of the summit for lunch, with a great view of Big Stamp and the surrounding Smoky Mountains. That’s the photo at the top of this post. Click it for a larger view. From here we could pick out Unaka Mountain to the northeast, with the town of Erwin below. The Tennessee tri-cities area is way off in the distance northward, and Roan Mountain is quite evident beyond and east of Unaka.

To the southeast are the imposing Black Mountains, including Mt. Mitchell. Despite the haze, the vistas were pretty good on this day. I suspect in winter you can probably see for 50 miles or more from Big Bald. I will keep this one in my tickler file for a December or January hike.

The Wolf Laurel community is perched on the hillsides to the southwest. Homes hug the rugged terrain. The ski mountain stands above the small village. I’ve never been skiing, so I can’t offer any info about conditions here. There look to be five primary slopes.

To the north and west is Tennessee, with more mountains as far as the eye can see. As you would surmise from the name, the rounded summit of Big Bald is quite large, covering perhaps a hundred acres. While we were enjoying lunch, an elderly couple joined us on the summit. Probably near 80, they made the climb with no problem. So see, you can do it.

The Big Bald Mountain gravel road comes all the way to the summit, so we decided to go back down that way. The road takes more of a northerly track off the mountain, whereas the AT is easterly. They both eventually end up at the same place, in the gap between Big Stamp and Big Bald.

To summarize, Big Bald is a great spot for those 360° panoramic views that are so photo friendly. You really get an idea of the beauty of the surrounding Smoky Mountains in every direction. If you only have a short amount of time, this is a quick hike to the summit of Big Bald. If you wish to make a day of it, take the Appalachian Trail in either direction for as far as you want to explore. Remember that Wolf Laurel is a private community, so if you access Big Bald through there, you must call ahead.

This post was created by Jeff Clark. Please feel free to use the sharing icons below, or add your thoughts to the comments. Pack it in, pack it out. Preserve the past. Respect other hikers. Let nature prevail. Leave no trace.