This is the hard way to get to the summit of 7,242′ Black Elk Peak, the highest in South Dakota. But, it affords you the opportunity to hike through the incredible Cathedral Spires, massive granite pinnacles that dominate the landscape in the Black Hills National Forest. Between the spires and the summit you pass through the rugged Black Elk Wilderness, named for an Oglala Sioux holy man. Craggy peaks and rocky slopes mixed with ponderosa pine, spruce and fir trees make for a varied ecosystem. My brother Dave and I hiked this demanding circuit on Saturday, May 26, 2018 beginning about 6:15AM and finishing at 12:45PM. Our plan was to start on the Cathedral Spires Trail, connect to the Little Devils Tower Trail (#4), then to the Norbeck Trail (#3), and finally the spur trail to the summit of Black Elk Peak, returning the same way.

After driving along the Needles Highway and seeing Cathedral Spires, then discovering there is a hiking trail that goes up in there, Dave and I said to each other, “we have to do that.” Then we learned the Cathedral Spires Trail also connects to one of the pathways to the summit of Black Elk Peak, another of our plans, and we were set. We would combine the two.

We discussed this with our friendly receptionist at the fine Econolodge in Custer to see if this seemed like something that two 60-somethings could handle, and she said absolutely. Go for it!

We noticed when driving by a couple days earlier that the parking for Cathedral Spires Trail was full in the afternoon, and since we tend to be early risers anyway, we were at the trailhead by 6:00 and got the first parking space. That also meant we had the 1.4 mile climb up into the middle of the spires all to ourselves. Just us and the sunrise.

The trail climbs about 400 feet right off the bat, then levels out for a bit, before one final surge up to the spires. We thoroughly enjoyed the sun peaking up over the granite monoliths of the Black Hills creating a golden glow across the limber pine forest. This area, annexed by Custer State Park, became a National Landmark in 1977. The awesome spectacle of the spires, and the disjunct limber pine forest make it totally unique.

As you get higher and higher, be sure to look behind you as well for the stunning view into the wide expanse of Custer State Park. This northwestern corner is mountains, but the majority of the park is rolling plains and prairie.

After about a mile and a quarter you’ll reach a trail junction. To the left is the way to Black Elk Peak, but take the right turn just so you can walk among the spires.

It’s another tenth mile to a dead end that gives you a good feeling of the massive size of the Cathedral Spires. The sheer walls are straight up, so you can imagine them to be quite popular with rock climbers. Later in the day, on our way back down, we discovered some climbers had been behind us on the trail this morning.

We were the first to arrive at Cathedral Spires on this beautiful late May morning.

About the only thing that spoils this magnificent scenery is the remediation work done by the U.S. Forest Service and S.D State Forests all throughout the Black Hills in an effort to tame the destruction of the pine beetles that have infested western states in recent decades. There is a lot of dead wood… some from the beetle kill, and some taken down by foresters to prevent the spread. It’s a shame. I’m sure this used to be an immaculate pristine forest.

After scoping out the spires, it was time to begin the ascent to Black Elk Peak, so back to the junction we went. The trail begins climbing in earnest right away, then you come to a right turn on the Little Devils Tower Trail (#4).

Trail 4 climbs a while longer, then surprisingly makes a rather marked descent of about 140 feet through a dark and healthy pine forest. Don’t you just hate to give up hard earned elevation, only to get to climb it all over again? It also means, of course, that you will have a climb on your way back down too.

As the trail begins ascending again you pop into the open at the base of a giant outcrop with several logs for benches and seats. It’s a nice place for a break and a nourishing snack. We checked our map to make sure we were in the right place, and pressed forward.

Soon after the snack break we entered a section of forest with extreme beetle kill, then came to the boundary for Black Elk Wilderness. The wilderness here, designated in 1980, was named after Nicholas Black Elk, an Oglala Lakota Sioux medicine man who was a cousin of the war chief Crazy Horse, and an important source of Native spiritual teachings.

Prior to 2016, Black Elk Peak was known as Harney Peak, named after a pre-Civil War Army general who led his troops against the Sioux in a long and brutal war. To honor Nicholas Black Elk’s legacy, Harney Peak was renamed to Black Elk Peak in 2016. As you wander around the western South Dakota area, you will notice the locals sometimes still refer to Harney Peak, as they’re still getting used to the name change.

After the area of dead forest, you enter a section of totally healthy new growth pine on a bed of verdant moss. Here we encountered our first hikers of the day, as they were coming down from the peak, obviously starting in the dark. They assured us we were on the right path, and wished us well as we continued our adventure.

A pleasant forest of moss and pine contrasts with all the unfortunate beetle kill.

About a mile into the wilderness you come to the Norbeck Trail (#3) junction and take a right turn. From here you make the final push to the summit, probably the hardest climbing of the trek. The forest opens up significantly and you can begin to see the Black Hills that surround you. It is a rocky, otherworldly terrain. Behind you is Cathedral Spires and to your right (east) is the region that includes Mount Rushmore National Memorial.

There is also a wealth of wildflowers up here, mostly the cheery prairie goldenpea, a bright yellow clustered flower that we had been seeing all over since our arrival in the Black Hills region. About a quarter mile from the summit, you have to make a left turn onto a spur trail that takes you the rest of the way. There is a small sign there that simply says Harney Peak with an arrow. They obviously haven’t gotten around to renaming the sign yet.

Soon after joining the spur trail, there is a great overlook with views in every direction. It’s a good preview of what’s coming later as you reach the summit. A bit farther up the trail, the stone fire tower that sits atop the summit comes into view for the first time. The tower was built by the Civilian Conservation Corp in the 1930s.

The final hundred feet of climbing is on stairs, some stone, some iron, and some masonry compliments of the CCC. The fire tower itself is retired now, but still open so you can wander around. There is a rain water impoundment pond and pump house at the summit, and several view points accessible by walking the gnarly granite. Be careful near the edges though, as the wind can really gust here. It was blowing 30-40 mph on the day we were there.

The granite high point at 7,242′ is sacred ground to Native Americans, especially the Sioux. It was upon this peak towering over the Sioux Nation that a young Black Elk experienced a vision. Many years later he would recount that vision publicly as he evolved as a respected elder and medicine man. You will still notice prayer ribbons tied to trees on the summit.

Be careful near the edges as it is very windy on Black Elk Peak.

From the summit vantage points you can see the back of Mt. Rushmore. We compared photos of the stone formations surrounding the monument to assure ourselves what we were looking at. You can also pretty much trace your steps through Cathedral Spires and the areas of forest on your way up to the summit, and also the way we would be heading back down.

After about 30 minutes of fighting the wind and the crowd of a hundred with us on the summit, we decided it was time to begin the descent. But first, we found a nice log beneath a couple pines away from the crowd to enjoy our lunch and refill for the hike back.

There were a whole lot more people coming up as we were going down. For what it’s worth, I don’t recommend doing this hike on a Saturday that also happens to be Memorial Day weekend. We should have planned our timing better and done this on a weekday. Our return trip was uneventful, except for a couple things worth mentioning.

When we got back to the forest where we had to climb back up the 140 feet, we could see the tower on the top of Black Elk Peak through the trees. We never noticed that on the way up. Also, when we got back to Cathedral Spires there were a couple of climbers standing on the top of one of the tallest spires. Better them than me. No thank you.

After we got back to the car, we still had several hours of afternoon left, so we took a drive on the Iron Mountain Highway in Custer State Park that offers long distance views of Mt. Rushmore as well as Black Elk Peak. I’ve included a couple of those photos in the gallery below for perspective. Also, we visited Stockade Lake, one of several reservoirs found in the state park.

In summary, if you enjoy rugged mountain terrain, and tough tests of your hiking endurance, put this one on your list when you visit western South Dakota. In addition to The Badlands, Wind Cave, and Custer State Park, you should check out some of the trails in the Black Hills National Forest, this one among them. If you are a peak bagger, you can check off a state high point. You undoubtedly get the best view of the surrounding mountains and plains from the summit. Just be sure to take plenty of water and energy with you. I consider this to be a Best Hike.

For what it’s worth, there are several other ways to get to the summit of Black Elk Peak. There are two trails from Sylvan Lake, and the Harney Peak Trail starts north of the summit. All of these are also difficult, but perhaps a bit less demanding than also including the Cathedral Spires Trail like we did.

I don’t normally promote businesses in my trail reports, but Dave and I had such an excellent experience at the Econolodge in Custer that I had to mention it. The staff that works there are all super friendly, helpful and knowledgeable. We stayed with them for six nights and were completely satisfied. The price is very reasonable and the amenities are all that we needed. If you’re staying in Custer, SD I highly recommend the Econolodge.

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.

Perhaps the most popular feature in all of Great Smoky Mountains National Park, Cades Cove is a throwback to 19th century living. Think of it as an outdoor museum. Cades Cove is a wide, verdant valley surrounded by mountains that today is teeming with wildlife and spring floral beauty. The 11-mile Loop Road around the valley provides an opportunity for motorists, bicyclists, even walkers like me to sight-see at a leisurely pace. Cades Cove offers the widest variety of historic buildings of any area in the national park, including churches, cabins, mills and barns. Numerous other hiking trails originate in Cades Cove, so it affords the opportunity to explore the stunning beauty of the Smokies for days. I walked around the Loop Road on Monday, April 18, 2016 from 7:00AM to 12:15PM. My plan was as simple as it sounds… walk the Cades Cove Loop Road, enjoying every single step.

I’ve been wanting to do this walk around Cades Cove Loop ever since the first time I drove it some seven years ago. I knew then that I yearned to spend more time relishing each moment. With limited pullouts for motorists, it’s sometimes difficult to give each highlight justice. When you’re on foot you are free to roam about and stay for an hour in one spot if you like.

Cades Cove is just far enough away from where I live to make it hard to do a single-day visit. Since I can’t go as often as I would perhaps like, it makes the infrequent trips to Cades Cove that much more special. On this most recent venture I setup a bed in the back of my Subaru so I could stay at the Cades Cove Campground overnight, and make it a two day excursion. The first day I hiked the fervently anticipated Whiteoak Sink.

Waking at the campground with the roosters on the 2nd day, I was lined up with all the other eager beavers waiting for the Park Service to open the loop gate. That would signal the mad dash of vehicles for the first light of the new day. They all wanted to find that optimum photo spot to capture the dawn. I would pass nearly every one of them in the first half mile just walking at my own leisurely pace. There was a method to my madness.

Dawn is the best time to catch wildlife in the Cove. There were deer grazing in the meadow by the riding stables and plenty of tom turkeys displaying their feathered finery and chasing the ladies in that time-tested mating ritual that is as old as the mountains. The first couple miles of the loop road is also home to a herd of horses, some of the massive work variety, and others that are as athletic as the most nimble Kentucky thoroughbred.

I seemed to time the dogwood quite well. Most of the trees were at least 50% in bloom, with some near peak. Particularly those that surround the John Oliver Place had an abundance of flowers. No matter the season at Cades Cove, there is always something of beauty.

The dawn’s early light was just touching the tips of the south side mountain range and the canopy of birch trees that line Abrams Creek. This is rich bottom land where the equines graze.

Should you decide to walk this loop yourself sometime, there are a couple of bail out points along the way to shorten the 11-mile trek. The first is Sparks Lane. This north-south gravel road at the 2-mile mark connects at each end of the Loop Road enabling you to do a shorter 5-mile loop. Sparks Lane has been a part of the Cove road system since all the way back in the 1840’s.

Nearing mile four are a trio of restored churches. The first, on the left, is known as Primitive Baptist Church, named so because it dates all the way to 1827. The others (Methodist Church and Missionary Baptist) are quite new by comparison, each built in the first decade of the 20th century, but still more than a hundred years ago. The Park Service does a very nice job of keeping the cemeteries and white clapboard structures in pristine condition.

The second cut-through, Hyatt Lane, located at the four-mile mark is also in this popular church neighborhood. Choosing Hyatt Lane can reduce the length of your loop hike to nine miles, but by now you should still have plenty of energy to go for the whole shebang. Not far past Hyatt Lane, Rich Mountain Road takes off to the right, a means of escaping the Cove via twisty gravel road. This is an alternate way to get to Townsend, TN, but don’t try it in winter.

The Loop Road occasionally dives into a small forest along the way, offering a bit of shade to sun-baked hikers every half mile or so. It is enjoyable to suddenly hear the songbirds tweeting from the canopy. I think of how fortunate they are to have Cades Cove for their home. It’s like the avian high rent district.

Between each of these small wooded areas are thousands and thousands of acres of lush fields and meadows that are loved by the critters who are also blessed to inhabit this protected national park. This to me is the best reason to leave your car back at the parking area and either walk or bike the Loop Road. You are bound to see deer throughout, but also keep your eyes peeled for coyote, ground hog, turkey, raccoon, skunk, and of course, the famous Cades Cove black bears.

The best place to look for the bears is in the tops of trees. It keeps them hidden from the hustle and bustle of the traffic on the Cove Road, enabling them to spy on the stupid humans down below. You are most likely to see bear in Cades Cove May through October, but please keep your distance, and never, never, ever feed any of the wildlife. Black bears may seem cute and cuddly, but if provoked they will defend themselves.

Turkeys and white-tail deer are the most common of the wildlife in Cades Cove. It is almost guaranteed you will see some of each, no matter the season.

The morning sun warmed my back and cast a golden glow on the entire valley. There are so many things to see, I couldn’t decide which direction to look. Was it the beautiful fields and pastures, likely to be home to roving wildlife? Perhaps the historic old churches and cabins would share their secrets of centuries gone by. The forest groves held their own mysteries, with hidden nature trails and a myriad of songbirds. The wildflowers were everywhere… along a fence post or hillock. Sensory splendor!

Between Hyatt Lane and the Visitor Center at mile six, are several opportunities to take side hikes off the main Loop Road. The first you will encounter is Cooper Road Trail, followed by a half mile spur to the Elijah Oliver Place. Soon after, the Loop Road crosses Abrams Creek then reaches a gravel road that will take you to the trailhead for the extremely popular Abrams Falls. If you plan to go there, be sure to arrive very early because it does get quite crowded.

The Cades Cove Visitor Center, just past the half way point, is a great place to take a break no matter your means of transportation. There are rest room facilities, a gift shop, and several historic structures that offer excellent representations of 19th century living. The Historic Cable Mill area includes an 1870-era grist mill and flume, a smokehouse and sorghum furnace. Look too for a cantilever barn and blacksmith shop nearby.

I took this opportunity to shed some layers as the mid-morning sun was warming the day quite nicely. Down to shorts and a t-shirt, I covered my now exposed skin with sunscreen and bug repellent, and enjoyed a protein bar sitting on a wooden bench beneath a giant willow tree. I was doing pretty good… not tired yet, or sore. It looked like the 11 miles would be no problem.

There is also another opportunity to escape Cades Cove here. Forge Creek Road meets Parson Branch Road which will take you to Hwy 129 near the Fontana area at the southern boundary of the national park.

The south side of the Loop Road is quite a bit different from the north side. There is more forest here, and rolling hills. The terrain assumes more of an up and down nature than the nearly level path on the other side. There are also more old homesteads over on the south side, including the Dan Lawson Place built in 1856, the Tipton Place, and homes for several members of the Shields family.

The uphill and downhill was obviously more tiring, but the frequent shade offered by the hardwood and evergreen forest helped to offset the extra exertion. There are many old, old trees on this side of the Cove, including one I called the Rip van Winkle tree. It looked to be a mighty oak with a ginormous wingspan that would make a wonderful place for a 20 year nap. I’ve yet to see it with its leaves on. I imagine it to be a quite noble tree.

Built in 1910 by a veteran of the Battle of Shiloh, the Carter Shields cabin sits in a lovely nook in the forest surrounded by flowering dogwood and the Smoky Mountains.

There are more creeks and mountain streams on this side of the Cove, tumbling down from Ross Ridge and the other mountains high above. It helps explain the propensity to build homes and farms on the south side. Sure the pastoral serenity was appealing, but water was just as important to 19th century living as it is today. Much of the western end of Cades Cove is an inviting wetland.

The Cherokee also have a history in Cades Cove where they hunted deer, elk, bison and black bears. Their trails criss-cross the mountains that surround the Cove, but they never did setup permanent villages. They would camp for months at a time, but the first permanent settlers didn’t arrive until the 1820’s.

By the time I reached the Carter Shields cabin near mile 9 I was beginning to feel some fatigue. Upon seeing the delightful porch in the shade of the tall trees, I decided it was time for a break… and a sandwich. I had the place all to myself while I munched on my lunch and envisioned old Carter himself sitting in his favorite chair propped up against the sideboard, smoking his corncob pipe, perhaps whittling a dogwood branch, with his coon hound at his feet.

They say those were the good ol’ days. Perhaps life was quieter then, but I can’t imagine it being simpler. The winters would kill you. The work was hard and back breaking. If you didn’t grow, trap or shoot your food… you didn’t eat. There aren’t many places more lovely to live than Cades Cove, but there’s a lot more to living than the view. Adaptation is key.

Renourishment helped somewhat with energy, but the last two miles began to take a toll on my feet. When I finished, the GPS tracker on my phone that produced the map above said that I had taken more than 48,000 steps. No wonder my tootsies were tired. The last mile is a pretty straight shot alongside a creek. It ends up near the campground where I had spent the previous night. I couldn’t have asked for a better day to make this adventure, and am so glad I finally got out there to do it.

I can’t say enough about the job the National Park Service does maintaining the beauty and charm of Cades Cove for all of us to enjoy. The conservation efforts also make it likely that those who walk the Loop Road a hundred years from now will see the same appealing sights that you and I see today. The wetlands are being restored for the benefit of frogs, fish, birds and salamanders. Native wildflowers and grasses are being re-established, reared from nurseries right there in the Cove. The future looks very bright.

Best Hike I consider the Cades Cove Loop Road a best hike, and think you will too.

Update April 28, 2019: The photos in the gallery above were taken on a nice, blue sky, spring day. Ever wonder what Cades Cove looks like when it’s cloudy? The whole tone changes dramatically, as you will see from the following photos. Personally, I don’t think you can go wrong either way. What do you think?

By the way, when you’re walking the loop road, if you see any trash laying around, pick it up and haul it out. If we all do our part, it helps keep Cades Cove looking beautiful for everyone. Thanks.

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.

Wild, rugged, and weathered — the Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge in central Oklahoma is a symbol of the old west standing at the threshold of modern times. The natural attractions of the refuge are many and varied. In addition to viewing and photographing wildlife in their natural setting, visitors find the lakes, streams, canyons, mountains and grasslands ideal for hiking, fishing, and other outdoor activities. Elk Mountain lies within the Charons Garden Wilderness Area in the western corner of the refuge. You may not think of rocky-topped mountains when you envisage Oklahoma, but this 3-mile hike to the summit may surprise you with its challenging terrain. My brother Dave and I visited Wichita Mountains on Saturday, May 2, 2015 from 7:00AM to 1:30PM. Our plan was to climb to the top of Elk Mountain to survey the refuge, then return to explore the areas that looked interesting from the summit.

No sooner had we entered the Wildlife Refuge than we were greeted by a couple of Texas Longhorns and a big ol’ bison bull grazing in the morning sun on the lush grassland beside the road. I knew right away, this was going to be cool!

The Wichita Mountains National Wildlife Refuge near Lawton and Fort Sill, Oklahoma was first established in 1901 as a Forest Preserve. In 1905, it was redesignated as the Wichita Forest and Game Preserve. Congress designated the Wichita Mountains a National Wildlife Refuge in 1936. The physical environment includes mixed prairie grasslands, with buffalo and grama short-grasses and bluestems, Indian grass, and switch-grass tallgrasses. Several mountains and rock features appear within the refuge, with Mt. Scott as the highest point at 2,464 feet.

The Civilian Conservation Corps was quite active in the Refuge in the 1930s, constructing a number of lakes, roads and trails, and the 8-foot-high big game boundary fence around the 59,000 acre property. The establishment of a national preserve in southwestern Oklahoma culminated a regional movement to protect the shrinking bison population. In 1907 15 bison were brought back to the southern plains by railcar. Twenty elk were introduced in 1911, and in 1927, 30 Texas longhorns found a new home on the grounds of the Refuge. All of the herds have grown, and are still thriving today.

The Refuge has 15 miles of designated hiking trails that offer something for the complete novice, and for the seasoned hiker. The trails wind through scrub oak forest, across rocky mountains, and over grassy prairie. Wildlife abounds throughout, so a new thrill may be just around the next turn. The Dog Run Hollow Trail, a part of the National Recreation Trail System, has trailheads at French Lake, Boulder, Lost Lake, and Dog Run Hollow. You may choose a 1-,2-, or 4-hour hike through some of the more unique areas of the Refuge.

But the one we chose to begin our day was the Elk Mountain Trail in Charons Garden Wilderness. I had read, when planning this adventure, that you could see the entire Wildlife Refuge from the summit of Elk Mountain. To me, that seemed like a great way to check out “the lay of the land,” so to speak. We could enjoy a shortish morning hike, and perhaps get an inkling of the other areas of the Refuge we might want to visit later.

The Congressionially designated Charons Garden Wilderness Area offers hikers an opportunity to test their skills in challenging terrain. In keeping with the wilderness designation, the trails are primitive and can be confused with game trails. Be prepared before you enter any wilderness area. Carry adequate water, wear sturdy shoes, and allow extra time for the rugged and often confusing conditions. This shot is just past the trailhead, of Headwaters Creek, a stream that runs past the park headquarters and into French Lake.

As Dave and I began our trek up the Elk Mountain Trail, we were treated to an abundance of Spring wildflowers basking in the golden glow of the early morning sunshine. Mostly bright yellow balsamroot, and blue and purple spiderwort, these exciting blossoms filled the nooks and crannies of the rocky terrain and small, grassy meadows. So too did the prickly pear cactus, something neither Dave nor I expected to find in the plains of Oklahoma.

The pathway is indeed rocky, but we never experienced any difficulty staying on trail. You do ascend the entire way, but never at a steep enough pitch to cause dire huffing and puffing. We found the climb up Elk Mountain to be glorious. The higher we got, the more the surroundings opened up. I have to admit total ignorance when it comes to familiarity with the geology of Oklahoma, but this was a complete surprise to me. When we first saw the mountains from 50 miles away the evening before, we wondered how this happened. These pockets of granite summits 2,000 feet high are scattered about, surrounded by flat plains as far as the horizon.

And lakes. The CCC built 15 dams within the Refuge creating picturesque, crystal-clear reservoirs throughout the reserve. It seemed with each hundred feet we climbed, another lake would come into view. The entire area was stunning. The golden hour just past dawn certainly helped with the mesmerizing appearance, but this refuge is one beautiful place.

Also, the higher we climbed, the more the vegetation changed from grass and scattered wildflowers to scrub oak. I can imagine the upper portions of this trail are a seasonal delight in Fall when the oak assumes its many shades of yellow, orange, and scarlet. It ain’t half bad in Spring either. If any of the Oklahoma natives who may read this know if the Wichita Mountains get snow in Winter, please let us know in the comments section below. Snow would create an even more awesome landscape.

It is 1.1 miles from the trailhead to the summit of Elk Mountain where the trail ends. However, Elk Mountain has a rounded crest that is probably at least 40 acres in size. Dave and I spent 30 minutes exploring the summit and just barely began to scratch the surface. You could spend several hours up there, and enjoy every minute. By now, other hikers were beginning to join us at the top, an early indication of the influx that was to come during our descent.

The timing of our trip across the country just happened to put us at Wichita Mountains on a Saturday. As we discovered on our way down the mountain, this is a very popular place. There were scout groups and church groups, families with youngsters, and geezers like ourselves out to enjoy a memorable wild place. We noticed it too later in the day at the Visitor Center, as the parking lot was nearly full. So, you may want to plan your visit for a weekday.

On the way down we were also entertained by the United States Air Force. The sound of military jets in the sky is unmistakable. Either from Altus Air Force Base just west of Wichita Mountains, or from Tinker Air Force Base in Oklahoma City, several fighter jets were creating man-made thunder that reverberated off the granite of Elk Mountain. Piercing the sky on a straight-up climb, or pirouetting around a puffy white cloud, these guys were out for a Saturday play day just like us. Lawton, OK is also home to Fort Sill, the only remaining active Army installation of all the forts on the Southern Plains built during the Indian Wars.

Best Hike To summarize, Dave and I had a thoroughly enjoyable two hours climbing and exploring Elk Mountain. This is a four-season, family-friendly excursion that took me completely by surprise with how wonderful it is. In fact, I’m giving the Elk Mountain Trail in Wichita Mountains National Wildlife Refuge a Meanderthals Best Hike designation. The vistas are stunning, the wildlife engaging, the lakes refreshing, and we also had very positive experiences with park personnel at the Visitor Center. If you’re traveling I-40 through Oklahoma, it’s definitely worth your while to get off the highway and visit Wichita Mountains.

By the way, after you take a look at the photo gallery below for our hike up Elk Mountain, stick around, because there’s more following the gallery thumbnails. Be sure to scroll down. I’ll tell you a little bit about other sections of the Refuge and even offer a few photos of the wildlife.

As I mentioned above, you’re likely to see wildlife as soon as you enter the grounds… we did. After all, this is a Wildlife Refuge. In the six mile drive from the entrance gate to Charons Garden Wilderness, we passed three herds of bison and longhorns, as well as lots and lots of wild turkey. We missed out on any elk on the day we were there, but they are around. The elk herd now numbers about 800 and white tailed deer about 450. Many smaller mammal species also live in the Refuge, including coyote, the Nine-banded Armadillo and the Black-tailed Prairie Dog.

The prairie dogs really are quite fascinating. I tried to think back if I’ve ever seen them anywhere before. Soon after we left Elk Mountain, we passed an area along the side of Hwy 49 known as “Turkey Creek Prairie Dog Town.” And a town it is. In the short time we stopped, I noticed probably two dozen of the little critters nervously prancing about near their protective burrows. They call the prairie dog sound a “bark,” but it really sounds more like a chirp to me. It’s all fun and games until someone steps in a hole and breaks an ankle. Just ask the bison.

After our hike, and visit to Prairie Dog Town, we stopped at the park Visitor Center to inquire about other interesting sightseeing opportunities in the Refuge. Located at the junction of highways 49 and 115, the Visitor Center is quite nice, and features dioramas and hands-on exhibits that complement the fine art, sculptures, and taxidermy. Maps, books, pamphlets and other info about the wildlife and wildlands are available in the bookstore and gift shop. Environmental education classes covering most natural resources related subjects can be scheduled at the Visitor Center or through the Wichita Mountains Friends Group.

We still had a few hours available before we had to resume our long eastward drive, so a very helpful ranger recommended we go visit Jed Johnson and Rush Lakes, and the CCC era fire tower that overlooks the terrain. We took about a one mile round trip walk past the two lakes to the tower. Finding a very comfortable patch of grass in a field of exquisite balsamroot, we stopped to smell the flowers, breathe the fresh air, and relish the beautiful scenery.

The only negative sight the entire day was an apparent blight that had killed all the trees that surround the two lakes along this trail. It’s really a shame too. The trail is quite scenic as it is, but if the trees were still healthy it would be even more remarkable.

The ranger also recommended we take a drive to the top of Mt. Scott, the highest point within the refuge. The CCC built the road that winds several times around the pyramid shaped mountain on its way to the summit. The ranger was right, the views are indeed illuminating. Off to the east are the town of Lawton, Lake Lawtonka, the army base, and hundreds of wind turbines harnessing the renewable wind energy as far as you can see. On the west side of the rocky summit, past the Charons Garden Wilderness, the Oklahoma plains roll on forever… all the way to the horizon. All in all, a thoroughly enjoyable day.

I just learned that several of the Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge staff were seriously impacted by the devastating Memorial Day weekend flooding in Oklahoma and Texas. The Wichita Mountains Friends Group linked above has set up a means of helping those who help us. The Refuge is a cornerstone that brings peace and enjoyment to our hectic lives. Please consider making a donation for our friends in their time of need.

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 know how some hikes can be kinda boring, then have a big reward like an outstanding overlook at the end? Or perhaps others will wind through a stunning forest only to peter out? Well, this hike located in the Greenbrier section of the Smokies has neither problem. The Porters Creek Trail is an exciting adventure from start to finish. I would describe it as a play with four acts. The opening act follows a picturesque, cascading mountain stream. Act II is all about history — including farmsteads, a cemetery, and recreations of a 19th century barn and cabin. You enter a world of magnificent wildflowers and old growth forest in the third act, with it all leading to a resounding crescendo in the final act at splendid Fern Branch Falls. By the time you finish, you’ll be ready for an encore. I completely enjoyed my time there on Tuesday, March 31, 2015 from 10:45AM to 2:00PM. My plan was to take the Porters Creek Trail to Fern Branch Falls, with a stop at the restored historic structures along the way, returning via the same path.

I’ve heard for quite some time now that the Porters Creek Trail in the Greenbrier section of the Smokies is a haven for wildflowers. What I didn’t know is that it is so much more than that. This is a great place for your entire family. The trail is easy enough that the toddlers and the doddlers will feel equally comfortable. If cold running mountain creeks are your thing… check. Love the Smokies for its historical significance? Check. How about an exciting waterfall to cap off your trek? Check. And don’t forget the wildflowers. Oh, the wildflowers!

If you can call it a down side, Porters Creek is hugely popular for all the reasons mentioned above. Plus, it’s super convenient; a mere 10 miles from Gatlinburg. So you best get there early if you want to find a place to park within a half mile of the trailhead, even on a weekday. I got there at 10:30 and the prime parking was already full. I would suggest 9:00, or earlier.

The Creek

For the first mile, Porters Creek Trail is a gravel road. Good thing too. During my visit I encountered two different group outings of at least 15 people. The wide pathway enables groups to stay together. This old road follows Porters Creek with a gentle upward grade, and for the first half mile the stream is easily accessible. There are dozens of places to sit on the boulders that fill the creek and dip your toes. Look for a variety of ferns and moss that love being near the water. If you’re patient and quiet, you might even see a salamander.

The topography of Great Smoky Mountains National Park consists of moderately sharp-crested, steep-sided ridges separated by deep V-shaped valleys. Many of the mountain ridges branch and subdivide creating a complex of drainage systems with many fast-flowing clear mountain streams. The park contains 22 major watersheds and the water table is near the surface in almost all sections. When you think of the Smokies, think water, like Porters Creek.

At the half mile mark, change your gaze from the creek on your left to the moss-covered stone boundary walls on your right. This is the old farmstead of Elbert Cantrell who settled here along Porters Creek a hundred years ago. You’ll pass old stone steps that lead to the former house site. The area covers several acres, so you could spend quite some time just studying the remnants here.

The History

As you continue up trail, other house sites and stone boundary walls are in evidence. You will cross Long Branch on a footbridge at the three quarter mile mark. Watch for another small set of block stairs to your right that lead to Ownby Cemetery. This century-old small family plot houses perhaps two dozen grave markers that are still decorated to this day by modern day relatives.

The gravel road ends at the one mile point. There is a fork here with a gorgeous eastern hemlock grove in the center of the split. Take the right pathway for a look back in time at the life lived by the Smoky Mountain settlers of the late 19th century. It is roughly 250 yards to the restored John Messer barn, originally constructed by Pinkney Whaley in 1875. The Whaley family migrated from North Carolina in the early 1800s and founded the fertile, secluded Greenbrier valley.

The Whaleys later sold their farm to John Messer, who was married to Pinkney’s cousin, Lucy. In the 1930s, the Smoky Mountain Hiking Club constructed this nearby cabin and leased the barn from the NPS. The barn was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1976, and is the last surviving structure from the pre-park Greenbrier Cove community.

Don’t stop at the barn. Continue down the trail to the old spring house and the beautifully restored cabin. Walk around in the cabin to get a feel for the cramped quarters. Whole families lived in spaces that aren’t much larger than studio apartments of today. If you peek out back you will even notice the trail continuing to the outhouse, located in the woods a hundred feet away.

Returning to the trail junction, get back on the left fork. A short hundred feet later you will reach another junction… this one with the Brushy Mountain Trail. For those who have an interest, Brushy Mountain is one of the many ways of summiting the iconic Mt. LeConte. For this hike, however, continue to the left on the Porters Creek Trail. You will be on single track dirt trail now for the remainder of your journey.

The Wildflowers

And old growth forest. The trees get much larger now, and the pathway seems like a narrow chute compared to the roadway before. You’re quite a bit higher than Porters Creek here. If you peer over the side, look for Fraser magnolia and hemlock. Look too for the first scattering of wildflowers. There is painted trillium here, and the occasional dwarf iris. But the best of the wildflowers is yet to come.

A half mile after the trail junction you will once again be at the same level as Porters Creek and reach a footlog crossing that is a marvel of trail engineering. Constructed with concrete piers for support, with a 60° angle about two-thirds across, this bridge may be a bit intimidating, but it is an excellent opportunity for photos of the creek. Once on the other side, though, you enter a world of utter enchantment.

Just past the footlog look on your right along a bank with moss-covered logs and stones. Embedded within are micro-gardens of hepatica, the rare and elusive Dutchman’s breeches, fringed phacelia, trilliums, bloodroot and violets.

As you continue along the trail, take your time and study the ground on either side of the pathway, because you are likely to encounter trout lilies, wild geranium, may apple, phlox, bluets… even jack-in-the-pulpit. It’s a luxuriance of blossoms. The trail makes a hairpin turn to the right, climbs a small hill and enters an even more remarkable floral region known as Porters Flat.

This moist, sheltered cove is carpeted with flowers and filled with giant yellow buckeye trees. In early to mid-April the wealth of phacelia makes it look like a new snowfall. This Nature’s garden is filled with a variety of trillium, with toothwort, foamflower, blue cohosh and bishop’s cap. It is said there are as many as 40 different varieties of wildflowers that populate Porters Flat.

The trail begins to climb gradually above the flat, on a rocky ledge. It’s time to watch your step now as exposed roots and rocks make somewhat of a tripping hazard. On your left, the boulders and outcrops get larger as do the trees. Porters Creek is on your right now, and as you continue to climb, farther and farther below. You can see the whitewater as it tumbles through the cove forest.

The Waterfall

Fern Branch Falls will be high on the hill to your left, approximately two miles from the trailhead. It seems distant at first, with a large mossy boulder field between you and the splash point. This multi-tiered slide waterfall is about 40 feet total height. Wild ginger and brook lettuce grows here on the creek bank below the falls. There is a pathway that winds through the boulders on the left that enables a closer view.

About half way up the boulder field there is a very large log that makes an excellent spot for pictures and lunch. The creek flows beneath the moss and lichen encrusted rocks below you, with a fresh scent and a soothing sound. I even had about 10 minutes of solitude without another soul around. Seemed like a great opportunity for a selfie.

After renourishing, I climbed even higher to get a closer look at Fern Branch Falls. Somewhat surprisingly with recent rain, it didn’t seem to have a significant flow. I suspect this would be an even more dramatic spot following a big storm, but the boulder field would be a lot more treacherous to navigate. Regardless, it is quite picturesque. A large group of happy, playful youngsters arrived and that signaled an end to the serenity. You can continue beyond Fern Branch Falls on the Porters Creek Trail to a backcountry campsite 1.7 miles farther, but I was fulfilled.

The return trip is simply back the way you came. By now, there were even more wildflower blooms popping out in the brilliant afternoon sunshine, to go with an even larger crowd of touristy types padding along the trail in their flip flops and Raybans. I felt blessed to have received that 10 minutes of alone time at the waterfall.

It’s as if the National Park Service had ordered the sensational azure sky. I haven’t yet seen Porters Creek during green season to know what the tree canopy is like, but it was stunning on this last day of March with the leaves down. It enabled the blue to enrich the surrounding mountains. I took my time on the way back down the trail, chatting with other hikers, feeling the warmth and glow of the sun, splashing my face with the cool, crisp wetness of Porters Creek.

Best Hike In summary, I have to say the Porters Creek Trail is everything I’d heard it to be, and more. The wildflowers were glorious, as advertised. Fern Branch Falls looked even more rugged than the pictures I had seen. What I wasn’t aware of was all the history. The restoration work is extremely well done; a throwback to the turn of 20th century living. For me, Porters Creek Trail is one of the best hikes in the Smokies. Bring your whole family and spend the day. There are plenty of other trails in the Greenbrier area as well, including Ramsey Cascades and the Grandfather Tree. It’s Smoky Mountain Nirvana.

Hat tip to the lovely and talented Jann for the enhanced selfie photo!

Updated November 5, 2018: I’ve made several visits to Porters Creek during spring, but never made it to experience the leaf peeping season… until now. It’s fair to say the scenery is nearly as spectacular. The Ferns Branch Falls amphitheater is surrounded by brilliant yellows, golds and ambers. Canopies of fall color hang over Porters Creek, and the forest surrounding the Messer barn and hiker’s clubhouse is alight with the hues of the season. See for yourself.

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.

Perhaps the best hike in all of Capitol Reef National Park, Upper Muley Twist Canyon is a full-featured Utah adventure that includes narrow canyons, expanses of slickrock, large arches, and dramatic vistas from the top of the incomparable Waterpocket Fold. There are opportunities for side trips to slot canyons and other exciting off-trail experiences, as well as perilous exposure to precarious canyon rims. The canyon was carved over eons through a particularly contrasting section of the Waterpocket Fold where the deep red Wingate Sandstone formation slopes down from the west, dipping under the eastern wall of white Navajo Sandstone. No other hike in Capital Reef offers as many scenic geological features as the loop in, through, and above Upper Muley Twist Canyon. My brother and I hiked the the Upper Twist on Friday, October 17, 2014 beginning at 7:15AM and ending about 4:15PM. Our plan was to take the loop clockwise, through the Canyon Trail first, then returning over the Rim Trail.

WARNINGThis is a potentially perilous hike that will test your route-finding skill, your physical conditioning, your ability to handle stress, and your willingness to be exposed to precarious high rim edges. This hike isn’t for everyone. If you are new to hiking, be sure to have an experienced guide with you. It is very easy to get lost on this trail. Topographic maps and a compass, and knowing how to use them are important. If you have extreme fear of heights, or of falling, you may want to reconsider this hike.

Be aware of the weather forecast for the vicinity because you will be hiking in a canyon wash that is prone to flash flooding. If heavy rain approaches, get to higher ground quickly. Particularly avoid the narrow slot canyons during stormy weather. Know your escape routes. Never camp in a wash bottom. By entering a narrow canyon or wash, you are assuming a risk.

Now, having said that, Upper Muley Twist Canyon may be one of the most exciting hikes you ever do. It is remarkably beautiful, other-worldly with dynamic and unusual terrain, and just plain fun… not to mention nerve wracking, phobia producing, and a profound stress inducer.

I’m going to format this trail report a little different. So for those who are long-time visitors to Meanderthals, and used to a different page layout, I am breaking this hike up into sections: The Wash, The Arches, The Canyons, The Climb, and The Rim. I will post a gallery of photos from that section of the hike, then continue with the report narrative below the gallery. You can view a slide show with larger images by clicking on any of the thumbnails in the gallery, then click the little “X” in the upper right of the slide show to return here and continue reading. So with no further ado:

The Wash

Our timing was nearly perfect. We crossed the national park boundary into Capitol Reef just as the sun was rising over the Colorado Peaks on the east side of the Waterpocket Fold. We were on Burr Trail Road only about a mile from Upper Muley Twist Canyon when the first rays of the new day promised to warm this very chilly morning that started below freezing. Thank goodness my brother’s Subaru enabled us to drive up the canyon to the trailhead, avoiding the additional three miles up and back. If you don’t have high-clearance AWD, you really don’t want to try the canyon road. Trust me.

Once at the Strike Valley Overlook parking, the Upper Muley Twist Wash heads in a northerly direction. There is another trail here… to Strike Valley Overlook. It is a half-mile round trip with a very nice introduction to the Waterpocket Fold. We first discovered this about five years ago, and it was a prime reason for our desire to return and explore Upper Muley Twist Canyon. The trail sign says this hike is 9 miles. If you take any of the side trails or slot canyon excursions, the length will increase accordingly.

It was a cold morning, below freezing, and the sun was still beneath the level of the canyon rim, so we were in shadows (and warm clothes) as we began. The first 1.7 miles through the wash is very easy hiking, albeit full of stones and pebbles. As you proceed, the height of the canyon wall on your right increases to about 200 feet. It is first white Navajo Sandstone, then assumes a bright red hue. The face of the wall is sheer.

Watch for occasional side trails on the left. We didn’t try any of them, bearing right at each junction to continue in the wash. Wind and rain and freezing do interesting things to the soft sandstone. We passed stone domes with tiny arches and pockets carved in them over the millennia. There is some vegetation in the wash, mostly scrub oak and juniper.

Eventually the sun rose high enough to provide a little warmth and we began to shed layers. That’s the thing about the desert. It can go from 30° to 50° in just an hour. We enjoyed at least a 35° temperature variance through the course of the day. Conversely, if you are starting in the afternoon with a plan for overnight camping, be prepared for the very cold mornings.

The Arches

At approximately 1.6 miles you will reach the first of the arches. All are on the left. The first one doesn’t have a name, at least not on the maps, and is high above the wash angling from front to back. It is the only one in Navajo Sandstone. All subsequent arches are in the Wingate Sandstone layer. The first arch is a mighty natural bridge and a nice introduction to the next section of this hike.

A mere tenth mile farther will bring you to Saddle Arch… and a decision. The Wingate Sandstone, stripped of its protective Kayenta cap rock, has eroded into unusual forms, including the many large impressive arches. Saddle Arch stands high above a large crack in the Wingate. You can access a closeup from beneath by scrambling up a chute. The first arch may be a little larger, but Saddle Arch is a gaping wonder, completely open to the elements.

Saddle Arch is also the home of the beginning of the trail loop. There is a sign here. Your decision is whether to continue clockwise on the Canyon Trail first, or to take the loop counter-clockwise by climbing to the rim. The canyon route is a more gradual climb, getting you to the rim in a few hours, whereas the climb to the rim is steeper but offers a quick vista reward. Having now seen the climb at each end, I am glad we chose to take the Canyon Trail first because coming down from the rim at the north end would be quite dangerous. It may be less steep, but there is also more exposure to error.

We met a young couple here, coming down from the rim. We enjoyed a snack as we sat at the marker and studied the arch. From Saddle Arch, and this trail junction, it is 2.3 miles to the narrows at the end of the wash. The wash is more compressed now, sometimes only a few feet wide. If you prefer, you can walk on the slickrock occasionally to avoid the sand and pebbles of the wash. You can definitely observe how the Wingate layer on the left has been sliding into the Navajo layer on the right. In geologic time it hasn’t taken very long.

As we proceeded up canyon we encountered a few puddles in the wash that required a little navigation on the rock to avoid. The trail gets occasionally uneven as boulders have fallen from above into the wash. The scrub oak treated us to a nice autumnal color display, and the juniper berries were fully out and swollen.

Beginning about a mile past the junction, the Wingate layer becomes like a rolling seashore. There are waves and dunes… petrified dunes. It really is quite unusual and is prime geology for the wind and erosion to carve arches. Sandstone is very beautiful, and colorful, but it is also very soft. Over time, it erodes quickly, forming these bizarre configurations. 1.3 miles from the trail junction is another pair of arches. Third arch and Gap Arch are smaller, and higher up on the Wingate. You will actually have a better view of them later, from up on the rim.

Remember those fallen boulders I mentioned? Well, they get even larger now, becoming more like chock stones. In fact, there is a very large one that has fallen right in the channel of the wash making it impassable. We had to backtrack and look for cairns on the right, about 50 yards before the chock stone. As we retreated, a group of four hikers caught up with us from behind. We described the dilemma ahead and the bypass, but they turned around, and we never saw them again. Strange.

This alternate trail climbs above the wash onto a ledge that enables passage beyond the chock stone. Perhaps a quarter mile later you return from the ledge into the wash… and the cottonwoods. From here on, the wash is filled with stunning cottonwood, some very young and others decades old. Some were still green, while others were in full golden Fall regalia.

Perhaps a half mile beyond the chock stone, we reached the last of the arches, this one known as Dome Arch. The sun was shining directly on Dome Arch creating a delightful bright orange glow. It is really close to the trail, so you can scramble directly beneath it for closeup views. Dome Arch also marks the next phase of this adventure, The Canyons.

The Canyons

There are two very nice slot canyons to explore off the main trail. The first is at Dome Arch, and the second is about a quarter mile farther at the narrows of the wash.

We happened to hit Dome Arch Canyon (as I will call it) at the perfect time of day. The overhead sun was partially lighting the usually dark canyon walls making a glowing contrast. The scrub and cottonwood growing within the canyon were all bright yellow on this mid-October day. We had to do some scrambling up and over a couple small pouroffs, and squeeze through narrow walls to be rewarded with one of the most picturesque scenes I saw in all of our week in Utah.

The canyon opened to reveal ponderosa pines reaching to touch the tops of the sandstone walls. At the base of the pines were more of the golden oak, and the sky was a cerulean blue with puffs of bright white clouds. It just seemed at that moment that everything was perfect, and frankly we hated to leave. Imagine if we had just stayed on the main wash and missed this scene entirely. So, I highly recommend you explore this hidden canyon for at least 15-20 minutes.

Upon returning to Dome Arch and the main wash, it is a quarter mile to the narrows. While Dome Arch Canyon might not be considered an actual slot canyon, the narrows definitely is. You don’t want to be trapped here in a flash flood. The Upper Muley Twist Canyon Trail leaves the wash at this point and proceeds to a ledge above. Look for the cairns on the right. But you will be cheating yourself if you don’t take the time to enter the narrows and explore.

No more than a couple feet wide in spots, this slot canyon has higher walls than the previous one. There is little to no vegetation in this slot because there is almost no sunlight that reaches the floor. A couple places we had to remove our packs to squeeze through the slot, or climb over a pouroff. We were eventually stymied by a 8-10 foot pouroff that was just a little too tough for our old bones. There are a few old, old hand and foot holds carved in the sandstone if you want to give it a go. We decided it was time to turn around.

The return was a reverse process. Remove the packs and pass them forward. Jump down the pouroffs, careful not to turn an ankle. Popping back out onto the main wash you are surrounded by more of the twisted Wingate sandstone. The next section of the hike gets very, very interesting.

The Climb

Everything up to this point would be considered quite easy. Yes, we had to scramble on some pouroffs in the canyons, but overall the Upper Muley Twist Canyon wash is a piece of cake. That was suddenly about to change.

Returning to the cairns on the right of the wash, we began the ascent to the rim. Your route-finding skills now become very important. You might also want to get your compass and topo map out to have them handy. My suggestion: don’t leave one cairn until you spot the next. It is extremely easy to get lost.

At first, you climb only about 120-150 feet above the wash to an occasionally very narrow ledge that you have to pick your route through for at least a half mile. The wash below is filled with cottonwood, and again we were treated to a golden seasonal display. It seemed to me as if this ledge trail went on and on and on, quite a bit farther than what it looked on our map. In fact, I became a bit concerned that this wasn’t actually the trail to the rim, but instead another trail that continued way farther north.

The good news is this area is incredibly unusual. Views to the west from along the ledge route reveal petrified sand dunes that have eroded into unique shapes due to the tilt of the Waterpocket Fold. We had missed out on The Wave lottery earlier in the week, but here we had our own smaller version.

Finally, the wash came up to meet the level of the ledge and we reached a very welcome sign that pointed to the Rim Trail. I will admit I breathed a few sighs of relief. Little did I know, I would be back in full tension mode again very shortly. The trail now begins to climb in earnest. It is tricky, difficult, technical climbing… and… you are hanging high above the canyon on narrow and potentially slippery slickrock. Whoa Nellie!

It is even more difficult to follow the cairns now. We got turned around a few times, but tried to use the plan of not moving forward until we saw the next cairn. There is occasional all-fours climbing with an unfortunate slip meaning certain doom. I don’t want to minimize this point: this section of the trail can be very dangerous, especially with rain or ice. Be very careful. The exposure for harm if you make an error is real. There were several times I wondered to myself just what I had gotten into. The easy stroll through the wash had now become an extremely stressful undertaking. Having done this now, I am very happy we chose to go up this route rather than come down.

The climb from the sign to the rim is only about 700 feet of elevation change, and it takes roughly a half hour. If you can keep your phobias in check for that amount of time, it is well worth it. You pop out on a plateau high above the wash with the Henry Mountains peaking over the horizon to the east. You are safe now, at least for the time being. It’s another 5 minutes of scrambling over the plateau to the next sign indicating you have reached the Rim Trail and your first view of the incredible Waterpocket Fold. We paused here for a well-earned lunch break.

The Rim

The Waterpocket Fold is a total freak of Nature. Known as a monocline, it extends for nearly 100 miles in this semi-arid plateau region. It defines Capitol Reef National Park. Nearly 10,000 feet of sedimentary strata are found in the Capitol Reef area, representing nearly 200 million years of geologic history.

From 70 to 50 million years ago a major mountain-building event created the Rocky Mountains to the east. The uplift possibly acted on a buried fault to form the Waterpocket Fold. More recent uplift of the entire Colorado Plateau and the resulting erosion has exposed this fold at the surface only within the last 15 to 20 million years. Whether the science means anything to you or not, I can assure you that it is really, really cool. You must see this at least once in your life.

As we reached the rim we could see clouds moving in from the south, putting just a touch of urgency on our completing the hike. We did not want to be caught on the exposed rim in a lightning storm. Due east are Swap Mesa and the Henry Mountains and Colorado Peaks. To the south is a giant s-curve in the fold looking somewhat like a high-speed race track. My favorite view is toward the north and the touristy area of Capitol Reef. You can see for 50 miles or more and follow the route of the Notom-Bullfrog Road down in the fold 800 feet below.

Now that we were on hard, level slickrock the going was considerably easier and faster. We stuck to our plan of not leaving one cairn until we spotted the next, and never had any problem. The trail gets roller-coaster-like with lots of dips and summits. We encountered the last of the hikers we were to see, this time a trio. They were coming the opposite direction, so we stopped to compare notes. We each shared information and warnings about what lay ahead.

We reached an overlook where I could see the trail ahead, and oh-no, there it is hanging on the top of a several hundred foot drop. For seemingly a quarter mile it clung to this scary edge. I did my best to stay as far away from the edge as possible. Edges and I don’t get along too well. Again, several sighs of relief were breathed when that was over.

We were now getting back into arches territory. Across the canyon we could see third arch and Gap Arch among the Wingate Sandstone. We were above their level enabling us to see them quite clearly. This is a much better view of these two than the view from the wash. By now we were down to comfortable t-shirts in the warm afternoon sun.

The trail actually begins its descent from the rim on the east side, then winds its way back to the canyon side, then back to the Waterpocket Fold side. This alternating of views is very nice, and allows you to follow the changing scenery on both sides of the rim. You stay on the rim for close to four miles, so it takes a while to complete, but it is some of the most scenic hiking you will ever do. I can’t choose whether I liked the Canyon Trail or the Rim Trail better. They are both unique and beautiful.

As the trail makes one last twist over to the canyon side, Saddle Arch comes into view and the trail begins its steep descent back to the wash. Yes, it is steep, but unlike the other end of the loop, you aren’t hanging on a ledge here. It is a comfortable descent through juniper and sage. No paranoia. Watch your step though. It would be easy to turn an ankle or stumble.

Once we got back to the wash it was a repeat of what we had done in the morning. 1.7 miles back to the trailhead. By now, the sun was low enough in the sky to cast shadows in the wash again, so we dug into our packs to put layers back on. I was beginning to tire somewhat by the time we got back to the Subaru. The GPS trackers said we had done about 11 miles in 9 hours. That’s a pretty healthy day hike.

Summary

Best Hike I debated for some time about whether to give Upper Muley Twist Canyon one of my Best Hike designations. There is no doubt it is one of the most scenic hikes I’ve ever done. The arches are amazing, and the slot canyons are simply stunning. I felt like I was on Mars when looking at the petrified Wingate sand dunes. The views of the Waterpocket Fold and beyond from the Rim Trail are not soon forgotten. It is multiple hikes in one.

But this trail can be dangerous. I would hate to recommend this to an inexperienced hiker and have them get themselves in trouble. There is a definite risk of getting lost. There is exposure to slipping and falling… a long way. Over the course of 9 hours, I came to thoroughly respect this trail. For me, it was a best hike. If you approach Upper Muley Twist Canyon with a great deal of respect, it can be an adventurous hike for you too.

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.

Hiking among the giants of the East. That’s what you’re doing when you take the Blue Ridge Parkway to Mt. Mitchell State Park for this trek on the Mountains to Sea Trail in the Black Mountains. With fabulous views of the Blacks and the Great Craggy Range, and closeup experiences with gnarly old growth fir and spruce krummholz, this stretch of the MtS is some of the best of the North Carolina high country. The trail climbs through ancient forest, past moss-covered granite outcrops, to the crest of the ridge and Blackstock Knob summit. From here you can almost reach out and touch Mt. Mitchell, the tallest peak in the East. Descend to Balsam Gap, then return on perhaps the most scenic stretch along the entire length of the Parkway. We thoroughly enjoyed this hike on Wednesday, July 30, 2014 beginning at 11:00AM and ending about 5:30PM. Our plan was to take the Mountains to Sea Trail from Mt. Mitchell State Park across Blackstock Knob and down to Balsam Gap, then return along the Blue Ridge Parkway.

This majestic hike could easily be accomplished as a shuttle, or two-car excursion as there is convenient parking at each end of the trail. The big problem, though, is the extreme remote nature of Mt. Mitchell State Park. It is only accessible via the Blue Ridge Parkway, and it’s at least an hour drive from Asheville, or any other town nearby. So using two cars would involve quite a bit of fuel. You decide. It’s 5.9 miles one way, or 11.3 miles as a loop.

We chose to begin the hike from the Mt. Mitchell end as climbing to the ridge crest is more gradual. Once seeing the descent at the Balsam Gap end, I think we made the correct decision. The trailhead for the Mountains to Sea Trail is about a half mile up Hwy 128 into Mt. Mitchell State Park. Look closely to your left as you approach, because it isn’t especially easy to notice. There is a small gravel pullout on the right side of the road with enough room for three tightly bunched vehicles.

The trail starts out heading due south and uphill for a quarter mile, then levels out and makes a hard turn northwestward. We noticed immediately that someone had been through very recently with a scythe or weed eater, making the trail extremely easy to navigate. It was also apparent that a lot of time and love had been put into appropriate rock placement and trail tread leveling to ease the ascent.

On our way up the Parkway from Asheville in the morning, when we reached the high country past Craggy Gardens, the roadway was lined with an assortment of wildflowers that would make the NC Arboretum proud. Our first wildflower on the trail was a stunning Turk’s Cap. Usually orange in color, this one was nearly red and stood almost shoulder height. Obviously, a mature plant. Our wildflower experience was just beginning.

At roughly a half mile into the hike, the trail pops out of the forest and opens up the entire expanse of the Asheville Watershed. To the south are Greybeard Mountain and Brushy Knob. To their west the Burnett Reservoir, and further west the twin peaks of the Great Craggy Mountains: Craggy Dome and Craggy Pinnacle. Climbing a little farther up the face of Potato Knob, we reached a parapet-like outcropping that showed us the winding pathway taken by the Blue Ridge Parkway to reach those landmarks.

While sitting on the outcropping enjoying the grand view and a snack, we could now hear the sound of a motorized weed eater not far above us. Darn! That meant the nicely mown path would be ending soon. Sure enough, 10 minutes later we encountered the intrepid (and tired) worker and thanked him profusely for his efforts. We chatted with Mike Williams of the Carolina Mountain Club for awhile and learned that he is frequently up here in the Blacks doing much appreciated trail maintenance.

As coincidence would have it, we also met the only other hiker we would see on this day, coming the other direction. Thinking our way forward would now be surrounded by waist high grass and weeds, we said our farewell to Mike and pushed onward.

Soon afterward, we re-entered the forest, and were rewarded with short ground cover alongside the trail. And it remained that way throughout. Our timing had been perfect. The worst of the tall grass had already been taken care of by Mike.

We also began climbing again, now rather steeply, up the south face of Potato Knob toward the ridge crest on the knob’s west flank. Rather large outcroppings were scattered about, covered in moss and lichens, a result of the hundreds of inches of rainfall that occur in this region each year. Grace, my companion’s black & tan hound, was thoroughly enjoying herself. The scents were doggie nirvana.

We began noticing teeny, tiny white growths poking just a few inches out of the ground. Seemingly part floral and part fungus, Dave informed me these are known as indian pipe. They grow where the soil is very moist, push their way through fallen evergreen needles and lichens, and stay together in clusters. There were literally hundreds over the next mile of trail. It seems every time I foray into the wilderness I learn about something new, and on this day it was indian pipe. Dave said he had never seen so many in one area before.

When you reach the ridge crest, the trail levels out, then roller coasters for a mile or more. You’re above 6,000 feet now and will likely notice it in your breathing. The forest is amazing here. You’re surrounded by spruce and fir krummholz, and if you look closely, amid the moss and lichens you will find dozens of little micro gardens with various hues of mushrooms and other fungus springing from the moist rotting wood. We also found the first turtleheads of summer and pockets of chickweed hugging the stone outcrops.

Upon reaching the low point along the ridge at Rainbow Gap, we began looking for a meadow off to the north, a tip Mike had given us. He said there is a Cessna crash site less than a hundred yards off the trail. Sure enough, we found the fern and St. John’s Wort adorned meadow, and then the wreckage at the southeast corner. The cockpit and left wing were still somewhat intact, but all the instruments and the rest were long gone. It was obvious the pilot had missed the gap by mere feet.

Returning to the trail, we were now looking for a place to have lunch. The next stretch of trail up Blackstock Knob is the hardest of the hike. It’s about 325 feet of elevation gain from Rainbow Gap to the summit, all steep. By the time we found a nice spot to eat, we were definitely needing the rest, and the nourishment. The moss on the summit is incredible. I found one fallen log that I counted five different species of moss on, and it was more than an inch thick.

Continuing westward, occasionally the forest would open to the north for just a faint peek at the Black Mountains Range nearby. Suddenly the peeking became a full-blown view when we reached what I would call a photographer’s overlook. The trail maintenance crew had carved out a small pathway through the brush right to the precipice of the ridge. The full length of the Blacks was directly in front of us, with the Big Tom Preserve down below. The scene is sensational, and is the photo at the top of this post. Normally I’m not a fan of trail crews destroying living plants, but in this case I think the view was well done.

We were really beginning to wonder when this trail would start heading down. The summit of Blackstock Knob is 6,330′ and the elevation at Balsam Gap is 5,320′. So we had a thousand feet of drop ahead with not much trail left. Sure enough, the descent began in earnest.

A seemingly endless series of switchbacks helped make it easier on the knees and ankles, but this is serious downhill. Dave mentioned that on a previous visit to this trail he had come up from Balsam Gap. Worn out when he reached Blackstock Knob, he decided to turn around. I can see why. I’m glad we started at the other end.

Finally after about 20 minutes of continuous down, down, down we popped out on the Blue Ridge Parkway at Balsam Gap. It had taken us four hours to get here from the other end. Granted we stopped for lots of pictures and such, but four more hours back didn’t seem like a good idea. Dave suggested we walk back on the Parkway to make this a loop, and he didn’t hear any complaints from me.

By the way, there is another trailhead at the Balsam Gap pullout besides the Mountains to Sea. It is called the Big Butt Trail. It follows Brush Fence Ridge to Point Misery and beyond and supposedly has dazzling views of the Black Mountains from across the valley that is the Big Tom Preserve. Just another hike for another day. It is so wonderful to live in Western North Carolina.

Well, we still had nearly five miles back on the Parkway, and then that last half mile up Hwy 128 in the state park back to the car. Might as well get started. Walking on the road is certainly easier, and quicker, than hiking over roots and rocks in the forest, but there’s still quite a bit of stamina-draining uphill. What made it so much easier to endure was all the wildflowers.

Along the way, I saw daisies, and coneflowers, and black-eyed susans; bee balm, and geraniums, and turk’s cap. I even saw the first goldenrod of the season. Yep, in the high country it pops out even in late July. Rounding one curve in mile 357, we could see the outcrop high above where we had stopped earlier for a snack.

The Parkway is very impressive here. The work that was accomplished by the builders more than 70 years ago is truly amazing. I think this 10-mile stretch from Craggy Gardens to Mt. Mitchell is some of the most beautiful along the full 469-mile length. There wasn’t much gas left in my tank for that final trudge up Hwy 128, but six and a half hours after starting, we finished.

Best Hike Let’s summarize. You should definitely do this hike. The high country forest is luscious, and the mountain vistas on both sides of the ridge are stunning. Even if you don’t go all the way to Balsam Gap and back, consider trying at least part of this section of the Mountains to Sea Trail for a fine example of what WNC hiking is all about. I would call this one a Best Hike.

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.

Located along the North Carolina/Tennessee state line, and where Pisgah and Cherokee National Forests merge, Grassy Ridge in the Roan Highlands is the longest stretch of grassy balds in the Appalachian Mountains. The Appalachian Trail navigates this stunning ridge, hopping from Carvers Gap to Round Bald to Jane Bald, and on to the 6,169 foot Grassy Ridge Bald. The Highlands are a haven for wildlife, and mountain bushes like rhododendron, flame azalea, and green alder. Rare flowers are found here as well, including species such as spreading avens, Blue Ridge goldenrod, Gray’s lily and mountain bluet. There are clear views of Grandfather Mountain and the peaks of Linville Gorge to the east, and Mt. Mitchell and the Black Mountains to the south. In short, the Roan Highlands area is a must see. This hike occurred on Wednesday, June 19, 2013 from 8:30am to 1:15pm. My plan was to follow the Appalachian Trail from Carvers Gap across the three balds of Grassy Ridge, then explore more of Roan Mountain as time, and weather, permitted.

This is a hike I’ve wanted to do for quite some time, but just never seemed to get it together. It’s in a very remote area, and a long way from my home (about two hours), so I always seemed to talk myself out of it for regions with easier access. The time factor seems silly because I’ve made the effort to go to other wild places that were at least as far. Well, now that I’ve finally been, it’s not so tough to get there after all, and I’ve truly been depriving myself of one of Western North Carolina’s most remarkable gems.

When I arrived at Carvers Gap on the North Carolina/Tennessee state line just past 8:00 AM, there were already a couple dozen people milling about the parking area, and much to my surprise, the parking along the highway was already full. Well, I thought, I guess that’s what you get at peak rhododendron season. I would learn later that something else was up. Eventually I discovered there’s a whole other parking lot off the main highway, and all was good.

About that parking though, there seems to be about 60-70 spaces, but it’s a good idea to get there early in the morning, especially during busy visitor seasons like June and October. When I finished my hike just past 1:00 in the afternoon, the parking was crammed and Carvers Gap was a trafficky mess.

I couldn’t quite figure why everyone was just hanging out, but I could see if I got my pack and camera gear together quickly, that I could beat them all onto the trail. And the last thing I wanted was to get behind a mob of people starting out. The Appalachian Trail (AT) trailhead is just across the road on the east side. So off I went, somewhat confused, but tickled that I wouldn’t be behind this big crowd of folks with unknown intentions.

Because of the popularity, the trail track here is a light gravel with borders on each side, kinda like you might see in a city park. Fancy. The trail switches back on a grassy hillside, going in and out and around clusters of rhododendron shrubs as it leaves the cars, and people, at Carvers Gap behind. It took me less than 15 minutes, and only a couple hundred feet of climbing, to realize that Roan Highlands is a very special place.

This is high country, with clear air, crystal blue sky, dazzling emerald green grasses that conjure images of Ireland, and long-distance views to the south and southwest of the blanket of valley fog. It’s why they call them the Smoky Mountains. It became apparent early on that I might as well just leave the camera on the tripod and carry it, rather than putting it away in the pack each time I moved on. This was going to be a fantastic day.

After catching my breath from the sheer stunning beauty of the southern vista, I proceeded to the next curiosity. The trail winds through a dark and mysterious spruce-fir forest tightly packed with black balsam spruce and Fraser fir. There are large igneous rocks on either side of the path, and that heavenly aroma from the evergreen needles and bark. Quite the contrast from the brightness of the meadow to the gloomy stroll through the conifers.

Just about the time my pupils were adjusting to the pitch of the forest, the trail was back out in the light in another series of rhododendron bushes. These are the catawba variety (rhododendron catawbiense), a dense shrub with evergreen leaves, and numerous violet-purple flower clusters bigger than your fist. The fruit is a dry capsule with numerous small seeds. They are really quite lovely, and there are more natural rhododendrons in the Roan Highlands than anywhere else in the world.

The trail continues climbing Round Bald up a series of steps about 20 feet apart. There are more terrific views of the southern mountains, and then eventually, the Tennessee side of the ridge comes into view. On this particular day, that side was even more socked in. The clouds were boiling like a witches cauldron, occasionally rolling up and over the bald.

I reached the summit of Round Bald, 5,826 feet, and was in awe of the panorama of Smoky Mountains surrounding me. The bald is aptly named. It’s like standing on a massive basketball with grass. The top is truly round. As I approached the eastern side I could see down into Engine Gap, the path of the trail a half mile away. Clouds were wafting through the gap on a race from Tennessee to North Carolina.

A series of switchbacks aids the descent eastward, and brings the trail closer to the edge of the forest where there is a plethora of flame azalea bushes. Much as the western slope was alive with the pink/magenta catawbas, this eastern side of Round Bald is lush with rhododendron calendulaceum. The flowers of this deciduous shrub are larger than most other native azaleas, measuring from 1.5 to 2.5 inches across, and come in a wide range of colors from ochreous yellow, through various shades of orange, almost red even. A number of the blooms on the balds are a blazing bicolored orange.

Dropping about two hundred feet from Round Bald into Engine Gap, I entered a sea of yellow hawkweed. In the late 19th century, a steam engine was setup in the gap between Round Bald and Jane Bald by logging companies (hence the name, Engine Gap) to move lumber from the Tennessee side to the mills located on the North Carolina side. Thanks to the efforts of land conservation since, I could enjoy hawkweed instead of locomotives.

I took a glance behind me to enjoy the rhodo and azalea gardens on the eastern grade of Round Bald, and wait… What is that? Is that sheep up on the mountain? I dialed in the zoom on my camera to get a closer look. Sure looks like sheep.

Not long afterward another hiker caught up to me and I asked him if he saw the sheep behind us. He said, “Those aren’t sheep. They’re goats. We’re herding them up in the highlands for summer. When the goats approach you, you don’t want to be in front of them because it spooks them. It makes them want to scatter. So you might want to setup your camera over there on the side and catch them as they come by.”

Cool! What dumb luck! I quickly learned that I just happened to pick the day to be at Roan Highlands when they were bringing the goats up for the summer Baatany Project. Despite the somewhat cheesy name, apparently this is the sixth year of the Baatany Project, a volunteer-based effort to restore the Grassy Bald corridor on Roan Mountain using goats as an experimental management tool. Could this day get any more perfect?

A bell dinged in my head. Now I understood why all those people were milling around at Carvers Gap. They were waiting for the goats to arrive for the drive up the balds. Unknowingly I had become a part of this year’s Baatany Project. So I spent the next half hour on the side of the trail taking pictures of the nearly two dozen goats and at least twice as many volunteers as they herded into a fenced area on Jane Bald. The babies came last.

Well, that was exciting. Now it was time to climb up Jane Bald for the next surprise. Unlike Round Bald, Jane Bald is nearly covered with granite and rhododendron. The trail is steeper, and carved through a forest of shrubs that also includes green alder, a large bush with flowers known as catkins, oblong and almost berry-like.

Jane Bald is smaller than the others, and six feet lower than Round Bald at 5,820 feet. The views however, are fantastic. To the west is Round Bald with Roan High Knob and Roan High Bluff beyond. To the east is the continuation of Grassy Ridge onward to Grassy Ridge Bald. To the south are the Black Mountains, including Mt. Mitchell, and to the north are the Smokies of Tennessee and Roan Mountain State Park.

The summit of Jane Bald is where the goats were penned for now. They are herded by a gorgeous Great Pyrenees. I happened to catch one of the principals of the Baatany Project and asked how often they come up to relocate the portable fences from bald to bald. About every 10 days he said. This particular breed of goat loves the Canadian blackberry, an invasive species to the Roan Highlands. Clearing that, and keeping the natural grasses “mown” are the primary jobs of the goats.

The southeastern slope of Jane Bald has a large rocky outcropping that is ideal for camera work, and nearly the entire eastern side is literally covered with blooming rhododendron and azalea. Later, from almost a mile away, this eastern face of Jane Bald appeared lit up with pink and orange. Stunning.

The gap between Jane and Grassy Ridge Balds dips a couple hundred feet, much like Engine Gap did. At the base of the gap is a trail junction. The Appalachian Trail continues around the next bald to the left, and a spur trail heads southeasterly up the side of Grassy Ridge Bald. I wanted to check out both, so I chose the AT first. I went about a half mile through thick rhodo thickets, passing the northern flank of Grassy Ridge, with views deep into the Smokies of Tennessee.

I passed a spring on the right, learning later that this is where the goat keepers collect water for the dog, and also hopped over a small queen snake sunning on the trail. When the AT began heading steeply down, I decided it was time to turn around and do my additional climbing on Grassy Ridge.

The spur trail up Grassy Ridge Bald is the most difficult section of this hike. It is a very narrow, rocky trenched channel that climbs 500 feet through thick rhododendron and alder scrub. The end result is definitely worth the effort, however, as Grassy Ridge Bald is unbelievably even more beautiful that Round and Jane Balds were. This trip just kept getting better and better.

Cronk. Cronk. Cronk. The tell-tale sound of ravens hovering above me was a warm welcome to the next bald on the menu. I paused to watch them floating on the breeze, swooping below the horizon then drifting back up to silhouette the clouds.

Grassy Ridge Bald is several hundred acres of green, green grassland, surrounded by spruce and rhododendron, simply stunning. Far to the east is the Grandfather Mountain massif, and the peaks of Linville Gorge, Hawksbill and Tablerock. There is a large rock outcropping near the 6,189′ summit with an imbedded plaque honoring Cornelius Rex Peake, operater of the highest cultivated farm in the U.S. east of the Rocky Mountains, and very instrumental in bringing the conservation movement to Roan Mountain.

This looked like a perfect spot for lunch. Since I left Jane Bald, I had separated myself from most of the other folks who only came to help with the Baatany Project. It became apparent who the other day hikers were as a few stopped by to break bread with me at the outcropping. One couple was from Boone, and I also met a professional photographer from Nashville who gave me several tips about when and where for Roan Highlands pictures.

He told me about the next ridge over, what he described as a “purple mountain.” I certainly wanted to see that, so after wrapping up lunch I continued southeast across the acres of grass toward another series of outcrops on the other side. Then, peaking out through a few spruce and fir, there is was. The entire face of Bear Ridge was awash in the violet/purple of catawba rhododendron. It totally beat anything I had ever seen at Craggy Gardens or elsewhere in the Blue Ridge or Smokies.

The entire length of the Roan Mountain grassy balds covers seven miles and crosses five different summits. Perhaps some other time I will continue on the AT over Yellow Mountain and Hump Mountain. But on this day, I was totally content to conclude my exploration at the end of Grassy Ridge. What a treat I’d had, and I still would get to see it all over again on the way back.

By now, the morning valley fog had lifted on both sides of the ridge, presenting higher clouds and a horizon level haze. Even more of the bicolored azalea had popped out from the afternoon sunshine, and I could see lines of hikers marching like ants two miles away on Round Bald. Yes, Grassy Ridge is a popular and special place, but it is roomy enough to not seem crowded. There is plenty of space for everyone to enjoy their own little mellow haven.

By the time I got back to my car, I had traveled six miles and taken nearly five hours to do it. That should be an indicator of just how much there is to enjoy on Grassy Ridge. You could certainly do this round trip hike in less than three hours, but why would you. There is so much to see, so much to ponder, so much to breathe, so much essence.

While there, I figured I might as well visit the Rhododendron Gardens located in the gap between Roan High Knob and Roan High Bluff. This is a $3.00 fee area that includes the Cloudland Trailhead, which crosses the Gardens and ascends the western slope of Roan High Bluff to an observation platform just below the summit. This is also the former site of the Cloudland Hotel (c. 1885-1910) at Tollhouse Gap, billed as a very ritzy health resort, especially for those suffering from hay fever. There are numerous camping sites if you want to make a mini-vacation of your visit to Roan Mountain.

Best Hike When I was standing on Grassy Ridge Bald surveying the flowers in full bloom, the large expanse of verdant grassland, 6,000 foot mountains in all directions … I came to the conclusion this is the most beautiful place I have been in all of Southern Appalachia. I’ve seen stunning scenes in West Virginia and Shenandoah, in Eastern Tennessee and the Great Smoky Mountains, in Western North Carolina and along the Blue Ridge, but they all stand a step behind the Roan Highlands. I simply can’t wait to go back — I’m already researching when the peak autumn leaf season is. Label this one the best hike I have done so far in WNC, and definitely the most beautiful among many delightful sections along the Appalachian Trail. So treat yourself, and make an entire day of it. You will be amazed, and thrilled.

I’ve posted more pictures than usual below. It was such a perfect day that I had a lot to choose from. They are sorted sequentially from the start of the day, to the end. Just click on any of the thumbnails for a slideshow that is scroll-able forward or back. I hope the photos leave you with a sense of what a remarkable place the Roan Highlands truly is.

Updated October 15, 2013 — I mentioned above that I planned on returning to Grassy Ridge and the Roan Highlands in October to enjoy the autumnal coloring. And so I did. While I did find some color, as you will see in the pictures below, it’s hard to predict that perfect peak time when the hills are a total chromatic sensation.

It seemed the North Carolina side of the ridge was past peak with its browns and other earth tones. Conversely, the Tennessee side of the ridge was probably still 4-7 days away from the brightest colors. Go figure. I suppose the difference lies in being on the southern or northern side of Roan Mountain.

Regardless, I again had an absolutely splendid day. The weather was ideal for hiking — temps in the high 50s with a light breeze — and those of us who traversed the Appalachian Trail that day weren’t hassled by any law enforcement for being on the trail during the government shutdown.

Enjoy the photos. Compare the scenery to the ones above from mid-June. What a difference the season makes.

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.

Standing guard along the state line, Max Patch Mountain is a grassy bald with fabulous panoramic views of the surrounding North Carolina and Tennessee Great Smoky Mountains. Oh, and by the way, the celebrated Appalachian Trail crosses its 4,629 foot summit. So far as Southern Appalachian summits go, this one is moderately short and easy, but you can make a day of it by taking in one or more of the other trails found in the vicinity, including Buckeye Ridge. Another grassy bald itself, Buckeye Ridge sits off the southeastern shoulder of Max Patch, and about 400-500 feet below. The Buckeye Ridge Trail offers marvelous views of the eastern flank of Max Patch and even takes you into the forest. Just don’t end up like I did… five miles from where I wanted to be with little clue how to get back. This hike occurred on Wednesday, May 29, 2013 from 8:00am to 11:30am. My plan was to climb Max Patch from the trailhead on Max Patch Road, then follow the Appalachian Trail to its junction with Buckeye Ridge Trail. According to my map, Buckeye Ridge Trail skirted the east and south of Max Patch, returning to the original trailhead. What actually happened… was a little different.

I got an early start on the 90 minute drive to Max Patch, wanting to summit the mountain not long past dawn. When I exited I-40 onto Hwy 209, I entered rural Appalachia. This is horse and cattle country, and the foothills of the Smokies. As I continued north and westward the mountains got taller and the road curvier. The small communities along the way have names like Trust and Luck. On Meadow Fork Road there was this quaint country home where they painted the silo like a mural. The entire environment oozed southern charm. I could feel the intoxication that comes from the excitement of a new adventure.

The last five miles is gravel road, so beware of that when it’s been rainy. Speaking of rainy; this past January vandals took their four-wheel drive vehicles to the grassy fields of Max Patch when the ground was very wet and tore large gouges in the lush hillside. When I pulled into the parking area I could immediately see some of the remediation efforts that were made on the part of volunteers to prevent this type of vandalism from reoccurring. Large boulders surrounded the gravel parking. These could not be driven over, around, or through. Catawba rhododendron and mountain laurel were planted for beautification.

There are two paths to the summit from the trailhead. The Appalachian Trail (AT) takes a gradual turn from the south, around the western face for an easy climb. Or, you can just plow straight up the western slope in a race to the top. Anxious as I was to see what was awaiting me, I chose the latter. Along the way, I passed freshly laid hay where the restoration volunteers had filled in the tire ruts and reseeded the native grasses. We all owe a big debt of gratitude to these trail angels.

It’s about 500′ of elevation gain to the summit. As you’re ascending the western incline, behind you the Tennessee Smokies begin to appear, including Mt. Sterling and Mt. Cammerer, one that was crossed by the Appalachian Trail thru-hikers on their way to Max Patch.

When I reached the summit of Max Patch, it was everything I’d been led to believe. Surrounded by the Great Smoky Mountains on all sides, I couldn’t decide which way to look. I hastily setup my camera tripod and began to capture the scene. The grass that covers the mountain was 6-8 inches high making a nice bed to walk, or lay on. The entire expanse of the summit was awash in early morning sunlight, perking up the lutescent buttercups and cinquefoil.

Directly to the east the sunrays and haze created the effect that gives the Smokies their name. The great expanse of Pisgah National Forest stretched across ridge after ridge after ridge. To the north is the Bald Mountains Range, the French Broad River and Cherokee National Forest. Far away to the south are the mountains in my backyard, the 6000 footers along the Blue Ridge Escarpment. It is all a grand and glorious panorama.

One of the AT marker stakes had a small American flag affixed, no doubt a remnant from the just past Memorial Day. I imagined the picnic baskets and frisbees from a few days prior. Max Patch would be a great place for a familial outing. For me, the weather was perfect… temp in the low 60s, barely a whiff of breeze, the only clouds far away on the horizon. If I lived closer, I could see myself coming to Max Patch almost weekly.

All good things must come to an end, and I still had more than seven miles of exploring ahead of me. The Appalachian Trail descends Max Patch on the eastern slope, enabling a direct view of my future destination, Buckeye Ridge. There were bales of hay spread out every few hundred yards over the ridge, left from seasons past. It was an inviting scene.

As I ambled eastward, a couple hundred feet below the summit, I turned to survey the scene behind me, catching the half-moon against the azure sky with a broad expanse of reddish tinted meadow in the foreground. Max Patch Mountain is just as beautiful here as the western pitch. There are two ways to trace the path of the Appalachian Trail. There are periodic wooden stakes, about waist high, and painted white at the top. And, some kind souls come up here regularly and actually mow the grass in about a 4-foot-wide swath for the hikers. How about that?

Eventually the trail comes to the treeline, and enters. After the bright expanse of the mountain meadow, I had to remove my sunglasses and reset the ISO. There are a few primitive campsites along the path, no doubt very popular with the thru-hikers. The only other people I saw on this day were there, just finishing breaking camp.

Winding through a hardwood forest for about half a mile, the trail meets an old forest road, designated on maps as 3535. This is the junction with Buckeye Ridge Trail, and you want to turn right. But, I wanted to go left to explore the fishing pond where 3535 meets Max Patch Road a half mile away. In hindsight, I may have passed on that, because I got into a bunch of stinging nettle that just loved scraping my bare legs as I passed by. Plus, the fishing pond was no great shakes. Um, yeah.

So, back to the AT-Buckeye Ridge junction for the next phase of my adventure. 3535 dead-ends perhaps a quarter mile later and the Buckeye Ridge Trail becomes single track. At first, it’s somewhat rocky as if it’s a wash on rainy days, but soon after it becomes a very lush forest floor with fern and moss and lichens. I could see through the trees that I was approaching a clearing, then popped out onto the long heath-lined avenue that is Buckeye Ridge.

Every few hundred yards the Forest Service has planted one of those bendy, foldy trail marker signs with an arrow pointing Buckeye Ridge this way. My guess is the grass through here is probably waist high in July, making the trail very difficult to follow. For me, in late May, it was perhaps a foot deep.

After about 10 minutes of wandering among the blackberry bushes and butterflies, all the while surveying the Max Patch summit, I reached a rise in the ridge. By now I was getting a bit hungry, so I’m thinking I’ll get off trail and have some lunch. I climbed about a hundred feet to the top of the rise and found a great cushiony spot with a fabulous view of the eastern acreage of Max Patch.

Shedding my pack and tripod, I took a seat in the soft grass and pulled out my sandwich, totally enjoying the picturesque landscape that surrounded me. I was about half way through my sandwich when I was awakened from the revelry by the feeling of something crawling on my legs. Looking down, and around, there were literally hundreds of small grasshoppers in the grass, and on me. It was kinda cool. There was a rustling sound as they hopped from blade to blade of grass.

My girlfriend always asks me about ticks whenever I tell her my trail adventures, especially when it includes walking (or in this case, sitting) in tall grass. I always check myself carefully, and I didn’t see any on me this time. No doubt they are around, but with my layers of REPEL and sunscreen, they didn’t bother me.

When I finished lunch it was time for some pictures, so I setup the tripod again. This time aiming at the Max Patch summit, I was in a playful mood and did a self portrait. That’s the photo at the top of this post. You can click it for a larger image. You can’t tell in the picture, but there are hundreds of grasshoppers skittering about in that grass. Fun stuff!

Back off the rise to the trail I went, and a meeting again with the AT. I had a decision at this point: either to take the AT back up and over Max Patch, or to head back into the woods on the Buckeye Ridge Trail. I’d already seen Max Patch, so I wanted to explore more of Buckeye Ridge Trail. This may have been the first in a series of mistakes that I was about to make.

The path through the forest was lined with buttercups, fleabane and geraniums… and a bit more nettle. I passed under a power line and, after about a quarter mile, reached an unmarked t-type trail junction. There is a cairn there, but no sign of any kind. My trail map wasn’t detailed enough to give me any hints as to direction. I could intuit that turning right (northwest) would take me back to the grassland of Buckeye Ridge. I had no idea where left (southeast) went.

Since the cairn appeared (to me anyway) to be leaning to the right, I chose to go uphill that way. Along the way I passed several more cairns. Within five minutes I reached a primitive campsite under a magnificent giant oak. Not long after that I was back out in the open on the ridge.

Remember the hay bales I mentioned seeing from the east side of Max Patch? I was now in the midst of them. I climbed another rise in the ridge and turned just in time to see three deer scampering across the grass and into the forest. Sorry, the photo turned out too blurry. I walked to the end of the ridge — where it was lined with blackberry bushes — and I was stymied by a ravine.

I walked back and forth along the edge of the ridge looking for a path through the ravine. On my map, it looks like Buckeye Ridge Trail eventually meets up with a forest road that skirts the southern side of Max Patch Mountain and leads back to the parking area. But I couldn’t see that anywhere. I could see that I could climb northward up Max Patch back to the AT, but the Buckeye Ridge Trail just seemed to die in the tall grass at the edge of the ravine.

That’s when I made my 2nd bad decision. Remembering the unsigned t-type trail junction back in the forest, I decided to go back there and try the left trail. So back past the hay bales, past the magnificent old oak, past the cairns I went.

Deeper into the forest I advanced, and then the trail met an old forest road. Good, I thought, this must be the road on my trail map. Onward I went, past the old Kana’ti Lodge with a barking dog, and then down, down, down. That just didn’t seem right. With the altitude app on my phone I determined I was below the level of the Max Patch parking area, and continuing downhill. I was expecting to come out on Max Patch Road about 200 yards from my car.

Instead the road I came to was Poplar Gap Road. Huh? I pulled out my map and looked for Poplar Gap. Nowhere to be found. It was even a paved road, but simply wasn’t on my map. Now what? I had three options. (1) I could turn around and go back to the Appalachian Trail at the hay bales. (2) I could turn left (north) on Poplar Gap Road, or (3) I could turn right (south) on Poplar Gap Road.

Pulling out my compass, I determined that I had to be south of Max Patch. So I made my 3rd, and worst, mistake. I decided to head north on Poplar Gap Road. After winding about for a bit, Poplar Gap also started going down, down, down. About every quarter mile I’d pass a remote country home, seemingly always with a barking dog.

By now I was beginning to run low on water, and decided the next person I saw, I was going to ask for help. After probably two miles on Poplar Gap Road, I came upon an elderly lady watering the flowers by her mobile home. Telling her I was lost, and pulling out my map, she said, “That’s odd. My street isn’t on your map.” I said I know, that was my dilemma. After joking about my situation some, she asked where I was trying to go. I said Max Patch. She pointed, and said, “Oh, the Patch is back that way about five miles.”

And of course, she was pointing the way I had come. So there I was. Nearly out of water. Five miles from where I needed to be. All uphill. I quickly did some mental gymnastics. I was already a little tired and hot. Could I make it back up the mountain with almost no water? It would be tough. How much cash did I have in my pocket? $14. If I acted helpless, and offered her a ten, would she be willing to give me a ride to Max Patch in the cherry 1960s era Buick sitting in her yard? I mustered all my gumption, swallowed my pride, and asked the question.

She jumped at the chance. What a sweetheart! She went inside to get her car keys (fortunately not her shotgun) and off we went. We climbed back up Poplar Gap Road. We passed where I had come down from the lodge and stopped to decide which way to turn. We came to the end of Poplar Gap Road, but it still wasn’t Max Patch Road at the junction. We climbed Little Creek Road, where I had been at 7:30 in the morning, and then finally came to Max Patch Road. It was still another mile and a half to my car.

I was thinking by this time how relieved I was that I’d asked for a ride. There’s no way I would have made it walking on the hot and dusty gravel country roads. I told my new friend how she was my rescuer today, my trail angel. She told me she had lived up the holler on Poplar Gap for the past 23 years and grown up in Haywood County — a true country girl for all of her 80-some years. I left the $10 on the car seat between us and thanked her from the bottom of my heart. Despite the crap we sometimes have to face in our day to day lives, I am always encouraged by the natural human instinct to help others in need. My trail angel sure helped rescue me from my bad decisions on this hiking debacle.

Best Hike Despite the way this hike ended for me, Max Patch and Buckeye Ridge is a remarkable and beautiful day hike. The views from the summit of Max Patch are among the best the Southern Appalachians have to offer. A friend I’ve made in North Carolina, who used to be from California, thru-hiked the complete Appalachian Trail in 2005. He told me the time he spent on the trail in NC between Great Smoky Mountains National Park and Erwin, NC — including Max Patch — was what would later entice him to move to Western North Carolina. I can certainly understand why. I would label this one a best hike.

I’ve posted a still image of the GPS map from above where I have added arrows to mark the points where I was confused and made poor decisions. The arrow with dashed lines is where I was stymied by the ravine. The arrow with the circle on the end is the t-type trail junction with the cairn. Hopefully it will help prevent you from making the same mistakes I made. The map image is down below the following photographs.

Hiking Debacle Map

Update 10/22/2013: I went back for a fall leaf-peeping hike at Max Patch. The scenery was stunning and I found my way to the continuation of Buckeye Ridge Trail where I got lost in June. Yay me! Now I can hike Max Patch like I know what I’m doing. Enjoy the new 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.

Between mileposts 423 and 424 on the Blue Ridge Parkway, Scenic Hwy 215 crosses at Beech Gap. If you head about 1/4 mile north on 215, the famous Mountains to Sea Trail crosses from the Black Balsam area into Middle Prong Wilderness. The MtS winds through an ever-changing forest that runs the gamut of evergreens found in the high country of Western North Carolina. Past waterfalls and streams, through thickets and meadows, surrounded by 6000 foot tall mountain peaks, with the always present aroma of pine and spruce and fir, this stretch of the MtS to the Green Mountain Trail is a hiker’s delight. Climb a short way up Fork Ridge to a lonely outcrop on the eastern flank to gaze far and wide into the vast expanse of Shining Rock Wilderness. It doesn’t get much better. This hike occurred on Tuesday, December 11, 2012 from 10:00am to 2:05pm. Our plan was to take the Mountains to Sea Trail from Hwy 215 to its junction with Green Mountain Trail. We would then climb Fork Ridge near Green Knob to that lonely outcrop and return.

Are you perhaps looking for a day hike that will take you through a wide and diverse array of forests, alongside babbling mountain streams and waterfalls, and culminates with exceptional long distance vistas above 6000 feet? Sounds really enticing doesn’t it?

Well, strap on your hiking boots and backpack because I have one to tell you about. Up in the high country off the Blue Ridge Parkway in Pisgah National Forest are two designated wilderness areas with incredible hiking offerings. Shining Rock Wilderness is, no doubt, the more well known of the two, and yes it is fabulous. But if you’re interested in lesser traversed trails that are equally enthralling, Middle Prong Wilderness fills the bill.

These two wilderness areas abut each other, separated by Scenic Hwy 215, otherwise known as Lake Logan Road. Between mileposts 423 and 424 on the Blue Ridge Parkway, Hwy 215 crosses. Just a quarter mile north on 215 the Mountains to Sea Trail crosses 215 from the Black Balsams into Middle Prong Wilderness, named for the middle prong of the Pigeon River. Park on 215 and look for the unmarked, but obvious trailhead on the left side of the highway. It heads upward to the northwest.

The well-worn trail winds through a mixed forest of high country birch and beech and conifers, and the omnipresent WNC rhododendron. Don’t look for blaze markings in the wilderness as there aren’t any, but the trail is plenty easy to follow.

You come to a meadow surrounded by gorgeous black balsam spruce with two campsites, one at trail level, and another more secluded at the plateau of a small rise. These sites would be a nice pair for a double camping date. The Mountains to Sea Trail (MtS) continues through the meadow and eventually makes a decidedly southern turn.

You’ll hear the soothing sounds of the West Fork headwaters, a gentle breeze, and for us on this mid-December day, the unmistakable bay of bear dogs. They were miles away, but sound reverberates off the granite in the high country hollows. You will cross the creek twice, not difficult, except perhaps in spring when the water level may be up from snowmelt.

The trail seems pretty level, but is actually climbing at a very gradual pace, resulting in the appearance of the high granite cliffs and ridges far in the distance on either side of the trail. With a healthy rain the previous day, my companion and I were treated to a sight I hadn’t observed on two previous trips to this track. To our right, westerly, was a beautiful waterfall about 1/4 mile away. It was plunging about 70-80 feet over a sheer granite ledge. My guess is this is one of those surprise waterfalls that only appears on rare, wet occasions. It was a real treat.

As you proceed the forest becomes less dense with more of a low-lying scrub and “christmas tree” type appearance. The immature white pine, spruce and fir not only set a seasonal mood, but smell delightful. Catching this area after a recent snowfall would be a special joy. The trail again switches back to a northerly direction as you parallel the eastern face of 6110′ Mount Hardy on your left.

Continuing the push north, you’ll pass a small clearing that opens up a view to the northeast of the Black Balsam area and your first peak at Black Balsam Knob itself as well as Little Sam Knob. Those large mountains will be quite commanding at the final destination.

I love the next section of trail because it is a botanists delight. The sudden and distinct changes in the forest diversity are inspiring, and actually kind of eerie. Start with a good mix of beech, birch, spruce and fir, then suddenly enter an extremely dense, dark forest of white pine and black balsam. Next to no light reaches the ground which is soft and cushy from centuries of fallen needles. As you exit this aphotic alpine wood, you next enter an even more compact rhododendron grove. Don’t get off-trail here as you would likely be lost for days. The trail is clear, but either side is a convoluted jungle of twisted rhodo trunks. I thought of the trail builders when going through here.

On the other side, the trail begins a steeper climb then pops into another meadow with exceptional panoramic views to the west of the heart of Middle Prong Wilderness. We were surrounded by low-level valley fog that I always find fascinating as the higher peaks poke their tops through the murk. To me, it seems to give a majesty to the high country… living above the clouds.

We could really hear the howling of the hunting dogs now as we made the short but steep climb up to Fork Ridge. This is the hardest stretch of the hike, but still quite moderate, and it only lasts for a hundred yards or so. You’ll head back into the forest, dark again, mostly evergreen now with occasional glimpses of the surrounding wilderness on each side of the ridge. Shining Rock is to your right and Middle Prong to your left.

Once you top Fork Ridge, look closely for the trail junction with the Green Mountain Trail. It isn’t marked, but it comes in from your right and proceeds due north. If you miss it, the MtS continues on to Buckeye Gap. So if you reach the Buckeye Gap Trail, know that you have missed the Green Mountain Trail and gone too far. For this hike, you want to turn right on the Green Mountain Trail. Remember that this is wilderness, so there are no trail markers.

The ridge on the Green Mountain Trail is covered with “christmas tree” like spruce, tall grasses and fields of lichens and ground cedar — simply another gorgeous display of the flora presented in the high country. I love it! You will come to a campsite on your left that is surrounded by 12-foot spruce that make an excellent wind break. I’ve stopped here for a snack before, but today our lunch break would be on the outcrop overlooking the balds of Black Balsam.

It’s no more than half a mile past the campsite. The trail will dip and rise on Fork Ridge a couple times, but keep your eyes peeled to the right for a non-maintained spur trail heading to the east. It isn’t easy to spot, but when you see it, you’ll know it. It’s no more than 30 yards off trail to the outcrop, a perfect place for 3-4 people to take off their packs, sit on the terraced rock formation, and gaze for miles into the WNC high country wilderness. For the two of us, it was perfect.

The outcrop has a 180° perspective. To the northeast are the trio of grand mountains that make up Black Balsam. From left to right are the double-peaked 6050′ Sam Knob, then Sam’s junior, but no less impressive brother, Little Sam, and beyond them is the massive summit of 6214′ Black Balsam Knob. Far in the distance is Shining Rock Wilderness.

Directly east is Flat Laurel Creek and Wildcat Falls, with the 6000′ Chestnut and Silvermine Balds behind. Interestingly, Chestnut Bald no longer is. There is a very healthy stand of black balsam spruce on its summit.

Turning southeast you’ll see the Devil’s Courthouse, a mammoth outcropping right on the Blue Ridge Parkway that surveys the Blue Ridge as far as the eye can see. You can follow the Parkway as it carves its way along the crest of Pisgah Ridge, and the Hwy 215 ribbon twisting through Beech Gap.

It was a gorgeous day, near 50° in the sun, perfect hiking weather, with layer upon layer of clouds interspersed with sky. See the picture at the top of this post for an example (click for a larger image). To the south, and into the sun, those clouds were doing a crazy dance with the mountain summits that really caught our attention as we dined on fine soup, apricots and peanut butter. Only the best for the Meanderthals.

After lunch we pondered continuing on to Green Knob, but with the way that crazy sky looked, we thought perhaps it was best to turn around and head back. It’s no fun being caught in a storm at 5800′. Between wind, rain, hail and snow it can ruin your day in just a matter of minutes. Besides, we could save Green Knob for another day coming up the Green Mountain Trail from the Sunburst end.

It didn’t take long to realize our decision to head back was sound. As soon as we got out of the sun that was warming us on the outcrop, the temp was several degrees cooler in the forest. The breeze began to pick up as well and we quickly put back on the layers and headgear we had shed while enjoying our break. Each time we passed a clearing I could tell the clouds were getting just a little bit closer.

When we got back down off Fork Ridge and onto the flats of the MtS again, the breeze was sucking the wisps of fog into the gaps and hollows — quite a fascinating and mysterious sight. I’m accustomed to ground-level fog early in the morning. It’s always an alluring effect at mid-day.

We passed back through each of the disparate forests, back by Mount Hardy and the waterfall. By the time we got to the meadow with the dual campsites, it was sunny again. So no need for concern about bad weather, thank goodness.

It’s always a good idea to be totally aware of your surroundings when hiking in the high country, and to be prepared. I always take a rain jacket, no matter what. It’s also a good idea to have extra socks, gloves, hats and layers in your pack just in case. Particularly when hiking in December, or even later in winter, the temperature can change 20-30° very quickly. Sudden wind can be relentless, and if you get caught in a hail storm, it is life threatening. Just remember where you are. This is wilderness, not some friendly neighborhood civic park.

When we got back to the car, we put away our hiking gear and pulled out our conscientious “Leave No Trace” gear. When hiking in this vicinity once before, my friend and I had noticed a campsite near the road that was completely and totally littered. This site was so full of trash that it frankly offended us when we came upon it that day. We weren’t prepared back then, but on this day we were. By the time we were through we had filled two large trash bags with bottles and cans, milk jugs and aluminum foil — junk that did not belong in the wilderness.

Best HikeTo summarize, the Mountains to Sea and Green Mountain Trails in Middle Prong Wilderness should always be on your list of weather and seasonal appropriate hikes in the Western North Carolina high country. If you love forested hikes, you will see a wide variety. If you like the high vistas, the outcrop on Fork Ridge offers views that will inspire you. For the water enthusiasts, part of the trail even follows a babbling brook with the chance to see a surprise waterfall. I highly recommend it. For us, it was a great day, and I would label this one a best hike.

Updated August 26, 2014: Time for another visit to this magnificent region of Middle Prong Wilderness. Realizing we had never been there in summer, we wanted to check out the trail condition. There were a few spots in the meadows where the late summer foliage like the goldenrod were hanging over the trail, but most of it was still easily navigable. There was a slight hint of autumn in the air and on the trees, making it a most delightful day.

We found a line of puffy white clouds wafting up the valley formed by Hwy 215 between Fork Ridge and the Balsams that prevented a clear view of the Sams, but it was still delightful at the rock outcropping on Green Knob. I know I will continue to return for this hike time and time again. It is simply one of the best in the WNC high country.

Update July 2, 2016: Here are a few more photos from a visit in early summer. Compare for seasonal differences.

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.