Named for Butch Cassidy, the late-19th century western outlaw who hung out in these parts, Cassidy Arch stands on a precipice overlooking the Grand Wash in Capitol Reef. Cassidy Arch Trail climbs 670 feet from the wash to a slickrock bench high above the canyon. Iconic landmarks like Capitol Dome are visible along the trail that hangs on the canyon ledge. Better wear your sturdiest boots for this hike. The terrain is rocky and rugged and just waiting for you to take a misstep. My brother Dave and I hiked the Cassidy Arch Trail on Monday, June 4, 2018 beginning at 8:30AM and finishing about 11:30AM. Our plan was to climb to the arch, then return along the same path.

First a little anecdote about an unexpected adventure we encountered along Utah Hwy 62 on our way from Bryce, Utah to our destination at Capitol Reef National Park. It started with us noticing fresh cow pies scattered about the highway. We wondered if there had been cattle who escaped the fence lines along the roadside.

Then those pies became more prevalent and unavoidable, even splattering from the wheels of the car onto the side panels and doors. Then up ahead, there they were. A cattle drive. There were cowboys on horses and cattle dogs and literally hundreds and hundreds of cows being driven right down the highway. And that highway was one huge mess of bovine scatology.

Finally, after about 15 minutes we got through, but were desperately seeking a car wash in the next little one horse town. It took another 25 miles, but we found a high pressure quarter car wash in Loa. You just never know what to expect in the wild, wild west.

We arrived at the Capitol Reef Visitor Center just past 8:00, looked around for a bit and grabbed a trail map, then headed for the Grand Wash. There is nearly a mile and a half of driving on the dirt and rock-filled Grand Wash. It doesn’t require four wheel drive, that is unless you’re in a surprise rain storm and the wash floods. Don’t worry. That doesn’t happen very often.

Parking for the trailhead is at a dead end on the wash road. For 0.3 mile you continue down the Grand Wash on foot, surrounded by massive red canyon walls that tower hundreds of feet above. Look for a sharp left turn onto the Cassidy Arch Trail. There is a large stone marker here, but it could be missed in the early morning dark of the canyon wall shadows.

There is a smaller sign that simply says “carry water.” Pay attention to this. If you didn’t bring any, go back to your car now. This hike is on dry, dry, dry, rugged desert terrain that gets hot in a hurry. Water is an absolute must!

As you make that left turn onto Cassidy Arch Trail you begin climbing steeply immediately. This is up and over rocks and boulders. There are switchbacks marked only by small cairns. You need to keep your mind on the task at hand for a number of reasons. Route finding is one, but you are also right along the cliff edge, so you don’t want to stumble or lose your balance.

Rough and rugged desert terrain right along the cliff edge.

After about a half mile of steep climbing you get a bit of a break as the trail levels out somewhat and winds through a juniper forest and rocky walls of striped red and white layers. Once again, your route finding skills will be tested as the trail makes several turns along the rocky ledge. Keep your eye out for the next cairn ahead.

Now high above the canyon, many of the featured landmarks of Capitol Reef National Park come into plain view. Primary among them is Capitol Dome, a large stone mountain that is shaped somewhat like an inverted funnel.

At the one mile mark, two things happen. You get the first view of Cassidy Arch, now a half mile away across a ravine. You also come to a junction with the Frying Pan Trail, one that comes over the red rock mountain from Cohab Canyon. I messed up here. The junction sign says Cassidy Arch Trail left and Frying Pan Trail right. I went what I thought was left. It took a quarter mile of unnecessary climbing to realize we were going away from Cassidy Arch, not nearer.

So we backtracked to the trail junction. The sign is a bit misleading, at least it was to me. In reality Cassidy Arch is a hard left and Frying Pan is straight ahead. Once seeing the error, we took the hard left and were back on the right path. No harm.

The final half mile to Cassidy Arch is all across slickrock, alternating red and white. There is the occasional scramble through gullies, each with strategically carved footholds to help you along. Once again, keep your eyes peeled for the cairns that help guide you toward the arch and away from canyon edges.

Cassidy Arch is actually quite impressive as far as natural arches go. It stands 140 feet high, with a mouth that spans 60 feet. You can even walk across the arch as it is about 25 feet wide. We happened to arrive right as a team of rappellers was preparing to lower themselves to the canyon overhang below. Live entertainment.

Dave walks across Cassidy Arch. Wave hi to Dave.

While Dave crossed the arch and got a better look at the rappellers, I went up higher on the slickrock plateau for a view over the edge and into the northern end of Grand Wash. The moon was still hanging on the horizon, shining in the cloudless cerulean sky. Lots of other hikers were arriving, probably about a dozen. I was surprised at the number who were out this early on a weekday to a somewhat remote area of the underappreciated Capitol Reef. Add in a dozen rappellers and there were quite a few folks.

We stayed at the arch for about a half hour, then began the trek back. Along the way we continued to encounter more hikers. By now, the air temperature had climbed probably 20 degrees and was becoming quite warm. With no trees for shade, and no clouds in the sky, the sun will take a toll quickly. Despite this hike being less than four miles round trip, I was quite tired by the time we finished.

When we got back to the car it was time for lunch, so we found a picnic area off the Scenic Drive along the Fremont River that had perfect shade from century old cottonwood trees. Coupled with a cool breeze, the temperature immediately dropped considerably. Our Utah adventure now over, we geared up for the six hour drive back to our home base in Colorado.

In summary, when you look at Cassidy Arch Trail on a map you may not think it requires much. It’s short, less that four miles. Yes, it climbs 670 feet, but that doesn’t seem like much. That is until you find out most of it is within less than a mile. Feet up per mile is important to consider. Always keep in mind too that this is desert. It is dry. It is hot. There is no shade. It will wear you out if you aren’t prepared. Put on sunscreen. Wear a hat. And like the sign says, “carry water.”

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.

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.

This park sits right on the cliff’s edge of the Blue Ridge Escarpment that drops down from the mountains in western North Carolina to the upcountry of South Carolina. The park is more than 3,000 acres of trails, lakes, cabins and camping. Pinnacle Mountain Trail is the most challenging within the park, with a climb that exceeds 2,300 feet. The lower section follows Carrick Creek, while the upper levels offer fantastic views into the South Carolina Upstate, with massive rock outcroppings along the way. Ken and I hiked Pinnacle Mountain at Table Rock State Park on Monday, December 18, 2017 beginning at 9:30AM and ending about 3:30PM. Our plan was to hike Pinnacle Mountain Trail to the Mill Creek Pass Trail, connect with the Ridge Trail, then take Table Rock Trail to the summit of Table Rock. It didn’t work out that way, and we visited the Pinnacle Mountain summit instead.

When we arrived at the Table Rock State Park Visitor Center on Lake Oolenoy we learned that a change of plans was in the cards. Instead of heading up Table Rock via the Pinnacle Mountain Trail and Mill Creek Pass, we would instead hike to the summit of Pinnacle Mountain. Why? 2016 brought a devastating wildfire to the forest of Table Rock and 2017 saw Hurricane Irma ravage the area, blowing down trees and eroding trails. Not to worry. This would still be an enjoyable hike. We also learned that over the years since our last visit to Table Rock State Park, they had raised the day use fee from $2 per person to $5. Still a bargain.

The lower part of this hike follows Carrick Creek past a series of small waterfalls, over wooden footbridges, and along smooth creek bedrock. It shares the first quarter mile with the Table Rock Trail, one that we had hiked way back in 2011. At the split we turned left onto yellow-blazed Pinnacle Mountain Trail, while Table Rock Trail goes to the right.

We happened to arrive on a very foggy morning. The forest was actually kind of eery. However, a pair of hikers coming down the mountain from an overnight camp told us there was good news ahead. We would eventually climb above the cloud inversion, offering a masterpiece view of the low valley fog.

The next two and a half miles are gently uphill, passing through deciduous forest and groves of mountain laurel and rhododendron. You continue to follow Carrick Creek for a mile or more, much of it rubbed bare and smooth over thousands of years draining Pinnacle Mountain. You could almost slide on your behind along the path of the creek like a water park, but don’t. They wouldn’t like that.

The higher you get, the rockier the terrain. Car sized boulders and fins appear in the woods, crumbling eons ago from the escarpment high above. Just past the 2.5 mile marker you reach The Mill Creek Falls spur trail. It was our intention to take the 0.4 mile sidetrack to observe the waterfall. However, it is still closed thanks to the thoughtlessness of Hurricane Irma.

So on we pushed, soon passing the southern end of the Mill Creek Pass Trail, one that we would use for our return after visiting Pinnacle Mountain. The rocks are house size now, and we began to enter the wildfire zone. It was really hard to tell how much the ecology has recovered in one short year because we were there in winter. There was no green to be seen. There are, however, still many, many burn marks.

The trail really begins climbing in earnest now, becoming increasingly steeper the higher you go. This makes it all the more amazing how the wildfire burned this steepest part of the mountain. We had also now cleared the fog layer, and were looking down upon it. Nearly 400 feet above the Pass junction, you reach the remarkable Bald Rock.

There are two levels to this massive cliff face, each offering a unique view of the South Carolina Upstate. The first level is a little more rounded, with a less scary edge, but the upper level has a definitive precipice. You don’t want to get too close because it is a very long way down. The vista to the south was limited because of the sea of clouds below us, but there is a magnificent view of the Table Rock pluton off to the east.

Don’t get too close to the Bald Rock edge. Believe me, the bottom is not as soft as those clouds look.

There was a nice couple sitting on Bald Rock, enjoying lunch. We chatted for a bit and learned this was to be their turning around point. Based on what I learned later, I kinda wish I’d made the same decision.

From Bald Rock, the trail climbs another 625 feet to the summit of Pinnacle Mountain in just a half mile, or less. That is steep folks… and I’m not afraid to tell you that it took everything I had to make it to the top. I’m not as strong a hiker as I was five years ago (I am older after all), but I can still hold my own. Believe me when I tell you that this half mile stretch is strenuous.

About half way there you reach the junction with the famous Foothills Trail. If you are ever interested in a multi-day trek in this neck of the woods, there is a lot to behold along the Foothills, including the nearby Sassafras Mountain.

It’s still another 340 feet up to the summit, the steepest part yet. It doesn’t get any easier. As you’ll see from the picture below that I took of the summit sign, I did make it, but I was a wreck when I reached the top. The good news is the nice logs at the summit that make perfect seats for a rest, and a lunch break.

Ken, as he always does, still seemed fresh from the climb, but he did admit to me that even he was tired. We stayed for about 20 minutes, eating lunch, and catching our breath. There isn’t really much to see on the summit, unfortunately. There are no cool views or historic artifacts, just the self-knowledge that you accomplished the feat.

Here, the Pinnacle Mountain Trail meets the orange-blazed Ridge Trail. You can take the Ridge Trail all the way nearly two miles to its meeting with the Table Rock Trail, but our plan was just to descend to the upper junction of the Mill Creek Pass Trail. As you would expect, the first quarter mile going down is very steep, just like the ascent. We ran into more evidence of the 2016 wildfire along the way.

It’s ¾ mile to the bypass, dropping a total of 550 feet. Then, the blue-blazed Pass Trail is another ¾ mile, and drops another 400 feet. Hard on the knees and hips. Look for lots and lots of mountain laurel along the way. This stretch of trail is probably quite beautiful with pink and white flowers in May.

Once back on the Pinnacle Mountain Trail, it’s then a three mile trudge back to the trailhead, terrain already covered on the way up. It was more clear now, as the fog layer had finally burned off, and the air temp had warmed nicely. We encountered a half dozen more hikers getting a late start on their way up, likely overnighters.

In summary, this hike is hard, but that doesn’t make it a bad experience. Bald Rock, for example, is by itself well worth the effort. The views are stupendous. Perhaps just consider an up and back to there. If you are a really gung-ho super hiker, then go for the entire loop to Pinnacle Mountain, on to Panther Gap and Governor’s Rock, and then up to the summit of Table Rock, a total of about 12 miles with two major ascents. Y’know, I’ve only visited Table Rock in the winter so far. I think I need to plan a spring excursion.

I'd like to pass along a well deserved pat on the back for all the employees and volunteers of the SC Parks Dept. who have been working on repairs to the Table Rock trail system since the devastating wildfire and hurricane. The crews have done remarkable work restoring access to the trails. There's still a lot of work to do, but they earn huge kudos from me.

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.

This was the first trail I hiked in Great Smoky Mountains National Park. It was back in 2008 or so, well before I started this website. So I thought it must be time, nearly 10 years later, to do it again and tell you about it. Rich Mountain Loop is a combination of three trails: Rich Mountain Loop Trail, Indian Grave Gap Trail, and Crooked Arm Ridge Trail. Most people hike the loop clockwise, but the direction really doesn’t matter. It is no more difficult, or easy, whichever you choose. After circling the northeastern edge of Cades Cove for more than a mile, the trail takes a decidedly ascending path through heavy hardwood forest up and over Rich Mountain, finishing 8.5 miles later. I hiked the Rich Mountain Loop on Thursday, October 19, 2017 beginning at 11:00AM and ending about 4:15PM. My plan was to take Rich Mountain Loop Trail to Indian Grave Gap Trail, then on to Crooked Arm Ridge Trail for the descent back to Cades Cove.

On my way from North Carolina to Tennessee and on to Cades Cove, I made the traditional stops for a few morning pictures, Newfound Gap prime among them. The drive on Hwy 441 and then Little River Road rivals any other scenic byway throughout the country for sheer awesome beauty and charm. Mountain overlooks, rich forest, and seemingly never ending water sources are the heart of the Smokies, and the appeal that will always bring me back.

The first time I did this loop was really before I started hiking on a regular basis. I was still working at the time, didn’t get out much, and wasn’t in the best of condition. At that time, this hike was very hard. I may have set the world record for huffing and puffing. Thank goodness I did better this time. It’s still no piece of cake though.

Once I arrived at Cades Cove, it seemed half the state of Florida was there as well. I’m glad my plan wasn’t to hike one of the trails somewhere out along the loop road, like Abrams Falls, because the traffic was so thick that the park estimated three hours to complete the 11-mile loop. As I crossed through the traffic and started the Rich Mountain Loop I said to myself, “better thee than me.”

The first mile to mile-and-a-half of this hike winds around the fields of Cades Cove while paralleling the loop road. At times you can pop into one of the fields to check on how the road traffic is moving. It was a bottleneck on this day.

At the half mile mark you meet the junction with Crooked Arm Ridge Trail. Since I was going clockwise, I stayed on the Loop Trail, but this is where I would come out some five hours later.

The earliest settlers of Cades Cove lived along this edge of the forest, including John Oliver and his wife Luraney. They were the first, settling in 1818. At the 1.4 mile mark you reach their cabin, one that is quite well preserved by the park historical society. The Oliver’s survived in large part with gracious help from the Cherokee who lived nearby. The next 30 years saw the white population of Cades Cove explode to nearly 700 as the Cherokee were pushed from their ancestral homes.

Past the Oliver cabin the Loop Trail slowly begins its ascent of Rich Mountain as it follows Marthas Branch, named for the Oliver’s second daughter. When you cross the branch for the first time, the trail really begins to climb in earnest. You better take a deep breath, because for the next two miles you will be climbing.

The tread beneath you is broken rock, not the easiest of surfaces, remnants of a time eons ago when the African and North American tectonic plates collided forming the Great Smoky Fault. This is how the Great Smoky Mountains were thrust upward oh so long ago.

Wildflowers line the trail in spring, but I didn’t have that luxurious distraction. Nor were there any mushrooms or other fungus to capture my attention… not even any gold or crimson maples to encourage my progression. It was trudgery, putting one foot after the other, up… up… and up. I’m a downhill kinda guy, y’know? At least in winter you can get an occasional glimpse of Cades Cove through the forest.

There are six branch crossings in all, each of them nearly dry while I was there. There hasn’t been much rain in the Fall of 2017. It shows. These crossings may be of a bit more interest during the spring runoff.

At the 3.4 mile mark you [finally] reach the junction with Indian Grave Gap Trail. Oddly, there is pretty darn good cell phone reception at this meeting of trails, one of the very few points within all of the national park where that is so.

Better thee than me

The trail junction was a busy place too. There were a couple of other hikers there taking a break when I arrived. I stopped for lunch as they moved on, then another trio arrived about 10 minutes behind me. From that point I would only see four more hikers the rest of the day… oddly enough at another trail junction.

Indian Grave Gap Trail comes up from Rich Mountain Road, roughly a mile to the west. It is the next trail to continue the Rich Mountain Loop. You want to turn right at this junction. In fact, the best way to remember directions for this hike is to make the right turn at every junction until you get to the end.

You aren’t quite done with the climbing yet unfortunately, but the good news is the grade is more gradual from here. Indian Grave Gap Trail climbs about another 300 feet to the summit of Cerulean Knob.

Historians have been unable to determine the reason for the name of this trail, as there have been no Indian graves found. The Cherokee certainly were around here though. To the Cherokee the Smokies were, and still are, a sacred place.

As you climb through an enchanting forest of oak, maple, hickory and sourwood, look too for the brilliant orange of the flame azaleas in June. Indian Gave Gap Trail is a great place to enjoy these late spring/early summer beauties.

Eight tenths of a mile beyond the previous junction you will reach Rich Mountain Trail. I know this can be confusing. There is Rich Mountain Loop Trail, Rich Mountain Road, and Rich Mountain Trail. Just keep in mind what I said above, go right at each trail junction. In this case, stay on Indian Grave Gap Trail.

A quarter mile further is a spur trail on the left that goes to the summit of Cerulean Knob. There isn’t much to see, other than the foundation of a former fire tower. In winter, you can perhaps make out some of the valley below through the bare trees.

The final mile and a half of Indian Grave Gap Trail is the most interesting. As the trail roller coasters up and down, keep your eyes peeled on the left for occasional openings through the trees of Dry Valley and the community of Townsend, TN to the north. The rolling valley with vibrant, verdant farmland is quite vivid. How’s that? Four “v” words in the same sentence! It’s pretty too.

You are following the far northern boundary of the Smokies park along Indian Grave Gap Trail. Everything to your left is outside the park. As you near a small clearing, you are approaching the next major trail junction. Here, Indian Grave Gap Trail comes together with Scott Mountain Trail on the left, and Crooked Arm Ridge Trail on the right.

Interestingly, if you were to take Scott Mountain Trail you would end up at Schoolhouse Gap and a long-about means of accessing Whiteoak Sink. Also, backcountry campsite #6 is just 500 feet down the trail. However, for this hike remember the instructions, right at all trail junctions.

Dry Valley and Townsend from Indian Grave Gap Trail

Crooked Arm Ridge Trail begins an almost immediate descent, and remains that way throughout. Just a tenth of a mile down, look to your right for a nice view of Sparks Lane in Cades Cove. As you proceed, there are other views of Cades Cove as well. With its southern exposure, the afternoon was warming nicely. I even shed a layer as I descended Crooked Arm.

The forest is still quite alive with hickory, oak and maple, and in early spring look for flowering dogwood along this trail. Toward the bottom there is even quite a bit of hemlock. The woolly adelgid blight hasn’t found these yet. Let’s hope it remains that way.

Crooked Arm Ridge Trail is a popular equestrian path so much of the trail sits in a narrow trench. Still, it isn’t difficult to navigate. But you should watch your step so your boots don’t stink later.

As I neared the bottom and rounded a bend, standing right in the middle of the trail about 75 feet ahead was a young buck deer. I counted eight points on his developing rack, but he wasn’t very big at all. Perhaps I’ve been seeing too many elk lately. There is obviously no comparison in size. As he moved on into the forest, so too did I.

As the trail levels, it approaches Crooked Arm Branch. A 25 foot waterfall is just 0.2 mile from the end of this trail, but there was nothing happening there on the mostly dry creek. Look for this falls to be of interest during spring runoff, or following a heavy rain.

At the end, Crooked Arm runs back into Rich Mountain Loop Trail, and for the only time on this hike you now make a left turn to return to the beginning at the entrance to Cades Cove. On the half mile walk back to my car, I checked out the traffic situation on the Loop Road. Thankfully, now there was only the occasional vehicle passing by. Good! I would be able to go on an evening adventure.

I was staying at Cades Cove Campground for the night, so I checked in there, grabbed a snack, and headed for Sparks Lane to catch the late afternoon/early evening ambience of the Cove. There really isn’t much more beautiful than the golden glow across the cove as the evening light bathes the open meadows. I have a favorite spot at the LeQuire tree where I like to wait for the sunset. It’s a wonderful way to finish a day at Cades Cove.

Enjoy the photos!

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

This marvelous example of Rocky Mountain vistas starts, oddly enough, directly beside Interstate-70 at Colorado’s 10,585′ Vail Pass. The trail winds through forest and meadow, then climbs steeply above treeline to Uneva Ridge, 1,500 feet above. Along the way you will enjoy breathtaking views of four distinct mountain ranges as you pass into Eagles Nest Wilderness, and experience the high mountain air. If you still have some energy left, you can continue to either Uneva Pass, or Uneva Peak, another solid 500 feet higher. Regardless of your turnaround point, expect a good workout, and great fun. My brother Dave and I climbed to Uneva Ridge on Friday, July 14, 2017 beginning at 6:45AM and ending about 1:45PM. Our plan was to hike to the summit of Uneva Peak, but with me still acclimating to the 12,000 foot elevation, we stopped at Uneva Ridge.

This unnamed trail dives into a pine and fir forest and begins climbing for the first quarter mile until it spills into a vast, wide-open valley that runs for miles between the interstate and Uneva Ridge. Look for herding wildlife to be grazing here in early morning and late evening. The trail in White River National Forest is also used by cross country skiers in winter as evidenced by the blue blaze marks high up on trees.

Once in the open, the double-track trail parallels the meadow for close to a mile. There is an oddity here: tree stumps that stand anywhere from four to eight feet high. We wondered if this area was logged decades ago, and they just happened to cut the trees when there was quite a bit of snow on the ground, resulting in the tall stumps. Vail Pass certainly gets a lot of snow.

It isn’t particularly quiet here, as you’re still in close proximity to I-70. Don’t worry though, that will improve as you continue. Behind you, to the south, are the imposing Jacque, Atlantic and Pacific peaks. Still covered with a large amount of snow in July, I had to get a closer look. I put the telephoto lens on my camera for a series of shots of these impressive pinnacles.

We discovered a wealth of wildflowers along the pathway, including multi-colors of indian paintbrush, large swaths of bluebells, robins plantain, giant dandelion, and the aptly-named elephant heads. This somewhat goofy, tall purple flower has multiple florets per stem that mimic the appearance of an elephant’s trunk and floppy ears. I was fascinated by these every time we happened upon a cluster.

The light is stunning just a couple hours past dawn as it peeks above the mountain ridges and through the boughs of the fir trees. They call it the golden hour. Another feature of early morning is the gradual warming of the air. It was 44°F when we started, even in mid-July. As we approached Corral Creek winding through the picturesque valley, there was a mist rising slowly from the stream bed, likely to return as rain later in the day in another valley not far away.

After a mile or so in this luscious meadow valley, the trail once again enters the evergreen forest and begins its serious ascent. Look for large bushy arrays of bluebells here. I’ve never seen so many in one place. The noise of the interstate begins to dissipate and the songbirds become more evident.

At the end of a steep rise, the trail pops once more into the wide open as you enter the boundary for Eagles Nest Wilderness. On your right is a talus field, breakdown from glacial activity millennia ago. If you look very closely, you will discover the rocks here are home to collections of Colorado’s state flower, the beautiful columbine.

Columbine or aquilegia grow annually in the high country of the Rocky Mountains and are known for their stunning colorings and spurred petals.

Beyond the talus slope you will see Corral Creek descending from the snow fields above. Lined with blackfoot daisies, it is quite the floral scene. As you cross the creek, look to your left (west) for the first view of the Sawatch Range and the giant Mt. of the Holy Cross, one of Colorado’s famous 14ers. We took our first break here, pausing for a timelapse video, a snack and a breather.

The exertion begins in earnest now. As you climb the drainage from Corral Creek, you are above treeline and headed into a large bowl below the shoulders of the Uneva Ridge. Topping the rim of the bowl, you’ll see it is still filled with large snow fields. We managed to wind our way around the snow, avoiding the likelihood of post-holing through the melting white stuff.

You pass through a willow thicket, and then the trail simply disappears. From here on you’re crossing alpine tundra on one large grassy mountain meadow. Small wildflowers dot the surface of the rounded, rolling ridge. The terrain is steep, very steep. We created our own switchbacks by walking in a zigzag pattern up the expansive ridge.

With this being my first hike on this visit to Colorado, and also the first hike after an unplanned ER visit caused by a previously unknown adult-onset allergic reaction to cashew nuts, I tired very quickly. It became apparent to me that our goal of reaching Uneva Peak would be, shall we say, unreachable. I managed to press forward to the crest of the ridge, but that was it for me.

This point was still quite rewarding. We could see the spiked peaks of the Gore Range to the north and the Tenmile Range and Uneva Pass to the south. To the west is an even better view of Mt. of the Holy Cross and the Sawatch Range, and to the east are even more tall summits of the Front Range. We stayed here for half an hour, eating lunch and taking a few selfies, including the one at the top of this post. We could see the tiny silhouette of the alpine jogger who had passed us earlier now at the summit of striking Uneva Peak.

The wind began to freshen, and the clouds were moving faster as the morning approached afternoon. There’s a saying in Colorado that is a very good rule of thumb for summer safety. “Be off the mountain by noon.” It was time to heed that advice as the thunderstorms come fast and furious to the Rockies in summer.

Descending the tundra was so much easier than was the ascent, and a lot quicker too. Thank goodness my knees aren’t bothering me yet like with so many hikers, so I much prefer the down to the up. The sun was playing peek-a-boo as the clouds thickened. There were even more wildflowers out now that the morning chill was gone and the warmth of the sun opened the blossoms.

We stopped a couple of times for brief breaks along the way, but mostly the return trip was uneventful. As we got within a mile of the trailhead we could once again hear the drone of the interstate, signalling our return to civilization. It is hard to go from wilderness to commotion in just a matter of minutes.

Summarizing, people who live in Colorado and hike regularly would probably call this a moderate hike to 12,522′ Uneva Peak. It is an 8-mile round trip with just over 2,000 feet of elevation gain. I can do that too, at home, 6,000 feet lower. But the first day out after being sick, this one wore me out at the 6-mile and 1,500′ mark. Still, I thoroughly enjoyed the forest and the wildflowers, and especially the vistas in every direction. Access is quite convenient. This was a good one.

Thanks to Dave for the video summary above.

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.

Baxter Creek Trail has a well-earned reputation as one of the hardest hikes in all of Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Starting at the Big Creek picnic area near Waterville, NC it climbs more than 4,000 feet over 6.2 miles, roughly 700 feet/mile. That will get your attention. Look for stunning forest scenes, waterways that keep the forest green, seasonal wildflowers, and sweeping vistas from the summit of 5,842′ Mt. Sterling. Take plenty of food and water, and energy, because you will definitely need it. But also take your time and enjoy the backcountry. Ken and I tackled Baxter Creek on Tuesday, June 6, 2017 beginning at 7:45AM and ending about 1:00PM. My plan was to go until I was tired, then turn around. Ken had plans to make it all the way to the top and back.

Five years ago I wouldn’t have given a second thought to hiking all the way to the fire tower on the summit of Mt. Sterling. I was five years younger and hadn’t yet experienced energy-sapping hypothyroid. I am also admittedly not quite as eager to remain in shape as I was then (yes, a bit lazy in my old age), plus carrying an extra 15 pounds today as a result. So when I finally decided that I wanted to see what Baxter Creek Trail was all about, I went with the intention of not exhausting myself… of just doing what I could do and enjoying the experience.

I took it nice and easy from the start, conserving energy along the way. I stopped frequently for pictures (as you will see in the gallery below). Whenever I spotted a comfortable rock to sit on, I availed myself of the opportunity to catch a breather. Ken, on the other hand, is still in top hiking condition. He decided after the first 15 minutes that he wanted to go for the top, so that’s the last I saw of him for the next five hours.

Baxter Creek Trail starts with an iron foot bridge across Big Creek in the heart of the picnic tables found at the end of Big Creek Rd. The bridge offers a picturesque view of Big Creek in each direction, and it was particularly inviting early in the morning.

Like a great deal of the Smokies, lumber companies tried to work these mountains in the early 20th century, but the steepness and rugged nature of the terrain made it difficult to get their harvest out. So they left quite a bit of the forest intact. What is great about that for you and me are the groves of old growth that still remain, giving us an idea of what the undisturbed environment looked like a hundred years ago.

As you begin the hike on the east side of Big Creek, the first half mile is relatively flat, the only part of this trail that is. It follows Big Creek southward with a rocky, moss-covered escarpment to your left. This part is loaded with wildflowers in April and May, most of them clinging to foot holds on the cliff face.

After a half mile the trail makes a subtle turn to the southeast and begins a gradual incline. You enter an absolutely stunning forest of tulip poplar and beech. I was in awe. The trail through this remarkable woodland is straight as an arrow. At times, you can see hundreds of feet ahead. Click the photo at the top of this post for an example. See Ken way up in the distance?

As I cleared this area there was quite a bit of blow down from recent heavy wind storms that have plagued the national park for the last month. The National Park Service, however, is always johnnie-on-the-spot. There was a crew out before I got back down clearing away the worst of the fallen treetops from the trail. The NPS workers are special.

Soon you reach the level of the cliff top and the forest becomes more diverse. In addition to very large tulip trees you will also find hickory, maple, dogwood and hemlock. Some of the hemlocks are still thriving, but many have unfortunately succumbed to the woolly adelgid blight that has ravaged the Smokies. Because I was now away from the roar of Big Creek, I also happened to notice a delightful cacophony of songbirds filling the timberland.

The pathway through the lower forest is remarkably straight at times.

As I spent more time studying the ground at my feet, and alongside the trail, I noticed there were a lot of snails and centipedes enjoying their woodland home as much as I was. It’s funny how when you take your time and don’t hurry by, just how many of the micro sized things you notice. There are tiny plants and mushrooms, spiders and other crawly creatures, and lots and lots of moss and lichens. I imagined that I was having an entirely different hike than was Ken, far ahead.

Look for a spur trail on the right that goes about three-tenths of a mile to an old homestead. All that remains today is a stone chimney on the bank of the creek and a few rusty artifacts, but I suspect it was a beautiful place to live a century ago. Soon after there is an amazing patch of ground pine lining both sides of the trail, and along with a variety of ferns, filling the forest understory.

Soon you will get your first introduction to one of the branches of Baxter Creek, the namesake drainage for this trail. This is absolutely nothing like the appropriately named Big Creek. Think small, babbling brook. But you will begin to hear it a few hundred yards before you arrive.

You rock hop across the creek and immediately begin a much steeper climb. Steel yourself, because it is now steeper the whole rest of the way. The trail now also gets rockier and more rooty, narrower and occasionally infringed by growing plants. So in addition to the extra exertion, there are also now more hazards.

The good news is there are also occasional brief glimpses through the trees of the surrounding Smoky Mountains. On this day, the early morning mist was still trying to rise from the valley floors creating a mysterious scene as I wondered if there was anyone out hiking way over there.

The landscape becomes a field of boulders, each with its own micro garden of ferns, lichens, moss and sedum. I was fascinated by the many little botanical displays that kept my camera busy.

After a second rock hop of another branch of Baxter Creek, there is another opening in the trees. When the leaves are down you can see Mt. Cammerer from here, and even the power plant at Waterville. The trail also makes a couple of long, sweeping switchbacks, turning first due west, and then back to the southeast.

I encountered dozens of these little guys throughout my trip up the Baxter Creek watershed.

You will pass through the first of several rhododendron tunnels, then reach another massive cliff at the two mile mark. A few of the rosebay rhodies were already in bloom here and Ken told me later that the catawbas were in bloom up above 5,000 feet. Speaking of wildflowers, at the time of our hike in early June, the wild hydrangeas were in full bloom, as were the galax racemes. I even noticed some whorled loosestrife, a new flower for me.

Look for another rhodo tunnel on the other side of the cliff as well as a few Fraser magnolias. You will hit another quite steep stretch, then enter another rhodo canopy. You can tell this used to be chestnut country as a couple of old snags still sit right along the side of the trail.

As you continue to rise higher and higher above the cliff and leave the rhododendron thickets behind, the trail becomes more relentless as the forest becomes denser and denser. The occasional rocks to sit on are fewer and farther between. I was beginning to get fatigued. I was hoping for perhaps an overlook, or a clearing with a nice log to sit on for a rest. Not to be though.

On and on I went, intrepidly forward. Step by step, foot by foot, pausing occasionally for a picture or a big breath of thinning air. I was now more than 2,000 feet above the trailhead. I began to notice the first spruce trees, always a sign that you’re getting to a pretty high elevation.

Speaking of spruce, here’s an interesting bit of botanical information: Do you know how to tell a spruce from a fir or from a hemlock? Well, grab one of the boughs. Spruce needles are sharp enough to prick your fingers, whereas hemlock and fir have a softer feel. Here’s another way: roll a needle between your thumb and forefinger. Square spruce needles roll easily, while the flat fir and hemlock needles won’t.

Ok, back to hiking… or in my case, deciding that it was time to turn around. I had enough of the up for one day. Time to look at my GPS tracker. It said I was 3 hours 15 minutes into the hike, had gone 3.7 miles and had climbed almost 2,200 feet. As I doubled all of that in my head, I thought that would do. Much farther and I would be really tired by the time I got back down to the bottom.

However, let me take a moment to tell you what is left if you want to go the last 2.5 miles and another 2,000 feet up to the summit of Mt. Sterling as Ken did. At four miles and beyond you pass through another boulder field and another series of switchbacks. You then enter a mostly spruce and fir forest beyond five miles, eventually reaching the ridge top. At 5.9 miles is a spur trail to a spring. This water supply is handy for those who camp at backcountry site #38 on the summit.

The last quarter mile is along the ridge to a fairly large grassy area at the top. In addition to about a dozen campsites, there is an old CCC 60′ fire tower. You can climb the tower, but it is becoming more and more rickety with age. Ken said a crew was up there replacing the electrical system with solar panels, a move that will improve the overall ambience.

You can learn more about the summit of Mt. Sterling here, my previous report for a different trail that reaches its peak. The views are incredible in every direction. You can see many of the famous Smokies landmarks that you have visited on the myriad of trails.

You also have the option of continuing on the Mt. Sterling Ridge Trail to its meeting with Swallow Fork Trail and Walnut Bottom, an alternate means of getting you back to the start at Big Creek. Be forewarned though, that it is quite long and arduous.

Obviously, my return and Ken’s return were different. He had quite a bit farther to descend than did I. So I continued to take my time, giving him a chance to catch up. Still, the descent for me took only two hours. Ken must have really been moving though, because he rejoined me at the picnic area just 45 minutes after I finished.

When all was said and done, when I turned around, I felt like I still had enough energy left to climb the rest of the way to the top of Mt. Sterling. Getting back down, though, would have been the problem. For me anyway, it’s a long, hard day hike. If you like to camp… so much easier. Or, you can consider a shuttle hike that goes up the Mt. Sterling Trail, then down Baxter Creek.

Summarizing, if you do the 12+ mile round trip, Baxter Creek is indeed one of the more difficult trails in the Smokies. It isn’t the length, necessarily, that will get you. It’s that 4,200 feet of up, and then back down. Consider that when you are planning this adventure. You have many options. Reserve a site at backcountry #38 and make it a two day trip, or, just enjoy a part of Baxter Creek Trail like I did. Having already been to Mt. Sterling, and knowing what that was all about, I still had a great time on the 7.5 mile circuit of Baxter Creek that I did.

Update March 29, 2019: I made another trip to Baxter Creek Trail, primarily to check out the blossoming spring ephemerals. The reputation for a wide variety of wildflowers did not disappoint as you will see from the new gallery below. If you’re looking for a low elevation flowering spot in the Smokies for late March to early April, keep Baxter Creek Trail in mind.

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.

Yellowstone Prong has some of the most rugged terrain in all of the Pisgah Ranger District. Paralleling the Blue Ridge Parkway from Looking Glass Rock Overlook at milepost 417, and climbing the drainage from Skinny Dip Falls to Yellowstone Falls, this hike in, along, and above Yellowstone Prong may be the most challenging mile I have undertaken. You will scramble over car-size boulders in the prong. You will whack your way through rhododendron thickets and climb over massive hemlock and oak deadfall. Best of all, you will enjoy incredible beauty in the midst of the gorge carved by Yellowstone Prong. Ken and I tackled this one Tuesday, April 11, 2017 beginning at 9:15AM and ending about 1:45PM. Our plan was to climb the Yellowstone Prong drainage from Skinny Dip Falls to Yellowstone Falls. We made it about 90% of the way, but saved the rest for another adventure.

Start this hike directly across the road from the Looking Glass Rock Overlook at milepost 417 on the Blue Ridge Parkway. Look for the stone marker with the white blaze mark of the Mountains to Sea Trail. For the first half mile you will follow the MST down into the drainage passing groves of beech trees, hillsides of galax, and a couple of branch crossings along the way. The trail descends about a hundred feet. Keep that in mind. You will have to climb back up when you return.

The U.S. Forest Service has done a lot of work along this section of the trail to improve erosion problems. This short walk to Skinny Dip Falls is extremely popular with the teenagers during warm summer months, and you will undoubtedly notice the many social trails that lead to overnight camping spots. When you reach a wooden stairway at Skinny Dip Falls you have entered Yellowstone Prong.

You may wonder, “what is a prong?” You’ve heard of river, stream, creek, brook, branch, fork. A prong is simply the branch of a stream. In this part of Pisgah National Forest and Shining Rock Wilderness you are in Little Pigeon River country. Because the water tumbles thousands of feet from the myriad sixers that dominate the area, it flows every which way, wherever it can find the quickest way to the bottom. Many of these branches or forks are known as prongs in the Southern Appalachian Mountains.

Cross the wooden foot bridge across Yellowstone Prong just below Skinny Dip Falls. You are now on your own. There are no trail markers to guide you. Head upstream, staying near the water and look for a social trail that heads west up the drainage. It’s not hard to find near the falls, but the farther up the drainage you go, the more a defined trail becomes obscure.

Not far beyond Skinny Dip Falls the forest is carpeted with ephemeral wildflowers in April including spring beauties, trout lilies, various species of violet, bluets, and sedge. Also look for mostly oak, pine and hemlock trees, with an occasional dogwood thrown in for springtime beauty. As you will soon discover, the rhododendron is also everywhere. By the time you have finished this hike you will have a love-hate relationship with rhododendron.

For the first quarter mile, the social trail stays fairly close to the prong and is not too tough to negotiate. As you continue upstream the prong gets rockier and the gorge walls steeper. We encountered a fly fisherman, obviously in fishing nirvana in this stream known for native brook trout.

You must decide whether to proceed in the prong by scrambling over and around the boulders, or to climb higher up the bank hoping for a dry egress. We chose the latter, changing our mind a half hour later.

Should we go this way, or fight with the rhododendron on the bank?

The social trail seemed to continue up the bank, away from the prong, at least for awhile. It kept going higher, and kept going higher, and then just for good measure it kept going higher. We became stymied from proceeding westward by rhododendron thickets and deadfall. So we kept going higher, hoping for a passage through or around the forest debris. After 30 minutes of searching and continually climbing the ever steeper grade, we were tired, and decided to give the boulder field on the prong a go.

So back down, down, down we went all the while cursing ourselves for thinking this would be the best choice. When we got back to the prong, we paused for a breather and to survey the best approach for crossing the boulders. Reminding each other that boulder scrambling is a great way to turn an ankle, or worse, we began the ascent step by careful step.

Some minutes later we topped the terrace and popped out on a stunning view of a multi-tiered cascade plunging through another massive boulder field. We wondered aloud if this was perhaps Yellowstone Falls. Regardless, it was time for lunch. We found a perfect large, flat boulder to sit on right at the base of a 25 foot cascade. What a wonderful day. The weather was ideal… Carolina blue sky with puffy white clouds and a light breeze generated by the moving water.

The water itself was as refreshing as you can imagine as we each splashed our face with cupped hands. The sights and the sounds were inspiring. This is wilderness at its best. The fisherman we had seen earlier was now high above us standing on a rocky perch casting about into the hidden pools. Apparently he had continued up the prong when we had made the dubious decision to climb the hillside.

By the time we finished lunch, he had descended the cascades and now joined us in tales of adventure. We asked what was up higher around the bend and he said Yellowstone Falls was there, just beyond sight, about another 300 feet above. So, we were not sitting at the base of Yellowstone Falls. Darn.

After chatting with the fisherman for 20 minutes or so, Ken and I queried each other with our eyes about whether we still had it in us to do another boulder field climb. Had it not been for the needless excursion on dry land, perhaps we would have gone for it. As it was, we were already quite fatigued, and decided to save the rest for another day.

Wishing the fisherman adieu, we began our descent back through the boulder field we had previously climbed. Believe me when I tell you it is no easier going downhill. You have to be aware and alert of every step, placing your next one on an even surface where you are not likely to slip.

We reached a point where we could see the social trail on the north bank of the prong, so we scrambled up the side and back onto dry land. Even more wildflowers had popped out in the couple hours since we last passed through. It was delightful.

By the time we got back to Skinny Dip Falls, the crowd had arrived. There were probably two dozen folks there enjoying the cool refreshing mountain water on this exquisite April day. We paused at the top of the wooden stairway for a break, knowing we had that hundred foot climb remaining to get back to the Blue Ridge Parkway. I was huffing and puffing when we finished.

In summary, this is an adventure that is not for everyone. Do not try this one alone! It is too easy to get hurt, and then there would be no one to go for help. This is likely the most difficult 2-mile round trip I have ever tried. It took us four and a half hours to hike just two miles because of all the resting we had to do. The rugged nature of the prong will sap all of your energy. So stay hydrated… stay nourished… and stay safe.

Updated September 20, 2017

After getting a taste of Yellowstone Prong in spring, I was determined to make it to Yellowstone Falls. This time Ken and I decided to tackle this wilderness from the top down, starting at Graveyard Fields at milepost 419 on the Blue Ridge Parkway.

As you will see from the new photo gallery below, it was a gorgeous day in the high country. Fall was in its earliest stages of coloring the mountains and creeks. Should be a great day, right?

To make a 2.5 hour story short, we each returned a dirty, bloodied mess. There are scattered “volunteer” trails below Lower Falls at Graveyard Fields that will lead you to an area of the gorge near Yellowstone Falls. I eventually made it to the Yellowstone Falls basin. However, I’m not going to tell the story because I really don’t want to encourage others. This area really isn’t safe. You’re a lot better off coming up the drainage from below.

I will include the GPS track map I created so you can get the coordinates, but this is one you probably want to skip. Anyway, enjoy the pictures. Feel free to leave your comments below.

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

The Shut-in Ridge Trail and the Mountains to Sea Trail are one as they traverse the Blue Ridge from the North Carolina Arboretum to Mt. Pisgah. Along the way, there are several jumping on and off points where you can access this trail from the Blue Ridge Parkway, enabling short day hikes. One of these short sub-sections is along Bent Creek Gap Road at BRP milepost 400. From there it’s a steep climb of 1.4 miles to an old fire tower location on Ferrin Knob. Ken and I visited this little corner of the Blue Ridge Parkway on Tuesday, February 14, 2017 beginning at 9:30AM and ending about 11:45AM. Our plan was to take Shut-in Ridge Trail from Bent Creek Gap Road to Ferrin Knob, then return.

I had been to this section of the Mountains to Sea Trail once before, many years prior, when popping onto the Blue Ridge Parkway from the Bad Fork Trail. That hike came up from below in North Mills River. This time we chose to start on the Parkway since there was plenty of climb ahead of us on Shut-in Ridge.

The Shut-In Ridge Trail is part of Pisgah National Forest history dating all the way back to the George W. Vanderbilt days. Originally, around 1890, this passage was created by Vanderbilt to link his Biltmore Estate home with his hunting lodge at Buck Spring near the current Pisgah Inn and Mt. Pisgah trailhead.

While many think of this trail as following the Blue Ridge Parkway, it’s actually the other way around, since the parkway wasn’t built until the 1930’s. Since it does parallel the parkway (as does much of the Mountains to Sea Trail in the mountains), it has certain benefits, not the least of which is you’re never very far from help, or changing your mind.

The full length of Shut-in Ridge Trail follows the series of ridges from the French Broad River and NC Arboretum (BRP mile marker 393) at about 2,000 ft. elevation, to the Pisgah Inn (BRP mile marker 408), more than 5,000 ft. high. This particular section from Bent Creek Gap Road to Ferrin Knob climbs from 3,200 ft. to just above 4,000 at Ferrin Knob.

The trailhead is essentially under the Blue Ridge Parkway at Bent Creek Gap. Forest roads 5000 from North Mills River and 479 from the Bent Creek area of Asheville meet under the BRP at parkway milepost 400.3. Head east and down to go to Cold Knob or head west and up for this hike to Ferrin Knob.

After a hundred yards you turn right onto the main Shut-in Ridge Trail. It is apparent from the width of this trail that it was once a thoroughfare for those heading for the top of the ridge at Mt. Pisgah. The trail is surrounded by hardwood forest, not particularly attractive in the dead of winter. As you will see from the photos below, everything is just brown.

For the most part the trail is a long, straight incline. Climbing at a rate of nearly 600 feet per mile, it will test your lungs, legs and hips. I paused every couple hundred yards or so for a 20 second breather. In winter, with the leaves down, you can see downtown Asheville off to the north as you get higher up the ridge.

Asheville through the trees

At about 3,600 feet elevation there is finally a bit of green as the occasional mountain laurel lines the trail. Look for the beautiful pink and white blossoms here in mid-May. The trail also becomes quite rocky as it passes area of shale bedrock that have eroded over the decades. Some of the descent through this area upon return was a little dicey because of all the rocks.

At the one mile mark you reach a short, hundred yard stretch of level path followed by a trail sign pointing to the left, and up. This is a sharp change of direction. You can see the trail climbing the ridge and realize you are in for more heavy breathing. We paused here for a moment to steel ourselves for the exertion, then plowed up the hill.

Following 5-8 minutes of hard climbing, there is a switchback to the right as you join the ridge line to the summit of Ferrin Knob. There is a little more green in the forest here, even some grass in the understory. The pitch of the climb eases from the unrelenting grade to one more conducive to actually feeling air in your lungs.

It’s just another tenth mile to the summit of Ferrin Knob and the site of an old Depression-era fire tower. The Ferrin Knob tower is no longer in use but the foundation footings are still visible. Fire towers in the area were built in the 1930’s, this one in 1933, but they became obsolete as roads were built and advanced technology enabled wildfire detection without use of these remote fire towers.

We each pulled up one of the concrete footings as a seat and enjoyed lunch. The Civilian Conservation Corps guys who poured these footings apparently wanted to be remembered, as there were many names and dates carved into what was then wet cement. The one I sat on not only read 1933, but it also even had my birthday inscribed. What a coincidence.

We stayed for about 20-30 minutes talking about what it must have been like then, as we often do. There isn’t really much to see from Ferrin Knob as it is surrounded by trees, however we could make out the TV tower on top of Mt. Pisgah off to the southwest. If you continue west on Shut-in Trail, it immediately descends the other side of Ferrin Knob. We weren’t really up for going down just to climb back up again, so we headed back the way we came.

It was warming nicely now and we both shed a layer. This truly has been a very mild winter of 2017 in the Southern Appalachians. Not really anything more to observe on the way back down, other than just to remind you to be careful on the rocky trail. Don’t want to turn an ankle, or worse. What we did notice, though, were several of the smaller trees showing the first signs of buds like the one in the picture at the top of this post.

Summarizing, this hike was somewhat disappointing, though that’s certainly not the fault of the trail. We just picked the wrong time of the year to go. In February there was no color to speak of, obviously no wildflowers. Even with the leaves down the views of the surrounding Blue Ridge are mostly muted. There are no creeks to see. Consider this hike positive as a very good workout, but you may want to wait until the green season to tackle this one.

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.

Valles Caldera is a 13.7-mile wide volcanic bowl in the Jemez Mountains of northern New Mexico near Los Alamos. About 1.25 million years ago, a spectacular volcanic eruption created this circular depression now known as the Valles Caldera. The Valles Caldera Preservation Act of 2000, signed by President Clinton, created the National Preserve. The preserve is known for its huge mountain meadows, abundant wildlife, and meandering streams. The area also preserves the homeland of ancestral native peoples and embraces a rich ranching history. The good news for all of us is the abundance of hiking trails in the preserve. My brother Dave and I took VC Trail 12 on Monday, October 4, 2016 beginning at 10:30AM and ending about 2:45PM. Our plan was to climb to the crest of the Cerro de la Garita ridge from the valley floor. Unfortunately, we didn’t quite make it all the way.

Use of Valles Caldera dates back to prehistoric times: spear points age tested to 11,000 years ago have been discovered. Several Native American tribes frequented the caldera, often seasonally for hunting. Eventually, Spanish and later Mexican settlers as well as the Navajo and other tribes came to the caldera for grazing.

Later as the United States acquired New Mexico as part of the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo in 1848, the caldera became the backdrop for the Indian wars with the U.S Army. Around the same time, the commercial use of the caldera for ranching, and its forest for logging began.

The caldera became part of the Baca Ranch in 1876. The Bacas were a wealthy family given the land as compensation for the termination of a grant given to their family near Las Vegas, in northeastern New Mexico. It traded hands several more times over the next century, before finally being sold to the U.S. Government by the Dunigan family to become the Preserve that exists today.

In July 2011, the Las Conchas Fire started by a power line on nearby private land, burned 30,000 acres within the Preserve. The wildfire burned a total of 158,000 acres in the Jemez Mountains, including most of neighboring Bandelier National Monument. Scars from this disaster are still quite visible throughout the area.

About two miles after you enter the Preserve on a dirt road you reach the Visitor Center. You must stop here to obtain a backcountry permit to continue on the road into the heart of the Preserve. Only 35 permits are issued each day, preventing overcrowding and offering a sense of wilderness and serenity. So you may want to arrive soon after their 8:00 AM opening time.

Once you have the permit in hand, you are welcome throughout the backcountry. The preserve road splits the largest of the open meadows known as Valle Grande. Keep your eyes peeled for wildlife as you wind from meadow to forest and back. We saw probably two dozen elk and a lone coyote as we made our way deep into the caldera. There are still several cabins located along the road, tributes to the 19th and 20th century homesteaders who lived here.

As you drive through the backcountry you pass valles (valleys) (pronounced va-yay) and cerros (hills) (pronounced sare-oh). The valles are massive and the cerros dominate the landscape. We were in luck arriving in early October as the aspen groves in the forests were dutifully displaying their golden autumnal glow, particulary on Cerro San Luis and Cerro Seco.

San Antonio Creek and Cerro Seco as seen from the backcountry homestead.

Before even looking for the trailhead that the ranger at the Visitor Center had helped us choose, we drove to both ends of the backcountry road simply to see what everything looks like. The northern reaches of the Preserve are especially appealing to anglers. There are several creeks and streams that flow down from the cerros.

With the assistance of the ranger, we chose trail 12 for our hike because it was about the right length (8 miles), had not too much elevation gain, but enough for a workout (1,800 feet), and because there is a promise of a grand vista once you reach the top.

There was just one problem. Dave and I were both sick. We started feeling poorly a couple days prior as we were working our way south from central Colorado into northern New Mexico. We both had sore throats, sinus congestion, coughing and wheezing. We would soon find out how it would affect our stamina.

The first mile of trail 12 is almost flat and treeless, passing through the northeastern reaches of Valle San Antonio. About the same time the trail enters a pine forest, it also begins a nonstop climb to the crest of Cerro de la Garita. It’s a fairly steep grade, climbing at 600 feet per mile on average.

It didn’t take too long for me to notice the congestion in my chest was contributing to labored breathing. Besides being nearly 10,000 feet elevation, the exertion was taking a toll on my lungs. But I soldiered on, and on, and on.

Evidence of the 2011 fire can be seen on both sides of the trail with some completely burned out groves, and others that only had a handful of trees impacted. It definitely changes the appearance of the forest.

We didn’t see anymore elk on the hike portion of our day, but we did see cows, including two that were grazing on the trail just ahead of us. Fortunately, they moved on as we continued to approach. It became apparent that some ranchers must still have grazing rights with the Valles Caldera Preserve.

The last mile is the steepest of all. By now I was really laboring. We reached a saddle just a half mile below the crest and I simply couldn’t go any farther. My breathing was really affected by the altitude and the sickness. So I took my pack off and used it as a pillow as I laid down for several minutes to rest. I ate a snack for some energy while Dave climbed farther up the grassy hill to survey the vista.

This is what Dave saw from the grassy hillside. Valle Grande is far below and the Pajarita ski area is in the distance. You can see me sprawled on the ground down below.

After about 15 minutes of rest, I was able to go far enough to see the same vista that Dave could, but I still didn’t have it in me to go all the way to the summit. I hate to leave hikes unfinished, but I just didn’t have the energy left to do anymore climbing. When you’re planning a vacation you never even consider that you might get sick.

Fortunately, the descent was uneventful. Since I didn’t have to breathe as hard, it was a whole lot easier on the lungs. Nor did I stumble any because of fatigue. We paused occasionally just for rest, and to eat some more food, and were back to the car within about 90 minutes… a lot quicker than the ascent.

Before heading back to the Visitor Center, we walked about a half mile up trail 13 just to see what was there. It follows Rito de los Indios in Valle Toledo, but all of the forest that we observed was burned. It probably used to be a lot more scenic than it is now.

It took us a little less than an hour to drive back on backcountry road 2 to the Visitor Center. Since they only allow 35 permits per day, they want to know when you leave. As we checked out, we thanked the fine folks at Valles Caldera for their wonderful hospitality.

Summarizing Valles Caldera, it is amazing how large this super-volcano is. It’s no wonder you still find volcanic rock scattered all over northern New Mexico more than a million years later. When it blew its top you could probably feel it and hear it on the other side of the world. It explains why there is so much volcanic rock in the Rio Grande del Norte Gorge 50 miles away.

The meadows and hills of Valles Caldera are beautiful, and there is plenty to see and do. Because of the very large open meadows, the wind tends to blow constantly, so you probably want to bring a jacket… even in summer. There are some hikes that are even harder than the one we did, but most are no more than moderate excursions. If you lived nearby, you could spend an entire season checking out all the available trails. If you happen to be in northern New Mexico, be sure to treat yourself to Valles Caldera.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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