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.

Missouri Lakes Basin in the Holy Cross Wilderness is one of the most beautiful areas in Colorado for hiking and camping that I have experienced. It is an area of lakes and streams filled with trout and large glacial boulders, surrounded by lush forest and tundra, and the gnarly cliffs of the Sawatch Range in the Holy Cross Wilderness. There is some of just about every type of scenery for all hikers to enjoy. The trailhead starts at 10,050 feet and climbs gradually to nearly 12,000 in four miles. This is a popular area as you can imagine, so it is best to avoid weekends. This hike occurred on Wednesday, July 27, 2011 from 7:15am to about 3:00pm. Our plan was to take the Missouri Lakes Trail from the trailhead along Forest Road 704, and visit four lakes contained within the Missouri Lakes Basin. We would return along the same trail.

My brother and I started early in Vail. There’s a good bit of driving on dirt forest road to get to the Missouri Lakes trailhead, about 11 miles total. The Homestake Road (FR703) turns off Hwy 24 between Minturn and Leadville and travels 8 miles into the backcountry where it meets FR704, and another three miles to the trail. We had to stop about 1/2 mile short of the normal trailhead because the forest road was washed out. It was crisp and cool at 10,000 feet, and foggy, something you don’t see all that often in the Rocky Mountains. I’m quite used to morning fog in the Blue Ridge Mountains — not so much in the Rockies. It made a nice touch hovering among the tall spruce.

Back in the 1960s, Aurora and Colorado Springs won the rights to divert water from the Holy Cross Wilderness. You will know you are in the right place when you notice the diversion dams and massive water pipes alongside the trail for the first 10 minutes or so. Don’t fret however. It doesn’t last long. As the trail starts uphill, there is a very nice, small waterfall along Missouri Creek and the real scenery begins in earnest. Just past a mile, a bridge crosses Missouri Creek at the mouth of a small canyon, creating a roar of rushing water that drowns out all other sound. The trail follows this plunge of the creek for several minutes. There are a few spots where passage is a bit dangerous. Be careful not to slip into the creek.

The trail winds through stands of spruce and fir and crosses the creek several more times. One was especially dicey as there were about 10 saplings laid across the creek to form a makeshift bridge. There was a lump in my throat as I crossed, and a big gulp as I safely reached the other side. At about 10,800 feet we began to clear the treeline and could see the towering cliffs of the Sawatch Range that surrounded us on three sides. In particular, the 13,139 foot Savage Peak dominated the view to the west. It would remain in sight, watching over us, for the remainder of the day. We reached a lush meadow, and there were streams and small ponds everywhere. It is easy to see why the growing cities want this water. Let’s hope the state of Colorado will do the right thing and leave this wilderness pristine for future generations. The sight is simply beautiful.

There is another short, steep climb up to the basin that holds the Missouri Lakes. These lakes may have names, but they are not so designated on the topographic map we had. So I will call them lakes 1-4, in the order that we reached them on our hike. About three miles in we reached Lake 1, on the left of the trail. The water is crystal clear, casting reflections of the nearby mountaintops, and of us back to the sky. Soon after we left Lake 1, we had our first wildlife encounter of the day. A yellow-bellied marmot was watching us watching him, only 10 feet away. He popped in and out of his hole a few times as we futzed with our cameras. After a short 15-20 minutes we reached Lake 2, easily the largest of the Missouri Lakes. I also thought it to be the most beautiful. Nearing the center of the basin, it is surrounded by tall, rocky cliffs above, and fields of glorious wildflowers around its banks. We basked in the good fortune of our perfect seasonal timing as we saw paintbrush, buttercups, columbine, alpine avids and many others.

We noticed there was still quite a bit of snow up here above 11,500 feet. The farther into the basin we went, the more snow we encountered. On the north side of Lake 2 we had to cross a very large snow field for about 100 yards. As we neared some rocks jutting out from the snow, I turned to warn my brother not to sink near the rocks, just as I promptly proceeded to sink knee deep in the snow near the rocks. Kerplop! First my right leg went down, and as I struggled to pull it up, down went my left leg too. Now what to do? After a short struggle I was able to pull myself up onto a rock and survey my next solid step. Needless to say, I avoided that area on the way back later.

Beyond the snow field, it’s a short climb of maybe 100 feet gain to the level of Lake 3. This is the smallest of the lakes, and nearest to Missouri Pass, the way to the Fancy Creek Trail. There were some large glacial boulders near the lake that were perfect for a picnic table as we enjoyed our lunch in the high alpine tundra. There was a group of five young people on the other side of the lake animating like they were thinking of sliding down the snow above the lake right into the frigid water. One brave (or maybe crazy) guy stripped down to his shorts, took a run and slid right in with a mighty splash. As he pulled himself up on the bank, we could hear his yelp all the way across the lake. Apparently he convinced his companions it wasn’t so bad, because for the next 15 minutes we were treated to a hilarious show, as one by one they stripped to their skivvies and acted like polar bears. Who knows? If I’d had some dry drawers in my pack, I might have given it a go. Naw, too dignified.

There was one more lake we wanted to visit on our way back down. We had to pass back by Lake 2 to get there, so we took a spur trail around a cove at the southern end. There we saw the most amazing snow overhangs right above the water. It was similar to a cornice on a mountain, but this was like a snow cave just above water level. With Missouri Pass and a threatening sky in the background, it made a remarkable sight. Don’t ask about the two campers we encountered who asked if we had seen a guy with a llama. From above Lake 4 there is no trail to it, only from below. We knew the general direction, southwest at the base of Savage Peak. So we headed out, off-trail. We had to practice our broad jumping skills a couple times as we leaped across streams, and weaved around boulders and trees. It was entirely worth the effort as Lake 4 was stunning. We found a spot on the south bank with a field of fuchsia wildflowers and just sat for 20 minutes soaking in the scene. The sky even cleared to reveal some royal Colorado blue with puffy white clouds hanging above Missouri Pass. That is the photo at the top of this post.

To get back to the main trail, we had to cross several streams and wetlands, as well as Missouri Creek. We new we wanted to be headed in a generally southeasterly direction, but being Meanderthals as we are, we proceeded with reckless abandon. There were a couple places we had to walk up and down the creek bank looking for a spot suitable and narrow enough to leap across. Amazingly, we managed to find the trail after about 20 minutes — not to mention injury free, and with dry feet. Not too shabby for a pair of 50-somethings. Once back on the Missouri Lakes Trail we retraced our steps down out of the basin. There was a spot we had only briefly noticed on the way up that caught our attention as we paused for a short break. There had obviously been an avalanche there in recent years as everything was simply tossed aside like toothpicks. Quite the devastation. We reached the trailhead after nearly 8 hours, and wouldn’t you know it, there was a guy with a couple llamas.

Best HikeI stopped at the trail sign to take note of everything that was said of this remarkable hike, because I absolutely loved it. I think I would like to return some day and cross Missouri Pass to the Fancy Creek Trail on the other side of the loop. It took us nearly 8 hours to do only an 8 mile hike. Why? Because we were in awe! We dawdled so much to look at scenery. I don’t know that I have ever been on a hike that combined great forest and meadows, streams, creeks, and lakes, and breathtaking mountains, all in one. This is a superb hike that isn’t especially difficult despite the elevation gain. Be sure to allocate a full day to be able to experience the wealth of sights and sounds found along the trail. I highly recommend the Missouri Lakes Basin hike and rate it as one of the best hikes I have done out west. I know you will enjoy it too.

Update July 17, 2017

Dave and I made another visit to Missouri Lakes nearly six years to the day since our previous one. The trail, the mountains, the lakes, the flowers, the creek, the snow… it was all just as beautiful as I remembered. The hiking seemed a bit harder, but I am six years older after all. We went on a Sunday and we stopped counting other hikers at 200. So keep that in mind when planning your own visit. In the summer, perhaps you want to go on a weekday. Here’s a new photo gallery from our most recent trip.

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.