Forest Fire Management Officer Riva Duncan emphasizes that, “Fireworks can and will cause wildfires because they burn very hot. Even fireworks that seem innocent, like sparklers, can cause wildfires.”

Regulations are strictly enforced to protect the public and natural resources.

“National Forests are here for your use and enjoyment,” said Forest Supervisor Allen Nicholas. “In order to ensure everyone’s safety, please refrain from using any fireworks in the Forests.”

The public is also urged to exercise caution with campfires. Never leave a campfire unattended. Make sure campfires are completely extinguished and cold to the touch before leaving the campsite.

When Drew Peterson tells people he works as a U.S. Forest Service wilderness ranger, they may assume his job is defined by solitude. But that is not always the case: On a busy summer day, a wilderness ranger may stop to talk with as many as 300 people, such as on a recent day patrolling the popular Green Lakes Trail off the Cascade Lakes Highway.

“It can take up to six hours to hike up the trail,” Peterson said. The trail runs about 4½ miles from trailhead to Green Lakes.

Describing what a wilderness ranger is and what exactly he does quickly becomes complex. Peterson, 32, who now primarily patrols wilderness in the Ochoco National Forest but occasionally helps in the Deschutes National Forest, said the work combines about a dozen jobs, including customer service, trail maintenance and rule enforcement. Peterson’s job is to make sure people are doing the right thing.

The current form of the program, in which wilderness rangers go to wilderness areas around the Deschutes National Forest, started in 2010, said Jason Fisher, who supervises the five rangers in the national forest.

Though the title may bring up notions of adventure and exploration, often the work focuses on educating people about what they should and should not be doing. “It’s not what a lot of people expect,” he said.

Passing through wilderness requires adhering to federal rules and regulations, which Peterson and other wilderness rangers enforce.

Read full story…

Rediscovering America on the Appalachian Trail

Back in the United States after 20 years in Great Britain, Bill Bryson decided to reacquaint himself with his native country by hiking the 2,100-mile Appalachian Trail, which stretches from Georgia to Maine. The AT offers an astonishing landscape of silent forests and sparkling lakes — and to a writer with the comic timing of Bill Bryson, it also provides endless opportunities to witness the majestic silliness of his fellow human beings.

For a start there’s the gloriously out-of-shape Stephen Katz, a buddy from Iowa along for the hike, the primary foil for Bryson’s wit. But A Walk in the Woods is more than just a laugh-out-loud trek. Bryson’s acute eye is a wise witness to this beautiful but fragile trail, and as he tells its fascinating history, he makes a moving plea for the conservation of America’s last great wilderness. An adventure, a comedy, and a celebration — A Walk in the Woods is all of the above.

Most of what I had heard about Bryson’s book was it’s laugh-a-minute tone about two buffoons who entered this grand task totally unprepared. It was all that to be sure, but what I found unexpectedly was an education about the wilderness and its surroundings. From the National Park Service’s penchant for destroying that which they were chartered to protect, to the 19th century botanists who discovered and named more than a thousand plants and flowers, or the Civil War significance of Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia, home to the Appalachian Trail Conservancy, and the plight of Centralia, PA, a town that is likely to burn for the next thousand years.

In the beginning Bryson went back and forth with himself trying to decide if he truly wanted to tackle this adventure:

I formed a number of rationalizations. It would get me fit after years of waddlesome sloth. It would be an interesting and reflective way to reacquaint myself with the scale and beauty of my native land. It would be useful to learn to fend for myself in the wilderness. I wanted a little of that swagger that comes with being able to gaze at a far horizon through eyes of chipped granite and say with a slow, manly sniff, “Yeah, I’ve shit in the woods.”

Ultimately, he talked himself into it, and even managed to convince an unlikely participant to join him; the sweaty, slovenly, overweight, recovering alcoholic Katz. There are some who say that Katz didn’t really exist, that he was simply a fictitious character invented as a backboard for Bryson’s humor. Regardless, Katz was always at the center of the danger, the playfulness, and the stupidity — like when the men went to the store for food supplies and Katz returned with pounds and pounds of Little Debbie snack cakes:

I packed for two hours, but I couldn’t begin to get everything in. I put aside books and notebooks and nearly all of my spare clothes, and tried lots of different combinations, but every time I finished I would turn to find something large and important left over. Notably, the oatmeal, which I didn’t like anyway, and the more disgusting looking of the Little Debbie cakes, which is to say all of them.

Hiking the AT in Great Smoky Mountains National Park – Photo by Jeff Clark

Despite the misgivings, the ineptitude, the poor planning and the total fear of the unknown, Bryson and Katz somehow managed to make their way to Springer Mountain in Georgia to begin the arduous journey northward. Before they even changed states they encountered a crippling snow storm, the realization that they were still carrying entirely too much crap, and a sudden wherewithal to endure these harshest of conditions.

As I mentioned above, I was impressed with the historical research Bryson undertook as he was penning this tale of his adventure. Some of what he found didn’t put various government agencies in especially flattering light. For example, when he skewered the National Forest Service:

A lot of people, seeing the word forest in the title, assume it has something to do with looking after trees. Private companies would be granted leases to extract minerals and harvest timber, but they would be required to do so in a restrained, intelligent, sustainable way. In fact, however, what the Forest Service does is build roads. I am not kidding. There are 378,000 miles of roads in America’s national forests. It is eight times the total mileage of America’s interstate highway system.

and this anecdote from the National Park Service in the Great Smoky Mountains:

The Park Service in 1957 decided to “reclaim” Abrams Creek, for rainbow trout, even though rainbow trout had never been native to Abrams Creek. To that end, biologists dumped several drums of a poison called rotenone into 15 miles of the creek. Within hours, tens of thousands of dead fish were floating on the surface like autumn leaves. Among the 31 species of fish that were wiped out was one called the smoky madtom, which had never been seen before. Thus the Park Service biologists managed the wonderfully unusual accomplishment of discovering and eradicating in the same instant a new species of fish.

To his credit, Bryson later went on to acknowledge that the contemporary Park Service has learned from its early mistakes and has a better plan for managing the precious resources they are charged with protecting. The problem, in 1998 when Bryon wrote this book, and even more profound today is simply a lack of funds.

And so, many of these great lands and wildernesses in our parks and forests are falling into serious decay because of the huge backlog of restoration and conservation activities that are required. The Forest Service and Park Service have learned over the decades what not to do, and now what to do, but they simply can’t because there is nowhere near enough money allocated by Congress. As a result, more plant and wildlife species die, and perhaps important medicine goes undiscovered.

After several weeks on the Appalachian Trail, Bryson became impressed with its awesome venerability. “Consider this,” he said, “Half of all the offices and malls standing in America today have been built since 1980.”

Now compare all this with the Appalachian Trail. At the time of our hike, the Appalachian Trail was 59 years old. The Oregon and Santa Fe Trails didn’t last as long. Route 66 didn’t last as long. The old coast-to-coast Lincoln Highway that became known as “America’s Main Street” didn’t last as long. Nothing in America does. If a product or enterprise doesn’t constantly reinvent itself, it is cast aside. And then there is the good old AT still quietly ticking along after six decades, faithful to its founding principles, sweetly unaware that the world has quite moved on. It’s a miracle really.

When you’re on the AT, the forest is your universe, infinite and entire. Eventually it is about all you can imagine. You are aware, of course, that somewhere over the horizon are mighty cities, busy factories, crowded freeways, but here in this part of the country, where woods drape the landscape as far as the eye can see, the forest rules.

But come off the trail, properly off, and drive somewhere, and you realize how magnificently deluded you have been. Here, the mountains and woods were just backdrop – familiar, known, nearby, but no more consequential or noticed than the clouds that scudded across their ridgelines. Here the real business was up close and on top of you: gas stations, Wal-Marts, Kmarts, Dunkin Donuts, Blockbusters, a ceaseless unfolding pageant of commercial hideousness.

The Appalachian Trail changes you. Bryson came to love, and at the same time hate, the solitude, the “green tunnel,” the expansive sweeping vistas. He was delighted to be away from the trappings of modern civilization. As happens to many of us when we get away from the concrete and steel, he was totally transformed by the wild places and wild things he encountered. He said, “If there is one thing the AT teaches, it is low-level ecstasy — something we could all do with more of in our lives.”

Buttercup Lined Trail Near Max Patch – Photo by Jeff Clark

I know this is a spoiler, but c’mon folks, this book has been out for 16 years. Eventually Bryson and Katz realized they were physically incapable of completing the entire 2,000+ miles of the AT, so they made a few jumps forward by rental car, skipping large swaths of natural beauty along the way. Finally, too, they gave up entirely. As Bryson put it, “That was the trouble with the AT – it was all one immensely long place, and there was more of it, infinitely more of it, than I could ever conquer. It wasn’t that I wanted to quit. Quite the contrary. I was happy to walk, keen to walk. I just wanted to know what I was doing out here.”

After Bryson and Katz parted ways just north of Shenandoah National Park in Virginia, they vowed to get back together in late summer and hike the daunting Hundred Mile Wilderness through the heart of Maine. In the meantime, Bryson tried a kind of car-section-hiking of the Pennsylvania and New Jersey sections of the AT. It only took 4-5 days for him to realize that was no fun. It just wasn’t the same as living on the trail.

Through the rest of the summer he hiked various portions of the trail, in Massachussetts and Vermont, even tackling some of the White Mountains in New Hampshire. When he reunited with Katz in southern Maine, he told the story of one of his favorite experiences of all, upon encountering a moose by a stream:

It is an extraordinary experience to find yourself face-to-face in the woods with a wild animal that is very much larger than you. We stared at each other for a good minute, neither of us sure what to do. There was a certain obvious and gratifying tang of adventure in this, but something also much more low-key and elemental — a kind of respectful mutual acknowledgment that comes with sustained eye contact. It was this that was unexpectedly thrilling — the sense that there was in some small measure a salute in our cautious mutual appraisal. I was smitten.

Bryson learned a lot about himself along the way. He learned a lot about the Appalachian Trail, and about the America that surrounds it and is totally oblivious to what happens within its narrow path. He had mixed feelings, and mixed blessings, but ultimately a grand sense of accomplishment.

I had come to realize that I didn’t have any feelings towards the AT that weren’t confused and contradictory. I was weary of the trail, but still strangely in its thrall; found the endless slog tedious but irresistible; grew tired of the boundless woods but admired their boundlessness; enjoyed the escape from civilization and ached for its comforts. I wanted to quit and do this forever, sleep in a bed and in a tent, see what was over the next hill and never see another hill again. All of this all at once, every moment, on the trail or off.

We didn’t walk 2,200 miles, it’s true, but here’s the thing: we tried. So Katz was right after all, and I don’t care what anybody says. We hiked the Appalachian Trail.

Balsam Forest on the AT Roan Highlands – Photo by Jeff Clark

William McGuire “Bill” Bryson, (born December 8, 1951) is a best-selling American author of humorous books on travel, as well as books on the English language and science. Born in America, he was a resident of Britain for most of his adult life before returning to the U.S. in 1995. In 2003 Bryson moved back to Britain, living in the old rectory of Wramplingham, Norfolk, and served as chancellor of Durham University from 2005 through 2011.

Bryson shot to prominence in the United Kingdom with the publication of Notes from a Small Island (1995), an exploration of Britain, and its accompanying television series. He received widespread recognition again with the publication of A Short History of Nearly Everything (2003), a book widely acclaimed for its accessible communication of science. Of course we hikers are quite partial to A Walk in the Woods (1998).

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.

Just southeast of the Cradle of Forestry in Pisgah National Forest lies the Avery Creek area, a beautiful hardwood forest with plenty of water and a hidden pair of waterfalls known as Twin Falls. Access to the falls is via the Buckhorn Gap Trail, an easy to moderate track that first follows Avery Creek, then turns north alongside Henry Branch. The forest management work in the area by the U.S. Forest Service is superb with “two-age cut” that makes it gorgeous even when the leaves are down. This hike occurred on Thursday, November 15, 2012 from 10:00am to 1:10pm. Our plan was to take the Avery Creek Trail to the Buckhorn Gap Trail, then on to Twin Falls and eventually Buckhorn Gap. We would complete the loop through Clawhammer Cove.

There are two options available for getting to Twin Falls on the Buckhorn Gap Trail. You can start at the Avery Creek Trailhead and hike half a mile to the Buckhorn Gap Trail junction, or you can go a little farther up Forest Road 477 to the Buckhorn Gap Trailhead. We opted for the former as it would give us more time following scenic Avery Creek.

As you approach the trailhead along the forest road, there is a nice view of Avery Creek 50-60 feet below. Once on the trail, it drops quickly to get down there to creek level. Look for the cool birdhouses put out along the creek by the Forest Service. Avery Creek passes through Clawhammer Cove, an area we would see from the other side later on the return trip. Avery Creek is about 10 feet wide here, surrounded by lots of brush and marsh. This bottom land area is pretty muddy.

After crossing the creek on the first of what would be a dozen or more log bridges, the blue blazed trail stays 10-15 feet above the creek and is quite a bit dryer. The scrub and brush changes to laurels and hardwoods and the creek bank is considerably more attractive. A quarter mile up the trail we came to a small 8-10 foot waterfall, one that filled the forest air with the refreshing sound of rushing water.

Not much farther and the Buckhorn Gap Trail comes in from the left and joins the Avery Creek Trail for a couple hundred yards, then departs on the right at another creek crossing. This junction is well marked. We got on the orange blazed Buckhorn Gap Trail to head toward Twin Falls.

The next stretch is the steepest part of the hike as the trail climbs about 300 feet in the subsequent half mile. Seemingly every 100 yards or so you’ll be crossing the creek again on small log foot bridges. This continues after the trail takes a decidedly northward turn to follow Henry Branch instead of Avery Creek. The branch isn’t as wide as Avery Creek, but still beautiful in its own right.

Watch for a trail marker on your left for the delightful side trip off Buckhorn Gap Trail to Twin Falls. This short loop to the falls also takes you through a gorgeous “two-age cut” forest of white oak, pin oak, hickory and poplar. Through methods learned in the past century, the Forest Service no longer clear cuts to regenerate forest. Instead, they will thin a forest, enabling multiple benefits such as aesthetics, tree species diversity, high-quality wood products, and habitat for many wildlife species.

The older aged trees are extremely healthy, stretching as high as a hundred feet on their reach for sunshine. Because the forest floor is clear, the newer aged trees have plenty of opportunity to receive that nourishing sunshine as well. The total visual affect of this “two-age cut” is, I think, most apparent after the leaves have fallen. There is a two-level forest with a wide expanse of bright blue sky as a backdrop.

Twin Falls is in a natural amphitheater about a quarter mile from the trail split. The falls level is about 80-100 feet above the forest floor, and the two distinct waterfalls are about 100 yards apart. The first one you will see is straight ahead on the northern side of the amphitheater, while the second is on the western side and is more easily accessible. You can climb to the base of the western falls for a full length view of this tall, but narrow multi-tiered cascade.

Again, I think late fall or winter is probably the best time to visit because the narrow waterfall is lined with thick vegetation that disrupts the view. Having not been here in spring or summer, I can only imagine that it is difficult to see much. The northern waterfall is even more of a challenge to approach. If you wish to get to the base of that cascade, plan on bushwhacking through rocky, uneven terrain. We chose not to.

I’m really glad I learned about Twin Falls. I didn’t even know it is there because it doesn’t appear on the topographical maps for the Pisgah Ranger District. One of my companions happened to have seen it years ago, and remembered as we were beginning the hike. The large natural amphitheater is simply stunning with the two waterfalls surrounded by the remarkable work done by the Forest Service with the “two-age cut.”

To get back to Buckhorn Gap Trail, you can cross the creek at the base of the falls to continue the side loop, or simply go back the way you came. Continuing to loop as we did will take you to a row of hitching posts for those equine fanciers that venture up this way to see Twin Falls. This is where you would have come to by continuing straight on Buckhorn Gap Trail instead of taking the side trip to Twin Falls.

From this point, the trail resumes the moderate ascent toward Buckhorn Gap. It’s about another 200 feet of elevation change. The trail gets wider as there is evidence this used to be an old logging road back in the day. You will reach a rim above the Henry Branch drainage that has nice views both downward to follow the flow downstream, and outward through the bare trees to the Clawhammer and Black Mountains beyond.

You will reach a decision point at a trail junction. You can continue straight ahead another quarter mile to Buckhorn Gap to its meeting with Forest Road 505B, or you can take a right turn (east) to pick up 505B further downhill. We made the latter choice as we always prefer hiking on trail rather than road any day.

Where this short stretch of trail does meet the forest road, there is a small meadow off to the right with a stand of imported Russian Olive trees. To us, this looked like a great place for lunch. With the clearing in the forest, the sun was shining brightly and warming us. The grasses in the meadow are trimmed periodically so it made for a nice soft spot to take off the packs and relax. I would imagine this meadow is also enjoyed by wildlife early in the morning.

Nourished and refreshed, we started downward on the grassy forest road about a half mile to the Clawhammer Cove Trail. Watch for this closely on your right as the trail marker is offset about 10 feet from the road. It would be easy to walk right on by. This blue blazed trail continues the descent for another half mile before reaching Avery Creek again in Clawhammer Cove. When you reach the junction with the Avery Creek Trail, don’t forget to make a hard left turn to get back to your car.

This was a thoroughly enjoyable hike, and I think we timed it well. It seems to me the features found along these trails are best appreciated in the colder seasons. Having leafless trees truly opens up the forest for views of the surrounding mountains in Pisgah National Forest, and it enables a better view of the paired cascades found at Twin Falls. The terrain is easy and rolling. The only cautions I would advise are to watch for roots in the trail, and be careful on the dozen or more creek crossings.

Updated April 7, 2015: Paid another visit to the beautiful forest that surrounds Twin Falls. This time I went the whole way on the Buckhorn Gap Trail, enabling me to discover Avery Creek Falls for the first time. It’s a pretty robust 8-footer that requires a short, downhill bushwhack to access.

I also found it easier to access the Twin Falls this time, climbing clear up to the base of each cascade. There isn’t as much thicket cover to battle with this time of year, making access to a closer view of the falls considerably less challenging. Additionally, there is a nameless waterfall a couple hundred yards before Twin Falls that was presenting itself this time after a hard rain the night before.

Updated October 15, 2020: It seemed like it must be time to get in an autumn visit to this very nice hike. The foliage certainly cooperated, especially the birch trees. It’s been five years since my last trip here and I should note some deterioration along the trail. The dozen footlog creek crossings are really wearing out. Some are not particularly stable. So be cautious when crossing. There was also a considerable bit of mud after the very wet summer. Anyway, enjoy the new pictures.

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.

Thompson Creek Trail climbs Thompson Ridge from Forest Road 1206 to a point just below the Pisgah Inn on the Blue Ridge Parkway. To the southwest it overlooks the Cradle of Forestry National Historic Site and the Pink Beds. To the east it crosses from Transylvania County into Henderson County and joins the Pilot Rock Trail along the Slate Rock Ridge for the descent across Pilot Rock, and back to the forest road. Along the way is multi-terrain hiking, varying from a creek-side stroll, to switchbacks on all fours, and rocky scrambles across a granite pluton. Make sure you’re in good physical condition for this one. This hike occurred on Thursday, January 5, 2012 from 10:40am to 2:25pm. The plan was to climb Thompson Ridge by taking the Thompson Creek Trail to the Pilot Rock Trail, then descend, with stops along the way for lunch and pictures from Pilot Rock.

View Thompson Creek and Pilot Rock Loop, Pisgah National Forest in a larger map

The trailhead is kinda hard to find. It’s roughly 3.5 miles in from Hwy 276. The marker is on the left, up four steps off Forest Road 1206 in the woods. It is especially difficult to see in summer when the foliage is in full array. Just keep your eyes peeled. There is room for 2-3 cars on the right side of the road. Look for that as well.

The blue-blazed Thompson Creek Trail starts out innocent enough. It’s a nice stroll through a beautiful forest with oak, hickory, maple and other hardwoods that are common to Pisgah National Forest. The trail itself is wide and well maintained. The first indication things are about to change occurs 3/4 mile in when you reach the Thompson Creek crossing. It’s about 10 feet wide with rocks to step across, however it can be treacherous if the water is up as it was on this day. The moss covered rocks become quite slippery. I was looking upstream for an easier crossing when my companions, already on the other side, tossed me a trekking pole and said go for it. Be careful.

On the northern side of the creek the trail immediately begins its relentless uphill haul. Steeper and steeper it climbs, eventually leaving the creek-side behind. I recommend pausing every few hundred yards for a 30 second breather because it keeps getting steeper the higher you get. The air gets thinner too. I determined that by the tell-tale fire inside my lungs. Until about the last 4/10 mile, it is a straight shot up Thompson Ridge — no switchbacks to ease the pitch. In winter you can see through the forest to the ridge ahead, not quite a demoralizing deterrent, but the top seems to be always farther up.

Then finally, the forest begins to change from hardwood to evergreen, heath and laurel. This is the signal that the switchbacks have arrived. The final .4 mile is the steepest, sometimes requiring hands on the ground ahead of you for stability. I lost count, but there are close to 20 switchbacks, each gaining 30-50 feet in elevation. We were fortunate on this winter day to be in a minimal amount of snow as we were on the south exposed side of the ridge. It’s not a bad idea to carry some kind of ice cleat with you when hiking this trail in winter. I use Stabilicers®. With near 5000 feet elevation and the steepness of the terrain, icy conditions would make this an extreme slipping hazard.

At the end of the switchbacks the trail pops out on top of Thompson Ridge and offers views of the surrounding mountains. To the north is the Blue Ridge Parkway and Pisgah Inn. Westward are seemingly endless ridges. The clear winter air enables you to see for miles and miles from one ridge to the next. Below and to the south is the Pilot Rock pluton, one of the destinations on the downward trek. The trail turns in an easterly direction at this point as it crosses from Thompson Ridge to Slate Rock Ridge.

The trail also narrows. It is more or less hanging on the side of the mountain with the Bradley Creek drainage down below. The foliage is nearly all mountain laurel now, gnarly and distorted from the harsh winters, yet quite hearty. The trail had more snow. Not as much sun was reaching it here. There’s one final short push upward and then you meet the Pilot Rock Trail where the blaze markings change to orange.

Just past the junction we happened upon the only other hiker we saw this day. He was coming up the trail we were about to go down. We introduced ourselves, told him we were Meanderthals and had come up Thompson Creek. He just shook his head and raised his eyebrows, affirming the Meanderthals part. This makes the third time we have done this hike. The first time we started up top at the Buck Springs Gap Overlook on the parkway, went down Pilot Rock and then came back up Thompson Ridge at the end. It was an ego killer. So the next two times we have started from the bottom to get the climb out of the way first. This is my recommended way to do this hike.

Along Slate Rock Ridge the mountain laurel forms a beautiful canopy that goes for 1/4 mile. With snow beneath, it made for an artistic scene. Every time I come to this ridge I say I want to be here during the laurel bloom season. Perhaps I will remember this coming spring.

The Pilot Rock side of this loop is extremely craggy and rocky. Unlike Thompson Creek, this is also a mountain bike trail. The trail is more rutted, with exposed roots and loose stones, all hazards just waiting for a misstep. There are switchbacks here too as the descent is nearly as steep. About 30 minutes down from the top is a large, flat granite outcrop that is a perfect spot for lunch. There is a fabulous view of the Blue Ridge Mountains to the west. The outcrop is covered with a smooth moss/lichen mixture that is almost like carpet.

Refreshed and re-energized after lunch and conversation, we continued our descent to Pilot Rock. A pluton is a body of igneous rock formed beneath the surface of the earth by consolidation of magma. During times of geologic upheaval the massive rock domes will be exposed above the surface. There are a dozen or more plutons in Pisgah National Forest, all fascinating, and all worth exploring. The rock climbers love them as well. Pilot Rock is no different. I was happy to see it wasn’t wet or snow covered because the granite face is very steep.

Pilot Rock is an ideal photo spot. To the west you can see Fryingpan Mountain with its old fire tower. To the east is Slate Rock and Pilot Cove. The vast expanse of the Cradle of Forestry is below to the southwest.

As the trail winds down below Pilot Rock, the forest changes again to hardwood and is littered with very large boulders that I assume to be glacial breakdown. The trail climbs in, among, around and over them. Eventually the trail goes beneath Pilot Rock with a view back up through the trees of the high and long cliff face. The forest here is thousands of tall, thin saplings. I’m anxious to learn the story of what happened here before, and why the forest is so young. Perhaps it was logged. Perhaps there was a completely destructive fire. I need to speak with my totally informative National Forest Service ranger.

The final 1/4 mile of Pilot Rock Trail is alongside Bradley Creek, a creek that seemingly winds all throughout the Pisgah Ranger District. We weren’t quite done though. When you get to the end of the Pilot Creek Trail it spills onto Yellow Gap Road about a mile east of the Thompson Creek trailhead where our car was. For the first couple hundred yards the road climbs, but then flattens out for most of the slog back to the beginning. I know from experience this stretch of forest service road is brilliant in autumn. The colors are magnificent. Be sure to check it out.

This loop is great exercise. It’s a strenuous 3-4 hour hike that is accessible in all seasons. My hiking buddies like it better than I do, but I can see the appeal. There is beautiful forest, creek-side trails, vigorous climbing, mountain vistas, granite escarpments, and thick laurel vegetation. What’s not to like?

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.