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.

Kind of an unusual name for the mountain this trail is named after, but it is at 5,200 feet, so the snow comes earlier in the season, and more frequently than in the valleys below. North of Asheville, NC on the Blue Ridge Parkway, this hike is in the Craggy Gardens area. There are splendid views of the Great Craggy Mountains and the Black Mountains from the three summits that are encountered along the trail. You cross Snowball Mountain, Hawkbill Rock, and Little Snowball Mountain along a trail that is roller coaster in nature, lots of up and down, and up and down. This hike occurred on Friday, September 9, 2011 from 10:10am to about 3:15pm. The plan was to take the connector on the Mountains to the Sea Trail along the Craggy Gardens Picnic Area road to the Snowball Trail. From there, it is out and back to the remnants of an old fire tower on Little Snowball Mountain, an eight mile roundtrip.

View Snowball Trail at Craggy Gardens, Blue Ridge Parkway in a larger map

After three weeks of overtime at work because we were short-staffed, it was good to put the pack on again. The mountain air smells a whole lot better than office air any day, and just seems to make the lungs open wider wanting more. This particular day was one of those with low valley fog that occur so frequently in the North Carolina mountains. I love it! My companion and I got on the Blue Ridge Parkway at Asheville and headed north to Craggy Gardens. It’s 17 miles through beautiful woodlands on my favorite road as it passes the Parkway Headquarters as well as the Folk Art Center.

The trail for this hike is located on the Craggy Gardens Picnic Area road, at milepost 367.6. It’s just a few hundred yards up the road on the left. Look for the short concrete trailhead marker with a white blaze that designates the Mountains to the Sea Trail. It’s then only a few hundred feet up the MTS to the fork. The MTS goes left and more or less follows the parkway. We took the Snowball Trail to the right. Don’t be looking for a sign; there isn’t one. My trail map said that Snowball has a white blaze, but all the tree markings I saw were yellow.

The first mile is a pretty good climb; it goes from 4,200 feet to about 5,200 on top of Snowball Mountain. The grade is not steep though, so I didn’t really feel tired along the way. All along the left-hand, or southerly, side of the trail we kept encountering spur trails every couple hundred yards. We tried a few of these to see if there were nice views, or campsites. There probably are good views of the Great Craggy Mountains at the end of some of these short spurs in winter, when all the leaves are off the trees. But on this day in late summer, with the trees still fully clothed, we were disappointed and stopped taking the spurs after the third one. The forest is mostly deciduous with some spruce, black balsam particularly. There was even some old growth oak that had survived the logging and blights that had to be a few hundred years old. Some of these trees are huge.

When we reached the top of Snowball Mountain there was a great view to the northeast of the majestic, more than 6000′ Black Mountains. That’s the picture at the top of this post. The clouds were creating quite the entertaining sight. There was the low lying fog still hovering in the gaps between the ridges, then another layer sitting like a hat on the mountaintops. Despite some greyness to the clouds, they weren’t the least bit threatening, the weather was ideal for hiking.

From Snowball Mountain the trail drops down the ridge about 600 feet, then begins climbing again to Hawkbill Rock, a large rocky outcropping that stands at 4800 feet. The climb from the gap up Hawkbill is a pretty steep rock scramble, the only part of the hike that requires the use of all fours. Reaching the summit is definitely worth the effort, as there are great views of the Great Craggy and Black Mountains to the northeast, and the Reems Creek drainage to the south. Directly to the east we could see the ridge we just came down from Snowball Mountain. We were fascinated sitting on the rock watching the wisps of valley fog lift and float away on the air currents. This dance of cloud and forest went on for the 10 minutes we took to get some nourishment and enjoy the scene. We were totally surrounded by forest. There were no roads in sight, no meadow, no buildings; just green, green forest as far as we could see in every direction.

On the west side of Hawkbill Rock, the trail again plunges down to Snowball Gap, a drop of another 800 feet. The trail itself changed to one suitable for all-terrain vehicles. It got wider and smoother in the gap. As the day began to warm, so did I, so I took off my long sleeve shirt. It didn’t take long to get introduced to a plant I had never encountered before. It’s called stinging nettle. I hadn’t noticed it with sleeves, except that my knees had an unusual itch through my pants, but with just short sleeves on I got stung, and stung, and stung. It isn’t an OWWWWWW! screaming kind of sting, but more of a nuisance ouch that definitely gets your attention. In all the hiking I’ve done in western North Carolina for the last four years now, this was the first time I ever experienced the annoyance of stinging nettle.

Down in Snowball Gap, the trail takes an odd little zig-zag as it parallels the private property of the Blackberry Inn. The private land is well marked with red and orange paint and ribbons, so you don’t have to worry about straying where you don’t belong. Just past this point the short climb up Little Snowball Mountain begins, just a touch more than 100 feet more of up. As we neared the top, we began to see broken glass along the trail, a sign that we were nearing the end of the four mile trail.

There used to be a fire tower on top of Little Snowball Mountain. Some years ago it was disassembled and moved to Big Ivy Historical Park near the community of Big Ivy that the tower once protected. The only thing that remains on Little Snowball are the four concrete pillars where the tower once stood, and a lot of broken glass. I would think the tower would have had shatter resistant windows because of the high winds that can howl through the Craggy Mountains, so I was at a loss to explain the broken glass.

Those pillars made great seats for our lunch break. The views on Little Snowball aren’t quite as dramatic as the previous two summits. The area is surrounded by laurels and rhododendrons that have grown high enough through the years to block the immediate vicinity. Still, we could see tops of distant mountains crowned by the ever-present cloud formations. With our bellies full, we were revitalized for the trek back.

The out part of Snowball Trail is easy to moderate. Not so of the back part. It is quite strenuous, and therefore somewhat difficult. The up is a lot steeper going back, and there’s more of it. The climb from Snowball Gap to Hawkbill Rock seems a lot longer after already having five miles on your legs. Hawkbill Rock was a welcome sight, and another opportunity to rest, drink lots of water, munch an apple, and take some more pictures. By now, the morning fog had completely lifted, but the large clouds were still doing their hat routine over the mountains. The super-steep rock that I climbed on all fours going up was quite dicey going down. I even wondered aloud to my friend how many broken ankles there had been on that stretch over the decades. Then it was another 600 feet up to Snowball Mountain. Huff, puff. Huff, puff. I know, I’m just a whining Meanderthal.

The last mile is all downhill a thousand feet. It didn’t seem so bad going up nearly five hours before, but the seven miles already on my tired legs took a toll. The feet and knees and hips were getting weaker with every step down. Y’know it’s funny. I thought this trail was fairly easy going out, but I sure changed my mind coming back. It is quite the workout. What was really nice though, was the late season wildflowers that had opened up in the warmth of the afternoon — and the mountain ash berries bursting with bright red glory.

I really enjoyed the Snowball Trail. It had slipped past my radar until now, and I’m glad I took the time to search the map for a trail I had yet to explore. The views of the surrounding mountains are first rate, and the trail itself is in very good condition. We had it all to ourselves too. The solitude was relaxing for the soul. I would say this would be an excellent trail for the autumn leaf peepers. No need to do the full length — just going to Hawkbill Rock and back would make an excellent excursion.

Update August 22, 2017

Looking for a haven from the heat and humidity of late August, I headed up into the high country of the Great Craggy Mountains to visit the Snowball Trail. It was good timing as the summer wildflowers were in abundance and the early morning air was cool and breezy. Still very humid though. I was lucky enough to see a little bear cub not far from the trailhead and butterflies and mushrooms galore. Here are some new photos of my adventure on the Snowball Trail to Hawkbill Rock.

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.