CHUCKY UP

I have a couple of major backpacking trips coming up in August, but I’m still not in top shape. I try to stay in shape between hikes by running. However, a lingering hip injury and a chronic calf injury have prevented me from running much lately. This has been frustrating, but the best way to get in shape for a backpacking trip is to go backpacking.

Christy was out of town last weekend, so I decided to take advantage of the opportunity to do a tough hike. Originally she expected to take the dogs with her, so I planned a trip in the Smokies. I went to the trouble of buying a permit (they now cost $4 per person, per night). The route I planned was tough – starting at Clingman’s Dome, descending Forney Creek, crossing Forney Ridge, descending to Noland Creek, and then climbing all the way back up to Clingman’s Dome. However, at the last minute Christy decided she didn’t want to take the dogs. I had to scramble for a backup plan.

The best option I could come up with was to hike a long chunk of the Appalachian Trail. The only problem with the A.T. is that it is a linear trail. Since I would be solo, it would be difficult for me to run a car shuttle. Luckily, Brenda volunteered to pick me up at the end of my hike. This trip simply wouldn’t have been possible without her generosity.

I considered two different routes starting from the Nolichucky River, just outside of Erwin, TN. Although heading south was appealing, I was drawn to the challenge of going north. I’d start at an elevation of 1,700’ at the river and go over Roan Mountain (~6,300’). That would be a huge climb, with lots of smaller climbs in between. In a little over 3 days I’d cover over 42 miles, with a total elevation gain of around 10,000’. That ought to get me in shape! To be sure, I also planned to carry more gear and food than necessary. Since I was preparing for an 8-day trip, I wanted to start out with a similar amount of weight on my back. So I brought lots of fresh food and even carried a blanket and extra sleeping pad for the dogs.

By Friday morning, the weather outlook for the trip looked grim. The exceptionally wet spring and summer was expected to continue right through the weekend. A front with big storms was due to pass through on Friday before stalling to the east. Early the next week it was expected to return. With afternoon / evening rain a near certainty, I decided to stay in shelters each night. Normally I avoid A.T. shelters, but they can be cozy in bad weather. My final plan looked like this:

Day	Campsite	Miles
Fri	Curly Maple Gap Shelter	4.2
Sat	Cherry Gap Shelter	12.2
Sun	Roan High Knob Shelter	15.2
Mon	Hampton Cove Trailhead	10.2

I decided to end my hike in Hampton Cove. From Yellow Gap in the Roan Highlands I’d descend the Overmountain Victory Trail north into Tennessee. Brenda planned to arrive at that trailhead early on Monday morning and hike up to Yellow Gap. We’d meet there and have lunch before hiking back out together.

CHUCKY AND CURLY

I had some lingering work obligations on Friday, so I didn’t actually leave the house until 2pm. This actually worked out nicely. I drove through heavy rain on I-26 north of Asheville. The storm was clearing by the time I crested Sam’s Gap and descended into Tennessee. The surrounding mountains were unusually beautiful, with tendrils of mist rising from the lush green valleys.

I found my way to Chestoah Pike and followed it to the bridge over the Nolichucky River. The trail actually crosses the bridge, and I found an empty parking area on the far side. I made some final adjustments to my pack before releasing the hounds and hitting the trail at 5:15. Fortunately we only had to hike a little over 4 miles (and climb 1.400’) to get to the first shelter.

The trail was a mud hole early on. Then we crossed the railroad tracks and began following a rough route up the Nolichucky Gorge. The river, railroad tracks, and a paved road to a campground and several whitewater outfitters were below us. That left little room for the actual trail. As a result, it hugs a cliff, with rough footing and a steep slope above and below the trail.

Our trip nearly ended before it began. We’d hiked perhaps a mile when the dogs caught the scent of something intriguing. They tore off up the slope above the trail, leaving me in a shower of pebbles. I decided to let them go – they’d both been cooped up all week, and this would release some of their energy.

I hiked for a few minutes before I called them back. They came back down the slope at full speed, now a couple hundred yards down the trail from where they started. At first I was relieved that they were back. Then I realized that something was amiss. Boone wasn’t wearing his pack.

His pack had 2 liters of water, all of their food and treats, and their leashes. We wouldn’t be able to do the trip without it, and it could be…anywhere. I looked up the hill above us. It was a 45 degree slope dotted with boulders and covered in tangles of rhododendron.

I may have uttered a discouraging word or two. Most of those were directed at Boone. I flashed back to our last backpacking trip together, in the Shining Rock Wilderness in May. On that trip he’d tossed his pack off on three separate occasions. He usually didn’t mind wearing it, but was probably annoyed that he had to carry it while Kona ran around unencumbered. He was able to ditch the pack because the straps were too loose. I realized that I’d failed to adjust them after the trip, so this was partially my fault. Sigh.

The original trip plan did not include any bushwhacking, but that was about to change. Finding his pack on that hillside was wildly unlikely, but I had to give it a shot. I took mine off and scrambled up the hill. I reasoned that if I could get above it, I might be able to see it below me. The pack is red, so it would be noticeable in the sea of green.

The climb was grueling. Aside from the boulders and rhododendron, spider webs and fallen trees were plentiful. I climbed a hundred yards or so before pausing. How high had they gone? There was no telling, but the slope was even steeper above. I was already exhausted, and then it started to rain. Perfect.

I traversed across the slope, moving slowly through the jungle. Eventually I headed back down to the trail, reaching it close to where they had originally departed. Of course there had been no sign of the pack. I followed the trail back to my pack, debating my options the whole way. We’d definitely have to hike back to the car. At that point, maybe I’d go find a PetsMart and buy a cheap pack and dog food. Or maybe we’d just head home. I was exhausted.

I hoisted my pack and glanced downhill. There was Boone’s pack, propped against a tree. Unbelievable. I have no idea how it got there. Perhaps they’d run around below the trail, too. More likely it had come off above the trail and had rolled down there.

I was completely exhausted, but I still had to hike 3 miles and climb 1,400’. And it was already 6:30. And raining, albeit lightly. Even better, while Boone was ditching his pack, Kona had found something dead to roll in. She was filthy and smelled awful. There were no second thoughts though. Off we went.

The trail got easier beyond the section of cliffs. We passed a spur trail leading down to the campground, and actually encountered a guy who must’ve been heading back there after walking into Erwin. Happily, he was the only person we’d see on the first day.

An easy but muddy stretch of trail followed Jones Branch for a mile or so. There were some nice campsites along the creek, and I was tempted to stop. That would make Saturday’s hike longer though, and although the rain had stopped, the threat persisted. It would be nice to have a roof over our heads.

We eventually climbed away from the creek on switchbacks. Although the creek is small, it makes a steep drop a mile or so upstream from this point. On another occasion I might’ve explored upstream in search of waterfalls. I’d already done my bushwhacking for the day though. I didn’t have the time or energy for that level of adventure.

All of the elevation gain was in the last 2 miles. The climb was fairly tough, but it was good to get some of the uphill out of the way on the first day. I arrived at the Curly Maple Shelter around 8pm, and was relieved to find it deserted. There was a nice spring just below the shelter, too. I settled in, unpacked, and made our beds. I then had a nice dinner of jambalaya with sausage and a salad. Afterwards I gave Kona a bath, because I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep with her stinking up the shelter. Getting water in the dark was interesting. I went to the spring, and found a small snake in it. Oddly, the snake was upright, like it was treading water. I went downstream to get my water.

I slept poorly, despite my fatigue. My restlessness may have been due to the giant rat I spotted just before turning off my head lamp. Hopefully the dogs would protect me.

UNAKA BEAUTY

I intended to get an early start on Saturday morning. I set the alarm for 6 and got up at 6:30. Breakfast consisted of only oatmeal and coffee, and I didn’t have to pack up the tent, but I still didn’t get out until 8:15. Pitiful.

The hike from the shelter to Indian Grave Gap was quiet and peaceful but not terribly exciting. There was one view to the north. It wasn’t anything spectacular, but it was a nice change from the green tunnel I was hiking through. There were some wildflowers, most notably Spiderworts, which were everywhere. The last mile leading to Indian Grave Gap featured frequent road noise, which was an interruption from the wilderness experience. That’s one major drawback to hiking the A.T. There were at least one or two road crossings every day of my trip.

Another stout climb followed Indian Grave Gap. Eventually we crossed a dirt forest road, before heading up through forest and into open meadows. We arrived at The Beauty Spot a bit later, just in time for lunch. The Beauty Spot was one of the biggest highlights of the trip. It’s a natural grassy bald with sweeping views to the north and west. Although there were building clouds, the humidity was surprisingly low and the weather didn’t feel threatening. The dogs enjoyed a roll in the grass while I had lunch.

Incredibly, we had the place to ourselves for an hour. A forest road comes within 200 yards of the summit, and the parking area is visible from the top. Cars came and went, but everyone seemed content with the view from there. After all, who wants to walk a couple of minutes up a small hill for a better vista? Eventually a group of tourists did come up. We chatted for a few minutes. They were a local couple and an older couple from Florida. The local guy pointed to the next mountain to the east and declared that it was Roan Mountain (it’s not) and that it is 5,500’ high (it isn’t). Sometimes I let that sort of thing go, but on this occasion I mentioned that it was actually Unaka Mountain (which is actually about 5,100’ high. Roan Mountain is over 6,300’). His wife then chimed in that Unaka Mountain is the southern-most peak in the country covered in a pine forest (it’s not. Actually it’s covered in spruce, and I’m pretty sure there are peaks farther south covered in spruce, as well as pine. I decided to let that one slide though).

Before they’d arrived I’d considered lounging in the meadow all afternoon, but it was clearly time to go. We descended to a gap and the forest road. The AT database calls this Beauty Spot Gap, but the map gives that name to a gap a mile or so farther east. There are campsites and a spring on the far side of the road, on a blue-blazed trail. We continued ahead, through woods and meadows, enjoying abundant flowers and views of Unaka Mountain. We reached the second gap, and another blue blazed trail that crosses the road to a campsite and spring. I filled up on water there for the climb up Unaka Mountain.

The climb up Unaka was one of the tougher stretches of the hike. There are switchbacks, but it’s still a steep climb. Fortunately, it’s worth the effort. Unaka Mountain has no view, but it is one of the prettiest mountains I’ve been on. Before the summit we passed through overgrown meadows with blooming Flame Azalea and Mountain Laurel. Above that point we passed through a gorgeous spruce forest. There are lovely campsites up there, and I was tempted to stop. That would’ve made Sunday’s hike even longer than the 15 miles I’d originally planned though. So I continued on.

A long descent followed. I took a break at Low Gap, and considered camping there. The weather was surprisingly nice, and there wasn’t anyone around. I even found a modest spring down the Tennessee side of the ridge. However, the mosquitoes were terrible there. We hiked on.

We reached the Cherry Gap Shelter 45 minutes later. There was a large group camped across from the shelter in a lovely hemlock glade. There was only one hiker in the actual shelter though. He was friendly, but Kona wouldn’t stop barking and growling at him. She’d acted badly to a couple of other hikers we’d passed earlier, which was frustrating and embarrassing. She’d done really well around other people on recent hikes, but on this trip she really regressed. Ultimately I pitched the tent behind the shelter, and Kona spent most of the evening leashed to a tree.

The mosquitoes were pretty bad at the shelter, so I didn’t gain much by skipping the campsite at Low Gap. I had a dinner of Asian noodles with fresh vegetables. I went to bed shortly after dark, but didn’t sleep well. The group on the far side of the trail was a little rowdy early on. At one point I woke to Kona growling. I’d left the fly off the tent, so we had a clear view of the surrounding forest. I looked up, and saw something blue floating through the woods towards us. It was bobbing along about a foot off the ground. What was it? A hellcat with one blue eye? It came straight towards the tent before veering off. Then I noticed several others floating around in the woods nearby. I think they may have been Blue Ghost Fireflies. There were only a few of them, but the constant blue light is a characteristic of them.

The woodpeckers and owls were noisy all night long. Later I heard a faint, high-pitched noise that sounded like a scream. I suspect one of the owls caught something.

GOT WHAT HE WANTED

I got up at 6 on Sunday morning, but it was still almost 8 before I headed out. I’ll blame that on having to pack up the tent, which added a few minutes to the normal morning routine. Sadly, I was up a good 30 minutes before the crowd camped on the far side of the trail, but they still departed a few minutes ahead of me. They were headed the other direction, as was everybody else I ran into during my hike. Apparently most people prefer to hike this stretch southbound, which is largely downhill.

The stretch from the shelter to Iron Mountain Gap was mostly downhill. The highlight was a modest view from Little Bald Knob. We reached highway 226 and dashed across the road to regain the trail on the far side. The trail from there to Greasy Creek Gap is pretty much a rollcoaster through the woods. There were lots of ups and downs, and the scenery was pleasant, if not exactly spectacular. There was one nice view back to Unaka Mountain, and a meadow at an old apple orchard provided a nice spot for a morning break. The dogs got water there, but we didn’t hang around long because of the mosquitoes.

I reached Greasy Creek Gap and nice campsites around noon. There is a 2-mile spur trail starting here, leading down to the Greasy Creek Friendly, a remote hostel on the North Carolina side of the mountains. The hostel is well-known in the A.T. community as I great place to rest up or resupply. In our family, it is best known as the place that Christy’s uncle holed up last November for several days following the freak blizzard caused by Hurricane Sandy. He was nearing the end of a southbound thru-hike when the storm hit. Unfortunately, trail conditions were too challenging to resume the hike. However, he did return to finish the trail just a few weeks ago.

I hiked another mile to a campsite in grassy clearing. There was a group of backpackers there, but they had just finished lunch and were heading out. Boone had another nice roll in the grass while I ate lunch. I found water by following a faintly blue-blazed trail down into Tennessee. This spring was rather thin, unlike the others I’d passed on the hike. In drier conditions it is probably not reliable.

The stretch of trail to the Clyde Smith Shelter is fairly easy. After that it is brutal though, with lots of steep ups and downs. In fact, just beyond the shelter I heard a trail crew on the hillside below me working on a re-route. The toughest stretch though was the rocky climb up Little Rock Knob. The trail is pretty much straight up, and it requires a bit of scrambling, which is fun with a big pack. At one point I reached a spot where I had to step up onto a boulder that was almost waist high. I led with my left leg, and gave an enthusiastic push with my right foot. I felt an alarming sensation in my right (injured) calf, but I made it up. Initially I thought I’d hurt myself, but the calf seemed ok. It was a little sore that afternoon, but fine by the next morning.

I collapsed at the top and took in one of the better views of the hike. An expansive view unfurled below me. Unaka Mountain was prominent to the west, and countless peaks and valleys stretched off to the north. I enjoyed a long break there before resuming the hike. Just beyond the overlook I passed a nice campsite that was tempting. I was low on water though, and there weren’t any sources nearby.

A quick descent brought me to Hughes Gap and another road crossing. I was dreading the next stretch of trail. It climbs steeply from there to Roan Mountain, only easing up briefly at Ash Gap. I hiked this stretch once, years ago, and swore I’d never do it again. Back then it was so steep it left my calves sore for days. However, the trail was recently re-routed, and it is much improved. It’s still a huge climb, but the grade is much more reasonable.

We passed a solo female backpacker heading down, and Kona barked her little head off. The hiker took it in stride, but I was out of patience with Kona’s behavior. Staying in the shelter on Roan Mountain seemed like a bad idea. I decided to camp at Ash Gap instead. Hopefully we’d have that area to ourselves. It would add a couple of miles to Monday’s hike, but I was ready to call it a day anyway. I wasn’t the only one. The dogs were nearly finished. Kona repeatedly sat down in the middle of the trail, and both of them curled up each time I paused to catch my breath.

The hike to Ash Gap was gorgeous. There are no views, but the forest is unusually beautiful. The trail follows a narrow, rocky ridge shaded by gnarled beeches and birches. The final descent to the gap was even more lovely, through a dark, grassy forest. I found a great campsite, arriving just as I heard the first rumbles of thunder in the distance. Happily, the entire area was deserted. It was a good thing, because I didn’t think I could hike any further. I’d wanted a tough, challenging hike, and I’d gotten it.

I set up camp quickly and then followed a blue-blazed trail down to a spring. The hike down was rather long and steep, and the spring was pretty thin. It was adequate though, and I was able to haul enough water back up to get us through the evening and the next morning.

A few sprinkles fell, but the storms somehow missed us. Later I found out that a huge storm hit Grassy Ridge up in the Roan Highlands. We only caught a few sprinkles and a fantastic breeze from it. I slept a little better that night in one of the nicer sites I’ve camped in.

LITTLE LILY

It did rain a little the next morning during breakfast. It was just enough to get the tent wet. I got out of camp a little before 8am, which was my best effort of the trip.

The climb to Roan Mountain from Ash Gap was just as beautiful as the ascent from Hughes Gap. The final thousand feet of climbing was through a deep, dark spruce / fir forest featuring huge boulders and abundant ferns. I even saw some Spring Beauties just beginning to bloom – a good two months later than normal. It was a foggy morning, which only made the forest more beautiful. At one point sun began shining through the fog, turning the forest into a patchwork of light and shadow. Near the top of the climb I found a Catawba Rhododendron in bloom. Unfortunately the rest of the Rhododendrons up there had faded.

I had intended to take a side trip over to the Cloudland picnic area to get water, but somehow I missed the turn in the fog. I realized this when I reached the spur trail to the Roan High Knob Shelter. I wasn’t interested in backtracking, so I continued down the trail through more spruce and fir. Just before Carvers Gap I stopped at a small stream and filtered water.

From there we crossed one last road. There were only a few cars in the parking area on this foggy Monday morning. We hiked up through meadows and forest to Round Bald, which was lost in the fog. Conditions were gradually improving though, and partial views began to open up, particularly into Tennessee. Engine Gap was lovely, as there were still some Flame Azalea blooming there. I found more colorful Azaleas on the ascent to Jane Bald, along with several patches of Gray’s Lilies. Gray’s Lilies are rare (considered a threatened species), so it was exciting to see them.

On the far side of Jane Bald I passed an enclosure that contains the resident goat herd. The goats are there to help keep the grassy balds from getting overgrown. After an unnamed gap I reached the junction with the spur trail to Grassy Ridge. Normally I’d hate to pass Grassy Ridge up, but the peak was still lost in the clouds, and the Rhododendron blooms were long gone. I stayed on the A.T., crossing several streams before beginning a long, muddy descent through another lovely forest. I reached the Stan Murray Shelter at 1pm before passing through another meadow.

I was nearly at Yellow Gap when Brenda appeared on the trail ahead. The dogs were delighted to see her, and so was I. We hiked together down to the gap, which was nearly flooded. We walked just beyond the gap to a fairly dry campsite. We had a long break there, and I ate lunch and massaged my aching feet.

It was hard to get going afterwards. In fact, Boone wasn’t real interested in hiking any more. I think he was expecting Brenda to come back with the car! We still had to hike almost 4 miles though. We descended the Overmountain Victory Trail, which follows old roads and footpaths down to Hampton Cove. The trail was lined with Stinging Nettle, but it wasn’t too bad. We crossed a couple of streams and endured one final climb over a non-descript ridge. Beyond, the trail emerged from the forest into another clearing. Most of the rest of the hike was through more open meadows, with nice views of White Rocks Mountain in the distance. This part of the trail passes through a farm. The owners of the farm granted a conservation easement to allow the construction of the trail.

We arrived at Brenda’s car around 4:30, about 2 hours after leaving Yellow Gap. Reaching it was a relief, and our timing was great. Black clouds were forming above the mountains we had just left behind. I ended up driving through heavy rain that evening on the way home.

It was a good trip, with nice scenery and plenty of challenge. On the other hand, my hike reinforced my general opinion of the Appalachian Trail. While the A.T. is great in concept, it is rather lacking for a couple of reasons. First, it doesn’t offer much of a wilderness experience. It’s heavily traveled, and it crosses roads frequently enough that you never feel completely removed from civilization. Although good views are plentiful, the trail rarely follows streams, which is an integral part of the southern Appalachians. Although I will certainly include the A.T. in some of my future hikes, I still have no desire to hike the entire thing.

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