ALMOST PERFECT
Last
week, a quirk in my schedule left me free on Thursday and Friday. As luck would have it, my free days coincided
with the first warm, dry weather we’ve had since before Christmas. I had to take advantage of this opportunity.
I
contemplated a number of options for my trip.
I decided to bring the dog with me, so that eliminated the Smokies from consideration.
I wanted to camp somewhere scenic, since the weather forecast offered
the potential for an attractive sunrise and sunset. Since I’d have the dog, I needed a hike with
plenty of water sources. Finally, I
wanted to stick with modest elevations, as the higher mountains are still buried
under snow.
I
reached deep into my mental “to-do” list and found the perfect trip. It’s one that I’ve been planning to do for 10
years or more, but haven’t gotten around to.
Best of all, it would take me to an area I haven’t visited in years.
My
plan was to drive to Hot Springs, NC, on Thursday morning. Hot Springs is a small town close to the
Tennessee border, where the Appalachian Trail meets the French Broad River. It’s a hiker-friendly town, with a reputation
for being one of the most hospitable places along the entire A.T. From Hot Springs, I’d make a loop combining
the A.T. and the Roundtop Ridge Trails. This route would enable me to camp at or near
the summit of Rich Mountain, which features a fire tower. The fire tower would offer plenty of views,
and I knew there was a spring just below the summit.
I
did have one minor work obligation on Thursday morning. I had to suffer through a 10am conference
call. I participated in the conference
on my cell phone while sitting in a gas station parking lot in
Weaverville. Once that was out of the
way, I headed on towards Hot Springs.
Road construction delayed me further though, and it was after 11 when I
finally reached town.
I
had very little information on the Roundtop Ridge
Trail. This made me a little nervous, as
I’d had mixed results with some of the more primitive trails in the Hot Springs
area in the past. On one occasion, we
attempted to hike an old trail from Pump Gap down to Big Laurel Creek. That plan resulted in lots of crawling, as
the “trail” was covered with fallen trees.
What would happen if I ran into a similar situation on my way down Roundtop Ridge, solo, in the snow?
With
that in mind, I decided to drive to the Roundtop
Ridge Trailhead first just to verify its existence. I didn’t have actual directions to the
trailhead, but I was pretty sure of its location based solely on the map. I drove up Reservoir Road past the last
houses, but lingering ice left me spinning my wheels well before I reached the
parking area. Discouraged, I drove back
towards town. I decided to hike the A.T.
first. On my return, I’d come down the Roundtop Ridge Trail if it looked promising at the upper
end. If not, I would simply return by
the same route.
I
parked adjacent to the French Broad River under the bridge leading into Hot
Springs. This is the takeout area for
commercial rafting trips on the French Broad.
Parking isn’t really allowed here, but I figured there weren’t many
people rafting in January. I spent a few
minutes organizing my gear, and then managed to saddle Boone with his
pack. He was carrying all of his food,
along with a sweater and a fleece blanket.
Even though it was warmer, the forecast still called for temperatures in
the upper 20’s that night. For a dog
without much fur, that would be pretty chilly.
Thanks
to all of these delays, it was 11:30 before we finally got on the trail. I had 8 miles to go, but I figured I’d be
able to make good time on the A.T.
We
hiked past some whitewater outfitters (all closed for the season) and picked up
the trail heading upstream. The French
Broad isn’t your typical North Carolina mountain river. It’s a big, powerful body of water. It provided some fine companionship for the
first few minutes of the hike as we hiked below the cliffs of Lover’s Leap.
The
easy walking ended all too soon. Before
long we began ascending the cliffs on switchbacks. Boone didn’t seem to be too burdened by the
weight of his pack, as he ran back and forth up and down the trail. He managed to whack me in the leg with his
pack each time he passed by, which was pretty exciting since we were on a
narrow trail on the edge of a cliff. At
least I was able to brace myself for each collision!
We
reached the top of the cliffs after 30 minutes or so. There I enjoyed some nice views of the river,
the town, and Bluff Mountain beyond.
Eventually I found some rocks that made an ideal seat, and I couldn’t
pass up the lunch spot. I ate quickly,
eager to get back on the trail.
From
the cliffs of Lover’s Leap, we followed the top of the ridge through a light
dusting of snow. Before long though, we
began to descend towards Pump Gap. It
was along this stretch that we started running into fallen trees. For the most part they were just a nuisance,
but they did slow us down.
Shortly
before Pump Gap we encountered a dayhiker out by
himself. He was the only person we saw
on the whole trip.
In
Pump Gap we met an alternate trail leading back towards Hot Springs. Pump Gap features a healthy Hemlock forest,
which is a rare sight these days. At the
gap, a sign explained that the trees in the area have been treated with
pesticides.
The
next stretch of trail was tedious, as fallen trees and Rhododendron limbs became
more common. I spent a good bit of the
next part of the hike crawling over, under, and around all sorts of
deadfalls. By the time I reached Mill
Ridge, I was growing concerned about my pace.
Just
before Mill Ridge we arrived at a small concrete dam. The pond behind it was frozen solid. This was fortunate, as Boone was strolling
across it when I caught up to him. If he
had fallen through with that pack on, it would’ve been an ugly situation.
From
the pond, we climbed up to Mill Ridge.
Mill Ridge consists of former farmland.
These days, it’s overrun with logging roads. The trail followed one of them. This wasn’t very appealing, but it did enable
me to finally make some good time, at least initially. After 10 minutes or so, I reached a road
junction and a double blaze. It was the
first blaze I’d seen in quite some time.
Double blazes normally indicate that the trail turns, so I followed the
side road up to a mountain biker’s trailhead and parking area. There were no signs or blazes here, so I
continued down the gated road beyond the parking area.
I
followed this snowy, icy road for some distance, still without seeing any
blazes or other markings. Finally I
began to feel like I was going in the wrong direction. The trail should’ve headed down towards Tanyard Gap, which was below me. Instead, this road was contouring around the
side of the mountain with no apparent destination. My A.T. guide is from the 1980’s, and it didn’t
offer much help. The trail has probably
been re-routed half a dozen times since then!
My map wasn’t real useful, either.
The area is a maze of logging roads, and it only showed some of them.
Frustrated,
I doubled-back to the parking area and took a short cut through a field down to
the road I’d originally been on. I spotted
a white blaze almost as soon as I rejoined the road. The good news was that I was back on the
trail. The bad news was that I’d just
wasted 30 minutes walking in the wrong direction.
I
hurried down the road, trying to make up for lost time without busting my tail
on the ice. I was watching my footing
closely, which is probably how I missed the trail when it left the road. I didn’t actually realize I was off the trail
though until I reached the bridge spanning highway 70 in Tanyard
Gap. There, I looked up to see steps and
white blazes climbing the hillside behind me.
How did I miss that? Apparently
that was the route I should’ve come down, but fortunately I still ended up in
the right place.
It
was 3:30, and I had 3 miles to go and about 1400’ to climb. I was at the point of no return. If I continued, I would have to make it to
the campsite and spring near the summit.
I probably wouldn’t find another reasonable place to camp on the side of
the mountain. Briefly I considered
doubling-back to camp in the meadows of Mill Ridge. That would’ve been the safe choice, but I was
determined to finish the hike.
I
crossed the overpass and picked up the trail on the far side. Immediately I had to negotiate 3 or 4 major
deadfalls. This was not encouraging – if
trail conditions deteriorated further, I’d never make it to camp before dark.
I
was lucky. The fallen trees continued,
but most of them were minor and they only slowed me down a little. I established a steady pace, which was
manageable on the well-graded trail. There was only a thin layer of snow on the
south side of the mountain, which made the hiking easier, too.
I
reached a signed junction with the Roundtop Ridge
Trail a bit before 5pm. This was good
news for a number of reasons. I knew I
was less than ˝ a mile from the campsite and spring. Also, the Roundtop
Ridge Trail was both well-marked and used.
Someone had noted on the signpost that this trail was a shortcut to Hot
Springs. This made sense. That route is several miles shorter than the
A.T., and everyone knows that thru-hikers love short cuts. There was also a single set of footprints in
the snow heading that way. The
footprints were old, but at least they suggested that someone had hiked, or had
at least attempted to hike, that trail.
We
contoured around the back side of Rich Mountain, where the snow was
significantly deeper. A few minutes
later I reached another junction and spotted the spring just ahead. The side path here leads up to the summit of
Rich Mountain. At this point I had another
important decision to make.
I
wanted to reach the summit in time for sunset, which was
only a few minutes away. Should I pitch
the tent near the spring and then race up there for sunset? Another thought had crossed my mind. Could I spend the night in the fire
tower? If so, I wouldn’t need to bother
with the tent at all. I knew I’d have to
come back down here for water, but it wasn’t far out of the way. I decided to give that a shot.
I
tried to hurry up the mountain, but found the going sluggish on steeper trail
in 6” of fresh snow. Plus, I was really
starting to run out of gas. I had
skipped my normal afternoon snack because I was in too much of a hurry to
stop. Now I was paying the price.
Finally
the 40’ tower loomed above. I crossed
the snow-covered dirt road that accesses the tower and walked to the base. I dropped my pack there and shuffled up the
steps. At the top, I was pleased to find
the interior open. Unfortunately, it was
too open. All of the windows were gone,
and the interior room was full of snow, ice, and water. Sleeping in there wasn’t an option! I could’ve slept out on the walkway, but it
is narrow, and there was a stiff breeze up here. With the wind, I quickly decided that we’d be
warmer sleeping on the snow. Plus, Boone
was still waiting for me at the base of the steps. He was whining and barking, apparently
terrified to follow me up the stairs.
I
descended carefully, as some of the steps were icy. At this point, I wasn’t interested in
carrying everything back down to the campsite by the spring. Instead, I pitched the tent in a flat, snowy
clearing just behind the fire tower. It was
5:15 now, and the sun was hidden behind a bank of clouds to the southwest. Would there even be a proper sunset?
I
decided to run back down to the spring before it got dark. We made it down quickly, and I filled my collapsible
bucket. The spring was shallow and
silty, but I was in no position to be picky.
I started back up the mountain, struggling through the snow. As I climbed, the sky ahead of me turned a
brilliant red. Either I was missing a
spectacular sunset, or Oak Ridge had blown up!
Either way, I was missing a great show.
I tried to hurry, but I couldn’t seem to get my legs to move any faster.
I
reached camp, hung up the bucket, grabbed my camera and ran for the
stairs. I made it to the top with a few
minutes to spare. The entire southwest
sky was a violent, pulsating red. Giddy,
I roamed the top of the tower taking photos.
It would’ve been the perfect photo opportunity except for one
thing. There is a cell tower adjacent to
the fire tower on the summit of Rich Mountain.
The @#&%! thing is directly southwest of the fire tower, right
between me and that outrageous sky that seemed to be swallowing the Smokies.
The
irony of this is that while I hate cell towers on mountain tops, my job
requires me to use a cell phone. I’ve
always said that if cell towers are necessary, it’s better to put them on
summits that already have other structures.
Like, for example, Rich Mountain.
Sigh.
I
made some creative compositions, excluding the cell tower from most of the
photos. The end result of my photography
was interesting. Believe it or not, the color
of the sky was actually more intense than the photos suggest. It was similar to what I’d expect the Aurora
Borealis to look like.
The
excitement ended pretty quickly.
Originally I’d planned to cook and eat dinner at the top of the tower,
but Boone was still whining at the bottom of the steps. I went back down, fed him, and managed to get
his sweater on him. Then I cooked chicken
jambalaya on the stairs. Cooking there
kept me below the wind and above the snow, which was convenient and cozy.
Later,
I got some value out of that obnoxious cell tower and called my wife. I had a great signal! I reported that all was well, and headed to
bed shortly thereafter.
That
evening was interesting. I couldn’t get
Boone zipped up in his fleece blanket.
Eventually I gave up and just covered him with it. That worked for awhile, until he got restless
and started pacing around the tent. He
did this about once an hour. Each time,
he’d flop back down closer to me. By the
early morning hours he was more or less on top of me. There’s nothing like snuggling in a tent with
an 80 pound dog!
The
sound of a pickup truck woke me in the middle of the night. I checked my watch, and was surprised that it
wasn’t even midnight! Who was out there,
and where were they going? My only
thought was that I hoped that they didn’t pull into the “parking area” under
the fire tower. The dog would go crazy,
and I really didn’t want to get out of the tent. I was comfortable in my sleeping bag, and I
wanted to stay there! Fortunately the
truck didn’t stop. I still have no idea
where they were going.
MORNING SUN > RESERVOIR
I
woke at first light the next morning, but had trouble getting up. It was cozy in my sleeping bag, and I still
had a dog on top of me. Eventually I got
dressed and let Boone out. It was a
chilly morning, as evidenced by the layer of ice that had formed on Boone’s
water bowl. I fed him, and took
breakfast up to the top of the tower for sunrise. I arrived just in time. I enjoyed some oatmeal and hot cocoa as the
sun crested the peaks to the southeast.
Waves of mountains unfolded in that direction, the intervening valleys
choked with fog. It was a lovely
sunrise, even if it didn’t quite match the magic of the previous evening.
I
ate, cleaned up, and broke camp. My
final dilemma concerned water. I had
about a pint left in my Camelback. Unfortunately,
the water in the bucket was heavy with silt.
It looked pretty gross, and seemed destined to clog my filter. Instead, I filled my Camelback with fresh
snow. I was pretty confident that the
water already in there would melt the snow I added. It was a surprisingly warm, sunny morning, so
I wasn’t too concerned about the entire Camelback freezing up.
I
got Boone’s pack on him, and he marched over to the foot of the steps leading
up the fire tower. He looked back at me
nervously, tail twitching. I couldn’t
help but laugh. Apparently Boone thought
that the day’s hike started at the top of the tower! Maybe he thought there was a magic door up
there that would take us back to the car.
We
headed back down the mountain, through an open hardwood forest covered in snow
and splashed with brilliant sunshine. We
rejoined the A.T. and headed back towards Hot Springs. At the Roundtop
Ridge Trail cutoff though, I decided to abandon the known route home. Taking the A.T. would be the safe choice,
since I knew we’d make it back that way.
I hadn’t been particularly enthralled with the hike in though. Lover’s Leap and Pump Gap had been nice, but
the logging roads on Mill Ridge hadn’t been particularly inspiring. Plus, I wasn’t very interested in climbing over
all of the fallen trees I’d already fought through the previous day. I knew very well that Roundtop
Ridge could be worse. What if it proved
impassable? I banished that thought from
my head and, in the spirit of adventure, continued out the ridge.
The
Roundtop Ridge Trail proved to be well-designed. It generally stayed on top of the ridge or
just below it to the east. It followed
an even grade, and although there were some fallen trees, it was in much better
shape than the A.T. The scenery wasn’t
particularly exciting, as there were only some limited winter views of Rich
Mountain, the French Broad River Valley, and highway 70. Truck traffic on the highway was audible
along here, but it had also been noticeable on many stretches of the A.T. the
previous day.
The
route down was easy to follow. Blazes
were sparse, but the route was generally obvious. At one point I did wander out onto a knoll,
but there I was more interested in looking for a view. Eventually we dropped down off the ridge and
found ourselves following an old roadbed along a small stream in a ravine. There were more fallen trees here, but we
made it through without much trouble. A
few minutes later we emerged from the woods at the Hot Springs town
Reservoir. We passed the big water tank
and followed the dirt road down into the valley. Before long we reached the point where I’d
nearly gotten my car stuck the previous morning. At this point, I knew we were on the right
track, and nearly finished with the hike.
The
rest of the hike back was quick and uneventful.
Boone met some of the neighborhood dogs, which was pretty exciting for
him. Then we got to dodge traffic for 5
minutes as we walked along the shoulder of River Road. Fortunately that stretch ended quickly, and
we arrived at the car a few minutes later.
I
loaded the car and tried to get Boone to drink from the river. He’d hardly touched any water all trip,
although he’d eaten an impressive amount of ice and snow. Water for me was also a bit of a
challenge. I’d finished off my Camelback
halfway down Roundtop Ridge. It was still full of un-melted snow though. I guess that little plan more or less
completely failed. I had a snack and a
soda at the car, while considering my options for the afternoon. It was only 12:30, and I had nothing on the
agenda for the rest of the day. I saw no
reason to hurry home. What to do?
I
briefly considered driving over to Max Patch for a short hike to more outrageous
views. Most of the back roads in the
area above 2000’ were snowy and icy though.
I was leery of that, so I decided on a safer choice. On the way to Hot Springs I’d passed the
trailhead for one of my all-time favorite hikes – the Big Laurel Creek Gorge. It’s a lovely walk, but I hadn’t done it in
years. I decided to stop there for a
short hike before heading home.
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