FOOTPRINTS ON THE CEILING
I had been intending to backpack the Black Mountain Crest again for over a year now, and a couple of weeks ago I finally found the opportunity. My original plan was to start at the summit and hike the crest all the way to Celo Knob and take advantage of a scenic campsite near Horse Rock. On past trips, we'd always approached the crest from one of the surrounding valleys. I felt that starting at the summit would be an adequate concession for the folks in our group that weren't looking for physical abuse. However, as the weekend drew near, I began to realize that an 8-mile hike along one of the most rugged ridgelines in the southeast was still going to make some of us unhappy. I adjusted the plan, making our new camping destination at Deep Gap. Still, I insisted on an early start so that we'd have time for an afternoon hike to Celo and back.
To be honest, I wasn't looking forward to camping at Deep Gap. Every time I've walked through there, it has seemed rather cramped and overused. What was the likelihood of a quiet night camped there? When Christy, Saucony, and I met Myron, Dorcas, and Izaak at the summit trailhead, we encountered my greatest fear. Waiting for us there was the one thing you never want to see at the start of a backpacking trip. The only vehicles in the parking lot were 3 large vans, all swarmed by a roving pack of young boys. This could only mean one thing; Boy Scouts. This might be a fantasy to Michael Jackson, but for the rest of us it was a nightmare.
We parked, but quickly found cause for hope. The boys all had bikes. We chatted with the leader, and discovered that they planned on riding down the mountain and camping at the Black Mountain Campground. What a relief! We started on the trail towards Deep Gap with renewed hope for an evening of peace and quiet.
We reached the summit of Mount Craig and reveled in the sparkling views. It was an unusually clear day, and the view seemed to stretch on forever. We stalled around on Craig for awhile before beginning a steep descent to Big Tom Gap. On the way down, I was reminded of how difficult the Black Mountain Crest Trail is. It features a number of steep drops, and even the easiest part of the route is rocky and rough. It is not the kind of trail where you simply put one foot in front of the other and stroll along at 3 miles per hour. At one point I misjudged a step and twisted my ankle. I've sprained my ankles so many times that they're practically rubber, so I barely paused before continuing on.
We stopped for an early lunch near Big Tom Gap. Then we began an easier stretch of trail over Balsam Cone and Cattail Peak. The walking was a little more gentle through here, but it was never flat. We were constantly climbing and dropping as we followed the roller coaster that is the Black Mountain Crest.
Mount Mitchell is infamous for its dead fir trees, but I'm pleased to report that much of the ridge north of the summit is still cloaked in a thick forest of evergreens. The summits of Balsam Cone and Cattail Peak were particularly pretty as we wandered through the dense forest. Then we reached Tater Hill and were treated with the best views we'd seen since Mount Craig. From the cliffs on Tater Hill we had a great view north and east to the balds of Roan Mountain, the rocky crags of Grandfather Mountain, and the sheer cliffs of Linville Gorge.
We began a tedious descent into Deep Gap. We reached the first campsite in a small grassy area right on the trail. Everyone else was ready to stop, but I insisted on scouting ahead. I found a better spot not far beyond. We camped in a grassy meadow just off the path near where the old jeep road from Deep Gap meets the trail. It proved to be a wonderful spot to enjoy the abundant sunshine.
The sunshine was Christy's undoing. We set up camp quickly and prepared to hike further. I'm sure Christy really wanted to go, but she couldn't leave her sunny meadow. The rest of us continued on though, in an attempt to explore further while the sun was still up.
We left Deep Gap at 2:30. That was way too late to make a serious attempt at Celo Knob, which was still 3 rugged miles away. We agreed to hike to Winterstar Mountain and perhaps go a little further if time allowed.
We climbed Winterstar and enjoyed some more fine views south of the summit. The peak itself is heavily forested, but every bit as appealing as the scenic, open areas. We descended beyond the summit to another fine view to the north. This would've been a good place to stop, but I thought I remembered an ever better view not much farther ahead. I was wrong, but I guess the Black Mountains will do that to you sometimes.
We descended steeply from Winterstar. This included a treacherous downclimb through a chute near the base of the peak. The chute was wet, which only added to the fun. Dorcas decided she'd had enough and headed back to Winterstar. Myron, the dogs, and I continued on.
We passed a cool rock overhang and wandered through an overgrown section of trail. The path is more obscure north of Deep Gap, where it is lightly used. We finally made it out of the weeds, reaching a grassy meadow on the side of a minor summit south of Gibbs Mountain. Here we found a view that was worth stopping to appreciate. We sat in the grass and gazed back to the southwest. We soaked in the maze of high ridges, including the Black Mountains, the Craggy Mountains, and the Bald Mountains.
It was 4:00 when we started back. We knew we were pushing our luck with the daylight, so we didn't dawdle. Along the way we passed two groups of backpackers heading north. They were the only people we'd seen since passing a few backpackers heading south near Mount Craig. We found Dorcas on the far side of Winterstar and began our final descent. I found this difficult, as a sudden, stabbing pain had taken up residence in my right knee. I wasn't sure what brought it on, but theorized that I might have twisted it when I turned my ankle. I hobbled down the mountain, and we made it back to camp in time to enjoy a fiery red sunset.
Deep Gap was deserted except for us. After dinner, we coaxed a little flame and a lot of smoke out of the wet wood that Christy was able to gather while we were gone. Considering that some areas of the mountains had gotten 9" of rain in a single storm a couple of days earlier, we didn't have much room to complain. The fire didn't provide a lot of heat, but it was enough to melt marshmallows for smores. After the fire finally sputtered out, we relaxed and counted shooting stars. Eventually it got cold enough to chase us to bed, though it never dropped below freezing. That's not bad for the Black Mountains in November.
The hike out the next morning was relatively uneventful. We enjoyed another beautiful day, complete with more great views. We also quickly discovered that hiking from Deep Gap back to Mitchell is tougher than the walk out. We climbed an extra 1000' in addition to all of the other ups and downs along the way. The exercise was good for us though, and fortunately my knee had returned to normal since the previous day. Advil and brandy may have had something to do with that.
We stopped for lunch on Tater Hill and enjoyed the views. We sat at the edge of a cliff, partially hidden in a rhododendron thicket. Christy and I had finished eating when we heard a rather strange comment come from beyond the nearest shrubs. All we heard was, "I really like rubbing your hairless belly." Clearly it was time to go. We now pause for today's trivia question.
Who said, "I really like rubbing your hairless belly", and to whom?
We hiked on, but stopped for a long break at Big Tom Gap. Myron, Dorcas, and Izaak eventually caught up to us there. From that point, we had one more serious climb up to Mount Craig. After Craig, it was a fairly easy stroll back to the parking lot.
We reached the car, and debated making the obligatory trip to the tower on the summit. The tower was still a couple of hundred yards above us. Myron actually suggested driving 100 yards from the lower parking area to the upper parking area and walking from there. I'm pretty sure he was joking. I think. Worse though, was that we could see swarms of tourists assaulting the tower from our distant vantage point. Been there, done that. We decided that the tourists could have the tower, as long as they left the rest of the range to us. It seems like a fair trade to me.
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