The last few weeks were painful and frustrating. The TV was wearing me out, so on Sunday I decided to get it all out of my system. The best way that I knew of to do that was to tackle the hardest trail I could find. I headed for Woody Ridge and the Black Mountain Crest. Everyone I knew wisely passed on the hike, but Saucony came along. Of course, she's just a dog and didn't really know what she was in for.
I drove up through Marion and over the Blue Ridge into the Toe River valley. I made one wrong turn, but eventually found the trailhead at the end of one of three Whiteoak Creek Roads. I parked behind an old RV with Ohio plates that looked abandoned. I couldn't resist peering in a window, and it was full of tubing, wooden barrels, and cases of empty jars. Interesting.
Saucony and I hiked up a continuation of the road, which was not gated. I climbed steadily, and missed the first unmarked turn to the left. I caught my mistake pretty quickly though. I'm pretty sure I did the same thing that last time I was here, 3 years ago.
We doubled back to the correct route and followed it across a small stream. The route then entered a maze of ATV trails. It was a confusing mess, but luckily I found some old white blazes to mark the way. I wandered through a number of junctions before crossing the stream again and cresting the ridge. A short distance beyond the crest I left the jeep route for a faint footpath. It ascended the ridge to the west. It quickly led to a huge rock face and a spring. I made sure Saucony got plenty of water, because I knew the hike would be dry the rest of the way. I had brought 5 quarts of water because I knew she would need some, but I planned to ration it carefully.
When I hiked Woody Ridge 3 years ago, it was the steepest trail I'd ever seen. It didn't disappoint me this time, but it still didn't seem nearly as bad. I struggled up through the woods, and climbed a couple of steep rock faces. After 90 minutes I reached a ledge with outstanding views to the south, east, and north. There weren't any clouds or haze, and the views were incredible. I stopped for a short lunch, but by 12:30 was eager to reach the crest.
I hiked up through a thick forest of spruce and fir that was easily 20 degrees cooler than my lunch spot. There were some deadfalls along here, but the trail was in surprisingly good shape. I reached the meadows near Horse Rock after 30 more minutes. I probably should have been content to stop there, but decided to continue on to Gibbs Mountain. Gibbs is on the South Beyond 6000 list, and is one I hadn't reached.
Unfortunately, the trail along the crest was badly overgrown with late summer weeds. I plunged through the brambles but I ignored the pain. I was already scratched up from Saturday's Big Sweep creek cleanup, so I was pretty much numb. This was lucky, because I couldn't find a decent route to the summit. The east side is sheer cliffs, and the north and west sides were badly overgrown. The south side seemed like a possibility, but is covered with prickly blueberry bushes. I decided it would be wise to come back in the spring when the weeds wouldn't be so bad. However, I wasn't ready to turn back. I had plenty of time, and wanted to go farther.
I continued south along the crest, and reached the summit of an unnamed peak. Here I found more meadows and outcrops with amazing views. I could see south along the crest to Mt. Mitchell. To the east was the Blue Ridge, and to the west were the peaks along the state line. To the southwest the Smokies were clearly visible. I knew then that on this day this was the right place for me to be. At least for a few minutes I was able to put aside the tragedy of the past week. I had never felt such love for my country and my freedom as I did at that moment.
Eventually I had to return. I reached a single ribbon on a tree on the west side of Mt. Gibbs. It seemed to mark a route up. I had tried it earlier, but was stopped by the brambles. I was determined though, so I decided to give it another attempt. I hacked and crawled through the thickest brush I'd ever seen. By the time I realized that I had made a huge mistake I was too close to turn back. I pushed on to the summit, which was also heavily overgrown and without a view. I spent all of 30 seconds there before working my way back down. It was a huge relief to get back to the trail, which had seemed overgrown before.
I returned to Horse Rock Meadows, where I had some difficulty finding the trail down. Luckily, Saucony pointed it out for me. We descended quickly, but I stopped to pick up trash. I was amazed that such a lightly used trail would be so littered. Usually the type of people that leave trash avoid the difficult trails. Today though, I found a campsite halfway up that was a mess. Among the litter was a half empty can of tuna fish. Would you leave that laying around your camp, in bear country?
We hiked back down to the ATV route, where I really added to my trash collection. Apparently, the local rednecks subsist entirely on Gatorade, Pepsi, bud light, and peanut butter crackers. I filled up a good sized trash bag along the way out. ATV riders are always complaining about not having enough places to ride. I think I have a solution. I say we open up the local landfills for the ATV riders. It's obvious that these people enjoy riding around in trash. I can't imagine that it would hurt anything, so I say let 'em have at it. I wonder how these idiots would feel if people came by and left trash in their house? Well, I suppose it probably wouldn't make much difference.
I reached the car at 5. My 9 mile hike had been challenging, but not as tough as I anticipated. The vigorous exercise helped me clear my mind, and not seeing anyone all day was beneficial, too. The next time I head for Woody Ridge, I think I'll backpack it. I can't wait to spend another night on the crest of the highest mountains in the East.
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