MOUNTAINS IN THE MIST
“Several
times, unconsciously
I've stumbled upon the path
And seen a mountain in the mist”
From “Mountains in
the Mist”, written by Trey Anastasio and Tom Marshall
Somehow
I was able to convince Christy to go hiking last Saturday. I’m not sure how I pulled it off, considering
that the weather has been absolutely frigid the last few weeks. The forecast didn’t promise much of an
improvement, either, with highs expected to be around 30 degrees and a chance
of flurries.
We
got a bit of a lazy start Saturday morning.
It was almost 9am when we finally left the house, and we stopped a
Dunkin Donuts for breakfast on the way.
We headed up to Linville and towards Grandfather Mountain for our
hike. Our plan was to hike the
snow-covered Blue Ridge Parkway from the Beacon Heights overlook to Grandmother
Mountain.
If
you ask the average North Carolinian about Grandmother Mountain they probably
won’t know what you’re talking about.
Most of the more knowledgeable locals are only aware that Grandmother
Mountain is the peak with the huge communications tower just west of
Grandfather Mountain. I got to know the
mountain a little better last summer, after a weekend spent up on
Grandfather. I spent a couple of hours
hiking a network of trails on the slopes of the peak just above the
Parkway. There I found a maze of paths
winding among an impressive array of boulders and small cliffs. At the time I made a note to return in the
winter, as the area looked like a prime destination for icicles.
We
made it to the town of Linville without any trouble, but the drive beyond that
point got a bit hairy. The roads were in
decent shape, but the fog quickly closed in.
By the time we neared the Parkway, we were
moving at a crawl. I inched up the ramp
to the Parkway, and creeped down to the parking area
at the Beacon Heights overlook. It was a
relief to park there and start our hike.
We
loaded up our packs and released the beast (our Weimaraner,
Boone). He immediately began sprinting
around the parking area, jumping in and out of the snow drifts. We headed south on the Parkway and gradually
emerged from the fog. The clouds roiled
behind us, obscuring Grandfather Mountain from view. We’d walked about 10 minutes when Christy
realized that she’d left her thermos of soup in the car. I backtracked to retrieve it, and eventually
caught back up.
Walking
on the Parkway was easy at times. However,
we frequently encountered drifts of deeper snow across the road. Getting through them was a grind. It didn’t take long before we began to wear
out. The highlight of this part of the
hike was following a set of bear tracks down the road. We followed them all the way to the
Grandmother Mountain overlook, but we didn’t see a single bear.
We
stopped at the Grandfather Mountain overlook for lunch. The overlook provided a dry bench to sit on
along with a great view of the fog lifting off of Grandfather. A lake emerged from the murk below, but the
more distant views were mostly obscured by heavy clouds.
Our
soup warmed us, and we continued on towards Grandmother Mountain. We left the Parkway at the ironically named
Grandmother Mountain Overlook (ironic because it doesn’t overlook
anything). I had a bit of trouble finding
the trail in the snow, but I eventually located it alongside a trickle of a
stream flowing off the mountain. We
followed it briefly, before bearing off onto the rock climber’s trail leading
towards the boulder garden. We walked
through virgin snow, our tracks being the first to spoil the endless expanse of
white.
We
reached the first cliffs a few minutes later.
We wandered through a maze of cliffs and boulders, twisting and turning
through narrow passages. We were
rewarded with some icicles, but it wasn’t as spectacular as I’d hoped. The problem here is that most of the giant
boulders stand alone. Since there aren’t
any springs or small streams above them, there isn’t a constant source of water
to create the icicles.
I
took some time to attempt some photos at one of the more impressive cliffs
while Christy napped in a tree. Then we
shuffled on, contouring along the north slope of Grandmother Mountain. The snow was deeper here, and the “path” was
largely imaginary. Despite this I was
able to keep us moving more or less in the right direction. The hiking was very tiring, but the only
incident came when I stepped into a surprisingly deep drift. I went down hard, but was able to crawl out
of it.
We
emerged onto a dirt road a bit later. We
followed this down the mountain, back towards the Parkway. I expected this to be the easy part of the
hike, and it would’ve been if the road hadn’t been covered in ice. We had our yaktrax
ice cleats with us, but neither one of us wanted to stop and put them on. Instead we worked our way down carefully,
mostly walking along the edge of the road where the snow provided some
traction.
After
a short descent we reached a sharp curve in the road. A large boulder towered above the outside
bend, promising a fine view. I couldn’t
pass it up, so I crossed the road carefully.
Scrambling up the boulder was a bit tricky due to the ice, but I
managed. Once on top I was rewarded with
a breathtaking view of a sea of clouds breaking against the southern face of
Grandfather Mountain. Looking south, the
clouds looked like a white carpet covering the ridges and valleys of the Wilson
Creek area. As I watched the clouds
surged and receded, finding Grandfather Mountain to be an obstacle too massive
to overcome.
Christy
had continued ahead, so I couldn’t linger long.
I hurried after her, and caught up to her near the bottom of the
mountain. From there we continued to
follow the road back towards Beacon Heights.
Soon we found ourselves walking a parallel to the Parkway. Eventually the car came into view. Christy was ready to call it a day, but I
wasn’t quite finished. While she
retreated to the car to warm up, I headed up the short trail to the Beacon
Heights overlook.
This
path was quite icy in places, and it may have been the most hazardous part of
the hike. The cliffs were relatively
free of snow and ice though, and the view from the overlook provided a
thrilling climax to a great winter hike.
The sea of clouds was directly below me, obscuring the nearest
valley. The ridge beyond reared up out
of the murk like a mythical beast in a tumultuous sea. The valley beyond was also obscured, but it
too was followed by the spine of another rugged ridgeline.
I
loitered there for a few minutes before heading back. I was tempted to stay for sunset, but that
was still almost an hour away, and I didn’t want to leave Christy alone in the
car that long. I headed down quickly,
and we drove highway 221 back to Blowing Rock.
Along the way we passed several minor waterfalls largely obscured by
snow and ice. I wanted to stop at one of
them, but the only place to pull off was a sheet of ice, so I skipped it. We capped off our day with a brief stop at
the Blue Moose Coffee Lodge in Lenoir, which warmed us up and woke us up for
the drive home.
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