NEW EXPERIENCES IN OLD PLACES
Christy, Saucony, and I spent last weekend in Boone. Saturday was dedicated to ASU's football game against the Western Carolina Flying Squirrels. Ok, ok, I know, it's the Catamounts. It's just that the logo looks like a flying squirrel. Anywho, the game went the same way all ASU / Western games go, with Western trying really hard and ASU winning. That was good fun, as were the tailgating festivities beforehand. Even the chilly, damp weather couldn't spoil the day. Still, by Saturday evening the weekend had only just begun.
After dinner, Christy and I drove beyond the middle of nowhere to the Boone Fork Campground. The campground is located vaguely northwest of Lenoir. To get there, simply drive to the middle of nowhere, turn right off the paved road, and keep going until you hit a possum or get the car stuck. At that point you're probably within walking distance.
Boone Fork's remote location adds to its appeal. There was only one other camper there when we arrived. We met Myron and Dorcas, who had already claimed a spot near the back of the campground. They had spent the day canoeing on Price Lake. By the way, don't let the name of the campground fool you. Boone Fork Campground is nowhere near Boone Fork Creek, which drains Price Lake and flows through Price Park on its way to the Watauga River.
Myron had a roaring fire going, and it was wonderful to sit and relax by it without having to actually do anything. We sat by the fire until the rain finally caught up to us. We slept well that night, despite the fact that the zipper on the tent fly no longer has any sort of useful function.
We slept in a bit the next morning. We indulged in breakfast burritos before breaking camp and driving back up the mountain towards Blowing Rock. Sunday's weather picked up right where Saturday's left off, with cloudy skies and a bit of drizzle.
We dropped one car at Price Park and rode together to the Moses Cone Estate. We began our hike on the Mountains-To-Sea Trail, which follows a series of old carriage roads through Cone Park. We made it almost a mile before the rain started. Fortunately it was light, and it was cool enough that wearing a rain jacket was actually comfortable.
We followed the trail to Flannery Fork Road, where we were passed by a large horse party. After the road, we passed lovely Trout Lake and began our ascent of Rich Mountain. My first hike up Rich Mountain was 12 years ago. On that occasion, it rained the entire time, and we never saw much from the summit. A couple of years ago, Christy and I hiked up the mountain in the snow. The weather certainly wasn't beautiful on this occasion, but at least we weren't wandering through a sea of fog. We reached the summit after a gradual, easy climb. The rain had stopped, and we were able to enjoy a quick lunch on the peak. The views were nice, with Grandfather Mountain and Beech Mountain dominating the scene.
After lunch we headed back down, but turned off the Rich Mountain Trail to continue west on the MST. It was on this section we encountered the first real challenges of the hike. The first was a dicey crossing of a barbed wire fence. This was followed by a steep descent on a leaf-covered path. At the bottom was a steep, tricky descent to Shulls Mill Road. We dodged our way through traffic and made it to the other side. Beyond, we hiked through a white pine forest that would've been pretty, except that many of the trees are in poor health. I know many of the evergreens in our region (Frasier Fir, Hemlock, etc.) are endangered, but I wasn't aware of any problems with White Pines.
We passed an appealing campsite, which came as quite a surprise. We were on Parkway property, and backcountry camping is generally off-limits. This was a well-established site though, complete with an iron fire ring. Beyond, we descended steeply and arrived at our final challenge of the day. Boone Fork Creek raced across our path. The ford used to have a series of giant rocks that served as ideal stepping stones. However, one of the stones had been washed downstream by a flood. There was no way to get across without getting wet.
Regrettably, I was the only one there that had taken my suggestion to bring sandals seriously. I waded across in my tevas, while everyone else soaked their boots. At least the water wasn't too cold.
Once on the far side, we enjoyed a nice hike along a beautiful stream. We had all hiked the Boone Fork Loop Trail numerous times, so this was familiar. We passed giant boulders, sheer rock faces, and beaver dams. Before we knew it, we had reached the fields of Price Park, and the parking lot was just beyond. It had been a nice hike, and it served as an ideal return to an old favorite. Perhaps I should look for more opportunities to renew old hiking haunts with new trips.
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