Mountains to Sea Trail: Bald Knob and Dobson's Knob

I have always appreciated Danny Bernstein's 'take' on the Mountains-to-Sea Trail - after all, she's an authority.  So, when she indicated that this hike was one of the hardest on the MST, I sat up and took note.  Then, I began to explore the internet for others who have described this hike and what exactly to anticipate.  Unfortunately, little is readily available.  So, here's my take:

Overview

In a nutshell, the eastbound hike begins at the Woodlawn Park, north of Marion on US 221.  There is an initial warm-up over Bald Mountain (elevation at crest: 2041 ft) and then a downhill scramble to the North Fork of the Catawba River.  After crossing the Pedestrian Bridge (elevation 1335 ft), the trail ascends the rocky western face of Bald Knob.  After crossing the top of Bald Knob, there is a  deep plunge to a small gap and then a steep high grade assault on the larger of the two peaks, Dobson's Knob (elevation 3650 ft).  Next, there is a gradual transition over two miles from trail to ATV trail to dirt road which eventually leads to a series of mountain top radio/FAA towers.  There is parking space at this point for those who do not wish to hike this entire segment.  The MST stays with the dirt road until it is met from the north by the Overmountain Men Victory Trail at which time the MST turns south, off the road, again descending down through the forest to cross Yellow Fork (which later becomes Paddy Creek) to, once again, arise on the edge of NC 105 / Kistler Memorial Highway at a small pull-out (located 2.4 miles north of the end of the pavement).

Woodlawn Park to North Fork of Catawba River Pedestrian Bridge

The "Park" is on the left of US 221 if traveling northbound.  There is a small parking area adjacent to the fenced in facility.  This is the terminus of the Woods Mountain section of the MST from Buck Creek Gap / NC 80.  One can either park here and cross the road, or there are two other options on the right (east) side of US 221.  The first - most accessible - looks at first glance like a road or driveway.  However, it becomes immediately evident that this is a gated forest service road (Bald Knob Road).  There are often horse trailers parked here, and it is easy to get in and out onto the highway.  The second option - slightly north of the first, is the actual MST trailhead.  It has the MST trailhead marker sign, but this drive quickly darts into the woods.  There are several deep ruts along this small road, and one needs to just be cautious with lower profile vehicles.  A four-wheel drive vehicle is not necessarily required, but, if the weather is (or recently has been wet), you might consider the first area worthwhile.

There are two potential routes to take from these points - either the MST or the Bald Knob Road to the top of Bald Mountain.

Option #1: The MST is, a biased view, the more attractive of the two - and longer.  It ascends to a small wildlife field, then re-enters the laurel and pine forest.  This is a delightful trail with easy grade.  Periodically, one can look back and catch a glimpse of the houses and lodges atop Little Switzerland to the north.  The laurels seem to dissipate, and the pines predominate to create a shady path with smooth pine straw footing.  Eventually, the trail 'pops out' onto a small forest service road and follows the road to the right (south).  The road actually begins a descent - enough for one to question whether you've made the right decision or not - but it eventually intersects with the Bald Knob Road with trail markers pointing uphill once again.  Within two or three curves, one reaches an open field at the crest of Bald Mountain.

Option #2: The other approach is to forego this first segment of the MST and, instead, walk up the Bald Knob Road past the gate at US 221.  This road is well built, well maintained, and is of easy walking grade.  It passes by a storage facility, a heliport, and near a private home (through the woods). 

The route from US 221 to the crest of Bald Mountain is shorter (by 0.1 mile) via the MST; however, the road is a bit easier walk with lesser grade and avoids the additional elevation afforded by the particular route of the MST on this segment.  You be the judge.

Crossing the Crest of Bald Mountain 

From this clearing, there are, again, two good options:

Option A: Follow the MST through the clearing just to the right of center in the photo above.  This will follow an older road bed past a couple of other wildlife fields while bringing sporadic views of the formidable hike ahead - Bald Knob.  The trail exits off the old road bed off to the left and begins traveling out an easily identifiable pathway with fairly prompt drop in elevation.  This is the more direct route for this section - reaching the river in 2.3 miles.

Option B: From the clearing above, follow the main road (descends out of the clearing to the far right on this photo).  This is a well maintained road which can be walked easily, but the road takes a slow and windy route compared to Option A.  There are two opportunities to take roads 'to the left'.  Two gates will need to be passed - indicating that these are not Duke Power Access Points.  The lefts are well maintained roads just like the one you start on; but there are no identifying names/numbers.  You will be heading northbound around the side of this mountain.  Again, this option is a bit longer at 2.9 miles to the river.

The MST eventually bursts out onto this forest trail and one can hear the distant river.  The MST follows this road to the left (northward) as it makes its way down through shady rhododendrons onto more flat terrain alongside a small creek.  This road/trail eventually passes through a gate indicating (on signs facing the other direction) that this road is not a Duke Power Access Point.  At this gate, one enters a wide open grassy area beneath north-south power lines.  The trail crosses perpendicular under these lines to pass through another gate and continue along yet another - less maintained - road which turns north to parallel, then gradually approach the river. This leads to the site of the Pedestrian Bridge across the North Fork of the Catawba River built in 2005.

Looking back over the Pedestrian Bridge to the west

A view upstream (to the north) - beautiful, clear waters

No more than 50 yards on the other side of the bridge, the trail crosses a set of railroad tracks.  This is the old Clinchfield Railroad, now operated by CSX. This is a surprisingly busy section of track, so it is not unusual to see and hear trains passing during the day.  (One could make this a turn-around for an in-and-out daytrip.  Following the MST routes above, the round trip is 7.7 miles with a total elevation gain of 1448 feet.)  If proceeding on, however, the MST passes directly across the track on a well marked route.

  

Pedestrian Bridge to Dobson's Knob

This segment of the hike is, as one might assume, both the most challenging and the most rewarding in terms of vistas it affords.  The greatest problem is the fact that it takes 3.7-4.5 miles to get to this point - the start of the 'real' hike.  After crossing the railroad tracks, the trail gradually ascends into the hardwood forest up onto a relatively flat and relatively wide old forest road.  Unlike the forest roads encountered previously in this hike, this one has not been used in a long time.  This road follows the contour of the mountain in a northerly direction traveling in and out of beautiful coves.  This area is covered by large hardwoods with open spaces beneath with limited undergrowth providing good visibility allowing one to see the railroad tracks (at least in the Fall) a few hundred feet below as well as a few houses located upstream across the river in North Cove.

It is in one of the deep inward curves of this road - about 1 mile from the river/railroad - in a particularly broad/shallow cove - that the MST departs the road to the right uphill into the woods alongside a small creek.  There are the typical 'double dots' on trees along the road bed which indicate a significant turn, but this could easily be overlooked.

At this point, the trail begins a steady upward trek. These are beautiful woods with some sporadic laurel thickets nearby, but, overall the visibility is quite good through the forest. The expansive vistas back behind you are yet to come. The trail remains well marked, and there is a subtle transition from forested ground to increasingly rocky footworks with the ascent. Periodically, a glance up the mountain reveals large chimney-like rock outcroppings high above. Yes, the trail does eventually lead to these spots. About a mile up from the last turn-off, there is, for lack of a better term, a 'hole' adjacent to the trail. It is uncertain whether this is the opening to a cave or a deep 'sink', but it gives rise to a very mature rhododendron, an increasingly common species as the elevation increases.

With further gain in elevation, there are a couple of small streams that are crossed.  The first one was a dry bed during this February hike, but a small amount of flow was noted in the second.

At 2.5 miles (as measured from the river), the trail comes to a large rock face with some degree of overhang.  The overhang is probably about 25 feet high, and the trail courses southwardly at the base of this rock face for a couple of hundred feet.  As one ascends past this point, the first true vistas come into view and one can quickly appreciate both the elevation gained thus far as well as the beauty of the expansive North Cove, Woods Mountains, Parkway, and distant Blacks.

A great view of North Cove, Woods Mountain, and the entire Blacks

Next come the switchbacks...

The other hikers who have blogged this MST segment report up to thirty-five switchbacks on this trail.  That certainly sounds impressive, and this ascent is most certainly formidable - however, I only tallied 28!  Perhaps I'm omitting some from the lower segment or counting a 'switchback' as a 'turn', but it is still an impressive figure.  God bless these trail designers!  Overall, the switchbacks keep the grade manageable the whole hike, so it is ultimately the aggregate elevation change rather than the steepness of the grade that makes this ascent feel more like an assault.

A "North-sided" switchback view

This segment (with the switchbacks) is probably the best area to truly admire the beautiful views on this trail with the least amount of visual obstruction.  A couple of 'north-sided' switchbacks allow view of the large rocky cliffs which stair step up this mountain - and provide a gauge for progress up the mountain.  There is, at the end of one 'south-sided' switchback, a small extension which leads to the outcropping below with outstanding views:

There is evidence of a small fire ring here, and there is room for a tent.  This is probably the most scenic campsite along this trail segment; however, I did not see any nearby water source.  Also, of concern, is the fact that this site is on the northwest face of the mountain which renders it relatively more exposed to winds/storms emanating from the west and north (the predominant pattern).

Depending on the count, one reaches the ridge line (not the peak) of Bald Knob at about 3.5 miles (from the river).  Downhill to the right are Champion Paper property signs.  The trail turns up to the left and follows the crest of the ridgeline.  At this point, with the leaves off the trees, one can see some impressive views of the Catawba portion of Lake James.  A fairly quick rock-hop up the remaining 0.2 miles reaches the summit of Bald Knob.  The views are better to the west back over North Cove from some outcroppings, but one can catch a couple of glimpses to the east as far as Shortoff Mountain (on the opposite side of the Linville Gorge) and the Linville portion of Lake James.

Looking Southeast from Bald Knob - Shortoff Mountain (far side of Linville Gorge) in the distance

Bald Knob, Dobson's Knob, and Beyond...

As noted, crossing over Bald Knob is a bit of a rock-hop, but the 'crest' is easily followed, and the trail remains well marked as the trail quickly plunges down a steep grade to the gap between these two peaks.  This northern face is shaded and harbors a lot of rhododendrons.

If one researches this area with satellite imagery on Google Earth, the crest across Bald Knob and Dobson's seems to be rocky - and it almost appears to be a road.  Not the case.  But, it is interesting that the rocks along this gap have a consistent green hue which is the result of the immense lichen growing on these rocks. Vaguely reminiscent of Shining Rock's brilliantly white quartz outcroppings, these pale green rocks are also remarkable in their beauty and consistency.

The next scramble up Dobson's Knob is a pretty steep climb.  No switchbacks here.  From the gap on to the peak of Dobson's, hardwoods predominate.  One crests the peak of Dobson's at 4.3 miles (from the river).

The next 2.6 miles is a steady downhill progression from remote trail to ATV trail, to rough 4x4 road, to dirt road, to gravel road at the gate (with nearby parking areas) adjacent to one of three large towers positioned along this long ridgeline.  There are several campsites along this portion of the trail, and there are a couple of open wildlife fields off the main road.  About 1/2 mile from Dobson's Knob peak is a campsite with fairly good proximity to a nearby spring (audible flow just south of the trail before arriving at the campsite).  The forest ranges from hemlock dominant to other hardwoods to rhododendrons.

In reading about this area - particularly some of the steep faces off Dobson's Knob, the term rhododendron and laurel "hells" is used.  Typically, one things of a cluster of rhododendron branches coming out of a tree or two, but looking aside at certain segments along this portion of the trail, one can really get a sense of this term after passing by hundreds of consecutive yards of essentially impassable tangles of rhododendron and laurel trees completely intertwined.  Thank goodness for the trail!

The Towers to Kistler Highway

The MST continues beyond the three towers (and nearby parking areas) along the road at this point until it intersects with the Overmountain Victory Trail in about 1.2 miles.  The OMVT enters from the north - having ascended to this area from North Cove as well.

Overmountain Victory Trail 

Directly across from the entry of the OMVT, the Mountains-to-Sea Trail exits this road and re-enters the forest with a quick downward trek into a beautiful forest laden with large Carolina hemlocks and rhododendrons.  There are two campsites of note along this last portion of this trail segment.  Both are near water sources.  The first is large enough for two to four tents.  The water source precedes this site.

At the very bottom of this hollow - the trail crosses Yellow Fork at the confluence of at least two other small streams.  Downstream, Yellow Fork eventually combines with Black Fork to create Paddy Creek.  At this point, it is easily crossed.

The second campsite is located just opposite the stream crossing just to the north of the trail, and it is large enough for only one tent.  It is a lovely spot, but it appears to have been flooded recently, so it might be wise to avoid camping at this point area during wet weather.

From the stream, the trail gradually rises along an old road bed.  It is unclear whether this is the same road used by the Overmountain Men in 1780, but, given the fact that it represents a direct continuation at the top of the mountain, it is likely.

A final stream crossing on the final ascent to Kistler Highway

 The grade is pleasant as one ascends the final portion of this hike to join NC 105 - the Historic Kistler Highway - which runs the crest of the western edge of the Linville Gorge.  The parking area for the MST trailhead on this end of the hike is located 2.4 miles north of the end of the paved portion of NC 105 on the left.  From this vantage, the MST actually follows NC 105 to the north.

For those interested in cumulative statistics for this hike, the GPS-derived total elevation gain (for Option #2 and Option B - at the beginning) was 3989 feet over 14.5 miles.  It took me approximately six hours of walking time for the hike - plus a little time to stop and enjoy the sites.

Broughton Hospital Cemetery - Where a Promise Was Kept

There are obviously times when one cannot get in the car, drive to a trailhead, and walk for hours enjoying the wilderness. Turns out, not far from home, there are occasionally some interesting places to visit and explore that neither take a lot of time nor require a map.

One such intriguing spot in Morganton is Broughton Hospital - originally, the State Hospital in Morganton - a state psychiatric hospital serving the Western half of North Carolina - and more specifically, its cemetery.  One bit of trivia about Broughton for which I probably harbor some special affinity:  its first patient was a physician, Dr. Red Pepper.  I do not believe he is buried here, however.

The cemetery  is located just off Enola Road uphill from the 'big barn' next to a main thru-fare which connects Broughton to the Burke County Sheriffs Department Detention Facility. I have passed this place hundreds of times, but, today, I actually did the unthinkable - I explored it. In case you wonder, it is open to the public. While it is certainly tempting to let the words 'state mental hospital' and 'detention facility' dissuade you from visiting this unique location - to overlook this unique place - would be a mistake!

Just across the thru-way road from the cemetery is a small parking area for a State educational building. The cemetery is set apart by a metal fence with bricked columns, and beautiful angels adorn the columns on either side of the entry gate.

 Near the entry are several large and very stately oaks with immense bases. In the absence of rows of headstones or flowers which would normally draw your eyes, you will instead notice long rows of chain link dangling low between small concrete columns. There are a few headstones - placed by family members - scattered across this field. But, more often, there are small circular brass plaques which dangle from the chain links. The brass plaques are well worn, but, many still reveal the initials of the individual buried beneath - as well as their medical record number from the Hospital.

Several years ago - due to the efforts of the Hospital Chaplain, Phillip King, and an Eagle Scout project, metal markers were placed in the ground beneath the brass plaques with the individual's name, birth, and death dates. 

Regrettably, some of the chains have apparently broken, so there are some concrete posts where the chain has been wrapped around the post to prevent the brass rings from being lost. It is an eerie reminder of how these men, women, and even children are still joined together in so many unique ways in this place.

 It is a bit daunting to consider the fact that there are about 1500 men, women, children, and even some stillborn children buried here. The first person to be buried here was a woman in May, 1883.   The most recent burial occurred in 2012 - the first such burial since 1997.  The general practice of burials here ended in 1953 with the exception of these last two cases.  Dr. Suzannah McCuen, a psychiatrist who works at the Hospital, has done a tremendous job of documenting the identities of those buried here and has painstakingly documented her work on findagrave.com.  Her work is fascinating.  One such effort was identifying the 29 Confederate veterans buried in the cemetery.  Their histories are well worth reading.

I happened to visit the cemetery on an unique day. It was a cold day - barely in the low 30's - with a strong blustery wind from the north - dreary to say the least.  As I was about to leave, however, I noted three men who walked out into the field.  It just so happened that I knew one of the men, one of our town's funeral home directors, so I asked him a little about the cemetery. Turns out, he explained that they were there on that bitterly cold Saturday afternoon to deliver and place a memorial stone which a woman from out of town had asked to be placed at her grandmother's gravesite.   A few years ago, he noted, there was some interest in the cemetery due to an article in the Charlotte paper, so several people had actually located their family members' graves and had markers erected.  He had actually participated in disinterring one such individual in order that they be reburied with their family in another town.

The marker placed today by these gentlemen was placed in honor of a woman who died in 1933.  There was an article about the cemetery in the Morganton paper a few years ago entitled, "Gone But Shouldn't Be Forgotten."  Today, eighty-one years later, on a windy cold dreary Saturday, she was not forgotten.

Shortoff - continued: The Day I Met the Paramedics

I know you thought that wasn't fair - leaving you 'hanging' about 'what happened next...'  But, it really is a tale that deserves its own post because it morphed into a two-day marathon of sorts - NO I DID NOT SPEND THE NIGHT IN THE WOODS!   I will preface this - admittedly lengthy - story for all you naysayers by reminding some of you: yes, I was in church on Sunday morning - that was not a figment of your imagination!  Yes, the pastor used my name in an illustration - which always keeps my wife on the edge of her seat.  So, once again, no, I DID escape the clutches of this Wilderness Area unscathed on Saturday... but I also came back Sunday afternoon...

Recall, I left you here:

SATURDAY:
I made that fateful decision to 'see how far it is' to the Linville River.  After all... it couldn't be too far... or they wouldn't have put it on the sign... right...?

Before I go further, note the photo and the absence of shadowing - keep this in mind as we go on with our tale of adventure!

So... as I mentioned before, the ephemeral streams of Shortoff were flowing freely down the face of the mountain as I walked in the 'creekbed' trail the initial descent.  It was a delightful stroll - I was careful to use my trekking poles to keep from slipping as the path was essentially composed of small gravel-sized rocks.  Going downhill can be a bit deceiving - at least to me - and I found the incredible scenery and the warmth of the sunshine on my brow distracted me from the realization of exactly how deep a descent I was making into, in essence, the southernmost part of the Gorge.  This photo, taken from that 'false summit' in the last post, gives you a rough idea where I was heading (essentially, down the ridgeline):

If you look closely... with a little imagination... at the uppermost aspect of the ridge, you can make out the trail.  In my defense, doesn't the trail look fairly flat out there....?  Okay, so... it became evident after my leisurely stroll that - no - it wasn't flat but a steady inevitable descent.  And, you know what that means... to get back was going to require a pretty significant climb back uphill - roughly a 1000 foot climb... again!

Don't mistake what I've said; this is one of the most beautiful sights in the area - as you will see below - with incredible views up the Gorge, down onto the southernmost Linville River as it exits the steep confines of the Gorge, and across undulating hills between the opening of the Gorge and Lake James.  Much of the ridge line is covered with a beautiful chest high grass which makes you feel like you're trekking through the Serengeti.  I caught myself thinking back to Marlin Perkins and humming the Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom tune... and kept thinking, how easy it would be for a  snake... or a mountain lion... or elephant to hide in this tall grass:


Your mental calculator is probably thinking what mine was, "Well, Sherlock, you're essentially going to have to hike Shortoff TWICE today!"  But no... thought I... perhaps this runs into the trail which goes directly out from Wolf Pit (the one you turn right onto to go up Shortoff).  It had to connect... it just HAD to!

As I descended further, the sound of the raging Linville became louder and louder.  There's nothing like the sound of a rushing torrent to put your mind at ease.  I came to this small marker... pretty obvious, huh?  Yes, I am referring to this photo -->

It reminds me of several of the small towns down in Eastern North Carolina - if you blink, you'll miss it.  If it hadn't been for a small pyramid of rocks (the remnant of a cairn left by previous desparate hikers - perhaps to signal a rescue helicopter?), I would have missed it altogether. 

So, to borrow a fishing analogy, I "took the bait" and headed off along the new blue blazed trail.  But, alas, it too turned downhill again and wound back around toward the sound of the river thus pointing away from my truck parked back at Wolf Pit - the exact opposite direction I needed to head.

It was about that time of day when the shadows begin to extend further - in fact, the river was itself enveloped in shade - and the temperature was beginning to get a little cooler.  I was approaching that crucial point where I needed to either find the trail back or else head back up the mountain - the way I had come.  There are decisions in time that you may not 'want' to make, but you 'know' you have to... or else you'll have to explain it all to your wife!  So, I chugged down some water from my Camelback, muttered a few inaudible words in Presbyterian, and headed back up the mountain to connect with the original trail.  I realized that it was going to be a long way up, so I made a game of counting how many logs I had to step up and over: not just walk over, but literally lift my leg up and over - the answer: NINETY-FIVE logs!!!  But, as this photo shows:  WOW, what a view of Shortoff!!!

If you look closely, you can actually see the dark line on the rocks where there is a waterfall which can be seen periodically - it's about a third of the way along the rock face from the left side.  In the foreground, you can see how the ridge line just drops off down here - more of a rolling drop - like walking off the side of a round ball rather than stepping off a cliff into thin air.  This is important to remember for future reference...

So... I'll fast-forward, I made it back up the side of Shortoff and then back down to the truck at Wolf Pit.  I later learned that some hikers have created a shortcut so you don't have to go so far up only to come back down again, but it wasn't that obvious to me, and given the fact the shadows were rapidly chasing my tail up the trail, I wasn't too keen on the prospects of getting caught in the dark on the side of the mountain... again, that would require a lot of explaining to the wife!

SUNDAY - THE DAY I MET THE PARAMEDICS...

On Sunday morning, my older two sons when on an overnight spelunking adventure with the Boy Scouts, and, after church, Melissa and Coleman left for an overnight trip down to Greensboro with Aunt Rachel and Uncle Ron.  I hurredly slurped down some tomato soup, a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches, and back I went to Wolf Pit... again.

This time, instead of turning right at this sign to go up to Shortoff, I plunged straight ahead.  As you might notice, there are several subtle messages that the 'preferred' trail goes right... like the sign... and others too, like arrows of stone on the ground, tree limbs over the trail which I purposefully stepped over... again... subtle clues.  It was immediately evident from the boot tracks that this was the proverbial 'road less traveled'.  You can get a sense of a trail when you see one set of tracks going in, then notice that they've turned around after about 100 yards and are headed back out the direction they came. 

Famed 'Gorge Rat', Rick Davis explained - later - this is the so-called, Faulkner Trail which leads down into the so-called Faulkner Flats... which, he agreed, are anything BUT flat!  I had looked at this area on Google Earth the night before, and the trail I was looking for was obvious... at least on Google Earth!  I knew that eventually, down this trail, I would pass through the area affected by the forest fire and begin to enter some larger pines at which point an 'obvious' trail would head off to my right.  Sure... no problem.  'Course, on Google Earth anything looks pretty flat unless you hold that Ipad up in the air when you're looking at it.  And, I'm convinced that digital satellite photography has been doctored somehow to make things like this look way too simple!

Looking at a map on your Ipad while lying under your down comforter in your own cozy bed is a little different than walking down a rarely-trod trail for the first time.  Yet, once again, like yesterday's foray down the MST, it was all downhill - easy going!  I noticed that there was certainly a lot of 'blowdown' - maybe not the 95 logs I had encountered the day before on the other trail, but quite a few that slowed the pace a bit.  It always seems easier stepping over logs going downhill than going back uphill.

After about 30-45 minutes, I came to the place I mentally recalled as 'the place' to turn - it happened to be the first and only turn to the right that I had encountered.  Alas - it appeared that I was now on the remnants of an actual old dirt road with two ruts.  I crested the small hill to a small mound of stones which, at first, I surmised must be the end of the road - dumb luck, I thought.  Then, I stood up on the rock pile to survey the distance and get my bearings.  As I scanned the vista, my eyes then looked down below me and there was the very very very steep continuation of the road literally plunging down into a small valley.  Across the valley, I could see that one or two ridges away was the ridgeline with the MST.  Despite the apparent obstacles, I was at least heading in the right direction.  Down, down, down I went down this most treacherous road.  It was so steep that I could easily hold out my arm and touch the ground at arms length behind me as I descended this hill.

When I finally reached the base of this chasm, there was a small wetland of sorts created by the recent

rains.  Beneath the host of strewn and twisted trees - in some places appearing reminiscent of a pixie sticks pile, a fairly brisk creek flowed down from Shortoff - the culmination of all of those miniature cascades I had seen the day before - my next challenge was making it across and finding the continuation of the road on the other side.

I very tentatively located some wide strong logs which appeared to go the majority of the distance across this small wetland.  Then, with great caution and no small amount of prayer, I inched my way across the widest log I could find to the far side.  Although I could see across this expanse, I could not see where the road continued - if, in fact, it did - as the Google Earth propogandists had intimated.  Even when I did make it across, I saw no sign of any road or trail.  I looked back from whence I had come - I obviously did not want to return up THAT hill!  I looked ahead and reasoned that my best chance was to try to go up the hill immediately in front of me and get perspective from the top.

Unbeknownst to me, this wetland also served as some dividing line in the fauna of this region: on this side of the river now grew thorns!  Although I still had a couple of hours of daylight, I have to admit that the combination of losing my trail, the sun in my eyes, the ticking clock, and now the thorns began to take their toll.  "Despair" is a real emotion, and I was beginning to experience it down in this hole - I had a real physical picture of the 'slough of despond' faced by John Bunyon's Pilgrim.  But, with time, I punched out onto the top of a small knoll and could see a roundabout pathway to the ridgeline where I was certain the MST was located.  After about a half-hour mired in this chaotic blender of grass, blowdown, and thorns, I reached some hardwoods that looked familiar from the day before - I spotted the white blaze of the MST.  I made it!  In celebration, I took a big swig of water... it was to be my last...

A Holler from the 'Holler'

I recognized that I was only 5 minutes or so 'up' on the MST from the lowest point I had reached the day before.  A long ascending hike lay ahead, but I met the challenge with a little relief at least knowing where the trail was located.  No sooner than I began ascending the MST, I heard someone yelling up ahead.

Realize, this is a bit disconcerting when you're hiking alone.  It was fairly windy, so I couldn't make out what the person was yelling at first, but I kept a steady eye up ahead until I finally spotted the young man who was making the ruckus.  When I got closer, I heard him yell, 'The trail's up here!"  By the time I actually reached him, he was sitting down on the trail, and he looked a bit distraught but extremely relieved to see me coming his way.  He explained that his friends and their father were attempting to ascend up out of the Gorge at this point, but they were exhausted and had run out of water.  He was afraid that they weren't going to make it and that they were dehydrated.  They were on their third day of a backpacking trip in the Linville Gorge.  Their plan had been to exit out the bottom of the Gorge and get back to their car at Wolf Pit today - only problem, they couldn't find a trail to connect from where they 'were' to where they 'needed to go', so they had headed directly up the side of this mountain.  They had relied on boiling their water as opposed to a water filter system, so after crossing the Linville River (again, it was flowing 5 x normal flow right now) - no small feat - they were obviously exhausted before their climb and probably didn't have time to boil and drink (hot) water before making this final push.  (If you look back up at the panoramic shot of this long ridge, they were coming up the side of the mountain from the Liville River where it makes a sharp right turn.)

He said their cell phone service had been spotty, but they had been able to reach the paramedics.  He said the others were in pretty bad shape, and he wasn't sure they could make it out.

I don't know about you, but, in all honesty, I began thinking, 'Well, what on earth do you think I can do to help you out of this mess!" - but I didn't say it.  I thought the first thing to do was actually see where they were located to see if they were in imminent danger - were they hanging off a rock somewhere, or might it be easier just to have them walk around the contour of the mountain as opposed to straight up and over?  I inched my way closer and closer to the edge of the mountain, but I couldn't see where they were coming up, and he couldn't tell me either.  So, I gave him my phone and had him try to call their number to see if they would wave or something so we could at least get an idea of where they physically were located.  Eventually, a head popped up and one of the guys made his way to a point I could at least give him a hand... and one of my water bottles.  The next head popped up shortly after that, and he said, "see if you can help my dad, he's not doing well at all..."  Now, I'm thinking, "What have I gotten myself into?"

About 50 yards down the mountain, I saw the dad, and from this view, their assessment was spot on.  I made my way down to see him and gave him my other - final - water container.  He was certainly exhausted, but he denied any chest pains - my big concern.  He knew he was dehydrated and was feeling nauseated.   I then made that commitment I knew I might later regret, "Here, let me carry your backpack for you!"  So, off with my daypack (which was already lighter due to the fact I had given them my two water containers) and on with the gargantuan mega-backpack that had supplied his needs the last three days - oh, I'd roughly estimate weighing about 200 lbs.  After several minutes, we made it back onto the trail and there was a very relieved reunion.  Suffice it to say, they were better off now than about ten minutes ago, but there was still no 'easy' way out of this one.

After a reasonable rest and some discussion about how best to get to Wolf Pit (and whether they even felt they could go on further), we slowly began hiking back up the MST toward Shortoff.  The three boys (ages 17-18) went first, followed by the dad, and I held up the rear... with that heavy backpack. 

I knew that - if worse came to worse - we could get water from some of these temporary streams - we could all take antibiotics later if needed, or, perhaps, we would link up with some other hikers with enough water to help get these guys down the mountain.  Our pattern was that we would generally walk about five to ten minutes then would take a break.  These guys were not out of shape - in fact, they looked very healthy and well-nourished - but we were witnessing the obvious effects of dehydration on top of incredible exhaustion 

Needless to say, what should have taken about an hour to get back to Wolf Pit took about two hours, and the sun was definitely going down.  They assured me that they did have working lights, but it turned out we didn't need them.  When we made it back to the intersection with the Shortoff Trail, we new it was all downhill from that point on, and that provided a morale booster they certainly needed.  Regardless, as I encouraged them that we would get back to our cars before nightfall, the 18 year old said, 'that's good but I just wanna see my mom.'  I wish I had been able to record that comment for his parents!

We made fairly good pace from that point all the way down the trail - however the sun was definitely behind the mountains and it had transitioned from cool to cold.  The wind was just short of howling, and I now had on three layers - having started my hike with short sleeves only.  We 'punched out' at the sign above ('Shortoff to the right') to find two guys on 4x4's waiting for us.  They sure looked impressive with their snazzy helmets - one with a radio attachment that looked almost military issue - but, more importantly, they offered us some water.  The guy with the radio sqwaked back to 'command center' that they 'had 4... plus one'.   They directed us on down the path to the parking lot and told the dad he needed to check in at 'command center.'

Now I don't mean to seem ungrateful - I did get a free 20oz bottle of water out of the ordeal - but I knew they had about two hours' headstart, so I couldn't help but be a little puzzled by the fact that the 4x4's had only made it about 150 yards up from the parking lot.  Really?  After two hours, that's as far as they had gone?  Geez, what would have happened in 30 minutes when it was going to be dark?  When we actually walked down to the circle where the parked cars were located, there had to be 15-20 guys there just standing there looking at us.  I didn't want to 'gawk back', but they looked sorta like this:

I know you have to have a good - and willing - heart to be a rescuer, but, since nobody came up to check on us, and they basically just stared at us, I'll say it:  Thanks a lot for meeting us at the parking lot!

The boys took their backpacks to their minivan, and I followed them through the 'walk of shame' in front of the good ol' boy 'rescuers'.  Dad humbly stopped at 'command center' which was basically a uniformed officer sitting in his truck with his heater running while we all stood outside in the cold.  I came back to get my daypack from the father - who was getting a brief ear-ful from the 'commander' asking him if he knew how many people had been called out to help them.  Pretty insensitive for a guy who didn't even have to get out of his heated truck, I thought.  The dad turned to me, shook my hand, and told me that Jesus had definitely sent me - the highest compliment I could have received - and reiterated his offer of dinner at the Waffle House - which I kindly declined.  I waved good-bye - not asking for the water bottle back - I figure he can keep that as a souvenier of his own adventurous near-miss.

I can't help but think that two minor items may have kept these folks from getting into this predicament:  a water filter and a good topographic map.  That does it - I'm getting a water filter!

Shortoff Cascades

Well... after last weekend's escapades, I felt certain that indeed a hike lay in the works this Saturday... I had earned it!

Viremia had passed, the fevers and night sweats were gone, the bottle of Tussin DM remained on the counter like a jilted lover - no action in at least two days.  I fufilled my role of 'family man' dutifully leading devotions at the family altar (ie the breakfast table), exposited some Proverbs on the topic of "slander" (in anticipation of the boys' spelunking activites with the Boy Scouts - wanna keep the peace with edifying talk down in the Lost Sea Caves - especially since everyone is using that same porta potty).  I then slurped down another cup of brew and had a delightful chat with Uncle Ron - new subscriber to the blog - and recent avid trekking pole advocate.

The wife had left the containers of recyclables in the back of the minivan... a subtle little communications technique she has developed over the years to help 'keep me on task'.  I typically find the recycling in an obvious location - one example being in front of my truck so I either have to take it... or else.  So, I ran with this one - even going so far as volunteering to bring along the 5 year old to "help".  I knew that would be to my advantage later when I would bring up the topic of a hike.  The recycling task was made a bit harder by having to lift a 45 lb child up to throw every bottle into the big container to achieve that piercing crash of breaking glass - an upper body workout I had not anticipated.  I didn't realize the therapeutic joy that I was robbed of by not being the one to throw those bottles with a little extra spin... the difference between a 'dud' and a loud shrill crash!  Coleman overlooked one empty jar of applesauce... I snatched the opportunity! Some guys need time on the shotgun range... all I need is the sound of breaking glass at the recycling center... beats my alternative of primal scream therapy!  On the way home, I even made a run through the McDonalds drive-thru to satisfy Coleman's thirst for a soda.  I figured I would get him on my side this way - $1.07 - not a bad price to pay for loyalty!

By now, it was getting uncomfortably late in the day by winter hiking standards, so when she gave me the "why sure, honey, of course you can go on a hike", I knew I needed to act... and act fast!  No time to go far.  So, I decided to take a Burke Classic Hike - Wolf Pit to Shortoff Mountain - along the southernmost aspect of the east rim of the Linville Gorge.  It was a simple in-and-out... or so I thought.  I could probably go as far as I wanted to and make the afternoon out of it.

By now, you already know of my modus opperandi of eating meat before hikes - if not, refer to my first post for my succinct rationale - quite the water-cooler talk around the hospital these past couple of weeks I might add.  Given that my trek to the trailhead passed nowhere near the previously mentioned Hardee's in Marion, NC, I succombed to my weekday loyalty and went, instead, to Bojangles - ordering my usual Cajun chicken filet biscuit combo with seasoned fries to keep my blood pressure sustained and sweet tea to keep my kidneys functioning.

In less than 20 minutes, I passed by the Linville Access at Lake James.  I drove down along the ramp close enough to roll down my window and snap this shot:

Many of you know that this is the jumping off point for one of my other... warmer weather... activities.  Although, the temperatures were only in the low 50's - and, yes, I have donned my wet suit for far more frigid kayaking forays onto Lake James from this very point, I knew I was just 'passing through'.

Given the past several days' rains, I anticipated more erosion from storm runoff and residual standing water along Wolf Pit Road, but it was fairly dry.  I passed the Farmer's Place near the end of the road, and parked at the turnaround spot with no more than five other cars. 

I don't know about you, but I'm always a little intrigued about who else might be out there on the trail, and I sorta make a game of looking at the cars, their bumper stickers, etc. and envisioning I know something about the folks I may encounter.  I look upon it as elevating presumptuousness to an art form.  There were the requisite "Obama/Biden" stickers, a "Local Food" sticker, an AB Tech Faculty/Staff sticker, and a Boone / ASU sticker.  That last one was the 'wild card' - if push came to shove, perhaps this one would be carrying a gun to shoot the mountain lion (aka catamount).

It was a little after noon as off I plunged off into the wilderness.

This is a well-worn pathway many of you may have climbed, but for those unfamiliar with this trek, just a few observations:  When I first climbed Shortoff back in the 90's, the entire climb was forested.  But, since a couple of large forest fires in this area, it has left the hiker with an incredible view - almost from the start - to the south.  On sunny winter days, this southerly exposure allows warmth and sunshine with countless stopping points along the way to take in the panoramic views from the west spying the "Catawba" side of Lake James and Marion all the way around to the east - catching the southern aspect of Brown Mountain, Highbrighten (in Lenoir), as well as the background of the South Mountains (High Peak, Burkemont, Walkertop, etc.) beyond Lake James to the direct south.  This picture simply doesn't do it justice:

Next, most folks who hike this mountain know that this southerly facing aspect of Shortoff Mountain is 'dry.'  There are no streams, no springs, no water crossings of any sort.  Normally, it is only after one has almost reached the summit that one may... may... encounter a small trickle from a mountaintop spring.  THIS was where the serundipidous timing of this particular hike paid off:  by virtue of taking this hike on this particular day, I was able to observe a very rare and unusual phenomena on this mountainside: the ephemeral Shortoff Cascades!  It so happened that the major sustained storm the prior week which had pummeled the Southeast with several inches of rain (and snow in some places before departing to the Northeast), had served to completely saturate this mountain.  For about half the length of the trail from the 'turn right to Shortoff' sign to the peak, one was walking up one long continuous stream.  Of note, it had been over 36 hours since the last drop of rain had fallen on this hillside - yet the flow remained steady.  Fortunately, as it was such a short-lived phenomena and in complete sunshine, there was no time for slippery algae to form, so it was like walking up a continuous creek bed with steady trickling flow - never deeper than the sole of your boot.  The 'stream' would follow the trail for several hundred yards, and then it would dart off the trail and cascade in a more direct fashion down the hillside creating dozens - if not hundreds - of small cascading waterfalls.  The sound of rushing water filled a couple of the small coves through which the trail passes - a pleasant and refreshing reminder of this ephemeral wonder!  With wet soles to my boots - thank goodness for that Neoprene - I summited with dry feet!

For those who have climbed Shortoff, you know this is a 'false' summit.  You think you're there... but you're really not.  Nonetheless, it was a great stopping point for me to take in some views down deep to the thundering Linville River - still running at about 500 cubic feet per minute (about five times normal) - down from a peak of nearly 3000 cubic feet per minute just before midnight Thursday - very impressive streamflow!

Many of you have asked about my peakbagging exploits, and this photo is significant for yet another reason: the background.  In the distance are the northernmost peaks of the Black Mountains - of which Mount Mitchell is the most famous (not in view here).  The biggest 'dip' in that line of distant mountains is appropriately named, "Deep Gap."  To its right are Whitestar and even further, Celo Knob.  What this view fails to reflect is the fact that from the 'dip' of Deep Gap to the peak immediately to its right (Whitestar), is a harrowing climb of about 700 feet - a feat I accomplished last summer - only to run out of water... and time... midway to Celo Knob to the far right - thus leaving this as the sole 6K in the Blacks I have yet to "bag".  Seven hundred feet doesn't sound too much given the Shortoff climb so far, but the real curve-ball is the 3000 foot climb from Carolina Hemlocks in Celo up to Deep Gap - the cumulative 4000 foot climb makes this a marathon for a day hiker.  All in due time, my friends!  By the way, for those of you who drive down by the Post Office in Morganton, you can get this same view on a clear day in the distance - it's a daily reminder of my nemesis - Celo Knob!

A view looking down from Shortoff into the gorge.  Photos just don't give good perspective on just how high you are.  Yes, that's the Linville River down there!  That big rock is every bit as large as a big house!

Okay, so I had to do it - one required 'up the gorge' shot.  The 'wildest' place east of the Mississippi.  To the left you can follow the upper portion of the Linville River as it passes between Wiseman's View and Table Rock/Hawksbill. 

So, after catching my breath - no angina this time - I sauntered on up the pathway until I reached my goal: Shortoff Pond. 



For those who haven't experienced this site - this is a seemingly bizarre place for a small natural lake - on top of a mountain - yet, here it sits!  I had been curious given the completely saturated  mountain I had encountered - was this going to be enlarged - perhaps overflowing onto or over the trail?  It was not.  I did not venture around the perimeter of the lake - from the photos, one can see that just beyond the distant trees, the gorge literally drops away, so I presume there must be some drainage which allows the pond not to overflow but, simply, drain - a natural limitation to this most bizarre wetland.

I did note a small trail leading off to the right (the east) away from the gorge just before I reached the pond.  On a rock was a blue blaze, so I followed this trail through significant blowdown to a small isolated campsite. A Good Samaritan had thoughtfully laid some firewood to dry for the next camper at this well hidden venue.  The trail continued a bit further but stopped at a most prolific spring emanating from beneath a large tree in a grove of rhododendrons.  This spring - about 150-200 yards off the main trail was significant - I would estimate a flow of several gallons per minute - leading off the other side of the mountain - eastwardly - away from the gorge.  Who knows if this spring is always so strong, but I cannot help but think - based on the limited trail use - that it's use is confined to only the few hearty souls who are aware of its obscure whereabouts.

At this point, I decided to start heading back, thinking my adventure was complete.  Little did I know that when I reached this sign, the real test would begin...

You know what a sucker I am for the MST...

Driving Miss. Connie

So... that first blog is over... now emerges the pressure to provide/perform.

Despite unusually delightful weekend temperatures this second weekend of January 2013 (into the low 70's), my residual waning viremia and, more importantly, the pressing need to return one's mother-in-law to her rightful domicile, regrettably interfered with my best attempts to escape to the 'great outdoors.' 

You can't say I didn't try: my woeful look as I gently caressed my topographic maps - stroking them tenderly with a highlighter noting my 'intended' trek - while I sipped my Saturday morning coffee - deserved an Oscar.  It simply was not to be...

On Saturday, after a late start, I starred in a re-make of the 1989 classic hit - the new version: "Driving Miss Connie."  This time, playing Morgan Friedman's role, I drove my mother-in-law, Miss Connie, back to Martinsville after her prolonged post-New Year's hiatus to the Tarheel State.  A funny thing: without saying a word, we all seemed to coincide in our mutual agreement that 'today is the day' to go home.

The only problem with this little realization was the fact that the big boys had promised to help Eli on his Eagle Scout project and attend a later homeschool - paramilitary - airsoft war (aka Isaac's birthday party).  Coleman's viral-induced hyperactivity disorder was peaking - compounded by the confounded decongestant - which certainly eliminated any five to six hour roundtrip drive to Martinsville for him... so... you guessed it, I uttered those fateful words that sealed my fate, "Honey, I suppose I could drive her home..." 

My sullen look as I tried to gulp down a slurp of coffee while stifling a sob was a dead giveaway to my wife that I've been studying the whole 'sanctification-thing' way too seriously!  She then came over and gave me one of those big long hugs - then whispered in my ear, 'you're a good man.'  With that, the nails were now pounded in the coffin of my previous hiking plans.

So... Saturday afternoon, instead of the flora and fauna of the Green River Game Lands, I enjoyed the trees and roadkills along the sides of I-40 and Startown Road as I drove Miss. Connie back home.  It was a delightful time - one I will cherish - I feel certain.  Once back in her apartment, I had the opportunity to meet her neighbor, "A.B" - an incredibly delightful 87 year old lady who sings in four different church choirs - a feat which must be awfully disconcerting on any given Sunday morning.  A.B. and Connie look out for oneanother, and, as grateful member of Connie's family, I was pleased to finally meet this soul about whom I had heard so much over the years.  After unloading Connie's paraphenalia, I pulled away as she stood on the edge of the parking lot - waving until I was out of sight.

With my 'good deed' accomplished (not to mention some wings now beginning to poke out of my scapulas), I was back on 'my' time!  Unbeknownst to my wife, while packing the car with all of Connie's goods, I also stealthily threw in a copy of a hiking guide which had mentioned Hanging Rock State Park in Stokes County IF I had the time... As I drove back into North Carolina, I took a right just after the state line, and headed off on an adventure!  I popped open my Diet Coke, rolled down my windows, and cranked up 'CNN' on my wife's new Sirius/XM radio.  Sorta a solo "Thelma and Louise" moment!

In a matter of minutes, my new 'lease on life' was driven to distraction by the fact that the roads of rural northeastern Stokes County are hilly, curvy, and poorly marked.  My plan of being a 'free spirit' and going 'off-the-beaten-path' using my phone as a GPS was unraveling.  It was so far from 'here' to 'there' that I needed to constantly zoom 'in' and 'out' on my phone to get any sense of where I was going.  'Driving is a lot harder than hiking', I remember thinking.  I even caught myself yelling at Dr. Sanjay Gupta!

In short order, however, I found myself in one of those beautiful little hamlets you only read about, the lovely town of Danbury, North Carolina.

I included this image to show two things: First, for those of you who may have never heard of Danbury, you can see that it is in fairly close proximity to those other two larger metropolitan areas (which you may be more familiar): King and Walnut Cove.  Second, as the map reflects, most roads in this area are along a general northwest/southeast axis.  I - on the other hand - was going from the extreme northeast side of this map to the extreme southwest side.  It gives you a taste of the challenge I was facing.

Nonetheless, Danbury was a sort of oasis for me.  It really was a beautiful little place.  It is the county seat of Stokes County, and, in 2011, it boasted a population of 188 - that's up from 187 from 2010.  They're certainly growing!

From here, the signage was clear - Hanging Rock State Park was close - so close, in fact, the shade of the mountain made it cool enough to roll up my windows.  The sun was going down and it was getting cool.  It became a race against the sunset to see if I could explore the State Park, get some bearings, or at least find someone who could tell me how best to go home...

Tune in next time for the exciting conclusion...