New Year's Resolution

As I labored over my maps, hiking guides, and the carolinamountainclub.com website for potential hikes this first Saturday of 2013, my desire was for a fun yet challenging hike with a good southerly exposure (despite a forecast high of 50 degrees, I knew it was going to be a bone-chilly 22 degrees to start the day), something fairly close to Morganton (as the short days require an early start and not much leeway getting back home before the sun begins to drop below the horizon), with some (as yet undefined) quality befitting a 'first hike of the New Year.'

When I saw the name of one of the peaks over which I would cross, something in my random-abstract mind was immediately drawn - almost magnetically - to the novelty of hiking 'Snook's Nose.'  Wow!  What a name!  What could it mean?  There had to be some pretty bizarre story behind this name - or, perhaps, there was some unique feature that only the few hearty souls who ventured this trail would be able to witness.

I rose early on Saturday, donned five layers on top, two on bottom, my new hiking socks, my 'geek hat' with built-in earmuffs, my warmest gloves, and departed home with extra coffee in my thermos.  My custom for hiking points west of Morganton is to always stop in Marion at the Hardees next to I-40 for my traditional Bacon-Egg-and Cheese Biscuit, large hashbrowns, and (another) large cup of coffee.  Now that I'm in the 'prostate years', truth is, I about have to stop in Marion anyway.  Somewhere I recall reading or hearing something about how hikers who eat meat can 'mark' their territory as they move along a trail.  It either deters bears or attracts mountain lions - I can't remember which - maybe I have it backwards.  Anyway... by now, it's tradition!  So far, I've seen no bears or mountain lions... in at least six months... using this technique.

I've heard of Curtis Creek for years having been reared in nearby Buncombe County - my ol' Scoutmaster, Rex Cloud, from Troop 50 in Black Mountain, referred to it a lot - along with the friendly and oft-repeated spontaneous reminder - 'you know, a black snake will eat a rattlesnake.'  Well... it's January, Rex, so I don't think I'll be seeing either one!  As I puttered up the road into the heart of Curtis Creek, I immediately realized that this is indeed a beautiful gem.  Thank goodness for the interstate - or else more people would turn up this road just off Highway 70 - and spoil the solitude.  Even in the monochromatic winter colors, the mountain stream which flows with hundreds of small waterfalls and cascades screams 'life!" everywhere.  I felt certain that I could go out and find some 'crawdads' under the rocks - were I so foolhardy as to brave the icy water - as I used to growing up in nearby Montreat - 'course that wasn't in January.  I reached the end of the pavement and kept traveling up past the old water wheel (the turn off to Newberry Creek).  Finally, I reached the wooden sign signifying the fact that this was the first land purchased east of the Mississippi as a national forest by the Weeks Act in 1911.  Not too much farther, a gate barred further travel by vehicle.  I knew from my map that I would have to trek further on foot to the trailhead - no more than a couple of bends in the road.

There were no other cars or trucks here, and, in the dead of winter, this is a pretty quiet place were it not for the sound of the creek cascading through the heart of the valley.  I threw on my day pack, grabbed my trekking poles, and carried my cup of Hardee's coffee up the road toward the campground (and trailhead).  After locating the trailhead and finishing my coffee, I headed out into the "great unknown."

The first thing I noticed about the trail was the heavy frost on the ground.  It almost seemed like I was walking on a crystalline rug - the crunching sound reminding me of hikes through the snow.  The second thing I noticed was the fact that the trail had few leaves - it was (at least here) very obvious exactly where the trail was located - as though the fine folks with the National Park Service must have come through here with a leaf blower!

Not too far and it became evident that there must have been a microburst or major wind storm in the past year or two which blew down about a third of the trees along the north-facing side of this first creek cove, Slick Falls Branch.  From the burn marks on some of the trees, it looked as though there must have been a fire hear as well in the past few years.  The trail was open and, boy, was it steep.

When I eventually reached the top of this cove, I foolishly thought, "I must be at this place called 'Snook's Nose'."  Was I ever wrong!  My first mistake was continuing over the hill and descending back down a jeep trail alongside Horse Branch.  I realized my error fairly quick and came back up to this spot.  Instead, a small trail seemed to pass through the laurel and rhododendron thicket along the ridgeline, and it became obvious that this was where I needed to head.  The flat trail here was a breeze, and I was lulled into thinking, 'hey, this isn't so bad.'  Unfortunately, the hard part was just about to begin.  What came next was some of the steepest climbing I had seen in awhile.  Where are the switchbacks?  Where are the switchbacks!!!  Despite the direct ascents, there was amazingly little erosion on this portion of the trail.  This is a fairly open hardwood area with some impressive-sized trees worthy of appreciation while one stands and pops a nitroglycerin or two.  "Heart-attack hill" might be a good name for this portion of the ascent.  Finally, I re-entered the rhododendron and laurel thickets and, in spite of the more manageable slope of the trail - there were switchbacks!  Why here?  Not earlier?

At this point, I came across a most bizarre - and dare I say, unsettling - even disturbing - finding.  As I was slumped over my trekking poles in an effort to survive my angina with my heart racing somewhere around 140bpm.  I looked to the ground as I gasped for breath and saw 'it'.  There, on the ground, about 1000-1200 feet up from the start of the trailhead - was the butt of fully-smoked Marlboro cigarette!  I was - and remain - absolutely amazed.  The notion that someone could survive this hike - to this place - and still have the lung capacity to smoke a cigarette - I found - simply, unbelievable.  I suppose, if you can do it - my hat's off to you - go ahead and enjoy as long as you don't burn down the forest!

The hardest part was behind me.  In a few short minutes, I discovered that I had, in fact, arrived at Snook's Nose.    To 'cock a snook' means to 'thumb one's nose' in derision, so, I suppose the name, "Snook's Nose" is a bit redundant.  It is a beautiful rocky ridge with a reasonably sized trail with views to the southwest and the northeast.  The views are punctuated by some pine trees at the top, and the northeasterly view spies further up the Curtis Creek valley where one can appreciate the old growth forests along the eastern side of Laurel Knob.  On the horizon is the familiar outline Table Rock and Hawksbill over in Burke County.  Most of the rocks on 'the Nose' set in a horizontal fashion - very conducive to sitting down for a snack or well-deserved, but one, in particular, caught my eye - appearing on its side much like a well-placed tombstone on the top of this well earned peak.

The trail then continued through the woods without much of a slope until the next steady climb up the southerly slope of Laurel Knob.  About midway between Snooks Nose and Laurel Knob is an interesting wide spot in the trail where the trail passes through a shallow valley of sorts on the tree-covered and rocky ridgeline.  There seems to be no obvious place for water runoff nor wetlands, but there are numerous rocks and openings suggestive of small caves in this area.  I inched close to one - close enough to see that I could not see in far and realizing that should a bear be in there sleeping - I certainly didn't want to get any closer and wake him - or her - up.  I also recalled hearing another hiker who insisted on seeing a mountain lion a few years ago on Green Knob - just up the trail - and I eased back away from the opening in the rocks.

The trail meandered up the west side of Laurel Knob missing the actual peak itself.  Then there was a fairly flat area before the final 'push' to the Blue Ridge Parkway.  Periodically, I was able to catch a glimpse of the fire tower - my original goal - on Green Knob - a beautifully built chateau-like fire tower on this small subpeak off the Black Mountains.  A few more switchbacks, and I burst forth out of the woods at the Green Knob Overlook on the Blue Ridge Parkway.

Well - alas, time for lunch.  My 2 liter camelback of water had fared well up to this point, and I sat down in a sunny grassy spot to enjoy a half bag of peanuts.  I refrained from digging into the Bird and Bear Cookie Granola - as I did that fateful day on Kitsuma Peak over Ridgecrest - when I learned that gastroenterology secret that a lot of granola plus water essentially serves as a mini-bowel prep. 

I was anticipating scaring some Parkway travelers as I burst out of the woods like some wild man, but no one was there.  In fact, during my 15-20 minute respite at the Parkway, only TWO cars passed by.  I'm sure I was topic of conversation nonetheless - that guy eating peanuts sitting on the side of the road in this remote spot!

I noted the time - the ascent so far had taken about three hours.  To be honest, I was exhausted and the thought of hiking up to the fire tower was just too much.  I justified returning from this point by convincing myself I would come back later to hike up to the tower - or, better yet, approach the tower from the northerly base camp at the Black Mountain Campground off the South Toe River.  Truth is - now, I regret the decision - I should have gone on.  But - some high clouds were beginning to move in, and I did the math - realizing that there was a real possibility that I would descend down into the Curtis Creek valley in complete shade - which would be cold.  So, I headed back down.

The trip back was relatively quick and uneventful.  I sat down for a few more peanuts on 'the Nose' and took in the warmth of the afternoon sun on that tombstone rock I mentioned earlier.  I took Quadriceps Canyon (the steep downward descent) gingerly with several stops to admire the large trees and could easily see where my shoes had slipped quite a bit as I had been coming up.


I was surprised to find only one more car parked near mine when I got back to my pickup.  No people - just a car.  As I drove back down the valley, a few more fishermen were obviously plying for the trout in this beautiful stream on this cold January afternoon.  Apparently, they, too, were working on fulfilling their New Year's resolutions.