Eight 6000′ summits along the highest trail east of the Mississippi
- Where: Pisgah National Forest | Grandfather & Appalachian Ranger Districts
- When: October 2020
- How many nights: 2
- Nearest towns: Linville Falls, NC (Day 1), Burnsville, NC (Day 2)
- Weather: Mostly clear for days one and two, day three on the Blacks was all clouds
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Up on the Mountain
Sunsets and sunrises. Regardless of where I am geographically or how many times I have witnessed them, I tend to view each as one as a first. Inside my shelter there is very little condensation. Cool air found its way under the silnylon tarp throughout the night but I have stayed warm and cozy in my bag.
Checking the time, I see it is near time for my alarm to sound. 0600, at least for me, is not too early in the backcountry. Plans for today require I depart early. I would need to tear down camp, descend back to the trailhead, and be on the road by no later than 0730 to be on-time for a shuttle pick-up at Mount Mitchell State Park.
Since I am already awake I decide to silence the alarm on my iPhone. Glancing out of my Lunar Solo shelter there is not much to see. It’s dark. With the fly now open, I am kneeling on the soft ground and leaning forward to look eastward. Faint, but visible, are the beginnings of daylight.
I grabbed my fleece pullover and a headlamp before stepping out. Inspecting my shoes and pack for any overnight visitors. Shoes are clear. My pack has two decent sized Wolf spiders hanging out behind the foam back-pad. I decide to not disturb them for the time being. Less than a ten second walk from my tent is a cliff side with a wide open eastward views. The early colors of dawn have arrived on the horizon. My bear can is located near the rock covered summit. I return to the tent and slip on my gloves before making the short rock scramble up to my food. The view to the east makes it difficult to focus on the task at hand and I begin to forget about the timeline and being on the road by 0730.
The sunrise this morning was unlike any other sunrise I had ever seen. With the temperatures and weather cooperating, it was a cool and crisp morning. I could clearly see as far as the human eye is able and the colors were not disappointing.
I realized my scheduled time for breakfast had just been spent on admiring the sunrise and I get back to my camp at a quick pace. Even in the dark, it takes maybe ten minutes to fully tear down camp and have my pack ready to go. I begin descending Hawksbill with the beam of my headlamp providing the majority of light. The trail is mostly in complete darkness other than the occasional peek of the sun rising east of Jonas Ridge.
I am back at the trailhead. A license plate reflects back at the headlamp’s rays of light. My rental car is the only vehicle there.
Open the rear hatch. Throw pack in. Turn on dome light. Quick un-zip of the head pocket and scan to locate items in need. Wallet, cash, phone, charging cable, glasses case. Protein bars. Face mask.
Check.
One more quick, well-lit, scan of my pack’s contents to reconfirm that nothing important was left behind and I shut all of the doors and hop in.
A Morning Drive from Linville Gorge to Mount Mitchell State Park
I drive slow, but with a purpose, along the winding, bumpy Tablerock Road back to Gingercake Road. I have determined the Blue Ridge Parkway to be the path of least resistance to Mount Mitchell State Park and the GPS on my phone seems to agree with me, so I continue north on NC-181 until I reach a Parkway entrance and head southeast towards the Black Mountains.
The plan is to meet a local, county-provided shuttle service at the summit parking lot of Mount Mitchell. The shuttle will then give me a ride to the Bolens Creek Road trailhead. During this time on the Parkway, I stop at an overlook to take in the view of the Blacks. I turn around to see the Yancey County shuttle bus passing me by. Whoops.
I actually end up following the shuttle bus to the summit parking lot. I spend five to ten minutes confirming and reconfirming I have all of my gear before completing the vehicle permit for the overnight lot and dropping the paper into a lock box. This shuttle ride is a near thirty-seven mile ride and lasts about an hour.
Inside the shuttle a thick, transparent piece of plastic has been attached to the walls, ceiling, and floor. This acts as a protective barrier and separates the driver seat from the passenger seats. The driver could not be more friendly. She asks me questions regarding my visit. At times it is difficult to hear her due to the plastic barrier, her mask, and the sound of the engine. She tells me that the county shuttle service resumed operations just a week before today. The service had been shut down since April due to COVID-19.
Thinking to myself, I consider how very fortunate I am to get this ride as she is not sure how long they can sustain the shuttle system if they do not start bringing in money soon. Throughout most of the county, the shuttle has not yet seen a return to the amount of riders they had prior to the pandemic.
The driver tells me stories of life in Micaville and Burnsville, pointing out the historic elementary school she attended, and I every so often catch a glimpse of the Blacks and visualize myself up on the ridge while estimating the difficulty of getting up there.
Celo Knob: The tough climb
I wave goodbye to the driver as the shuttle bus drops me off where Bolens Creek Road and Water Shed Road meet. Water Shed Road is a gravel road that provides main road access for a few homes but also has a trailhead at the end of it. As I begin to walk along this gravel road I start to recall the planning process for this trip and how well things have been so far. Never underestimate the convenience of modern technology. I spent a decent amount of time planning the drive between Linville Gorge and the state park, the shuttle ride to the trailhead, the times for starting this hike and what time I expected to summit Celo Knob and meet the ridge of the Blacks. Accounting for time I would spend unpacking and repacking my backpack, accounting for time I would spend stopping at random overlooks along the Parkway. I sometimes feel that others think that I plan too much. Friends have joked about it and at times I wonder if I am over-analyzing details but it validates the work when you see it all play out, almost to the minute, the way you planned.
Never think you are over-planning any backcountry adventure. Do your research. Know the plan as if you have hiked it before.
I cross a deteriorating bridge and notice a tarp tent to the right of the trail. A man appears and we discuss hiking plans. His ankle is feeling a little sore so he is “taking a zero day, maybe two.” The guy tells me he knows of a flat spot about two-thirds up Celo. If he feels better later in the day he might make the effort to get up to the spot for camp, but he is doubtful. I offer him some ibuprofen but he politely declines. We say our good lucks and goodbyes and I start the climb up Celo Knob.
According to data from my GPS app, I started recording the hike at 3,039′ back near Bolens Creek Road when the shuttle dropped me. The weather was encouraging. Mostly clear with temperatures around 50-F. 3,283 feet uphill and supposedly 5.4 miles later I had reached the summit of Celo Knob. 6,327 feet. This was the longest and most steep of any climb I had attempted and I could feel it. I would focus on a tree about twenty yards in front of me on the trail and would take a short break once I reached it. Repeating this process often. My heart rate would often exceed 170bpm and I used these short breaks to get that number down due to the long climb.
Following some bushwhacking to find the summit, I took some photos and made my way back to the trail and my pack. This spot, and the stretch of trail before and after, give you incredible views of the Blacks. Your eyes can follow the entire ridgeline, all the way to Mount Craig and Mount Mitchell. It was not lost on me that I was very fortunate to have clear weather in a mountain subrange that is often cloud covered at altitude. Hours ago I was in the back of a shuttle bus, looking up at this ridge and daydreaming about the difficulty ahead. Daydreaming about what the views would be, if any at all.
After putting the climb of Celo Knob behind me, it felt as if my time on the Black Mountain Crest trail was now just beginning.
Meeting the Ridge, Onward to Deep Gap
I was ready for a break and some lunch. Not too much further was an ideal spot for such break. Where the section of trail skirting Celo meets the ridgeline there is a clearing underneath some pines. Lunch time.
There are some hikes where you know the only views you will have for the next ten miles are the surroundings of a green tunnel. Then there are hikes where clouds and weather complicate more than just your view. Today I did not have to worry about either. I felt the adrenaline rising as I finished lunch and picked up my pack.
Over the next five miles I would check off two more summits with altitudes higher than 6,000′. Gibbs Mountain at 6,224′, and Winter Star at 6,212′.
Truthfully, I was not sure what to expect at Deep Gap. The many maps and waypoints I had researched all suggested this was the best area to camp. There is a spacious established site to the left of the trail behind a large rock formation. Fire pit, some seats, and so on. There are also plenty of signs cautioning overnight hikers to be aware of recent and frequent bear encounters. I wonder if this is my camp for the night as I stare at some foil wrappers that previous tenants left in the fire pit.
Not comfortable with this site, I continue on the trail and discover several more signs warning of bear encounters. Having hiked in bear country fairly regularly over the past seven years, this does not necessarily concern me but I need to be mindful. It is October. Hyperphagia is a thing.
Other than the well-established site by the rock formation, I cannot seem to find another existing site. Passing a grassy clearing, I hear some voices and explore up the trail a little further. There are some tents set to the left of the trail as it becomes an easy incline. Struggling to find my own site, I turn back to the grassy area I had just past and begin to set up. Minutes later I again hear voices and two younger men come into view. They are going to pass me, likely going back to the site with the tents. First impressions. Neither look necessarily prepared for a night out in the backcountry, let alone the unpredictable weather of the highest trail east of the Mississippi. They joke with me about a lost friend, asking if I have seen him and hoping he has not been eaten by a black bear. I curiously ask if they had noticed any additional campsites up ahead. The man in the grey cotton hoodie peeks around me to check my spot and speaks up.
“Why? Are you scared to sleep alone out here?”
I glance back at my tent and gear then turn back to the two men. “Nah, no worries there.” Awkward moment.
Fortunately I have encountered very few odd individuals in the backcountry. The jury was still out in this situation, and such a comment is likely innocent although you have to remain on guard. The conversation quickly, and awkwardly, comes to an end and the two continue past me and, as I suspected, to the tents I had seen about thirty minutes ago.
Always one to be bear aware, I triple check that all food or scented items are in my bear can. It is early in the evening and darkness is fast approaching. I have always felt this to not be a great time to add the scent of a warm meal to the blowing winds. Combine that with the bear signs and not trusting the the other group up the trail. No dinner tonight. I backtrack to the rock formation, continuing past another 20-30 yards or so and stash the bear can off-trail.
I return to the tent. Night is here and so are some clouds. While bummed about dinner, changing into some clean clothes and climbing into my bag sounds great. Temperature is currently in the low 40-F and I expect it to drop a little further. Not long after the zip of my sleeping bag zipper and brief reminiscing of one of my best days of hiking, it’s lights out.
Morning Light and a Lesson
My understanding is that you are lucky to see a clear day while hiking on the Blacks. As day light begins to creep through the green silnylon of my Lunar Solo, I peek outside and see nothing but clouds blowing through the gap. Windy is an understatement.
Once awake I find it very difficult to get back to sleep when overnighting in the backcountry. Although I get overly excited about the little things: hearing my shelter door zip, searching the floor for my glasses, headlamp, socks, fleece, and so on. No matter how few hours I actually sleep while on an overnight, I have never had a problem finding the energy to start the day.
A weather report is received by my GPS device. Colder than I expected and a possibility of rain within the next hour. This conflicts with the sunny, clear skies that had been forecasted. Always expect the unexpected in the mountains. More on that later.
Shoes on. Down jacket on. Knit hat on. I emerge from my shelter and get blasted with some fierce gusts of wind. There is no time wasted finding my bear can and I return to camp within five minutes. On this morning’s breakfast menu is instant mashed potatoes, a Honey Stinger waffle, protein bar and some hot chocolate.
A glamorous life it is.
With the temperature lower than expected, I am bit concerned about the updated forecast. Those close to me understand well that I wear merino wool from toe to head when hiking. I do not mind getting wet, but I am a thinner guy with not much in the body fat department. I want no part of getting wet when hiking in low 60-F degree temps, let alone mid low 30-F. Now layered up, I pack up everything besides my shelter. Myself and my pack now sit inside the tent as I review the options ahead. Mount Mitchell and my rental car are only a couple miles away at this point. I glance outside. A slight mist covers my face as cloud after cloud rolls through the gap.
Well, it’s not pouring rain. No actual rain at all. Putting on my rain jacket, I zip up and grab my gloves. I turn to look up the trail, knowing that I essentially have an immediate climb up what is called Potato Hill. It is misting here in Deep Gap, but what would the weather be like up on the ridge? I remind myself that I am prepared. Besides, my shelter can be easily set up if a downpour appears. Within 60 seconds my shelter is taken down, rolled up, and stuffed into the large outer-stretch pocket on my Gossamer Gorilla pack. I stretch the rain cover over the pack and I’m on my way.
Or so I thought. About 50-75 yards into my second day, I come across those guys from yesterday. They are still at their tents and there is no sign they have thought about packing up.
“Hey man. Hey!” one calls out to me. “Morning,” I reply.
This one quickly walks over to me and asks how the night was. We discuss the morning weather and change in the forecast. He has gloves on but his hands are shaking. His buddy, the one who had question if I was scared to sleep alone, appears and joins us. Jeans, cotton sweatpants, cotton hoodie. Both of them are shivering and fidgeting to keep warm.
We begin discussing our itineraries. The first guy is shocked that I started yesterday morning at Bowlens Creek Road, where they had also started two mornings prior. Yesterday, when I was just beginning, they were starting their second day and we both ended up in the Deep Gap area last night. Pack weight makes a difference.
Our conversation changes back to the topic of weather. No doubt about it, these guys are damp and cold. They explain that their plan had been to summit Mount Mitchell today, then hike back and spend another night somewhere along the BMCT before returning to their car at Bowlens Creek Road. Mother Nature had now thrown the curve ball, put a wrench in their plans, you get the idea.
Taking off his gloves, the first guy gets his phone out and with shivering fingers asks if I would be open to taking his number and giving them a ride if they decided to bail. His group comes to the conclusion that they will not be able to make Mount Mitchell on this trip. They are all too wet and subsequently, colder than they anticipated. Their new plan is to pack up and hike back to Bowlen’s Creek in one day but, if they get wetter and colder or are not making good time, they will bail at the ______ (Colbert Ridge?) trail. If this happens, he will text me. After hearing some more of their story and eyeing their gear versus their clothing, I reach the opinion that there is no safety risk to myself if I give them a ride.
I agree to help bail them out if needed. We hurriedly exchange numbers and discuss the possibility of neither of us having signal. Plans are set. He quickly puts his gloves back on and we part ways. The climb of Potato Hill is ahead of me and I am ready to explore this section of trail between Deep Gap and the highest mountain east of the Mississippi, Mount Mitchell.
The Final Stretch: Deep Gap to Mount Mitchell
Potato Hill was a steep climb. Rocks and roots along the trail were slick from the misty clouds blowing through. As windy as it was, I remained quite warm and dry. The final stretch.
Although steep, I quickly make it atop Potato Hill and begin the off-trail search for the true summit of Cattail Peak. Certain online resources happen to provide great descriptions of this area and after a few minutes of walking back and forth, looking left to right and spinning around a few times, the faint trail revealed itself. I soon was at the survey marker for Cattail Peak, 6620′.
Continuing up the trail, I make an effort to be more mindful of my water consumption. Beginning the hike yesterday morning with two liters, only a half liter remains. I am confident this is sufficient for me but ask a passing hiker if he has knowledge of any water sources I may soon pass. Now, honestly I was just making conversation as we both took a brief break in the same area. This individual was kind of enough to insist I take one of his unopened Gatorade drinks. I resisted but he assured me it was fine. After drinking nothing but water and hot chocolate for the past 36 hours, this was a treat.
Minutes later, I check my GPS app and discover I have passed the summit of Balsam Cone (6611′). According to some online sources, the unmarked summit is actually on the trail. I retrace my steps to a point that, looking at the topo and other’s waypoints, should clearly be the summit. With it being unmarked, that is good enough for me.
A mountain called Big Tom is next. At times the clouds are so thick I can only see about twenty yards in front of me. The trail continues along the ridge and crosses with the summit of Big Tom. A plaque mounted to a rock climbing explains that “Big Tom” was a mountain guide and bear hunter who also searched for and found the body of Dr. Elisah Mitchell in 1857. 6580′.
Mount Craig is just ahead and, at 6647′, is the second highest peak east of the Mississippi River. While on the approach, I pull out my phone and turn off Airplane mode. Only a few seconds pass before I feel the buzz of a notification. It is a text from the Deep Gap guys. Turns out they did decide to bail on the Colbert Ridge trail and should be at the trailhead in about an hour. I still have Craig, Mitchell, plus the drive from the summit to their location. I try texting back but have no success. I’ll try again later.
The trail between Big Tom and Mount Craig is exposed to the west. That said, you would not be able to tell by looking outward. Today offers zero views. I can see a few pines below the trail, but after that it is a thick fog of cloud. Upon reaching the Mount Craig summit at 6647′, I take an extended break.
This hike has been very meaningful to me. I have spent overnights in the backcountry with Amanda, with friends, and had prior solo nights, but this trip was different. The Blacks are on another level from anything I have previously done, and I want to soak in the feeling just a little more before continuing towards Mount Mitchell. At this point, I know this experience will soon conclude and I am just not ready for it to be over. This adventure surpassed my expectations and the thought of stepping off trail and into parking lot is bittersweet.
Accepting this reality, I use my small tripod to capture a couple photos of me. Although I am relatively young and it seems possible, I might never be here again. You never know.
I set out for Mitchell and it is not long before I notice the “wild” of the Blacks start to disappear. The tell-tale signs of an area worn out from too much human traffic have began to appear. Not long after, a sign informs hikers that they have entered Mount Mitchell State Park. The trail becomes more flat, less rocks and roots. Picnic tables appear. The sound of car engines and car doors grow louder and louder. Before I know it, I emerge from the alpine forest and take some stairs into the parking lot.
People everywhere. The lines for the restrooms are wrapped around the buildings here at the summit parking lot. The visitor center (gift shop) is also busy. I feel like I have stepped into another world. Making my way to the summit platform, I pass family after family. On one hand, it makes me happy that so many people are here enjoying the outdoors and not sitting in front of a television screen. On the other hand, I would much rather have the area to myself.
There are small lines to take pictures with signs at the summit. I luck out and quickly set up my tripod for a quick picture, but not before I get a chance to walk to the summit platform and take in the sights. Not of the surrounding mountains, too much fog, but of the informational signs and the bronze marker that says I am standing at the highest point east of the Mississippi River. Mount Mitchell, North Carolina. 6,684 feet.
This is a feeling of accomplishment that was previously unknown to me. Of course this was no Pacific Crest trail or Appalachian trail, but I drove seven hours and accomplished what I came here for. I thought of everyone who had driven to the top of this mountain and reflected on the past twelve miles I had walked. I feel extra grateful to be in good health and to have the ability and understanding to complete this hike. What an amazing feeling.
Helping the Deep Gap guys
Having just completed the BMCT, I was not too focused on anything while I reminisced of the two days. Families and couples are wandering around the summit area. I may be the only solo visitor here at the moment.
I knew I could not spend much more time here. The guys from Deep Gap were counting on a ride and I had my own agenda: celebrating this accomplishment with some real food and a drink.
The guys are at the Colbert Ridge trailhead. Driving from Mount Mitchell’s summit parking lot to the Colbert Ridge trailhead takes an average of 41 minutes. The distance is twenty-two miles.
Neither me nor the group have any cell phone service during this time and I am hoping they stayed put. After turning left onto Colberts Creek Road I know I should be there any moment. There they are.
Three backpackers, two of which I recognize, are standing in the trailhead parking area. The guy that had made the “scared” question the night before now commented, “I thought you would have came from the other way.” Sigh.
They throw their packs in the back of my rental SUV and the three of them squeeze into the second row. All three are very appreciative of the pick-up and are happy to be sitting down. We are now on our way to Bolens Creek Road where their car is parked and where I began my hike yesterday morning. We talk about our favorite places to hike and where we are from. We talk about our individual experiences from our time in the Blacks and what we have learned.
It was nice to talk about the hike with others who had also been up there on the ridge.
Some forty minutes later, we arrive at Bolens Creek Road. Just as the shuttle bus did with me, I remain parked by the main road and we say our goodbyes. The first guy, with whom I had exchanged numbers earlier in the day, insists on handing me some money for the ride. I resist several times. It was no trouble at all. I was planning on heading towards Burnsville anyway, where I would determine my next move. He was persistent, though, and I did not want to seem rude or ungrateful for the gesture.
We say our goodbyes. I sit in the car as I watch them walk down the gravel road, past the few houses of the folks who live on either side of it. Losing sight of them after they turn to where hikers are known to park, I decide to wait a few minutes. If for whatever reason their car is not there, I know I will see at least one panicked person reemerge in hopes of getting my attention.
The minutes pass and that is good enough for me. No sign of them. I am out of here.
Final Thoughts
Sitting inside Burnsville’s local brewery, A Homeplace, I think back to two days ago. I was atop Hawksbill in the Linville Gorge Wilderness. There I witnessed the finest mountain sunset and sunrise I have ever seen. The following morning, I night-hiked back to my rental car and drove along the Blue Ridge Parkway to a parking lot atop the highest mountain east of the Mississippi. Staring at the beer in front of me, I smiled. Just those moments seemed like they would have been enough adventure.
Then I hiked twelve to thirteen miles along the highest trail on the east coast. Eight peaks over 6000 feet, seven of which were on the CMC’s SB6K challenge. My awkward campsite had no views but peeking out of my shelter in the morning to feel the clouds and cold wind passing through was a moment I will not soon forget. I still remember quite well the feeling of passing Mount Craig, knowing I would soon be finished.
Two plates on this table in front of me are now empty. My stomach is full. I finish off the beer and think about earlier in the day when I walked past all of those people atop Mount Mitchell. How many of them were locals and how many from out of state or country? Were they disappointed with the lack of views at the summit? I wonder how many of them were there for the first time and what they felt as they stood atop the observation tower.
To me, the moment at Mount Mitchell’s summit was a special moment. The Black Mountain Crest Trail will always be my first true backcountry test and accomplishment.
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