Standing on the shoulder of Little Pisgah, the second of the two peaks, we saw what appeared to be a trail heading up a field that looked like an official trail. Jack and I were faced with a choice:
either the road on which we'd been hiking, or the trail that went straight up the mountain through the field. We, being idiots, chose the trail. It turned out to be a cow path. With ticks in the grass. And what we assumed was a 200-foot climb was, in fact, 500 vertical feet of 50-degree asskick. About 3/4 of the way up I had to actually lie down in the tick-infested grass to keep from puking in the hot, beating sun. At any rate, we made it to the summit. I rewarded myself for the hideous climb by eating pizza this evening.
This photo is funny when you consider that I snapped it while lying horizontal to keep from puking, looking back down the ultra-steep oh-so-deceptively-soft-looking slope. The climb was not the 200 vertical feet we figured, but two and a half times that.