The Black Mountains are, I've decided, the most beautiful and spectacular range in the South. No doubt about it. There was a time when I thought that title belonged to the Great Smoky Mountains, but no more. There's nothing quite like the Black Mountains here in the East.
The strange part of the trip was the scarcity of gasoline. We made it there and back, with some major good luck in finding gas in a couple of out-of-the-way small towns. But when we arrived back in Charlotte, we found an entire city with no gasoline! Ah, the once-great USA. I have to laugh.
On the very darned rugged Mountains-to-Sea Trail. Potato Knob behind me. One of the top fifteen or so highest mountains in the East. I must go back to bushwhack to the summit.
Bear-proof garbage cans, yes. But the bears don't know that! One tried to get into this one (located about thirty feet from our campsite) one evening while we were sleeping. He came back to our campsite the following morning, but it's hard to snap a photo while you're cowering in your travel trailer.