Thank You, Locke Craig!

I'm just home from a two-day overnight backpacking trip to the Black Mountains. Once again (sixth time) I tackled the infamous Black Mountain Crest Trail. I didn't end up doing the hike I had planned, but I'll leave those details for tomorrow.

However, here are some images and video I took on my trek across the eastern USA's second highest summit on my way to the parking lot where my truck was waiting (on the highest summit in the eastern USA).

Hikers are not supposed to step beyond the wooden trail borders. In order to protect rare plants.

Typical view from the top of Mount Craig.

Mount Mitchell from Mount Craig (with Clingman's Peak in the distance--with radio and microwave towers).

Hiking over the second highest peak and headed toward the HIGHEST peak.

So Green They're Black.

The reason the Black Mountains got their name is because of the cloak of balsam trees (Fraser firs) that clothed their bulk in the days before Europeans arrived on the scene and scoured the peaks clear of the timber. The trees were so green and so lush on the ridges that from a distance these greatest of eastern summits appeared to be black.

Some two decades ago, the Black Mountains were in the worst phase of a double curse of acid rain and an invasive pest, the Balsam wooly adelgid. The pollution and the insect coupled to all but denude the Black Mountains of the balsam forests that had pretty much recovered from the late 19th and early 20th century timber operations (another story of wanton destruction). On my first visit to Mount Mitchell and the Blacks, I was greeted by scenes of devastation with no forests and only small trees struggling amid vast stands of bleached snags standing on the slopes and peaks.

These days, the balsam trees seem to be recovering well. There is not as much acid rain because of industrial regulations. And the wooly adelgid could be gone, having exhausted the source of food that had fed them. However, we probably won't know if the pest is truly gone for a while. Unlike the hemlock wooly adelgid which can attack any hemlock tree, young or old, the balsam wooly adelgid is dependent on gaining access via troughs that appear in the bark of older balsam trees. Thus, younger trees are immune to the depredations of the insect and only mature trees fall. We have some years more to wait to see if they're still lying dormant, lurking to wreck the forests again.

Going through my photos of the hike, I am reminded of the toughness and diversity of the route. If you're in decent shape, you should really tackle this trail!

Big Tom is a peak that is named for a particularly rapacious bear hunter who, in his lifetime, killed over 100 black bears in the Black Mountains. Fortunately, he's good and dead now.

Looking down into lower elevations that have hardwoods instead of fir trees.

The farther away from the parking lot, the less engineering there is to the trail. This far in, there are still stairs in spots, even if they're of available timber instead of rock.

In a few spots the park service has installed bolts and durable ropes to negotiate what would otherwise be Class II and Class III scrambling. The last time I hiked this trail, these ropes were not in place.

Red spruce trees all around.

A gnarly old tree along the trail.

As you can see, the balsam trees have recovered well. Walking along you are immersed in the scent of Christmas trees!

Sign along the trail as it passes over Cattail Peak.

This is the spot where I had my lunch. A nice log to lean back on while I had my sandwich, and water, and cookies. It was very peaceful and quiet, except for a brief moment when four other hikers passed by, one of them a babbling fool who would not shut the fuck up.

The place is green, and I was reminded of how much moisture these peaks get.

So green that mosses grow almost everywhere. When it isn't actually raining or snowing here, then the peaks are drenched in the dew from the vast clouds that pass over the tops of these highest mountains in the East.

Here, on Potato Hill, I took a video from the high point. You can hear the blathering hiker in the background. This group had decided to stop and eat lunch right in the middle of the freaking trail. We're talking about a very steep and very narrow trail and it was exceedingly difficult to get past these rude assholes. I grinned through it all, but was very happy when I encountered them one final time and they were gone from my life for-fucking-ever.

Continued tomorrow....

My Favorite Trail. The Toughest Trail.

There are several trails here in North Carolina that I have hiked a number of times. I tend to go back to places for several reasons. Sometimes it's because conditions were not good on earlier attempts and I want to see them in better weather or without crowds or companions. (I prefer my hiking in solitude, thank you very much.) Sometimes I will go back to a place because it's just so beautiful and so freaking awesome.

The Black Mountain Crest Trail (also known as The Deep Gap Trail) is in this latter group. I keep going back because the trail is unique in North Carolina. It follows the high ridge of the highest mountain range in the eastern USA. Often, these peaks are called "the highest east of the Mississippi", which is categorically wrong. There are much higher peaks than the Blacks east of the Mississippi dividing line in northern Canada. One of these, Barbeau Peak, is almost 2,000 feet higher than Mount Mitchell. But these mountains are the highest in the eastern USA.

The thing about this trail is that the scenery is stunning. I read a recent essay that claims that the Black Mountains underwent some relatively new mountain building in the form of a bizarre kind of miniature plate tectonics. The range does have a weird "J" shape to it, and the author postulates that a small tectonic plate was forced into the range, warping and uplifting it, making it the highest in the Appalachians.

Because of this tortured terrain, this trail is extremely rugged. Some of it is Class II and Class III hiking. Indeed, the park service has even recently installed bolts and ropes to aid hikers in traversing some of the steeper sections. And, even though I've hiked this trail a number of times, it always kicks my ass. Almost every time I go I end up with vicious leg cramps that result from the constant ascents and descents or lack of water, etc. Keep in mind that this trail follows the high ridge and so does not have any reliable water source. You either take enough water with you, or suffer accordingly.

This latest hike was no exception. I did take enough water with me this time, but because of my old knee surgery and my back injury from last year, I found myself at odds with the mountains and the trail. Yet again, it kicked my ass. Also, hikers I've spoken to insist that elevations of 5,000 to 6,000 feet do not effect you as far as altitude sickness are concerned. I do not agree. On this hike I felt some of the exact symptoms I had when I was in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado last September. Especially on my hike back toward Mount Mitchell. Nausea, shortness of breath, etc.

But will I go back? Sure as shit, I will. In fact, I can't wait to go back and do the section I didn't have time for yesterday: the stretch from Deep Gap to Bowlens Creek Road. That's the section I've done the least and one which I am itching to do again. Only when my health is better.

Potato Knob. It's one of the most striking peaks in the Blacks, but not on the Crest Trail. Here it's seen from the Blue Ridge Parkway.

Park entrance.

The trail actually begins here, in the Mount Mitchell picnic area.

The first sections of the trail are extremely well engineered and maintained.

At the first overlook, peering back at Mount Mitchell and Clingman's Peak (with the towers).

First sign requesting hikers to stay on the trail and not trample rare plants.

The log borders the park service has installed. People mainly stay inside, except where the cliffs are concerned. Hikers breach the barriers at will and trample all over the cliffs, stopping any chance of restoration there.

Part of the cliffs where hikers ignore the signs to stay off. Obviously great views to be had there, I have to admit. I stayed on the trail to get this shot.

The Blacks have always reminded me of a cresting wave getting ready to crash down into the valley on the other side.

Looking down at Fall colors.

The view as I got just below the summit of Mount Craig. Sorry for the heavy breathing. Injuries and altitude combined to make the climb a tough one for me.

Continued tomorrow....