Forest Mystery

I may have posted this photo before. It's from an overnight hike I took in April of 2012. I was on one of the high peaks that lead down toward Montreat when I noticed what appears to be a grassy circle of land in the midst of the forest some miles away. This is the kind of thing that I'm always curious about. Why is it bare of trees? Was the timber cut and never grew back? Is the soil there too poor to support trees? What kind of ecosystem is at work in this small, circular bit of real estate amidst all of that solid forest?

You can see the tiny patch of open space in pretty much the direct center of the photo. Not the larger one on the right, which is just classic exposed rock and shrubs.

The problem is, you can't legally go down there. I'm pretty sure it's part of the Asheville watershed and that land is jealously guarded by the city. Sure, you can break the law and hike in there, but if you're caught, the penalties are severe. Best case, you don't serve jail time, but a heavy fine is levied against you.

Some timber companies were arguing that the concept of the city watershed has outlived its day and that they should be allowed to go in and cut all of the trees. Most of the watersheds above the major mountain towns in North and South Carolina are packed with old growth trees. Timber barons drool at the idea of felling those trees and getting their hands on the profits. I hope it never comes to that.

On the safe side of the watershed. If I were to walk around the other side of the tree, I would be in violation of the law.

Black Mountain Panoramas

As I've mentioned here many times, one of my all-time favorite spots in the southeastern USA is the Black Mountains of North Carolina. We really do have some genuine high country here in the South, and these are the very highest of our peaks. Hike up there and you are in a very different kind of place than you find yourself in most of the region. Everything about them is different. Since the climate on these high peaks is similar to that of southern Canada, you will find a completely different experience from what you are accustomed.


Since the weather is like that of a thousand miles north, then the vegetation is also going to be unique. Firs make up the bulk of the forest along the spine of the Blacks, which is how they got their name. From a distance these gigantic summits look black from the dense forests of dark green balsam and spruce trees. Through the late 1960s and into the 1980s these fantastic forests were leveled by the twin effects of acid rain and the invasive pest known as the balsam wooly adelgid. These were similar to the monstrous plague that are currently destroying our hemlock forests. In the case of the balsam adlegid, though, they swept through the forests and pretty much killed them down to the last old tree. Since they can only invade older trees with seamed bark, the saplings that came up behind them were spared. Are these bugs gone, now? Did they eat themselves into oblivion? So far, the balsam forests have recovered and seem quite healthy. But the adelgid could return, and the energy companies are always screaming to be allowed to pollute the air. So stay tuned.


From the high ridge that rises up from the Montreat area, there are a number of bare summits that afford wonderful grandstands of the Black Mountains. I was fortunate enough to be able to create some good panoramas from my visit there last week.


Enjoy.

Some of the major peaks of the Blacks. This was created from shots taken on Pinnacle. This is the highest ridge line in the eastern USA. It doesn't get any higher than this in the south (or the entire east, for that matter).

I stitched this one from photos taken on Graybeard Mountain, just beyond Rocky Knob.

High Peaks around Graybeard

I'm going to skip the first part of the hike on the second day of our trip. Mainly because the first section was hiking to the summit of a mountain I've been talking about bagging for years, but never had until Sunday. More on that one later.

From the summit of that first peak we could see the rest of the day's itinerary. We would be hiking and bushwhacking along the spine of a very high series of peaks that lead up from the towns of Montreat and Black Mountain. They stand as a very high string of mountains going up toward the Black Mountains, the highest peaks in the eastern United States. A couple of years ago I had hike a small section of that area, much closer in to Montreat with Jack Thyen. But on Sunday I was ready to bag a few more, including the highest of the bunch.

The view of the route we were going to hike. And the mountains we would summit along the way.

As we left the first summit we headed down into a saddle toward a peak locally known as Rocky Knobs. They're pretty high and would be considered major peaks here in the East if it were not for the fact that they're surrounded by North Carolina's highest country. Placed in just about any other eastern state and these mountains would be the highest--indeed, they'd dwarf the mountains in places like Pennsylvania, Vermont, Massachusetts, Alabama, Georgia, etc.

At Rocky Knob we found the views to be outstanding. We could see a truly new and impressive profile of the Blacks and all of the other ranges strung out around us. The next summit on the trail loomed beyond: Graybeard Mountain.

By the time we hit Rocky Knob and sat around taking photos and talking, Bob Johnson had decided that he'd had enough of bushwhacking for the day and figured he'd head back toward the vehicle and wait for us. He had been to the top of Graybeard a number of times and didn't feel like wasting the effort for one more hike to the top. So we left Bob on the peak and we headed down. And I do mean DOWN. The other side of Rocky Knob drops precipitously down to the saddle we needed to access to find our way to Graybeard. But Andy picked out the route and we descended safely, stopping once to help Kona, the youngest of the two dogs.

I had been a little worried about the bushwhack between Rocky Knobs and Graybeard, but it turned out to be rather an easy go. The trees were all mature and spaced far apart, so I didn't have to deal with branches tearing at my pack as I had the day before on Mackey Mountain. The rough trail negotiates along the border of the Asheville Watershed. Most mountain towns jealously guard their watersheds, and Asheville is typical in this respect. Trespass on the wrong side and get caught, and you'll spend a night in jail. Believe it.

After the easy walk and a short but steep climb, we came out on the top of Graybeard Mountain. There are some good views there, and we stopped briefly to view the Graybeard Shelter built and maintained by the Montreat Hiking Club. It's rather a nice shelter, and I was impressed with it.

After that we strolled over to Walker Knob, which is a sub-peak of Graybeard Mountain. The views there are good, too, but look down on development in the form of houses, man-made lakes, roads, businesses, etc. and so the experience is not as nice as what we'd already seen.

The hike back toward Andy's SUV was all on the Mount Mitchell Toll Road. This road was first built as a narrow gauge railway for the removal of the virgin timber that clothed these mountains. Constructed in the late 1800s, it's an amazing testament to the engineering capabilities of the men of that era. After the timber was all cut out the rails were removed and the roadbed was altered as a highway, mainly for access to the high peaks of the Black Mountains and, specifically, for Mount Mitchell. In the later 1800s and early 1900s there was a lodge on the summit of Mitchell, and tourists used the road to access the peak.

Today the road is rugged, but in exceptional condition. I hope it remains in its current state, as it's a great way to get to mountains like Graybeard and Rocky Knobs.

Andy Kunkle took this photo of me on Rocky Knobs. The high peak (with towers) directly behind me in Clingman's Peak, one of the highest in the East.

Andy (with Boone) scouts the route we would take down the side of the peak to the saddle separating us from Graybeard Mountain.

Andy carefully picks his way down the steep slope.

I begin the descent down the route that Andy had picked out for us.

Careful...

I took this one looking back up toward the top of Rocky Knobs.

We found this gnarly old tree in the saddle. The orange sign on the huge limb is to mark the border of the Asheville Watershed and to warn trespassers away.

From Graybeard Mountain looking back toward Rocky Knobs and The Pinnacle.

Andy at the Graybeard Mountain Trail Shelter. He has stayed here a number of times. It's pretty nice as such structures go.

This baffle was built to keep hikers from taking the wrong trail. The easy way is down the peak and to the Mount Mitchell Toll Road. If you go through the fence baffle, you are on the Seven Sisters Trail which is longer and much more rugged. Apparently a lot of people were not paying attention and getting lost on the more difficult trail.

An old dead snag on Walker Knob, a sub-peak of Graybeard Mountain.

A typical view along the Mount Mitchell Toll Road.

And looking back toward The Pinnacle as we get nearer the Blue Ridge Parkway and Andy's SUV.

Photos By Jack

I thought I'd post some photos from the hike I took with Jack Thyen on MLK Day. He was nice enough to send me several shots that he took of me.

A guy and (not) his dog. This was good ol' Spot, the dog who led us to the falls, watching out for us all along the way. What a great companion!

Jack took this one of me through the window of the abandoned hydro station. Long out of use, even the outflow channel has been inundated with soil and debris.

The log bridge at the old hydro station. This was the only place to cross the stream without getting wet.

Me, climbing down from the Upper Catawba Falls. A dicey climb, especially with patches of hard ice all over the place.

Later in the day, near the summit of Brushy Knob in the Montreat Community.

This was probably the best view we had on the hike in Montreat. Looking westward toward the Blue Ridge Parkway and the Black Mountains.

What's better than hiking in the snow? Hiking in the snow when it's 60 degrees! I had to switch to shorts--thank Jove for convertible pants!

Montreat Trails, A Sample

For years when I was looking at my trail maps I would see trails that went out of the National Forest and into an area called "Montreat". I later learned that Montreat was a private community featuring high-dollar houses, vacation cabins, a Christian-based liberal arts college, a community center, and the home of evangelist Billy Graham. I figured the area was off limits and that those trails were meant only for the residents and their guests.

Panorama from just below the summit of Brushy Mountain. (Click to embiggen this photo.)

Well, I was wrong. The trails are open to all who are willing to be courteous and who obey the rules. They're foot trails only, which means no bikes, no horses, and absolutely no motorized vehicles.

The thousands of acres that are locked up in conservation easements around the community are really good hiking territory. These lands encompass some great streams, forests, and peaks. Some of the mountains here soar well over a mile above sea level and lead up toward Mount Mitchell, the highest point in the eastern USA.

There was still a lot of snow on the ground as we climbed higher.

After Jack and I had hiked to Catawba Falls we headed over to Montreat to see what it had to offer. Neither of us was up for a long hike, so we opted for a shorter, simpler one. We finally settled on a loop hike that would take us to the summit of Brushy Mountain and then down and back to where we'd parked our vehicles. We drove through Montreat admiring the college, parks, homes and facilities. It would be a very nice place to live if you have the money to afford it. (I don't.) Eventually we drove up to the trail head and parked our trucks and headed up.

The hike we took was relatively short and brisk. It gained a fair amount of elevation in quick order and around lunch time we found ourselves at the top of Brushy Mountain. We took this opportunity to sit on the summit and have something to eat. After that we slogged through the snow toward a gap and then to the trail that would make a our hike into a loop that would take us back to our vehicles. The snow on the western facing slopes was a lot deeper than I had figured--in some places it was shin-deep. It felt weird to be hiking through snow so deep when the temperatures were warm enough for shorts.

The west facing slopes still had a substantial snow cover.

After we climbed down from the summit we began to encounter quite a lot of deadfall. Apparently the recent ice, snow, and wind storms have been too much for the trees. There were lots of downed oaks. Every few meters we found ourselves detouring around large trees and branches that had collapsed from the recent severe weather. It made the going slow and the progress frustrating. I feel sure that these trails are maintained purely by volunteer efforts, so there is going to have to be quite many hours put in to get them straight when Spring rolls around. As it is, hiking them is really tough, and I wouldn't recommend it to any casual hikers.

This was an easy patch of deadfall. It was everywhere and some of it was tough to negotiate.

We did find that the area is nice enough and the welcome open enough so that we'll both go back to try other hikes. Next on my list at Montreat is to hike to the summit of Graybeard Mountain. It rises to over 5,400 feet, so it's definitely on my peak-bagging list.

The summit of Brushy Mountain, where we had lunch. The white coloring behind me are from snow covered shadowed slopes.

And a last, lingering video of the Upper Catawba Falls. The sound of water rushing down the gravity well is soothing.