Where are the critters?

One thing that I am beginning to find especially disturbing these days is the almost complete lack of wildlife I am seeing when I go hiking and backpacking here in NC. Yes, I tend to go to very wild places where the animals are not accustomed to humans. And such animals are likely to be far more shy than critters who regularly encounter people.

However, I do a lot of exploring in wilderness areas and National Forest lands far off the beaten path. In years past I would see a fair number of wild animals. Over the past couple of years I am seeing almost none.

Take my backpacking trip last week into the Linville Gorge Wilderness. Now, that's a heavily visited wild area, but it wasn't what I would call crowded while I was there. My hike out I saw only a couple of people, and I didn't see one other person camping on Shortoff Mountain the night I stayed there.

Keep in mind that the title for my YouTube channel is "the Quiet Hiker" for a reason. I hike and backpack alone. I don't even talk to myself. If my sinuses are bothering me a lot I might breathe heavily, but that's about the only sound I make. Because of my quiet behavior I should see a fair number of wild animals. But...nothin'.

On my trip from Table Rock to Shortoff and back (about 12 miles round-trip) I saw one toad, one fence lizard...and nothing else. I didn't even see any birds. I heard some birds calling, but didn't see any. Not one. Not even a buzzard or a raven or a junco--birds that are pretty common when I go into the forests.

By this time, it can't just be the luck of the draw. I'm not seeing wildlife because populations are diminishing. It's very disturbing.

Lots of scenery. No animals.

The Black Mountains. Two days, one night. I saw zero wildlife, despite seeing no other humans.

The last time I encountered an animal of note while hiking--a grouse in Virginia over a year ago. Many, many miles hiked and backpacked since then.

A wilderness landscape absent animals.

Secret Panorama.

As I was hiking from Mount Mitchell to Cattail Peak, I noticed what appeared to be a small paper sign tacked to a tree to the left of the trail. So I decided to go look at it to see what it was all about. Apparently the state park folk thought that it was a good spot to tell backpackers that it is illegal to camp inside Mount Mitchell State Park except at the official campground.

But as I stood there looking at the sign, I noticed that there was a crude side trail continuing on past the sign to what appeared to be an overlook. So I pushed on through some limbs to see what it was. And what I discovered is the most striking and beautiful view I have so far stumbled upon in my six hikes on the Black Mountain Crest Trail (also known as the Deep Gap Trail).

Across the gulf of space between the cliff on which I now found myself was a deep gap and the looming summits of Balsam Cone and Cattail Peak. I have seen both of these summits rom numerous points along the trail, but none of them so impressive as this one.

This is one reason why I keep going back to the Black Mountain Crest Trail. While it always punishes me physically, I continue to get a jolt of pure beauty whenever I hike it.

As for the sign, I can see why someone would want to camp there, but I saw absolutely no way for them to do so. There was no room to pitch even the smallest of tents. And it would even have been difficult to string up a hammock anywhere around the view. But you never know. There are always people willing to break the rules and abuse a park space.

The Secret Panorama.

A gulf of space looming between me and the summits of Balsam Cone and Cattail Peak. (Click to embiggen.)

New Video

I should have created more of these video productions sooner. I can't say why I haven't. I've had the software to make them for several years (the same one I utilized to make my book trailers). But because I've always been too busy working or mucking about with various projects I just haven't done it. And I find it quite easy to do. Currently I'm not doing much more than trimming videos, fitting them together, working in bleeds, fades, captions, titles and such. But I'm sure I'll get more creative as I learn the ropes.

The thing is, the beauty comes from what I'm recording and not how I'm assembling the video.

Anyway, here are two more.

The Black Mountains. The highest range in the eastern USA.

From a July 2015 trip to Van Hook Glade.

Hawksbill Mountain in Linville Gorge Wilderness.

Video taken in a late September 2008 camping trip.

The Old Tower

I miss the old viewing tower on the summit of Mount Mitchell, the highest summit in the eastern USA. It was a curious building constructed of native rock with a unique timber framing supporting the platform at the top. There was something strange about it...the tower collected dampness inside the stairwell and climbing to the top was always a kind of moist, claustrophobic experience.

The state park service decided to tear it down sometime...I think around 2005 or 2006 (I've forgotten). For some reason I never took any closeup photos of the tower with my digital camera. Not sure why I didn't. Perhaps I thought it was here to stay. Unfortunately, apparently there were enough complaints that it wasn't handicap accessible, so it was demolished and a newer design was installed to replace it.

The new platform has a long, low ramp that allows wheelchairs easy access. However, the new tower is not very tall and it won't take long for the recovering balsam forests to block out the views. So the park service will probably have to chop down a whole bunch of fraser firs to allow all of those wheelchair-bound people to continue to enjoy the view.

Anyway, here are a couple of photos that I took of the tower from the summit of nearby Mount Craig, the second highest peak in the eastern USA. What a difference a few feet makes. Because Mount Craig is only the second highest, it didn't have a roadway carved into its flanks and a tower placed on its high point. Thank Jove for that difference, else it would be Mount Craig with its highest real estate raped by the hand of Man.

The old tower as it appeared from Mount Craig.

A cropped image. I think I have some old film photos of the tower up close. I'll have to dig through them to see.

On that day in November of 2004 I snapped this shot on the way back to that parking lot. I had almost bitten off more than I could chew. The long hike to Winter Star and back to my truck was more than I had bargained for. I barely got back to my vehicle before nightfall when the gates were locked. You can see all of the dead balsam trees in this shot...the forest had been devastated by an invasive pest (balsam wooly adelgid). These days the forests at the top have largely recovered.

Lardass, or not Lardass? That is the question...

For most of my life since my teens my weight has fluctuated in a really disturbing manner. I've been as heavy as 240+ pounds, or as light as 173 pounds. Throughout the transitions, the weird thing is that I've always stayed relatively active. Even when I'm really fat I still do a lot of outdoor activities--mainly hiking and backpacking. When I'm as fat as I've been I would still have the energy and stamina to hike up steep mountain slopes.

But when I'm thinner I feel a hell of a lot better than when I'm a lardass. So...why would I even allow myself to become a lardass? Outside of the fact that I love food and I enjoy eating, I couldn't say. Perhaps my metabolism is such that I add pounds more easily than most people do. And when I'm fat I desperately want to get back to a lower weight. But then I realize the work and torture involved (extra exercise and bothersome dieting) and continue along as I was, eating and enjoying the good life.

I discovered over the years that I can lose a lot of weight in quick order when I put my mind to it. But if I backslide even a little, then the calories catch up with me and the lard goes back on and I find myself in the fatty section of the clothing store yet again, and must look with disappointment at the boxes of clothes that I can no longer wear stacked accusingly in the closet.

The past ten or so years have seen me repeating the same crimes of weight gain/ weight loss over and over. I would pack it on, then buckle down and get it off, only to see it return over time. My latest struggle has seen me taking the pounds off again, but this time in a much slower and more controlled manner. Over the past year I've managed to lose thirty-five pounds and get myself back below 200 for the first time since I returned from my backpacking trip to Colorado. I'm feeling pretty good and would like to knock off another ten or fifteen pounds. Will it happen? I'm not sure, but it would be nice to not have to carry that flab up the slopes in Glacier National Park.

We'll see.

The fattest I've ever been (2005). Over 240 pounds. On a backpacking trip in the Black Mountains of North Carolina.

A year later I had dropped over fifty pounds.

In 2012, after two weeks of altitude sickness in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado I was getting toward a normal weight since ballooning to about 220 during the year. By the time I got home I was down to 195.

And within six months here I was back up to almost 230 pounds again!

And now, roughly a year after that I am under 200 pounds once more. The struggle to stay healthy continues.

Dreaming of Old Hikes.

Thinking of old hikes in beautiful places.

Rocky Mountain National Park, Estes Park, CO.

Long's Peak, Rocky Mountain NP, Colorado.

The Maroon Bells, Colorado.

Mount Sneffels Wilderness, Colorado.

Sherando Lake Recreation Area, Virginia.

Wilson Creek, NC.

The Black Mountains, NC.

Pisgah National Forest, NC.

Nantahala National Forest, NC.

Cullasaja Gorge, NC.

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.

Taming the Trails

For years the Big Butt Trail did not get much in the way of engineering attention from the National Forest Service. I used to hear stories about the scrambling you would encounter if you hiked to Point Misery and beyond. No easy Class I hiking, but Class II stuff and a little scrambling where you couldn't help but use all four limbs to advance up the trail.

But in the past few years the National Forest folk have paid good money to engineer the trail to file off the rough patches. At some of the more difficult sections they did slight re-routes and put in very stout stairs so that you can continue onward and upward without having to result to climbing up rock walls like a spider monkey.

In some ways, I'm relieved. But I always did enjoy a scrambling route now and again. That's gone from this particular trail.

These stairs are really solid!

The cliff faces and boulders that once had to be climbed hand over hand.

These staircases kick ass. Solid as they make 'em.

Six Days.

Six days straight of working without a break at USPS. Time for a brief road trip. I'll be heading up to the mountains. Right around our highest of high country. I think it's my favorite part of North Carolina. Wish I could hang out up there for weeks at a time without coming down.

Can't do that right now, but a day or two will do the job. So this amazing mountain range is where I'll be spending a couple of days after I clock out tomorrow.

The mountain in the foreground is Mount Craig, the second-highest summit in the eastern USA. Just beyond it is another summit that is almost 6,600 feet high. One of only a handful in the east of which that can be said.

Potato Knob. Another of the east's great summits. Over 6,400 feet high.

This rock formation is on Potato Knob. I've often thought about bushwhacking up there and pitching my tent in the shadow of that huge boulder to spend the evening watching the stars. One day...

I love this summit. One of the big peaks of the Black Mountains: Potato Hill. (Not to be confused with the nearby Potato Knob). Also about 6,400 feet above sea level.

Bushwhacking in Big Ivy

I went hiking a bit in the Big Ivy area of the Pisgah National Forest yesterday. I'll post a detailed trip report in a day or two.
 

One of the undocumented waterfalls we found on Walker Creek. This one was relatively difficult to get to, involving a serious bushwhack.

This is Walker Falls. Well known, it's located directly on a Forest Service road and is widely photographed.

The Old Lookout Tower on Mount Mitchell

A few years ago they decided to tear down the old viewing tower on Mount Mitchell, the highest mountain in the eastern USA. I'd always liked that structure, but apparently it wasn't handicap accessible and so it was ordered destroyed and rebuilt. These days it's a much shorter platform, more like a big concrete table than a tower. And there's a ramp leading to it so that those who are in wheelchairs can get up there. Plus a paved pathway from the parking lot to the platform.

The old lookout tower on Mount Mitchell. Gone, now.

I know I must have taken more photographs of the old tower, but I can't find any. Just the long-distance shots I made of the summit, generally taken from nearby peaks. This one I took from near the top of the East's second-highest, Mount Craig. Craig is just a tad shorter than Mitchell and, to my way of thinking, is a more spectacular peak by just about any standard other than height. Because Craig is not the highest, there's no road to the top, no buildings up there, no restaurant, no bathrooms, no paved access, and--best of all--no crowds.

I snapped this one near the top of Mount Craig, with Mitchell and the old tower looming on the horizon.

This is Ridgepole Mountain. Ridgepole Mountain is located just barely north of the NC/GA border. If not for a bit of interesting history, this mountain would have ended up in Georgia instead of North Carolina. Since Ridgepole Mountain is over 5,000 feet above sea level, it would have easily displaced Brasstown Bald as the highest peak in Georgia. If that had happened, Ridgepole Mountain would--like Brasstown Bald today--have a paved road leading to the top, along with a museum and visitor center and bathrooms and who knows what else. But because it ended up being just another 5,000-foot peak in a state packed with mountains that tall, Ridgepole sits in the middle of a huge wilderness area with no roads whatsoever and only a couple of trails on it (including the Appalachian Trail), providing habitat for a vast population of wildlife. Mile for mile there are more bears in this area than even in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. So, happily for those of us who love wilderness, it didn't end up being Georgia's highest peak and instead is just one more 5,000-foot summit in North Carolina.

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.

Hell of a Grandstand!

For years and years and years. And years. And maybe some more years, I have visited the Black Mountains here in North Carolina and thought about climbing the nearby summit known simply as "The Pinnacle" to get a view of the East's loftiest peaks. One could tell just by looking at The Pinnacle that it would be a really good place to view the Black Mountains. And it wasn't just the logic of its placement--I'd also heard and read that the view on the summit was one of the best around.

But every time I was in that area I always had other hiking goals in mind. And whenever I'd plan a hike to The Pinnacle, something would always seem to get in the way and I'd have to put it off for another day.

However, because of the fact that Andy, Bob J. and I had gotten lost in the Mackey Mountain Roadless Area, we ended up deciding to hike the ridge that serves as home to this peak. So, finally, almost by accident, I was going to climb The Pinnacle.

Some people call this mountain Blue Ridge Pinnacle, which I actually prefer, even though it is not listed as such on any map. This is because the people of my native south so often showed no imagination whatsoever when it came to naming the peaks around them. I don't even want to know how many mountains here in the south are called "The Pinnacle". There have to be scores of them, if not more than a hundred. So I wish that it really was called Blue Ridge Pinnacle. We should make it so.

The hike to the top of this mountain is very darned easy. You have only to park along the Blue Ridge Parkway near the gated Mount Mitchell Toll Road. And then begin hiking the unofficial trial that skirts the border of the Asheville Watershed (making certain not to trespass onto the Watershed--they're serious about it and will arrest you if they catch you doing that) and then follow that trail along the ridgeline to the summit of The Pinnacle.

The hike is very pleasant, through classic high elevation northern forest types. In short order, and after what seems a very brief climb, you will emerge from the forest onto the exposed rocky summit of The Pinnacle. Be careful here because you will likely be gawking so much at the views that you might fall down.

Well, it took me a very long time to make it this summit, but I'm very happy that I finally got there. I highly recommend a visit. But not too many visits--I hate crowds and I want to go back to find a little solitude and natural beauty.


This is actually in Mount Mitchell State Park. This is part of the slope leading up to Clingman's Peak. We stopped there to use the rest room facilities before beginning our hike.

Posted sign warning you to stay off of the Asheville Watershed. They mean it. They are very serious about this.

Andy took this of me and the doggies. That's Boone in front of me and Kona bringing up the rear.

I love the way the southern trails pass through vegetation tunnels.

And, at last, the rocky summit of The Pinnacle. Here I could look across the saddle toward Graybeard Mountain.

Click to embiggen. One of the best grandstands to view the Black Mountains. Here, I've labeled some of the notable peaks visible from the top of The Pinnacle.

Me, on top of the highest point.

From left to right: Bob Johnson, Andy Kunkle, Me.

Andy, Boone, Bob, and Bob. I don't know where Kona was. Wandering about, I reckon.