Back in the Roan Highlands

Almost no campsite is perfect.  My campsite at Roan Mountain is nearly perfect, except for a streetlight right at its edge.  As a result, I slept poorly, even though the babbling brook put me right to sleep.  Black-out curtains would fix the glaring light, but it’s rarely a problem where I camp, so I’ve got thin white curtains that don’t keep out the bright streetlights.

We were up early enough to snag one of the limited parking spots at Carver’s Gap, which is the trailhead for going southbound to High Knob (the highest shelter on the Appalachian Trail) or for going northbound across several balds to the Stan Murray Shelter.

Hungry for views, Callie and I climbed up the pine forest, taking in the wonderful smell.  Well, I was breathing pine; Callie was probably scenting squirrels, birds, and snakes.

The contrast with the ice-covered trail from the spring of 2018 was amazing.  With a light breeze and pleasant temperatures in the low 70’s, hiking conditions were perfect.  One of the reasons I love the Roan Highlands is that there are expansive views as a reward for making it to the top.

Later, the trail plunges down through thick forest and overgrown bushes. There must have been a few nettles because my arms were on fire for awhile.  We hiked to the Stan Murray Shelter and back again–about 7 miles round trip.  In each shelter, there is supposed to be a notebook for thru-hikers and other visitors to sign in.  Some people write long passages detailing their hikes, hopes and dreams, etc.  During my thru- hike, I rarely wrote much more than my trail name, so that people I knew behind me could see that I was still on the trail.

This time, I signed for both my thru-hike in 1996 and my short hike that day.

Quid Pro Quo, GA>ME ’96, Carvers Gap to Stan Murray Shelter, ’19.

Tennessee: Roan Highlands, Part Four

(This is the final installment of my recent trip to the Roan Highlands–one of the highest points on the Appalachian Trail).

I don’t always get a good night’s sleep in my tent, but I slept hard on my last night’s stay at Roan Mountain State Park, waking at dawn.  After a quick breakfast of hot oatmeal and cocoa, I was driving back to Carver’s Gap for what I expected to be my most challenging hike to the top of the Roan Highlands:  Roan High Knob.  The parking lot was empty again, except for a lone vehicle with windows coated by condensation (evidence that someone was sleeping inside).

My first problem was to find where the trail went off to the south.  I was wandering around by the outhouse and public informational signs, but the trail southbound was actually a few dozen yards back towards the way I had come from the state park.  Temps were slightly above freezing.  The trail started off with a few scattered icy spots, but quickly became more difficult with long stretches of ice made more slippery by melt.  I passed thee thru-hkers going up, a solo woman who had just made it through the  ice and a couple of guys in the middle of the worst part.  It was manageable and clearly more difficult going down fast than going up slow.

There was an overnight shelter towards the top of the ascent, but it was off the main trail, so I didn’t stop to visit.  Instead, I continued hiking to the top until I found a side trail taking me to the former site of the Cloudland Hotel.

 

Cloudland was a luxury hotel built in the 1880’s above 6000 feet.  There is still a road that reaches Roan High Knob, although it is seasonal and was still closed in late March. I’ve hiked hard trails to the top of mountains that people could access by car or rail, such as Mount Washington in New Hampshire, and it’s never quite the same experience.  As the father to a son in a power wheelchair, I understand more than most that access to nature  is difficult for some people.  It’s so important for more people to get out in nature, including mountaintop views.  However, I can’t say that I am sad that a luxury hotel doesn’t sit on top of Roan High Knob anymore. 

After a tough climb, I wasn’t in a mood to share my view with people who drove to the top or who had slept on comfortable beds.  The Cloudland Hotel lasted only 20 years before being dismantled in 1914.

High Knob was windy, cold, and beautiful.  Even though it was Friday, which tends to see more people on popular trails than mid-week, no one else was around.  I sat behind some rocks and lingered, reflecting on the natural beauty and my hiking trip in general.  We tend to get comfortable in our mostly sedentary lives.  This had been the perfect trip to shake me out of my doldrums.

I continued hiking southbound off the Knob for awhile before realizing that the next major peak was going to be quite a distance down and then back up again.  I decided to end my time on the Appalachian Trail and head back to the Knob and to Carver’s Gap.  I picked my way slowly down the icy trail and was back to my truck before noon.  I had reached all of my goals, so I went back to Dairyland in the town of Roan Mountain and had a celebratory bbq pork sandwich.

I hiked a few short trails in Roan Mountain State Park, checked out some exhibits at the Visitor’s Center, and settled back in for my last night at the campsite.  On the next morning, the road back to Wisconsin would be waiting.

Tennessee: Roan Highlands, Part Three

March 28th:

When I finished my hike back into Carvers’ Gap on the 27th, I talked to two older thru-hikers who described the opposite side of the gap as “horrible” due to icy conditions.  The weather forecast was for warmer conditions for the rest of the week, so I decided to put off my climb up to Roan High Knob.

I left my car at the Station parking lot at about 8:30 a.m.  They charge $10 for overnight or day parking/security, which rattled my frugal nature, but small businesses on the trail needs to make money in order to survive. Unlike a Carver’s Gap, there is no large parking lot here at the trail crossing. Running a craft beer taproom/hiker hostel/shuttle service is no picnic, so I didn’t let the fee linger in my thoughts too long.

It was about a half mile road walk downhill on Hwy 19E to the trail crossing.  The elevation here is much lower than Carver’s Gap, which meant I would be climbing all day to my destination at the top of Houston Ridge. As I hiked, I quickly realized that I was overdressed for the lower elevation and warmer day.  I went from full gear to a t shirt and long pants in about an hour.  I was running into thru-hikers who were down to shorts.

After a couple of miles, I left the woods and entered a clearing called “Doll Flats.”  It basically looks like a relatively flat farm field on top of the mountain, overlooking a steep drop off to small farms far below.  The faint call of a rooster let me know that I had not left civilization–yet.

I continued my ascent through the woods on the other side of Doll Flats, crossing from Tennessee into North Carolina.

This above sign is a fairly typical “highway sign” on the Appalachian Trail.  The translation is that, yes, you are on the A.T in North Carolina, and a water source is off to the right.  There is also an implication that this would be a good time to “water up” because there might not be additional water for awhile (up on the ridge).  I was still carrying 1.5 liters of water, so I kept going.

Soon, I was hiking above the trees on the long ascent up Houston Ridge.

Even though the temperatures were much warmer than the day before, the high winds caused me to put on another layer of clothes and my hat.  This particular stretch of trail was the primary reason that I traveled to the Roan Highlands.  The wind, the views, the solitude all combined to make me feel more alive than I had in sometime.

About halfway up the ridge, I saw a little dot on top of the mountain that I thought was a hiker coming towards me, but the dot stopped moving.  Then I saw it was an animal moving slowly back and forth (maybe a dog?)  Finally, I climbed high enough to see that it was a deer, standing like a king overlooking his domain.  I never did get close enough to photograph him.  I was worried he was going to run off while I retrieved my camera, so I just kept going, hoping that he would still be there when I got to the top.  The final ascent blocked my view of him, and then I joined him at the top.  He was motionless for an instant, making eye contact with me. And then he trotted nonchalantly off into the woods on the right, leaving the summit for me.   I have to admit that shivers went down my spine.  For a moment, I imagined being that deer, living on top of the world in that desolate, windy place.  Free.

Then the moment was gone.  I sat down behind a rock outcropping for some wind protection and ate my lunch (trail mix and water)  I lingered up there for about an hour, not another human in sight the entire time.

The trip down was much faster than the ascent.  I was back at the Station for a beer by 2 pm, ate a bbq sandwich in Roan Mountain at Dairyland (really good at $4.99, including cole slaw), bought groceries and firewood, and was back at the campground while the afternoon was still warm.  I cooked up the fixings for beef burritos and then sat by the fire with a water bottle of Ginger Ale and a splash of bourbon. I would be ready for the other side of Carver’s Gap on my final day.  Life was good.

Tennessee: Roan Highlands, Part Two

March 27th:
I woke to a light drizzle and made a quick breakfast of fruit, hot oatmeal, and cocoa.  No one was up and moving at the campground; everyone was tucked into their heated RV’s.  But I was on the road by 8 a.m.  The drive to Carver’s Gap was only about 15 minutes from the campground.

As you can see from the photo above, there were plenty of parking spots available.  In fact, I didn’t see anyone actually hiking for about the first three hours.  Hiking conditions were not ideal.  The climb out of the gap was about 700 vertical feet of icy switchbacks.  The reward was a view of the cloud that covered the top of the mountain.

The Roan Highlands are known for grassy mountain tops (balds) and grassy ridges. In most of the southern Appalachians, mountain tops tend to be heavily wooded and without views. In the northern Appalachians, tree line can be as low as 4000 feet with views for forever from rocky, bare mountaintops.  Although it appears from my photos that there is just a heavy stationary cloud, the winds were actually blowing about 40 mph, so the clouds were in rapid motion.  Down at Carver’s Gap, the thermometer indicated about 32 degrees Fahrenheit.  Up on top, it felt like the low 20’s with colder wind chill.  I was dressed with long underwear (top and bottom), two sets of socks, t-shirt, heavy fleece sweater, rain jacket, and knit cap.  There was a light drizzle at the gap and a stinging sleet on top.

I passed Round Bald and Jane Bald before descending back into the woods.  I passed an abandoned Coleman tent that was apparently not quite up to the conditions.

At just over 3 miles, I was excited to see my first trail shelter in over 20 years.  My excitement diminished when I got up close and saw that someone had taken over the entire shelter by putting up their tent in the shelter.  I had planned to sign the trail register, but whoever was in the shelter was still inside the tent with the trail register at 10 a.m.  Some things don’t change. On my thru hike,  I was always first up in the shelter and on the trail. I was typically finished by 2 or 3 pm after a 15-20 mile day.  Many of the  twenty somethings hiked the same distance but didn’t get started until late morning (or later) and didn’t get to the shelter until after dark. 

I continued hiking on.  The trail traveled back and forth from winter to spring and back again, depending on where I was on the mountain.  I also passed a marker for Yellow Mountain Gap where a group of mountain men traveled in 1780 to defeat the British soldiers during the Revolutionary War.   Finally, I reached my second shelter, Overland Shelter, and signed the trail register:  “Quid Pro Quo Returns”  GA>ME ’96. Translation:  my thru-hiker nickname was Quid Pro Quo, and I hiked northbound from Georgia to Maine in 1996.

The Overland Shelter is a converted barn and has sleeping quarters on two floors.  A lone section hiker in his 20’s was present when I arrived. He told me that he had been section hiking the Appalachian Trail for about eight years.

After eating my lunch of trail mix and water, I said goodbye and started on the return trip to Carver’s Gap.  The folks tenting in the first shelter had woken up and were having breakfast (at noon).  I waved hello/goodbye and headed back up into the balds.  The view had improved.

As I crossed the balds and down the mountain (southbound), I did run into several thru-hikers who were northbound.  I could tell they instantly dismissed me as a day hiker who was not one of them.   And they were right.  My time as a thru-hiker has passed.  It still felt wonderful to be “back on the trail.”  My hike finished up at 13 miles for the day.  My feet were sore, and I was ready for a beer.

I drove to the Station, which is a newish hiker taproom/hostel on Hwy 19e just east of Roan Moiuntain, TN .  The bartender, who was nicknamed “Crazy”, gave me a couple of samples of Tennessee IPA’s.  I selected the Scatterbrain IPA by Bearded Iris Brewing of Nashville.  “Crazy” called it one of the top three IPA’s in the country.  I  agree that it was a great IPA and drank two of them.  We shared some hiking stories and I arranged to use their parking services for the next day’s hike.