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| From the top of Mt. Mitchell, 6684 ft. |
The official peak of Mt. Mitchell, the observation tower at 6,684 feet, can be reached easily by driving North up the Blue Ridge Parkway and walking .3 miles up a steep hill from the parking lot. This is a popular choice for plump, aging bikers wrapped in pleather, who can boast of their accomplishments with a picture in front of the official signpost, while wiping sweat from their brow (it was a steep hill after all).
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| Also from the top of Mt. Mitchell |
Alternatively, you can hike up 3200 feet over 5.5 miles from Black Mountain Campground (not located in the town of Black Mountain, but so named for the range of Black Mountains, of which Mt. Mitchell is a part). To get to the campground from Old Fort, you drive up 2000 feet over winding, steep roads. There was in fact a curve that I had to shift into first gear to round (meaning, I had to nearly stop).
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| Early in the trail |
The temperature at the top of Mt. Mitchell can be 30 degrees cooler (than the campground, than sea level? more details please!), and the visibility almost never clear. When I woke up the temperature was 40 degrees in Black Mountain (the town, at 2400 feet; there is no weather station in Old Fort so I have to check there and add a few degrees). I checked Burnsville, which is near Mt. Mitchell and at around 4000 feet and it was 50 degrees. Huh? Whatever, so I dressed in layers and hoped for the best.
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| The trail has a nice mix of forest and open meadow |
The Mt. Mitchell Trail trail head is shared with another trail, so when I arrived there at the same time as a family of four (with two young boys), I assumed they were taking the other trail. Nope. It was my fortune to run into a family of mountain goats so I didn't have to climb alone. I often worried about hiking solo, but today I was especially concerned due to the length and elevation of the hike.
We bonded quickly: these are the kind of people I could spend a lot of time with. Tagging along with the family was Eddie, a 50? some year old former neighbor of theirs from Virginia. They live in Durham now, but they miss the mountains and are here solely to hike Mt. Mitchell. The boys are 13 and 10, and they led the whole way, up and down.
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| Carrie resting at a stream crossing |
Eddie is retired and has been for 16 years after he sold an internet company during peak years. He's a quiet man with a lot of great stories about his hiking adventures since. He has hiked the Grand Canyon 15 times rim-to-rim, and I told him I would love to accompany him this Fall on his next trip. October is the perfect time to go because it's gets really hot at the bottom during the summer.
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| Eric and the dogs |
We arrived at the top to perfectly clear skies and visibility for miles and miles and miles. And a dead camera battery. I presently have no pictures of this wonderful view, though my companions took a few of me at the top and promised to send them.
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| We made it! |
There is a feeling in my belly that I'm pretty sure I've never felt before. I really am meant to be here; I'm not running from something as I've been told I was. It's simply an exploration and I've already found the gold. And luckily for me, the gold is not a limited commodity.
I had told Eric (the husband) that there was another, more "rugged", Mt. Mitchel trail. He had a nice map that he purchased at the campground and we found it -- the Black Mountain Crest Trail, ordained as the "most rugged trail in North Carolina". This trail begins at the summit of Mt. Mitchell and heads North 12 miles among the various peaks of the Black Mountains, likely carved for/by "peak baggers", a term I had seen online but didn't know existed as a legitimate moniker for hikers interested in boasting of their 6000' plus hikes. I'm not so interested in boasting but I need to do that hike.
While Carrie (the wife) and the kids ate lunch, we chatted with a few of the many bicyclists who had ridden 35 miles up the steeply ascending, constantly curving, shoulderless Blue Ridge Parkway to get here. An extremely tough ride of course, but also a death challenge. Biker friendly signs are posted along the Parkway, but even a careful driver would have trouble bypassing a biker on a curve.
On the return I was at the rear of the pack, trying to plant feet safely but the group was flying down the mountain. Trying to keep up, I stumbled within the first mile, fell, and hurt my foot. I assumed it was just another twisted ankle like so many others, but several steps on it inflicted pain indicating otherwise. Carrie wasn't too far in front of me and heard me fall so she backtracked to check on me.
Coincidentally, Eric is a doctor, and even spent several years working in the ER. In one of their backpacks was a wrap for just this sort of occasion, but the boys and the backpacks were too far ahead to hear Carrie calling them. I hobbled along for a while until finally they returned; one of them must have eventually heard her.
It was my foot that was injured, not my ankle, and it was already swelling up. Eric wrapped it, and Eddie found me a walking stick, and on we went. I felt terrible for slowing them down and told them to please go on ahead of me, but they wouldn't. They didn't even know me, and they were willing to crawl down nearly 3000 feet and 4.5 miles or so of trail to make sure I made it down safely.
It was a long, painful journey. On every rock I turned the foot again, sending sharp pains up through my ankle. The injury was on the inside of the foot, so if I keep it turned to the outside, it felt okay. But it was difficult to do that on uneven trail, which is most of it. Four hours later we finally reached the campground; it should have taken about 2.5 or so.
My foot is now resting, icing, elevating (soon to be compressed again). I sure hope it heals by tomorrow.
How is your foot?
ReplyDeleteIs it better today?
Glad you are having a good time, we miss you back home!
Suzy