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| What the hell have we gotten ourselves into? |
A coworker (who is much more a backpacker than anyone I've ever met) invited a few from the office to backpack a section of the Appalachian Trail (AT). It just so happened to be the section I've been dreaming of hiking for the past year.
The Roan Highlands are arguably one of the most scenic sections of this 2,842-mile trail from Georgia to Maine. Straddling the North Carolina-Tennessee line, this section boasts sweeping valley views from memorable grassy balds shrouded in mystery; and sometimes a thick fog.
The origin story behind these wide open balds takes us to competing theories. Could native Americans have kept them clear for hunting and grazing? Would fires from lightning strikes atop the high peaks promote the wide open fields? Did space aliens engage in an epic battle that ravaged the mountain tops and left them unable to grow no more than grass and small shrubs? Ok, I made that last one up.
I’ve been on countless day hikes along the AT in a handful of states. My first backpacking trip was supposed to be a trek from Clingman’s Dome to Max Patch. That ended up never happening. This AT trip was long overdue. With 6 competing schedules, it was difficult enough to find a long weekend we all had free. We found one. We had no idea how epic this weekend was about to be. In the week leading up to our departure, the weather forecast continually declined. Liz & I were checking almost hourly. We had a big decision to make. We all gathered into one office and went into the pros and cons. We decided we’d try another weekend instead. When we realized that was well into the fall season, we put on our big kid pants and made a command group decision to go on with the plan.
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| Spirits are high when the weather is nice |
The 0 dark thirty meetup at the office was rough, but we were soon greeted with the sun slowly peeping through the clouds. Our first bathroom stop was windy and chilly. For some reason, this is when Wolf Bait decided to tell us he only brought shorts for the trip. “Uhm, maybe you’ll be fine…” Glorious sunshine greeted us as we stretched our legs at the trailhead. After some scurrying about, Liz and Jerry took off to shuttle the pickup car to our final destination at Hugh’s Gap. Twenty-some odd trail miles southbound. The rest of us took our time moseying up the mountain since the other two were at least an hour behind. Blake and I staggered behind the other two so we’d have a better chance of seeing the shuttlers. We wanted to have an accordion-style network to make sure everyone was still on the trail.
As Blake and I ascended, the sunshine continued to cover us in warm feelings. It was mostly sunny by now, no rain clouds in sight. A lovely day. We’d actually been on this section of trail a few years prior for a birthday weekend. It was nice and familiar. We greeted other hikers as they came off the mountain. However, the closer we came to our first designated meeting place, the more hikers we saw with long sleeves and full rain gear. The first few we opted to not chat with as some folks have different body temperature needs. It became apparent soon enough that we were actually the ones underdressed. I stopped the next hiker. “How is it up there?” I nod upwards toward the mountain.
“Awful! Twenty to 30-mile winds. Rain. Fog. You name it,” said the first.
“The wind is blowing so hard I almost fell over! And you can’t see anything,” the next.
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| We stopped at this overlook and talked to some drenched, tired hikers |
They continued northbound and Blake and I let them get out of earshot before one of us says, “What the f&$k?” A few more hikers streamed past us, all donning rain gear, all looking defeated. It didn’t hit us until about 10-15 minutes from Dolls Flats. The air cooled significantly and felt heavy. By the time we caught up to Andy and Wolf Bait, we were in enough fog you had to strain to see the landscape. We lounged a while with them but agreed to wait for the shuttle folks so they could go on ahead. As we rearranged our packs under the cover of a large boulder, we see Jerry pop up over the crest of the hill. Liz and Masi are not far behind.
After pleasantries (and amazement at their quick ascent) are exchanged, we got down to business. It didn’t look good out over the trail, so Jerry wanted to try and catch up with the front runners. By all means, Jerry. Be our guest. Liz was grateful to have us back since she just hiked the same distance as us 30 minutes faster. And she’s wee. And has a big pack. We let her eat a snack, and then we set off.
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| Wonderful views! |
It was chilly, but not unbearable. The fog cleared every now and then enough to see a few hundred feet ahead. But it wasn’t long before our optimism began to fail us. The wind got to me first. I’d opted for shorts and a long sleeve shirt since my legs usually stay pretty warm. I had worked up a healthy sweat in the hike up to Dolls Flats. Without the fog, I probably would have been alright. But the mist/sweat on my legs didn’t dry and chilled me when the wind kicked up. Then we hit the bald. As we passed through the cattle fence we could barely see ahead. And the wind. Oh, God! The wind! Blowing from our right to our left fiercely enough to make walking a straight line difficult. We tried to keep our eagerness about finally going backpacking. It was tough. By the time we were a mile or so in, none of us were talking much. The dogs had their heads down and were quite miserable as well. We reached the marker and took a quick breather. We pressed on, as did the wind and fog.
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| Wee Liz and her not so wee pack |
We passed a few more hikers along the way. One set of women asked us if it was, “worse here than behind us.” Since we were walking opposite of them we had no idea. But we told them this was the worst we had seen so far. And that it was about 2 miles to the next fence. They moaned. In hindsight, we should have realized why. We reached the shelter of the gap and unload our packs. My right side was completely drenched and cold. The left side of me was dry and comparatively warm. It was odd. We had a few snacks and (smartly) donned our rain jackets. Mostly to warm up, but they came in handy.
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| We're laughing so we don't cry (Photo: LD) |
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| Backpacking hair, don't care (Photo: LD) |
As we left the security of the gap we were met with even fiercer winds over the next hump. I’ve never been in a hurricane, but I felt like Jim Cantore up there. We kept hiking, tilting over every now and then when a particularly strong gust blew through. If we had wanted to talk to each other we couldn’t have. At one point I swore there was a helicopter above me. I kept peering over my shoulder, but all I could see was Masi leading Liz up the trail, both of them struggling to stay in a straight line. I finally realized the helicopter was a strap on my bag flapping so ferociously it sounded like Channel 5 News coming to film the idiots hiking across the bald.
By the time we reached the other side of Hump, we were done. We still had a few miles to the Overmountain Shelter. My feet were wrecked. I was happy to be able to throw my jacket hood off, but it was still windy and wet. We trudged on until we found the Overmountain Victory Trail which led to the shelter. We were happy to see Jerry along the trail getting water. He told us the barn was just around the corner. We walked around the corner and…..no barn.
“Did we go the wrong way?”
“No, he said turn right at the bottom of the hill and it’d be there.”
“Isn’t it a giant red barn?”
“Let’s just go back and find Jerry.”
We met him on his way back and followed him to where we had our previous discussion. We rounded “the corner” and in the not so very distant distance, there she was coming out of the fog. It was so cloudy, we just couldn’t see it.
We passed Andy’s tent in the grassy field and headed up to the top of the barn where Wolf Bait was already in his sleeping bag trying to warm up. Remember he didn’t bring anything long? Well, he also didn’t bring gloves. So he waved to us from his cocoon with his makeshift glove that is really the lonely partner to a pair of socks his dog got a hold of.
There were a slew of thru-hikers in the barn already. We made a few friends (easy when you have three adorable dogs traveling with you) and shared some of the accouterments we’d packed carefully into nalgenes, flasks, cans, and a platypus. It was a pretty quiet evening in the loft since many of them were a month into their hikes and had been hiking in this same weather for a few days.
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| SUPER DOG! (Photo: LD) |
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| Enjoying wine in the shelter |
The weather turned stormy. Along with the wind, rain pelted the outside of my sleeping bag as it was blown in through the gaps in the barn wall. A small price to pay as the hikers along the other walls were all through hikers. I woke up in my bed that morning, and I know my bed awaited me at the end of the weekend.
Liz and I were the last two awake. I stuffed Lego into my sleeping bag where she immediately fell asleep. After some time, we decided to lay down as well. Not like we’re going to go check out the scenery. About 30 minutes later, a large clatter of boots and voices arrived under the barn. A pack of boy scouts had hiked in and were just arriving. It was somewhere near 10 PM, and a few of them were lucky enough to score the last remaining real estate in the loft. We heard the others clamoring for space below, but inevitably, someone has to tell them there’s no more room and to go set up in the field. Lego barely twitched at all the commotion, and we both fell asleep to the gentle murmur of camp site set up outside.
I woke up with an almost 10-scale pain because I had to pee. I slithered out of my bag and threw on my down jacket and crocs and sped down the ladder. When we turned in for the night, Andy was the only tent in the field. As my eyes adjusted, I saw a few dozen tents at least. I couldn’t even point out Andy’s. I climbed up a hill and dropped and squatted. I noticed how not cold my arse was. I looked past the barn and saw a light on the mountain face across the valley. Wait. What? I looked up and saw the moon shining brightly above, with only a few wisps of clouds floating by. In my urge to urinate, I hadn’t noticed the change in weather. It was gorgeous. Serene. I continued to admire the landscape when my eyes fell upon a strange shape about 30 feet behind me. Great. I peed next to a scout in a hammock. Hopefully, asleep. I shimmied my britches up and headed back to the barn. There were 3 more hammocks hung one above the other under the barn. It was a cool sight. I climbed back up the ladder and snuggled up with the little black dog. Sleep came easier this time.
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| This is insane! |
We woke early, and I tried to explain my bathroom adventure to the rest of the gang. Unfortunately, peering out the barn walls we saw the fog and wind had returned. Blake, Liz, and I were slow to get going. Andy headed out first thinking we’d be close behind. But the 3 of us just couldn’t get going. Once we’re finally on the trail, it was evident that the rain had ramped up the level of bad ass we had to be that day. The trail was wrecked. Periods of fog/wind and downpours gave way to brief clearings when we rejoiced at the sight of the sun. Minutes later more bad weather rolled in. It went this way all the way to Jane’s Bald. We saw Carver’s Gap in the distance, so we decided to stop, stretch, and take in a little of the view. Large clouds blew through quickly, which gave Liz enough time to take a few shots in between. We headed out to find Andy, who’d been waiting for hours in the parking lot. After some apologies, we had a big decision to make. Most of us (everyone except Andy & Jerry) were done. Wolf Bait especially. The look on his face screamed, “I do not want to hike another step.” The iron chef magic ingredient, however, was that our shuttle car was either 10 miles back the way we came or 10 miles south of us. Luckily, a nice family waiting for their son/father combo to hike out of the woods offered to shuttle us back to one of the cars. We happily took them up on their offer and waited patiently as they grilled hot dogs and hamburgers for their family, while we ate the rest of the food we had packed for the next day. Scarfed it. On the ride back to pick up the second car, Jerry and I spotted a thru-hiker we met at the shelter. He was packless and carrying a giant grocery bag and a six pack. We laughed at the entire ordeal since we were nice and toasty in the comfort of the CRV.
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| What a swampy looking bunch! (Photo: LD) |
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| Day 2 gave us the briefest of glimpses at the beauty that had been around us the whole time (Photo: LD) |
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| Jerry gives us a geography lesson during a short break (Photo: LD) |
We got back to Carver’s Gap and loaded all the wet gear into the vehicles. I almost forgot I put a six pack on ice Friday morning before we left and tossed it in the CRV. Since we’re all ready to GTFO, we drank them quickly and headed down the mountain. The three of us vowed to return to Roan to see the views we missed. And of course there was much bragging between us about how badass we were and that we can never seem to have an “epic for the sake of just having a great ol’ time” backpacking trip. One day. One day.
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| Waiting on our shuttle (Photo: LD) |
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| Looking toward Carver's Gap (Photo: LD) |
