Little Pisgah - Part 3: Peak Experience

This is part 3 in my series of stories about rambling on Little Pisgah Mountain.
Part 1 is at:  http://sakikahn.blogspot.com/2015/04/little-pisgah-part-1-beginnings.html
Part 2 is at:  http://sakikahn.blogspot.com/2015/04/little-pisgah-part-2-shortcuts.html 

 

 

 Rime ice on the lower slope of Little Pisgah.  You can see the top of the mountain, with its hated tower, peeking out from behind the ridge.

I think it was 1975.  My parents had driven their camper to Mexico for the Winter, and I was staying in their house on Garren Creek.  I had a a second dog named Pearl to keep Fonzie company, and we had spent many days together exploring and enjoying Little Pisgah.  It still hadn't been developed much, and there was no tower on top.  It was a hiker's Paradise!

On this Saturday morning it was cold and damp, with clouds hanging down over the mountain, and I was staying inside.  Later in the day I went outside and realized that things had changed!  The wind had come up, the sky was bright blue, and the top of the ridge was covered in rime ice.  It took me about two seconds to get motivated.  I had to get up on the mountain to see that rime ice, and I knew that as bright as the sun was shining it would melt soon.  Time to get moving!  I ran inside and threw on my cold weather hiking clothes & boots.

When I came back out the dogs were excited and frisking around, they knew we were going somewhere.  We were soon down the driveway and hit that ridge hard.  I took every shortcut I knew, (not the near disastrous ones from my last story!) and made the best speed I could.  I wasn't going to miss this chance if I could help it!  When I topped the 1000 foot ridge the ice I had seen from the house was already gone.  Now I really had to pour it on.  I had one more good shortcut left, a steep ridge-line that cut off a big loop of the logging road.  It was too overgrown to use in Summer but was clear enough in Winter.  Where it came out into the open I could look across at Craggy and Mitchel, and they had ice on them.  That encouraged me, and I made a push for the top.  To my relief as I got closer I came into the rime ice - I was going to make it in time!  When I got to the top I glanced at my watch.  I had made the 1800 foot climb in exactly one hour, a personal record.  Later when I told my Mother this story she believed it all except the time.  She had hiked that mountain, and didn't think I could do it that fast!

I didn't waste much time looking at my watch, there was too much else to see.  There was several inches of snow on the ground.  Every twig of every tree and shrub was thickly coated in rime ice, which to me is one of the most beautiful things in the world.  The sky was deep cobalt blue and the intense sunlight made all the snow and ice sparkle like diamonds,  It looked magical!

And then there was the wind...  Coming up the mountain I had been sheltered from it, but no more.  It was blowing out of the Southeast, which is unusual to start with.  And this was the strongest steady wind I have experienced to this day.  A monster cold front must have been coming through, and the wind was roaring!.  I was standing on the highest point around and was exposed to the full blast.  I couldn't stand straight up, but had to lean forward and brace myself to keep from being knocked over!  I was being shaken and buffeted, and looking around in amazement at the sparkling wonderland and the gorgeous view.

Then I took a good look at the horizon.  Always, even on the clearest days, when you look towards the horizon the view fades into the haze at some point, however far away.  Not this time!  The wind had blown all the haze away, and the line of the horizon was razor sharp.  For the only time in my life I was looking at the true horizon, and I could clearly see the curve.  I can testify - the earth is round, and I saw it!

I stood there entranced for a long time, but the wind was cutting through my clothes, and it was cold!  I had to get back into the relative shelter of the North side of the mountain.  I was too pumped up to go home yet, and ended up exploring over to Blue Rock Knob, where I hadn't been before.  I had to slip past a couple of houses once I got there, but found a rock outcrop with a view back down the Garren Creek valley from its head.  I could see where it cut between Little Pisgah and Garren Mountain, and it looked more like a canyon than a valley.  One more beautiful vista to cap the day!  From there I went back over to Little Pisgah and down to the house.  I think I was floating all the way home!

For your sake I wish I'd had a camera to capture images of what I saw, I know my words can't do it justice.  But I don't think pictures could even come close to capturing the experience.  As for myself, I treasure the memory of the most memorable day I ever spent in the mountains.

Little Pisgah - Part 2: Shortcuts

This is the second part of my stories about rambling on Little Pisgah Mountain.  If you haven't read the first part it is at:  http://sakikahn.blogspot.com/2015/04/little-pisgah-part-1-beginnings.html
(Disclaimer:  these memories, and some of the photos, are over 40 years old and may be a little fuzzy.  I've done my best to be accurate with locations and measurements, but I may not be reliable.)

The lower 1000 feet or so of Little Pisgah seen from Sugar Hollow Rd.

I started out my exploring by driving to Little Pisgah Road on Hickory Nut Gap and going up from there.  But I couldn't escape the fact that I lived at the base of the mountain.  Every time I looked out the living room window or from the front deck there it was!  Or at least I was looking at the first 1000 feet of it, and knew there was 800 feet more behind that.  It was beautiful ridge, so steep it looked like a wall.  I loved watching it in the Spring when the green would climb a little higher each day, and in the Fall when the colors would descend.

Our house and the Wall

 From the yard and the deck

 Panorama stitched from the above pics.

It was taunting me to climb it, and it had to be done.  So one Saturday my trusty trail dog Fonzie and I walked down the driveway and across the road.  On the other side we went up a driveway past a couple of houses, stopping to introduce myself and get permission.  Soon after the second house we came across an old logging road, just what I'd been hoping to find. It zig-zagged around  to where the terrain wasn't so severe and then started winding up the mountain, probably following the same route used now by some of the roads that have been built from the Fairview Point housing development.  It was a pretty path, and wasn't as hard as I'd feared.

I finally topped out that first ridge, and came out on a small level area.  I was exploring around it and discovered a rock outcrop that had a gorgeous view looking down the Garren Creek Valley and out to the mountains beyond Asheville to the North-west.  It was beautiful and secluded, and I claimed it for my own.  I'll call it my sittin' spot, and I never passed by without stopping to enjoy the view and peace.  (There's a house sitting there now, which makes me want to cry and curse.)

From there the logging road ran fairly level around the side of the mountain through a beautiful grove of hemlocks and came out into the pastures I was already familiar with.  I went farther up, and noticed a logging road heading back down the mountain.  Being in full explorer mode I followed it down to see where it came out.  I ended up coming back down to Garren Creek Road again, about a half mile up from my house.  I could have gone home then, but I wasn't ready to quit so I turned around and went back up the mountain, explored some more, and finally came back down the way I'd gone up to start with.  A long day, with a combined elevation gain of over 2500 feet.  I was so tired when I got home I just collapsed, but was very satisfied with what I'd accomplished.

After that I hiked up that ridge often exploring the mountain all the way to the top.  I was always on the lookout for shortcuts, and found a few places I could bushwhack, usually following ridge-lines.  But I wasn't satisfied, I wanted a more direct route from the house to my sittin' spot that bypassed the long and winding logging road.

The maze of ravines and ridges going up Little Pisgah.

My parent's property outlined in red with a red dot where the house was.

A little blue X at my sittin' spot.

So one day as I was headed home I thought I'd give it a try.  Near my spot was a large ravine that headed down the mountain in the right direction.  I figured I couldn't get lost, all I had to do was follow it.  Easier said than done!  It wasn't too bad at first, but got really steep and rugged.  I should have turned around then, but never claimed to have good sense.  I hated to back away from a challenge!

That sucker was steep!  Scaling it out on the map it looks like an 800 foot descent in about 0.3 mile.  That's quick!  The sides were nearly vertical, too steep to climb out, so I had to stay in the bottom, which was covered with rocks.  All kinds of rocks that had fallen down the sides and collected there.  All shapes and sizes, and loosely piled so that when you stepped on one it would roll or slide or a combination of both.  And just to keep it interesting the rocks were covered with a foot of dry leaves, so I couldn't see where I was putting my feet!  Every step was an ordeal.  Stick my foot down in the leaves, trying not to think about snakes.  Put my weight down on the rocks and try to stay balanced as they rolled and shifted.  Try not to break an ankle, and try not to think what would happen if I did. Then repeat.  And again.  This was the least fun and most dangerous place I'd ever got myself into, and I was making the usual promises: "God, if you'll get me out of here I'll never try this again, and I'll be more careful, and..."  I don't know how long I was in Hell's ravine, but I finally stumbled out the bottom and could walk back home, exhausted and my nerves shattered. 

I spent more time studying the ridge from our deck, especially one ridge that looked like the most direct route.  (No more shortcut ravines for me!)  It was narrow and steep, but looked doable.

 Red arrows pointing to the ridge,

Purple arrows pointing down towards the ravine.

I studied where the bottom of the ridge would intersect my logging road, and the next Saturday morning Fonzie and I set out.   It was pretty easy to find, and we headed up.  It started out steep and overgrown, and it got worse.   Underbrush and briars gave way to laurel thickets and briars. Soon the only way to continue was to get down and crawl.  Those who have spent any time in a laurel hell will know what I mean!  This was becoming less fun than I'd hoped, but I was too stubborn to turn around.  Before too long the monotony was broken by a 10 foot rock-face blocking the way.  It wasn't too hard to scramble up, and I was back on my hands and knees crawling again.  Then I came to a 15 foot rock.  It was a little harder to climb, and I didn't think I'd like to try going back down it.  So I continued my crawl until I met a 20 foot cliff.  I was beginning to see a pattern here!  I managed to climb it - barely.  The footholds were small and far between, and I was trying to steady myself holding onto laurel branches the size of my little finger.  I knew there was no way I was going back down this one, I was committed to going ahead.  

The ridge was a true knife-edge.  Very narrow on top, and the sides too steep to climb down.  Not that I wanted to; on my left was the ravine from Hell, I wasn't going back in there!  When I looked off on the right there was a ravine that looked even worse, with jagged boulders that looked like teeth.  My path was set, so I crawled on up to see what was next.  I didn't have to go far.  A 35 foot cliff that looked unclimbable!  I wasn't happy about it, but knew I had to try.  I should probably explain my situation a little clearer.  I was hiking from my parents house, but they were out of town for the Winter.  No one knew I was hiking, or where.  This was years before the first cellphone, and I carried no gear besides a canteen.  I was on a rugged and remote part of the mountain where no sane person would ever go.  If I got hurt and couldn't get out I could die there, and the body never be found.  I was very aware of all that as I looked at that cliff!

I finally picked a spot at the left hand end and started climbing.  The farther up I went the harder it got.  I wasn't sure about this at all.  With my head just coming up to the top I got stuck.  I was teetering on the verge of falling and couldn't find the next step.  I couldn't get down, and was afraid to move up.  The tiny laurel branch I was hanging on to was about to pull out of the two inches of dirt it was growing in.  Meanwhile Fonzie, who of course had run to the top like a mountain goat, came over and started sniffing the top of my head and trying to lick my face!  I told him that wasn't helpful, but maybe it was so ridiculous it gave me one last bit of strength to grab another handhold and pull myself over the top.  That was too close, and I knew that if I came to a worse spot I'd be trapped.

But in the meantime I stood on top of the cliff to catch my breath.  It was high enough to see out from, and the view was breathtaking!  I wish I'd had a camera, I can't find words to describe it.  And the next thing I saw was almost beyond believing.  In the center of the cliff, right at the edge, was an old-growth Hemlock tree, about 40 inch diameter.  I don't know what freak accident had shaped it, but from the edge of the cliff it stuck out horizontally for about 4 feet, then turned and grew straight up for maybe 60 feet.  It was a perfectly shaped tree, one of the most beautiful I ever saw, and was suspended in mid air.  I didn't care how much trouble I was in, I had to investigate this!  I could easily step out on the horizontal section of the trunk and get hold of the vertical part.  I looked up and saw that the limbs were sturdy and evenly spaced - perfect for climbing.  Did I mention how much I enjoyed climbing trees?  I know how crazy it was, but I had to.  I knew I'd never be back there again, and couldn't pass up the chance.  It was easy to climb, just like going up a ladder.  I could have gone to the top, but about 25 feet up I made the mistake of looking down and realized I was 60 feet above the jagged rocks at the bottom of the cliff.  My stupidity does have some limits, and I regretfully climbed down.

I hated to leave that spot, one of the most awesome I've ever seen, but I didn't know what I might face next and needed to get on with it.  So it was back to crawling again.  All the way up that ridge (about 800 feet elevation gain) was either crawling through laurel or rock climbing!  The rest of the way was steep and rugged, but there were no more major obstacles.  Finally it started rounding off and opening up, and I could walk upright again.  I came out into the open next to my sittin' spot, right where I meant to.  I was tired, scratched and dirty, but still buzzing from the adrenaline I'd been burning.

40 years later I have to say that was the most difficult, dangerous, and rewarding hike I ever took.  I wouldn't take a million dollars for the experience, but never had any desire to try it again!

Little Pisgah - Part 1: Beginnings

I fell in love with Little Pisgah Mountain in 1971 when I was 20 years old.  It was love at first sight, but that day was years in the making.

 Lower slopes of Little Pisgah seen from Fairview

Almost half of the mountain is hidden behind the ridge you can see.

Some time around 1960 my parents began a search for land out in the country with plenty of woods and a spot to build a house.  After several years they found a place they liked, 11 acres of wooded land on Garren Creek Rd in Fairview, and as I later learned, just across the road from the base of Little Pisgah Mountain.  Steep as a horse's face, and beautiful.  It fronted on Garren Creek, which at that point is cascades, pools, and a 10 foot waterfall.  The land went up the side of the mountain from there, with a couple of good sized ravines cutting into the mountainside.  These contained babbling branches flowing with sweet tasting ice cold water.  

After they bought the property we continued to live in Asheville for a several more years.  They looked at house plans, and when they couldn't find what they wanted my Dad sat down and drew a set himself.  That was my Dad, if something needed to be done he just did it.  He was a radar technician in WWII, and after the war he did radio and TV repair.  He was a master carpenter and woodworker.  He was foreman of the finishing department for a local furniture factory, and did furniture refinishing in his basement workshop, specializing in rebuilding antique pianos and pump organs.  If the plumbing leaked he replaced it. He did electrical wiring.  If the car broke down he took it apart and fixed it. The list goes on, and every job he tackled was done as a craftsman.  He was an amazing man!

During those years we'd go out to Garren Creek on weekends to explore the woods and picnic by the creek. My Mother hunted out the wildflowers and my Dad spotted birds.  (They both loved nature, and I grew up hiking and exploring with them and my sister.)  On hot summer evenings we'd go out there and eat watermelon with our feet in the creek to cool off.  It was already starting to feel like home!

In 1970 Dad started building the new house.It was located on a ridge in the center of their property where it would always remain private, and with a spectacular sunset view back down the Garren Creek valley.  He did almost all the work, with my inexpert help doing framing and some of the other two-person jobs.  It was my first attempt at real carpentry, and the quality of work my Dad taught me became my guide for a 30+ year career as a carpenter.

As soon as the house was finished we moved in.  I was just finishing high school and living with my parents.  (When I was 17 I had run away to California to join the hippies and missed a year of school.  But that's a whole 'nuther story!)

We hadn't lived there long when my parents decided it was time we went up on Little Pisgah Mountain.  The base of it was just across the road from us, and we had a beautiful view of the lower half from our deck.  We were looking at a 1000 foot wall of beautiful woods, and it was another 1000 feet from there to the top. (4450 feet)  But so far we hadn't been on it at all.  

My parents picked a Saturday morning for the hike. (I have to confess that I had been out too late the night before, had a headache, and tried to weasel out on hiking.  My Mother finally shamed me into going.)  We drove highway 74  to the top of Hickory Nut Gap and parked at the turnoff of Little Pisgah Road.  Now a decent gravel road, it was then just a rutted, rocky, and narrow 4 wheel drive track up the mountain. 

It was a beautiful hike!  The road is steady uphill, but not steep.  The terrain and woods were gorgeous.  At that time it was undeveloped, with no houses, no ugly towers on top, no recent logging.  Just some cows grazing in the pastures, with maybe a couple of grouchy bulls.   The whole mountain was like a giant park!  

As we went up we passed a couple of smaller logging roads turning off to either side.  But eventually there was a well worn road turning left, and the main road going on in in a more Eastern direction.  I don't remember the discussion, but we continued for a while on the right fork.  I do remember finding an old grave off the side of the road.  It had an obvious headstone, but we couldn't find any markings on the rough rock.  An interesting story there I'll bet!

About that point we turned back to investigate that other fork in the road.  Maybe because it went more towards the Fairview side of the mountain, nearer where we lived.  For whatever reason, it was a good choice.  It didn't take us to the top of the mountain, but lead to a huge area of pastures on the North-west side.  The lower part was fairly level, with a small stream flowing out of one side.  (That later became a favorite campsite.)   From there the fields swept up the side of the mountain, with ever-widening views. There were sweeping vistas to the South and West, and it was an altogether beautiful place.  We thoroughly enjoyed our hike, and I was hooked.  (I forgot all about that headache!)

Bearwallow Mt and beyond from the Little Pisgah pastures

Before long I went back on my own to explore.  I discovered if I very carefully took ridiculous chances, I could navigate my little Fiat sports car up Little Pisgah Road.  Straddling ditches and squeezing around rocks, it's a wonder I didn't tear the bottom out from under that car.  But it was fun!  I was still hanging around those lower pastures, and hadn't yet been to the top of the mountain.  It was soon time for that to change!

One Saturday night I camped with a couple of friends at that pretty spot beside the stream.  The next morning after breakfast Jerry said he knew the way from there to the top, and we should go.  Good idea!    We walked up through the meadows, and continued up around the North side of the mountain.  From there we had a magnificent view of Mt Mitchel and the ranges of mountains around it.  From there we followed more old Jeep roads til at last we came out at the top.  At 4450 feet it's the highest point East of Asheville.  Bald at the top, it is a spectacular viewpoint.  Or at least Jerry said it was.  That morning it was socked-in with low hanging clouds, and we couldn't see a thing!  We sat on a rock for an hour or so, but it never cleared up and we finally had to leave.  You can be sure that it wasn't long before I went back, and I wasn't disappointed.  Looking down into Hickory Nut Gorge, across beautiful Shumont Mountain, and as far to the East as the atmosphere will allow.  I spent some wonderful days up there!

Here's a map showing the area I've been talking about:

 The blue line is the hike I took with my parents,

the purple is the route from the lower pastures to the top.

The white areas are the pastures.

Disclaimer: I'm showing a map for informational purposes only.  The whole area is private property, and I can't recommend trespassing.

(Here's where I wish I had some good photos taken from the top.  Maybe I can get some later and add them.  In the meantime here's one more on the way up.)

If you've made it this far with me, thank you!  Stay tuned for part 2 where the death defying adventures begin!

Fonzie

I love the ridge that runs from Shumont Mt out to Rumbling Bald. It is one of the most seriously rugged places in these mountains!

I remember the scouting trip I took to investigate the first section of it, back in the early '70s. I was with a couple of friends at Eagle Rock, and we decided to explore a bit. We climbed the old logging road going up Shumont to where it forks in three directions. My friends decided to hang out in that area, but I wanted to explore a little farther. I took the left fork, thinking it had to be the one going out that ridge. It is, in fact it follows the top of the ridge all the way to Rumbling Bald and on down to Lake Lure.

On this day I had just started out the ridge and was in the area marked by an arrow in my photo. Just above that big cliff.

 

I was accompanied by my trusty trail dog Fonzie.

 

He had been with me over miles of trails, and through places so rough I wasn't sure I could get out alive. He was a great companion, but had one bad habit. If he caught a whiff of where some animal had been he would take off running as fast as he could to investigate. That's what he proceeded to do here, running off the side of the ridge right towards where I knew that cliff was! I tried to call him back, but once he got on a run there was no stopping him til he was done with his investigation. I was used to the behavior, and he always came back, but this time the location was making me nervous!

So I waited, and called, and clapped, and whistled. No Fonzie. I tried finding a way down to the cliff, but it was too steep and dangerous, and I gave up. Waited some more, trying not to worry. He would be back any time now... I'm not sure how long it was, probably close to half an hour. Way too long!

Finally he came running back up the hill to me. I never saw him in such a state! He was panting as hard as I had ever seen. His muzzle was covered in froth. I grabbed him in a big hug, and he was trembling all over. He acted like he had been through the ordeal of a lifetime! And this was the same dog who would frolic all over Eagle Rock with no fear. Who later went through the Bonas Defeat Gorge like it was a walk in the park!

All I can do is guess what happened. I think he pulled a “Bonas” and ran off the top of the cliff. Fell and / or slid no telling how far down. And then took a half hour to fight his way back up somehow. I wish I knew the details, but I do know how scared he was, and how happy he was to see me again. And I was glad to see him too!

Autumn in Panthertown

Saturday, Oct. 25, 2014

Today reminds me of an Autumn Saturday almost 20 years ago.  October 23, 1993.
I had just started exploring Panthertown Valley that Summer, and was excited about seeing it in the Fall.   It was a morning much like today - chilly with clear blue sky, the peak of leaf season.

I had my pack and camera gear loaded in the Bronco early and was ready to head out.

The only thing holding me back was that I hadn't been able to get my Mother on the phone.  She was 80 years old and living alone since my Dad died several years before.  I talked to her often in the morning just to check in and chat, and this particular day I wanted to tell her about my Panthertown plans.  She had always loved to hike, and enjoyed hearing my (somewhat censored) trip reports and seeing the photos I took.  I once took a picture of a flower on Big Green Mountain so I could get her to ID it for me, she knew all the wildflowers  "Oh, that's a yellow fringed orchid!"  (As I was just now scanning the print I saw where she had written the name on the back.)

The first half hour or so that she didn't answer I wasn't worried, I thought she might be in the shower.  But after nearly an hour I was getting concerned.  She had been having problems with unstable blood pressure - she took medication because it was high, but a couple of times when she got up in the morning it was so low she nearly passed out and had to go to the ER.  Just the previous morning I had taken time off work to go with her to her doctor, who adjusted her meds.

We went out for lunch afterwards, and when I took her home she told me "You're a good son Stephen, I love you."

She lived about 20 minutes away, but not far off my route to Panthertown, so I decided to stop and check on her.  When I got to her apartment she didn't answer the door, but I had a key and went in.  She was lying in the floor between her bedroom and the kitchen.  There was a half-full glass of water on the kitchen counter, I'm guessing she woke up feeling bad and went to the kitchen for water and maybe some medicine.

She never made it back to bed.  Her body was already starting to cool when I found her.  She probably went quickly, without much suffering, which was merciful to her but one hell of a shock to me!  Maybe the worst I ever had.

 Vernon and Helen Wilder

I was freaked out, but had to start the series of phone calls.  911 to send paramedics to confirm what I already knew.  My sister in New Orleans - that broke my heart!  I called a good friend to come over and be with me.  (Thank God for friends!)  The funeral home to send out a hearse.  My pastor, who also came and was a big support.  Other relatives and friends.  Started making arrangements, it went on and on.  A long and trying day.  Every once in a while I would look outside and see how beautiful it was and think: "I'm supposed to be on top of Little Green Mountain right now!"

That evening I was driving to the airport to pick up my sister, and looked at my pack and camera case still in the back of the Bronco.  Life has a way of changing your plans, doesn't it?  I didn't get to see Panthertown in Autumn until the following year, but it was beautiful.  I did miss showing the pictures to my Mother!

 

The Overlook(ed) Trail

Carlton McNeill standing on Little Green looking at the cliffs on Blackrock Mountain.

One winter day (around 1994) I was rambling around Panthertown and ran into Carlton.  That wasn't unusual, it seemed to happen on almost half the trips I made.  I wouldn't try to find him, but would wonder where we'd meet!  (If I was parked at Cold Mtn Gap I did sometimes stop at his house to visit him before I left in the evening.)

On this occasion he was excited about a new trail he had "clipped out" and wanted me to try.  It made a connection from Blackrock Mountain down across the top of the cliffs and on into the valley. (Now known as the Overlook Trail.)  This was exciting for me - a brand new trail, and I'd be one of the first people to use it!  (That little bit of pride will come back to haunt me later!)

So he told me how to find the old logging road that goes up Blackrock Mountain from the Salt Rock Gap parking area. I hadn't been up that way before, but had been admiring the Blackrock cliffs and wondering how to get on them.

Cliffs on Blackrock Mountain

I didn't wait long to come back and try it, maybe a week or two.  I found the old roadbed and headed up the mountain.  It was a steady climb, but I soon reached the top of Blackrock Mountain.  Or actually close to the top. If you look at a map or if you've been there you'll see that the roadbed runs around the back (North) side of the mountain just below the top.  Here was where I realized that Carlton's simple directions weren't quite complete. There was an area of woods between the roadbed and the top of the mountain with no visible trail going through them.  Being winter it was pretty open between the trees, and I wandered around for a while with no luck.  This was typical Carlton McNeill - his directions made something sound easy to find (It was for him!) but it was often a challenge to spot his little trails.  He never used any markers or blazes, I think he figured if you were going to be hiking in that valley in the first place you should be able to find a simple trail!

I was nearly stumped.

Sorry, I couldn't resist.

I revised my strategy a bit. At the top of the ridge was a solid wall of rhododendron, and I knew the cliffs were somewhere on the other side of them.  I started at one end and walked along it trying to find a passage through .  About halfway across I found an opening just big enough to squeeze through.  I stepped in, and the passage continued.  I soon realized I was on a faint narrow trail.  I'd found it!  

I followed it out and before long came to a great overlook on top of the cliffs. It gives you a whole new perspective on familiar landmarks. Really an awe inspiring spot!

Looking down on Little Green Mountain from Blackrock Overlook.

Good view of Cold Mountain, and the power-line.

After I had enjoyed the view for a while I followed the trail on down the mountain til it came out on the Powerline Trail in the valley.  I don't remember exactly where I went from there, but just had a leisurely ramble around the valley. I'd already accomplished my goal for the day! 
I do know that in mid afternoon I paid a visit to Frolictown Falls.

Frolictown Falls

Afterwards I found a comfortable rock along the Deep Gap Trail and sat down to rest and eat some trail mix.  I hadn't been there long when two men came walking down the trail.  A distinguished looking  gentleman and a college age guy pushing a bicycle-wheel measuring device.  The older man introduced himself as Allen de Hart.

I was amazed!  Allen de Hart was a legend in the hiking world, and has authored some of the best trail guides available anywhere. He is the man most responsible for the creation of the Mountain to Sea Trail.  I had, and still have, a lot of respect for him. 

http://blueridgecountry.com/newsstand/country-roads/allen-de-hart%3A-a-mountain-wonder-walks-on/ 

He explained he was mapping the trails of Panthertown for the next edition of his book, North Carolina Hiking Trails.  In a one day visit he was covering all the main trails in the valley. He said he was about 18 miles into a 25 mile day. He appeared fresh and energetic, but his wheel-man looked kind of shell shocked!

During our conversation I asked him if he knew Carlton McNeill - wrong question! Allen was not a fan. He started talking about how the Forest Service was unhappy with Carlton for his unauthorized trail building. He complained that some of Carlton's trails went through ecologically fragile areas, that they weren't graded for drainage, and some were too steep to hold up under heavy usage. All this was true of course, but wasn't the whole story. Without Carlton McNeill's trails many of the best places in Panthertown would be inaccessible. Just mentally erase all the winding footpaths, leaving only the old roadbeds, and you'll have some idea.  When I started hiking Panthertown in 1993 there was no evidence of Forest Service trail maintenance at all.  It was a couple of years before I saw any signs of their work, with some drainage issues being addressed. I never saw a Forest Service employee or one of their trucks, ever.  
But miles of the best trails exist today because of Carlton's years of hard work.

I didn't go into all that with Mr de Hart.  His tone and manner of speaking clearly established him as The Expert Authority on hiking trails, and I wasn't in the mood to argue.  But when he mentioned that he had been on Blackrock Mountain that morning I had to ask: "did you see the trail that goes from the top down across the cliffs?"  "No, I didn't see any other trail."  At this point I felt that little rush of pride again - I had found a trail that The Expert had missed!  So I proceeded to explain: "Well, I wouldn't have seen it either if I hadn't known where to look, but it definitely is there because that's how I came into the valley, and..."
"I TOLD YOU!  I WAS THERE, AND THERE IS NO TRAIL!!!"

OK then.  The Authority had spoken, and there was no room for debate.  I'd like to have a picture of the expression on my face, I bet my jaw was hanging open for a minute. But I shut it and swallowed the first 2 or 3 responses that came to mind.  I finally just wished him and his wheel-man a good journey, and they went off down the trail, leaving me sitting on my rock shaking my head and laughing. I had been put in my place for sure!

A few months later I found the new edition of Allen de Hart's book in a store. I looked and found the new chapter about Panthertown Valley.  He gave a description and history of the area, along with good maps and directions for the "authorized" trail system.  There was also a paragraph about the damage done by "unauthorized trail building"  
But no mention of the Overlook Trail!

I'm thankful that the Forest Service is more active now, and I especially appreciate the work done by Friends of Panthertown!  If I was able I'd probably be working with those guys.

Looking now at Burt Kornegay's map it looks like the connection with the Overlook Trail may be farther up the Blackrock Mountain Trail than I went. I'm guessing it's marked now and is a well worn path; that day it was a 2 foot wide opening in the Rhodo, with no wear showing on the ground. Not intuitively obvious to the most casual observer!  I may have missed the proper trail connection, and it would have been amazing if Allen de Hart had actually spotted a trail.  What was really amazing was his inability to even entertain the idea that he had overlooked a trail!

Skating Panthertown

It was a clear cold winter day, and I couldn't think of a better way to spend it than to hike Panthertown Valley.  No particular agenda that I can remember, just a ramble.  It was the usual drive from Fairview until I started up Breedlove Rd, then I started seeing some patches of snow along the sides of the road.  Funny, it hadn't snowed anywhere else...

I stopped and locked-in the front hubs on my old Bronco, just in case.  I was glad I did, because by the time I started climbing the grade up to the gap the road was covered in white.  Shifted into 4 wheel drive.  It was kind of weird - although the snow didn't look packed down it was really slick!  I was glad to be in that Bronco, it was made for times like this.  

 My faithful 1976 Ford Bronco in the driveway of my house in Fairview.  Most of my trips to Panthertown were made in it.

I made it over the gap and to the Salt Rock trailhead, where the ground was covered in white.  I stepped out and almost fell down.  That may have looked like snow, but it was something else!

The best I could tell there had been a sleet storm.  A bad one because it was a couple of inches thick.  Then it froze.  Solid.  My tire tracks were 1/4" deep, but my vibram lug boot soles left no track at all. And got almost no traction at all.  The ice had a slightly granular surface, but it was definitely ice!  

It reminded me of a conversation at work one day as we attempted to do carpentry work on an ice covered concrete slab. We talked about the different kinds of ice - clear ice, white ice, black ice, and the dreaded bust ice. That's what this was!

I calmly and rationally decided that only a fool would attempt to hike in the wilderness alone when he could barely stand up on level ground.  So I got my gear out of the truck and started down the road.  I couldn't believe how slick it was!  I couldn't walk normally because it felt like if I picked up my foot to take a step I would fall  for sure. So I scooted one foot across the ice and then the other, kind of like slow motion skating.  Even that was treacherous! As I started down the hill I was looking for any hump or dip in the surface that I could use for traction.  The top of the sleet had smoothed out really nice before it froze, footholds were scarce!  I would have paid good money for crampons at that point.

 Big Green from Salt Rock

You'll notice I didn't try going out on the rock.  That looked like a slippery slope!

Also notice how clearly you can see the line of the roadbed cutting across in front of Big Green.  Snow or white ice really show up roads and trails!

I slowly shuffle-skated down the mountain.  I don't think I lifted either foot off the ground the whole trip - I never felt stable enough!  

Me inventing the selfie while getting an image of the cliffs on Blackrock Mt.

I finally made it down to the crossroads.  I decided to just take a general tour of the flat parts of the Valley and not attempt the cliffs or Devil's Elbow.  I do have a very little bit of good sense!

First I went down the Panthertown Valley trail as far as the sandbar pool / shelter.

It was really pretty there, and I hung around for a while.  I'm sure I took a break in the shelter to get off the ice!

I turned around there and went back up to the Mac's Gap trail.  (I hear the groans from the "Loop Only" faction, hush up!)  I went out to the turnoff for Granny Burrell Falls.  I had to have one waterfall!

It was a mite skittish going out far enough to get this shot!  I had been holding on to Rhodo branches coming down the trail.

I went back out Mac's Gap and Panthertown Valley to the Deep Gap trail. I went a little way out to the area where there are large campsites on both sides of the trail.  Here I met the only other people crazy enough to be out on such a day.  3 or 4 people were either setting up camp or just hanging around the campsite. We talked for a while, and I decided to turn around and head back out. I wanted to get into the Great Wall area, but didn't want to try fording Panthertown Creek. 
I hadn't covered a lot of mileage, but my nerves were shot!  I was having to focus so hard on not falling it was exhausting. I really didn't want to get injured and have to crawl back out of there!

So I slid my way up that long hill and back to the truck. I have to admit I was glad to get back out unbroken!  I was a little concerned about driving back over the gap on Breedlove Road, but it went fine. I stopped at the top of the gap and put the Bronco in 4 wheel low range and just let it crawl down the mountain. Never had any problem at all, and 2 miles later was on dry road for the rest of the drive home.

That was a completely unique experience for me. Just one more way for things to be beautiful and terrifying at the same time.  Panthertown is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're going to get! 

My trail-route drawn in blue.