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Four Summits in a Day
Part 1 of a two-part story
- click here for Part 2 "We even tried a rousing version of "Renegade"
from Styx, but we forgot the lyrics..." Olivia
and I had climbed Mt. LeConte in the Smokies last year, so this time around we decided to head a little further east to the
Black Mountain range of western North Carolina. Our goal was to drive to the top of Mt. Mitchell and then hike across the
ridge that connects Mitchell to several of the highest peaks in the eastern United States. We had arrived on Wednesday in
the hopes of climbing all day Thursday, but a nasty weather front had moved in and was dumping torrents of rain all along
the mountain range.
All we had for rain protection was our Swiss ponchos, which
were sufficient for emergency use but not something you would deliberately use when rain was expected. The ponchos would keep
your upper body dry, but your legs would be drenched from the knees down. In desperation, I stayed up late the night before
cutting up garbage bags to create makeshift gaiters. Then I used duct tape to deck out our lower pants legs with rainproof
plastic. We looked idiotic, but our pants and shoes would be dry.
Clad in our duct tape and plastic pants, we drove up
to the summit of Mt. Mitchell and were gearing up for the trip when I found that a water bladder had sprung a leak and drenched
my gloves. It was just a few degrees above freezing and beginning a daylong hike with soaking wet gloves was out of the question.
So down the mountain we came. The weather forecast
called for even more rain on Thursday, so we used our extra time to get a new set of Stearns rain gear for each of us. Olivia
chose a gray and lavender outfit, while I opted for a red and black two-piece rainproof set. I looked way cool. And no more
cutting up garbage bags to stay dry, either. Then we stocked up on snacks, had a late lunch of mini-burgers and fish and chips
at Fatz restaurant in Marian, North Carolina, and set our sites on the Black Mountains once again.
We arrived at the trailhead at 9:30 the following morning,
with much better rain gear and a day’s rest under our belts. Starting from Mitchell’s summit we headed northbound
along the Black Mountain Crest Trail (also known as Deep Gap trail) and hiked the highest ridge east of the Mississippi toward
our first peak, 6,648-foot Mt. Craig, named for a local bureaucrat who once took other peoples’ land to build parks. We
had been warned in advance that Deep Gap was probably the toughest trail in the eastern United States, so we expected a miserable
slog over unforgiving terrain. But in reality this trail was nowhere near as difficult as Colbert Ridge, an unthinkably torturous
trail just five miles north where Stephen Dale and I had climbed about a year before. Olivia and I cleared the mile-long mountain gap in less than an hour and stood proudly atop Mt.
Craig with surprisingly little effort. The wind on the bald summit was vicious, but once we began descending the north face
of the mountain and disappeared into the trees below it subsided considerably. Barely thirty minutes later we were at the summit sign of the next big peak in the range, called
“Big Tom.” Big Tom was a 19th century hunter and trapper who was credited with discovering the body
of explorer Elisha Mitchell (as in “Mt. Mitchell”) who died in a fall while climbing nearby in 1847. Today a 6,581-foot
peak bears his name. Apparently one must be an explorer, a hunter who finds the bodies of explorers, or a land-grabbing bureaucrat
to get a mountain named in your honor around here.
We then continued across Big Tom and into the next
mountain pass before climbing a series of small peaks… one of which was the unmarked summit of another monster of the
Appalachians, 6,596-foot Balsam Cone. Olivia and I took no summit picture atop the sensibly named Balsam Cone because we were
never sure when we were on it. I kept checking my altimeter to verify that we had peaked, but somehow we missed it. Maybe
I should have been looking for Balsam trees instead. But the trail goes right over the summit so there’s no doubt that
one of the high points along the ridge was Balsam Cone.
Ahead of schedule by more than half an hour, we pressed
on toward our fourth and final summit and the only one whose name we cannot explain – Cattail Peak. By this time the
rain had picked up, the wind was even stronger and we were starting to feel the first signs of fatigue. This trail was tough.
Not as tough as some we’ve been on, but it was definitely a strenuous trail and a good workout. You’re constantly
climbing one mountain, descending the far side and walking a connecting ridge before finding the next mountain and repeating
the process. So when we arrived at the summit sign of Cattail Peak
we were ready for a hot lunch and a good rest. But the wind, rain and falling temperatures would have none of that. We had
no shelter and no way to get out of the wind. Getting water to boil (in order to prepare our freeze dried meal) was a time-consuming
chore that made us cold from inactivity. We sat in the wind and ate our meal and by the time we were done, Olivia was shivering
from the cold. That’s always a bad sign, so I lit our Sterno fuel canister and had her hover over it, soaking up the
heat and raising her body temperature slightly. With (somewhat) hot food in our bellies and a can of Steaz energy drink to pick up the slack, we left Cattail Peak and headed back toward the
trailhead some 3.5 miles away. Our
trip back was uneventful except for the dynamic musical fusion that Olivia and I created as we wailed 1980's hits from
REO Speedwagon and the Electric Light Orchestra along the trail as we returned. We even tried a rousing version of "Renegade"
from Styx, but we forgot the lyrics. And, oddly enough, we saw no other hikers on the trail all day. Coincidence? I think not.
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