Saturday May 20th, 2006 - 0600
A mere 5 days have elapsed since my last excursion to Pisgah, my wilderness sanctuary, so this post may seem redundant. Although my absence from the forest was short it felt like I had been gone for a year. The hustle and bustle of the big city was beginning to wear on me and I knew it was time to once again escape to the mountains of western North Carolina. As usual it was just me, my Tacoma, my Giant Trance 3, and 100 of my favorite CDs.
Well, 99 of my favorite CDs. Somehow an album by the rapper 50 cent had snuck its way into my CD wallet. I say it was the aliens.
A few lonely hours into my journey I made a vital pit stop in Travelers Rest, S.C. a rather small community situated just north of Greenville, S.C. on State Route 25. I say vital, because Travelers Rest, S.C. is the home of Sunrift Outfitters, a truly kick ass outdoor store.
Let me get in some props…
Encased in silvery tin and plastered with stickers, Sunrift offers up to kayakers, canoeists, climbers, backpackers, hikers, and mountain bikers alike. I’ll be blunt, the bike shop area is the weakest section of the shop and the strongest is most likely the kayak/canoe area. The staff of employee’s collective attitude seems to equal nothing less than a good time and I recommend that if you’re in Travelers Rest you drop in on the shop and take a look around. I would also tell you where the shop is located, but I don’t know…I just turn right at a random stoplight in town.
Yee haw! Onward Tacoma!
To Pisgah we arrive.
I entered the forest through the main entrance on State Route 276 and began searching for an open campsite on Yellow Gap (YG) Road. After a long drive down the bumpy gravel thoroughfare I discovered that the only campsite on the road that was open for business was YG 7 or the site closest to the Laurel Mountain Trailhead. The site also happened to be trashed through and through as if a hurricane of a redneck college frat party had just blown through the area.
Rather inconvenient.
It seemed the redneck population had been enforcing their “infliction of environmental damage” rule. (Please reference “Pisgah National Forest – May 13th and 14th”).
I spent two hours amassing a mountain of garbage in the back of my truck and ferrying it to a dumpster in the forest education center. Everything from baby diapers, full beer cans, condoms, food, Coleman fuel canisters, plastic 5 gallon buckets, and old pizza made it into the bed of my truck. For my efforts the forest ranger at the forest education center awarded me two free passes to the education center which I will probably never use.
Awesome.
South Mills River Tour – Bradley Creek Trail/South Mills River Trail/Forest Service Road (FSR) 476
This is the South Mills River Tour according to the mountain bike guide book OFF THE BEATEN TRACK written by Jim Parham. Start by riding south on Bradley Creek Trail from YG Road and after five miles turn left, or west, onto South Mills River Trail. South Mills River Trail will then follow the Mills River for 13 miles before turning into FSR 476. Continue the ride on FSR 476 until you reach YG Road. Turn right, or east, onto YG Road and ride until you have completed the loop at the Bradley Creek Trailhead. The total mileage for this ride was 23.9 miles and the estimated riding time was four to five hours.
I actually planned to begin the ride in the Pink Beds by riding the Pink Beds Trail to FSR 476 and then riding Jim Parham’s route backwards until I reached the Pink Beds Trail again, which I would ride back to my parked truck. Too easy.
My litter pick-up project kept me out of the saddle until about 1400. I parked my Tacoma in the Pink Beds parking lot and started my ride on the Pink Beds Trail as planned. I wasn’t really sure whether the Pink Beds Trail was seasonal or not, but it was a sweet warm-up ride that had some relaxing flow to it. I passed an old gauging station, swerved a motor vehicles gate, and was soon pedaling beside the South Mills River. South Mills River Trail was double track, soggy, slow, and covered in warm horseshit.
Not exactly impressive.
Not long after rolling tire onto the trail I began a long steady ascent away from the river, which was a surprise, because my Pisgah Trail map didn’t depict the trail moving away from the river at all. After about 30 minutes of climbing the trail forked and I found myself at a crucial decision point. Should I continue following the double track I was on and drop down the other side of the ridge I had just climbed, or make a left onto a rather unused looking piece of single track that disappeared into a mass of rhododendron? I retrieved my map from my Camelbak and sat down to think.
The red dotted line that depicted South Mills River Trail on my map never appeared to leave Mills River, much less climb a ridge to the south of the river and drop over the other side of said ridge headed in the direction of Black Mountain Trail which is in another area of the forest. Black Mountain Trail was reserved for tomorrow, Sunday. The idea of riding the single track off to the left was growing on me, because I have a strong dislike for double track, but there seemed to be too much vegetation growing on it to deem it worthy of a ride-worthy trail.
What the fuck.
I chose to go left.
The rhododendron choked the unmarked trail so tightly that I had trouble seeing the trail with my two eyes. All I could do was simply follow the narrow gap in the flora in front of my face. I feared that an aggressive rhododendron tentacle would reach out and ruin my day by destroying my rear derailleur, so I let my right leg hang loose for some added protection. I’m guessing it had been years since a human had touched this trail. Thankfully, the foliage started to thin out and I found myself on top of a washed out downhill section. The downhill section appeared to drop off of the ridge towards what I assumed was south. I had hoped that the trail would take me on a northerly route and return me to Mills River. I was on my way to becoming lost.
Bogus.
The downhill was gnarly, littered with loose rocks, log drops, and deep pockets of dead leaves. Those factors, coupled with my forgetfulness to apply my brakes, made for a pretty wicked descent.
Decision point number two.
The downhill plopped me out on a piece of double track similar to that which I had previously ascended. I was certain I could hear the river once again, but I couldn’t see it. The double track went left, seemingly back from the general direction in which I had just come and to the right the trail began climbing again. I was not really sure what to do at this point, so, I sat down and started eating some crackers.
I went right. An endlessly boring railroad grade climb reminiscent of Props Run, WV ensued. That is, if you rode up Props Run.
Then it started to rain.
Fuck.
The rain started to fall harder.
Fuck again.
I pulled up under a stout pine tree to give the storm some time to simmer down. I was wet and somewhat lost.
Rather inconvenient.
I’d rather be here than in Afghanistan…I think.
The rain didn’t seem content with slacking off so I sucked things up and started riding again. I continued climbing for approximately 45 minutes when I came to decision point number 3.
Right or Left? Both options were a continuation of ascending double track. I chose right.
I rode on for about 3 minutes before I found myself in a very familiar place. The word “fuck” flowed continuously from my white boy mouth. I was once again at the first decision point, the head of the overgrown single track. I’ll be the first to admit I felt like a jackass, but nothing made any sense. I wasn’t sure how I could ride in a circle while riding away from decision point number one for over an hour.
Fuck this shit. I have no idea what happened…did I pass out? Did aliens abduct me? Where am I? Tail tucked I headed back to the truck.
Quitter.
When I returned to the Pink Beds Picnic Area I briefly paused at the public restroom facility to gently wash the warm horseshit from my face, arms, and legs. I had actually come across a group of equestrians on my ride back to the parking lot and courteously yielded to their tamed stallions while silently screaming profanities in my head.
Mount Pisgah
My body eventually attained a somewhat clean condition and I exited the restroom facility into a drizzling rain. I climbed into my Tacoma and decided I would take a dreary hike up Mount Pisgah, something I had never done. I slowly guided the Tacoma up and up and up to the Blue Ridge Parkway and arrived at the Mount Pisgah Trailhead shortly after passing the Pisgah Inn. In the trailhead parking lot sat two other vehicles. The first was an older looking gray Mercedes Benz with Ohio plates and the second was a grayish blue serial killer type van from Bumfuck, U.S.A. with interesting symbols such as “anarchy”, “69”, and “Hurley” hand painted on its side.
What the piss is that all about?
I slipped into my GO-LITE windbreaker to fend off the wind and rain and began my ascent. Shortly after starting up the trail I passed an odd looking woman hiking in the opposite direction who did not respond when I said hello. I say she was odd looking, because she resembled one of those steroid abusing German female Olympic swimmers.
The steroids had not treated her very well.
Closer to the top I caught up with a friendly young couple also ascending. In our brief greeting they mentioned that they were from Ohio. Ah…the Mercedes indeed. I left the Ohioans behind and crested Mount Pisgah on my lonesome.
I hadn’t been standing on the Mount Pisgah observation deck long before the Ohio couple joined me. From our perch at 5,721 feet above sea level, we had quite a commanding 360 degree view of the surrounding area regardless of the drizzled grayness precipitating from the sky.
Ominous black rain clouds to the northwest contrasted with azure skies while the sun slowly set in the west beaming defined rays of light through the fringes of the dark cloud cover bathing the vast valley floor in a golden glow. As the sun continued to dip behind the horizon the cloud lining was blazed with a soft yellow hue comparable to that of struck match. The mountains turned dark blue and the wind began to pick up as the storm continued to make its attack on the land.
It really rocked. I have pictures.
The sweat that previously escaped my pores on the ascent now chilled my body as the storm driven gusts from the west ripped around Mount Pisgah. I bailed with the Ohio couple and we discussed life topics such as the Army, mountain biking, and the drive down from Ohio.
Somehow we made it to the parking lot without attracting a single rain drop. I allowed the Ohio couple a glimpse at my smorgasbord of Pisgah maps so that they could continue to enjoy the forest’s treasures, but I’m not sure anything would be very exciting in the rain. We parted ways and I headed for YG Road.
The serial killer van was still parked in the lot.
The rain poured as I drove back down the mountain. When I finally made it back to my campsite, I somehow built a fire during a slight break in the rain under the impression that I would use it to cook dinner. The rain had different plans though, increasing its downpour to effectively penetrate the thick forest canopy and dampen my fire. I was forced to transfer my hunger pangs from pasta to pop tarts.
I fell asleep to the incessant beat of di-hydrogen monoxide against the rain fly of my tent.
Sunday May 21st, 2006 – 0700
Take a moment to imagine the processes I go through as I wake up, eat breakfast, and tear down camp. Done? Good.
Cradle of Forestry Area – Club Gap Trail/Black Mountain Trail/Thrift Cove Trail/Avery Creek Road/Avery Creek Trail
While the rain trapped me in my tent the previous night I took the time to plot what I hoped would be a kick ass ride in the Cradle of Forestry Area. With my reliable headlamp shining I pored over my maps and guidebooks coming up with the following route.
I would park my truck on FSR 477 at the Club Gap Trailhead. Next, I would climb Club Gap Trailhead to a 4-way trail junction with Buckwheat Knob Trail, Avery Creek Trail, and Black Mountain Trail. Then, I would turn northish onto Black Mountain Trail and ride it until its junction with Thrift Cove Trail above the Pisgah Ranger Station. I would ride the length of Thrift Cove Trail to State Route 276 and turn right, or westish. State Route 276 would be followed a short distance to Avery Creek Road where I would make a right hand turn. I would then be forced to ride the gravel road until I was north of the forest’s riding stables where I would find the Avery Creek Trailhead. I would ride Avery Creek Trail until I reached the aforementioned 4-way trail junction. Finally, I would descend on Club Gap Trail and return to my truck.
That was my plan and I was sticking to it.
Club Gap Trail was a grunt of a climb and I was feeling it in my lungs when I reached the 4-way trail junction. I continued gradually climbing on Black Mountain Trail which eventually mellowed out and then dropped to the Buckhorn Gap Hiking Shelter. The drop to the shelter was pretty laid back, but ended with a technically tricky massive set of log stairs. After you clean the stairs you have to cross a grassy Clawhammer Road to continue riding Black Mountain Trail. The trail naturally picks up again on the other side of the road, but not without a trail marker that declares this section of the trail “most difficult”, essentially a double black diamond.
Things turned black diamond on my ass for certain.
The climb away from Clawhammer Road was extremely technical with numerous tight ass switch backs containing small log steps. Needless to say, I hiked the Trance often. This rugged ascent paved the way to extremely narrow ridge top riding that included some killer cliff top overlooks and other interesting natural features. The “oh so” narrow ridge top trail continued for a few miles along the top of Black Mountain before beginning a long, dry, and loose descent to the junction with Thrift Cove Trail. Thrift Cove Trail only added to the radness of the descent, because it was super fast with gnarly bank turns and launchable water breaks that I lunched on. Wicked yo.
The compiled downhill was endless, but it did end didn’t it? I wouldn’t be sitting here typing this if it hadn’t ended. Or would I? ANYWAY.
I rocketed onto paved road in front of the Ranger station and pedaled the expected short distance on State Route 276 before making the turn onto Avery Creek Road. As previously stated, the riding stables are located on Avery Creek Road. I now know that the entire road does smell like horseshit.
Once I was past the unpleasant equestrian aroma factory I rolled onto Avery Creek Trail entering a lush jungle of rhododendron. The trail was extremely wet and loamy and I imagine that it is perpetually in this state. As I pedaled onward through the slog I came across a surprising amount of day hikers on the trail. It was good to see fellow members of society getting out and exercising while enjoying the outdoors. There was even a crew of Mexican dudes with slicked back hair, baggy denim shorts, and wife beaters wandering around on the trail. Black snake here, gushing waterfall there, check it out sometime if you have a moment. It certainly was a pretty trail.
Then trouble came along.
Equestrians. They were coming down the trail as I was ascending. I politely dismounted my own aluminum horse and watched them pass as I considered the fact that Avery Creek Trail is hiking/biking exclusive. That’s all I’m saying.
I continued to huff and puff my way up to the 4-way intersection and was finally rewarded with the downhill on Club Gap Trail closing out another epic ride. I definitely recommend Black Mountain Trail to you fellow mountain bikers out there as well as the other trails included in the route. Also, try to fit in Buckwheat Knob Trail so you can tell me about it, as I haven’t ridden it yet.
My riding mission was accomplished for the day, so, I took some time to enjoy one last “tourist attraction” of the forest, Looking Glass Rock.
Looking Glass Rock
I traveled light and fast on the trail to the top of Looking Glass Rock, not carrying any food or water, just a camera. That was stupid. I got thirsty. The terminus of the trail was a large rock wall that you stood atop and simply gazed in wonderment across the valley floor, but that was about it. There wasn’t too much else to witness during the 6 mile round trip hike, just a helipad.
Anyway, I hastily made my way back to my truck, because, fuck, I was thirsty.
Water.
Ignition.
Gas pedal.
Fort Gordon.
Get Riding!
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