It was a cool and hazy Wednesday evening on March 10th. Having left from work we didn’t get up to Linville until after dark, which made driving up the ridge on old NC 105 - a mini adventure in and of itself. It’s a road in the most basic, mountain sense of the word. It’s an almost entirely gravel and dirt road with spots that often wash out, have loose rocks (big ones, small ones, some the size of your head), ruts and bumps and potholes. The first time we drove on it we went as a family from Linville Falls Campground to Wiseman’s View in a Honda Odyssey and at the time I didn’t know how we made it in our front wheel drive and didn’t slide off the mountain or split the oil pan. In times going up since, usually in my friend’s Chevy 1500, or the Suburban, it still isn’t an easy ride, and yet we’ve seen small campers, Nissan Versas, Honda Civics, and all kinds of little compacts up there.
A picture of a very smooth curve from a previous trip, don't let this S-curve fool you, the rest of the highway is something from an intense Jeep commercial.
There are little pull-off campsites up and down the ridge. Some are right against the edge of various cliffs and are little more than a parking space. Other sites are big enough for two or three vehicles, several tents and hammocks, and a good fire ring. I won’t say where I think the best ones are, but there is definitely something for everyone. We found one that suited our needs and set up camp. Note: try to get there during the day, it’s much easier to really see the depth of some of the sites in the daylight.
I had planned to give William a big speech about beginning to transition into manhood, and how that transition from boyhood to manhood is made up of marked moments. Ceremonies and tasks that challenge and prepare you for the seemingly endless challenges of adulthood. The boy, being the type that has always gone to bed when he’s tired (since he was able to walk) crawled into the tent, changed into PJs, and called it a night. He didn’t even wait for s'mores! (which my friend and I decided not to do on our own). Mike and I stayed up for a while, burning wood and enjoying the quiet. The only man made noises to be heard were high flying airliners, and the occasional night train bellowing up from deep in the valleys around us. Sadly the stars were infrequently seen due to the haze, in the past we’ve watched the Milky Way pass through the sky here.
Thanks to seasonal allergies I didn’t sleep great despite help from some typically sleep inducing allergy medicine (that deep sleep inducing stuff that comes in a pink box), but the morning came soon enough. After throwing some wood on the hot coals from the night before, and with the help of a floor mat out of the truck (a great camp hack by Mike), I fanned the coals back to life, and we soon had a fire going again. We boiled water in Mike's Jet Boil for oatmeal and coffee and were soon warmed by breakfast. William, being my son, had asked for bacon for breakfast since this was for his birthday. He was okay with other food, but he requested bacon, that was all. So we fired up a single burner propane stove and threw it in my backpacking pan. The pan was evidently built for the ultralight backpacking stoves and not this flamethrower. While the pan didn't outright melt, it warped; I quickly turned the stove down a little, the bacon wasn't quite crispy, but was thoroughly cooked and fueled the biomechanical engines we were soon to abuse in the gorge.
It's here, before telling about going into the gorge, I must break to stand on a soapbox and fuss about a problem that is prevalent in Linville and other areas. Leave no trace. It's a simple concept. Most state and national parks have plenty of animal proof trash cans around their facilities and trail heads, but most state and national forests and wilderness areas have few, if any trash cans or dumpsters. When you find yourself in nature with trash, please, for the love of all things bright and beautiful, take it with you. Now, on the east coast we have dirt for the most part, we have plants and vegetation, so when it comes time to poop, it is possible to bury it… so bury it, and your toilet paper. You don't have to dig a vault toilet (known to the likes of Lucius McCray as an outhouse) just dig a hole to shove your stuff into. You don't have to touch it, use a stick, your trowel, or, worst case scenario, your shoe. This is far too much information, but by the time I'm having to poop in the woods I don't have time to dig a hole. So I'll find a spot off trail a ways, or out of camp a ways, dump my trunk, clean myself, and then dig a hole next to it and move the shtuff into it-ideally with a stick, and then bury it back, with as minimal impact to nature as possible. Also for you sappy bunch that find yourselves in the woods with your lover and the fire is right and the mood hits and you run off into the woods, don't leave your hoodie or sweater out there. First because it's obvious and awkward to anyone else, and second because it's gross and annoying to later campers to find that at a later date. "Take nothing but pictures, leave nothing but footprints."
We were given this Earth in all it's beauty and detail and complexity. We were told to tend it, to take care of it, as gardeners, stewards of a planet perfectly placed and designed to support life. Clean up after yourself and leave people, places, and things, a little better than you found it. This helps make the world a little brighter, and a person who lives out such a philosophy, even after they’ve passed from this life, that light they lived out will live on in the memories of people they touched throughout their life. Naturally I want to pass this light to my children through faith, education, and most of all, experience.
Enough of the soapbox, on with the adventure! We broke down camp, cleaned our trash out thoroughly, prepared daypacks for the hike, packed the truck, and drove south along the rough, Old NC 105 to the Pinch-In trailhead.
After donning packs, clearing bladders, adjusting hiking sticks, and taking trailhead pictures we headed down the trail. There’s maybe 50 yards from the parking lot before it begins its steep descent. What a descent it is! There were no noticeable trail markers, but the trail is fairly clear all the way to the river. There are a couple turn offs along the way for a camping spot and good photography, but otherwise the path is quite clear. It is worth noting that should you hike from the ridge to the river in the Linville Gorge that much of the gorge is made up of high sheer cliffs, and getting off of any of the trails should be done with caution and alertness to your surroundings. The views rendered by this steep path are breathtaking (on the way back up, this is literal),
Giving gimpses of Lake James, the southern opening of Linville Gorge, the Linville River, Table Rock, and Hawksbill Mountain. It is nothing less than a work of art and splendor. It was fascinating the slow change in different softwoods and hardwoods and undergrowth as you descend from 3,200’ MSL to 1,400’ MSL. You can also notice the subtle changes in temperature and humidity and wind direction as you approach the river. Around 1.3 or so miles in you come to a fork where the Pinch-In Trail dead ends into the Linville Gorge Trail where one can turn left (north) towards Linville Falls, or right (south) towards the Daffodil Flatts. The trail here runs along the river, sometimes coming right up to the banks, and other times straying further from the river by as much as a hundred yards or so and is a nice saunter through the valley.
Giving glimpses of Lake James, the southern opening of Linville Gorge, the Linville River, Table Rock, and Hawksbill Mountain it is nothing less than a work of art and splendor. It was fascinating the slow change in different softwoods and hardwoods and undergrowth as you descend from 3,200’ MSL to 1,400’ MSL. You can also notice the subtle changes in temperature and humidity and wind direction as you approach the river. Around 1.3 or so miles in you come to a fork where the Pinch-In Trail dead ends into the Linville Gorge Trail where one can turn left (north) towards Linville Falls, or right (south) towards the Daffodil Flatts. The trail here runs along the river, sometimes coming right up to the banks, and other times straying further from the river by as much as a hundred yards or so and is a nice saunter through the valley.
After what feels like a walk just long enough that it may never end you pass a riverside campsite, round a bend in the trail, and catch sight of a few daffodils. This is a corner of the field. It quickly opens to a full acre or two of a few trees and hundreds or maybe thousands of daffodils. In the corner of the field there appear to be some stone ruins, probably the corner or the fireplace to the homestead that had once planted the little yellow bulbs that now carpet the local forest floor.
Between the river and the security of the canyon and the happy daffodils-almost all facing in the direction of the sun you don’t really want to leave, especially after a brief lunch and a photography session among the flowers. There were plenty of people there, and plenty of places to sit and enjoy a bite and a sip. The campsites we passed on the way in appeared to be suitable for at least 10 people, maybe more. There were a few tents and a few hammocks set up, little fire rings of rocks here and there, and generally looked like a good campsite for another trip.
Once we were fed and hydrated and had our eye-fill of flowers we began our return trek back to the parking lot. Along the river the trail was again a nice, short saunter that helped stretch out the legs. Soon we found ourselves back at the Eastern terminus of the Pinchin trail and headed on the increasingly steep trail up the Gorge wall. William's energy rapidly waned and I took his book bag of a backpack from him. He had brought a book bag, and despite being told to lighten it, he still had quite a few unnecessary things. Before we started down the mountain I removed a hard-back novel (he’s very fond of the Prince-Warrior series), and a few other items I don’t recall. He also was carrying a number of water bottles-we quickly redistributed the bulk of that weight to our mid-sections (we drank them) and we pressed on.
Very few pictures were taken on the way back up as we did our best to encourage each other up the steep terrain.
As sweat and strain of steep saunter sucked the young man of vigor his mood began to fail. Mike and I encouraged him, slowed our pace, and began taking on the trail at 50 yard increments. This is about as far as you can see up the trail before it turns around a rock or a tree, especially going up. While this might not seem very far, when you spend about 60 seconds walking and 60 seconds resting, maybe it doubles the time, but “slow and steady wins the race,” or so the platitude goes. About halfway up the mountain we heard jet fighters fly by not too far off and stopped for a few minutes to see if they would “shoot” (fly-through) the gorge. It’s not unheard of, and is pretty cool when it happens because you can find yourself looking down on America’s finest flying at hundreds of miles an hour through an area that doesn’t seem sane. To our sadness they did not pass through the canyon, but if you're there on the right day and at the right time it has been seen. There are people who have videoed this and posted it on youtube, and it's quite spectacular.
After this I did something I am not a fan of, but when spirits are low it is a medicine that can relight the emotional fire lost to the plodding steps of a seemingly unending trail-I turned on music on my phone. I think headphones are foolish, but a single earbud at a time I understand. I get irritated however, when you’re in the woods far from the buzz of air conditioners and the hums of highways and byways and stress is melting off, and some… person, comes diddy-boppin down the trail with their bluetooth speakers turned all the way up. I’ve done it, I’m just not a fan. I did it in the Uwharrie during a day hike when I was all alone-the sun was setting, I hadn’t brought a flashlight (strike one), had turned myself around on the map (strike two) and hadn’t informed anyone when I should be done by (strike 3). Thankfully I finally got a signal, figured out where I was, and was able to call a coworker that lived nearby to pick me up at a different trailhead and drive me to my car. During that hike, when I found myself not knowing fully where I was, or which way I should go (lost), I turned on the audio Bible and later music on my phone, and it stopped panic from setting in - so I know it helps. I could see a similar dismay in my son’s eyes. It wasn’t panic, but total discouragement, and so I asked him if music would help. He gave a weary shrug and “we can try,” and continued the slow march. The music helped, immensely. It didn’t increase the pace much, but it helped the spirit enough that the stops were shorter, and so the going was steadier, and this increased the pace.
Soon we got into thinner trees and rockier ground where you can better see your progress. This stays this way for a good half mile and probably 900 feet of elevation gain, maybe more. We came back to the rocky outcroppings and cliffs we had passed on the way down, and spirits rose, the pace rose, hope that was lost, had been found again. For the last quarter of a mile you plunge back into a hardwood forest that makes it harder to see the gorge, the trail beyond 100 yards, and the rim across from you, and so you constantly think that you’re almost back to the parking lot, and for every 100 yards forward you’re still going up a hundred feet or so. It’s not the steepest part of the trail, but it’s no joke. Finally, after a couple of false summits you finally rise to actual level ground, and once the ground levels you’re maybe what feels like 100 yards from the parking lot, but is probably only about 50 yards. When the climb is over-you can see the sign for the parking lot.
William was greeted with literal cheers from a few couples who had seen us at the Flatts and had passed us on the trail, and that was enough to make a dad beam with pride. I don’t know the impression on Will that the hike had, but I believe it will be a lasting one. We should do hard things that are rewarding. Maybe the reward is simply the accomplishment of it. We should challenge ourselves to be better, go bigger, and do more. We should consume with an appreciation for the creator and the Creator. We should create for the joy of impersonation of the Creator, and the various nuances of the consumer-even if the only consumer is ourselves. Create memories, create monuments, create accomplishments, and be satisfied in your work to impersonate the Creator, but never let what you have done lower the expectations for what you are doing now.
May those before you only see you rise to the wild adventure prepared for you, and may those following behind you only see you resting in the peaceful serenity of your blessings.
Comments