The Art Loeb trail is without a doubt an incredible journey, but it's also harsh and humbling. This trail will lick you. And just you think it's given you all it's got... it'll come right back and lick you again!
Music featured in this video: "Bonaparte's Retreat" by Walker Winn, "Plantation" by Jason Shaw, "Misty Mountain Rendezvous" by Squire Tuck "Going Down the Road Feeling Bad" by Rockabanjobilly, "Know No No-Nos" by Doctor Turtle, "Lucky's Tune" by Howie Mitchell, "Flashback" by Monplaisir, "Epical Drums 03" by Grigoriy Nuzhny, "Snowdrop" by Loco Joe Goldfingers, and "Salt Creek Sandwich" by Not Quite Yesterday
Trail Journal
If you haven't read the trail journal entries yet, you can find all of them below. You'll also find the "Bluegrass on the Blue Ridge" playlists I shared with each post too.
Vol. 1 | Vol. 2 | Vol. 3 |
10. "Wagon Wheel" by Old Crow Medicine Show | 10. "Ruby - Are You Mad at Your Man" by The Osborne Brothers | 10. "May Your Life Be Sweet And Simple" by Blue Highway |
9. "Tennessee Stud" by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band | 9. "Catfish John" by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band ft. Alison Krauss | 9. "Blue Side Of The Mountain" by The Steeldrivers |
8. "Wildflower Perfume" by The Dead Tongues | 8. "Silver Ghost" by Wildwood Valley Boys | 8. "House Of The Rising Sun" by Doc Watson and Richard Watson |
7. "Jerusalem Ridge" by Tony Rice Unit | 7. "Fleeting Transient Feelings" by The Haunted Windchimes | 7. "Moon Over Memphis" by Balsam Range |
6. "Banjo Odysee" by The Dead South | 6. "Lonesome Pine" by Blue Highway | 6. "Black Lung" by The Dead South |
5. "Wild Horses" by Old & In The Way | 5. "In Hell I'll Be In Good Company" by The Dead South | 5. "Fire On The Mountain" by Iron Horse (You probably know Marshall Tucker Band's version) |
4. "Old Number Seven" by The Devil Makes Three | 4. "Cumberland Gap" by Rising Appalachia | 4. "Dixie" by Huckleberry Flint |
3. "Choctaw Hayride" by Alison Krauss & Union Station | 3. "Steel Rails" by Alison Krauss | 3. "Bounty Hunter" by Mike Cross |
2. "Out With The Crow" by The Haunted Windchimes | 2. "Shady Grove" by Doc Watson | 2. "Lord Don't Forsake Me" by Alison Krauss & Union Station |
1. "Carolina in the Pines" by Special Consensus | 1. "High On A Mountain" by Cathie Ryan | 1. "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue" by The Seldom Scene |
Every bit of advice I got leading up to this hike boiled down to 4 things
check the map often
fill up on water every chance you get
prepare for some brutal climbs
and whatever you do DON'T GO NORTHBOUND!
Well, I heeded 3 of those warning. Can't say I didn't know what I was getting myself into...
April 19th 2021
Camp Daniel Boone to Davidson River Campground
0 miles
I hopped out of the car and walked a little ways down the gravel road. I stepped into an opening in the trees to get a good look at the river. Appreciating the view quickly turned into staring off into space. A voice calling down the road snapped me back to reality.
"Hi! Are you Jessica? I'm your driver, Daniel."
"Nice to meet you. Let me just grab my pack"
"Take your time. I'm parked just down here."
He pointed to an old SUV parked down towards the camp.
As the shuttle made its way back towards the parkway I noticed a bundle of dogwood branches sitting up on the dash.
"Those are really pretty flowers." I said
"Yeah, I saw them just sitting there on the roadside and had to stop and pick them up."
Part of that Old Crow Medicine Show song played in my head...
"I made it down the coast in seventeen hours
Picking me a bouquet of dogwood flowers
And I'm a-hopin' for Raleigh, I can see my baby tonight"
The trip was about an hour. In that time we talked about everything from local attractions, to family, to gardening and chickens. Somewhere along the way we started talking about Shining Rock. I told the driver about an awkward conversation I had my last time out there.
"I think it's so cool. Just a big field of white quartz boulders hidden in the mountains. But for whatever reason the other hikers saw out there didn't think so. They stopped to tell me it was really lame and not worth seeing. I don't get it..."
"Guess it's all in what you focus on." he said "Or might be that's just what they felt like expressing at the time."
I tried to think about that, but my brain was too occupied by all the details of the long hike I had ahead of me. Next thing I remember he dropped me off at the gatehouse and wished me luck.
The man at the check-in booth looked me over and asked
"You doing the whole thing?"
"Yes sir!"
He shook his head "Better you than me. And in a skirt?! More power to you."
It always makes me laugh when folks mention the skirt. I know it must look a little odd, but I've actually found it way more conducive to hiking than shorts or yoga pants. I noticed the difference switching to a skirt halfway through the Foothills Trail last year. I guess now it's just my thing.
That wasn't my last conversation with the check-in booth man. Later that evening, he came by on a golf cart to check on me.
"If I don't ask now it'll bother me, but - HOW do you have the will power to go through with this!? I mean being alone out there? Doesn't it bother you?"
I don't exactly remember what I said. But I do remember thinking later it was kind of stupid and didn't answer the question very well.
Picking up sticks to toss on the fire I got to thinking "Why am I doing this?"
I went over the typical responses people give when asked the motivation behind taking on a difficult challenge:
Because I have something to prove?
No. I'm not a particularly tough person, but I know can push through tough circumstances when need be.
Because I have a troubled past to overcome?
No. Life's had it's ups and downs, but overall it's been pretty darn good.
Because I'm an adrenaline junkie?
No. I don't even like rides at the amusement park.
Nothing seemed to fit. So, I settled on:
I guess I don't know why I'm doing this...
April 20th 2021
Davidson River Campground to Deep Gap Shelter
15 miles
I didn't get to finish my coffee.
I told myself I would get going as soon as it was gone. But I knew better. It was just a stalling tactic. I went over all the advice from other Art Loeb thru-hikers in between tiny sips. I finally walked over to the bushes and dumped it out. That's enough of that. Time to go!
Usually the pre-trip jitters go away by the time I reach the trailhead, but this time for whatever reason they were sticking with me. I think all the talk about how hard it is, along with my own bad experiences in Pisgah NF shot my confidence a bit.
To my surprise the first few miles were pleasant and over all uneventful. I met a fuzzy little dog. All black except for a few white speckles on her face. I thought she looked a little like a bear cub. Her owner said she looks more like a werewolf when she hasn't had a proper grooming.
As I got further down the trail, I started to notice areas that looked like water used to run through, but had since dried up. I finally came to a reliable stream about a mile before Butter Gap Shelter. Everything I read said Butter Gap was one of the main sure sources and a good place to fill up. They also said it'd be the last one for a while. I wasn't too far from the shelter, but I went ahead and filled up at the stream anyway.
When I got to Butter Gap, I was greeted by a waggy tail dog in a blue backpack. I noticed his name and owner's contact info written on the harness in sharpie. Such a smart idea! This was the fourth four legged hiker I met today and it was starting to make me miss my own dogs back home. I was under the impression this trail would be way too hard for Nora to handle. So, I left her behind. This dog seems to be doing alright out here though. Then again... I hadn't hit the really tough parts yet. The couple he belonged to had flown all the way from Massachusetts for this trip! I never thought of WNC as a hot travel destination before, but I guess it is.
I'm so glad I filled up on water at that stream because most of my lunch break was spent just waiting on the measly trickle from the pipe to top the bottle off.
The three peaks that followed were brutal, Pilot Mountain being the worst. After passing the shelter it became an entirely different trail! Thankfully some of the struggle was broken up by finding an abandoned blue bandana. I decided if someone along the way asked about it I would gladly return it. But if no one came looking for it I'd consider it a trail magic souvenir. Halfway up Pilot, I came across another abandoned article. A bright green shirt hanging on a tree limb... Either someone was signaling for help or there was a half naked man is roaming these mountains. It turned out to be the latter. Along came a shirtless guy jogging down the trail.
"You must be owner of a green shirt" I called
"Yeah, I am" he laughed.
"Well it's still back there. I kept it safe for you."
We parted ways and the dread of tackling steep rocky switchbacks kicked back in. I'm pretty sure I spouted off every obscenity in the sailor's vocabulary under my breath in hopes it would some how propel me up the never ending mountain.
After what felt like an eternity, I finally made it up Pilot. This probably won't make much sense, but seeing the 360 views at the top didn't fill me with joy or a sense of accomplishment. It actually made me mad. I guess with how difficult the climb was, I expected an overgrown elevation marker at the summit and nothing else to show for it. Not a breathtaking expanse. I threw down my pack and kicked it as hard as I could with wobbly legs. Then I plopped down and had a good cry. I eventually pulled myself together long enough to enjoy the scenery and laugh at the hell I had to go through to get up here.
I don't know if getting up Pilot is actually easier going the other way, but in my mind it seemed like it would be judging by the climb down. I set up camp at Deep Gap shelter and completed all the usual chores. Refill water. Collect firewood. Cook dinner.
Strange how sitting in your cozy camp clothes, eating a hot meal, and enjoying a toasty fire makes you forget how crappy everything was before...
There's that silly joke "If you don't like the weather... wait 10 minutes" I think the same can be said about a thru-hike. One moment it's smooth sailing, next thing you know you're ready to throw in the towel. Wait 10 minutes, you're on top of the world again!
April 21st 2021
Deep Gap Shelter to Ivestor Gap
6 miles
(PART 2 leaves off here)
I remember the exact moment the backpacking bug bit me...
A friend messaged me about this place in North Carolina where you could see rolling hills and distant peaks for miles. And even better you could camp up there! No permit, no fees, just hike out and stay. This was actually the same friend that introduced me to my beloved Foothills Trail. I should really give her a call...
It never occurred to me before we could stay on trails overnight. I thought that was the stuff of an unprepared day hiker's nightmare. I looked over the pictures of this place practically drooling. That's the moment it bit. I wasted no time buying gear and planning a route. Have I ever told you about the time we tried to backpack Black Balsam Knob? On second tough, I'll save that story for another time...
I was really looking forward to seeing those rolling hills again, and getting a good picture of the plaques on Black Balsam and Tennent Mountain. I had a pretty positive outlook on the day ahead. But that positive outlook was quickly stripped away by the whipping wind and bitter cold. I don't think I took my base layers off once that whole day!
"It's Murphey's Law!" my grandma always says. "Anything that can go wrong WILL!" The events that followed had me considering there might be some legitimacy to grandma's words. Somewhere on Silvermine Bald I lost feeling in my fingers, and putting gloves on didn't seem to help. Then a dark cloud swept in and pelted me with ice chunks. I struggled up the switchbacks a little faster to try to get away. I reached a junction where the Art Loeb joins the Mountains to Sea trail. Right or left? I walked a little ways to the left watching the arrow on my GPS app. It veered slightly away from the route. Okay, lets try the other way. I went back and made a right. The arrow jumped back on track.
The trail led me into a dense hardwood forest, and a deep grayish green tint fell over everything. The path blended into the trees. In the distance I could see a little white circle tacked to a trunk. I weaved back and forth along the faint trail trying not to lose sight of the next blaze. Each time I stopped to reorient, the forest turned into one of those black and white optical illusions. You know the ones that start to "move" if you stare at them too long?
The trail threw one ridiculous situation at me after another. And each time, I sunk a little lower. Right about the time I crossed Black Balsam road is when I hit an all time low (like lower than climbing Pilot the day before.) I made my way down the road and into the brush to a spot where I hid a water cache two days before. Thankfully, it was undisturbed. By this point the numbness in my fingers had spread to my whole hands. Unbuckling my pack, unscrewing the cap on the water bladder, and breaking the seal on the water jug took forever. I fumbled over and over, getting more frustrated by my lack of fine motor skills by the moment. FINALLY I got the cache tipped up and pouring into the bladder. Then I lost my grip and half the jug spilled all over me and my pack.
"NO! I can't do this. I CAN'T do this." I said out loud.
I made up my mind:
I don't want to be here anymore.
I don't want to keep going.
I'm not going to make it.
Then I finished refilling my water, put my pack back on, and kept walking...
I tried as hard as I could to enjoy the views on the way up Black Balsam, but I was too focused on getting away from the wind to muster up any appreciation. I was trapped in flight mode I guess. As I reached the top of Tennent Mountain, the wind started to ease up a bit. I dropped my pack on the grassy patch across from the plaque and another song came to mind...
"High on a mountain living free
Thinking about the days that used to be"
While reminiscing on my past misadventure, I got to thinking about the man himself. Art Loeb. The kind of wild adventures he must have had back in the day. Sometime before the hike, I read a very interesting obituary for him. His children are quoted a couple times in it, reflecting on his love for hiking and the excursions they joined him on. The part when his son-in-law said "We had maps, but they weren't very helpful" made me laugh out loud. I think a lot of hikers, even today, can relate to that!
I might be remembering wrong, but the plaques looked different this time. I could've sworn one of them used to have a detailed engraving of a man with a walking stick, or some representation of Loeb on it?
The day had a bit of a rough start, but after a quick detour to the Shining Rock things were looking up. All I had left today was make it to camp at Cold Mountain... but out here things are easier said than done.
April 21st 2021
Ivestor Gap to Camp Daniel Boone
10.1 miles, 16.1 total
(PART 3 picks up here)
The morning was off to a rough start. No question about it. I couldn't wait to getting off the balds and into Shining Rock Wilderness. Way off in the distance, I could see that white outcrop of quartz peaking through the trees. Things were looking up.
During the Fall, I wanted to take another crack at Black Balsam and even wander up into Shining Rock Wilderness. Almost everything I read when prepping and planning my route mentioned the book Cold Mountain by Charles Fraizer. A wounded man's journey home through the mountains of North Carolina in the height of the Civil War? You have my attention.
So I decided to give it a read.
Wait! Isn't there movie? Yeah, BUT I refuse to watch it. I don't want the way I pictured the story in my head to be muddled by Hollywood's interpretation. Too many books have been ruined for me by the movie adaptation. This is one I love too much to let that happen again. If that makes me a literary snob I suppose I'm okay with it.
In Cold Mountain, Fraizer tells his own legend of Shining Rock. And while it's meant to drive a lot of plot later in the story, I found it way more interesting and compelling than the traditionally held myths of the place. It rode the line between fact and fiction just enough that when I stood in front of those massive quartz walls for the first time, logically I knew nothing miraculous was going to happen, but in the back of my mind I wondered if maybe, just maybe...
But, you didn't come here for book club you came to hear about how the Art Loeb kicked my butt. As I split off the Art Loeb to follow the spur trail up to Shining Rock I started joking with myself.
Alright, I know I just ate lunch so they definitely won't let me in. BUT maybe they'll crack the gate just a little and let me get a quick glimpse at that secret valley.
I wandered around the base of the rocks marveling. When the sun hits them just right they REALLY do shine and sparkle. I dropped my pack next to a log and scrambled up to the top. Talk about an incredible view! There's a lot of incredible views on the trail but THIS is one you have to see.
After the quick detour, the path was easy for a bit. Stairs Mountain gave me no trouble. Then I came to a camp site in The Narrows. There were several false paths branching off that slopped down into the brush and off a ravine. I circled the campsite a couple times before finding what looked like the path. Crisis averted.
About 15 minutes passed and I decided to check the map. The arrow on my GPS app had jumped BACKWARDS, and I was headed back up Stairs Mountain.
How?!
I backtracked to the campsite where I got turned round, and crossed off the paths I tried before. To the right I saw one I hadn't tried before. So, I took it. Three huge blowdowns blocked the way. I climbed over the trees to find nothing on the other side. No continuation of trail. Nothing. The GPS said I was going the right way, but like the other false paths it sloped down off the hillside.
Maybe it's been rerouted?
I followed the invisible trail a couple more feet. Thorns and branches grabbed and tore at my hair, backpack, and clothes. It reminded me of the scene in Snow White when the ghoulish trees are trying to get her at every turn.
I stopped moving.
Clearly this is wrong. What do I do? I guess try to climb back up the way I came and sit down at that campsite until I figure out what the heck is going on.
I stumbled up the steep slope to a flat path above. I checked my location on the app again. The arrow showed me back on the Art Loeb and moving towards Deep Gap. I could have followed it back to see where the trail picked back up, but I really didn't feel like getting lost AGAIN. So, I kept moving.
The rocky climbs on exposed ridgeline that followed really caught me by surprise. "The Narrows" is a very appropriate name. The trail was pencil thin at some parts. I wearily pushed on while Alison Krauss & Union Station sang:
"I can hear, the angels singing
I can see those pearly gates
Oh my Lord, can you hear me?
I need a place where I can rest"
It sounds dramatic, I know. But in the moment, I was so exhausted (physically and emotionally) I thought I must be dying.
I had what I can only describe as a "Mandela Effect" moment. I could have sworn a year or two prior I read about a third shelter on the trail, specifically at the base of Cold Mountain. The disappointment was overwhelming when I found nothing but the wind whipping across the exposed gap. After the trip, I tried finding the site where I read about it, and OF COURSE couldn't find it anywhere. But here's what has me really confused I distinctly remember seeing a picture of it! Same three-sided construction as the other two, but the background was completely different. Even weirder, a little while after the hike I talked to another backpacker who asked me about the shelter near Cold Mountain. She even mentioned reading a blog post about it that matched what I remembered seeing.
So I reached Deep Gap with two signs in front of me and a decision to make.
If I camp another night and obey the fire ban, I'll have wind and freezing temperatures to contend with.
But if I keep going...
Do I even have 3.8 more miles in me?
Doesn't matter. As long as I have enough daylight.
I did a little mental math.
If I hike at a 2 mile an hour pace, I can probably make it to the car by 8.
And if I do make it home tonight, I can have pancakes and take a hot bath.
Don't remember much after that, just that the trail was rocky, there were faded red blazes on some of the trees, and lots of stream crossings. At the trailhead, I stopped to take a not so victorious picture in front of the sign. I headed down the gravel road towards my car, got it, and didn't look back. I made it home sometime after 1 a.m. and literally fell into bed covered in dirt, blood, sweat, and tears. Pancakes and a bath would have to wait...
Trip Highlights
April 19th - 21st 2021
