So far, I’ve only made it out on the trail once this Spring. Partly because I wanted to spend more time building the blog, but mostly because this season is crunch time on the homestead. Between hatching chicks and planting, there’s been little time for backpacking. During Winter, I started planning and researching a sister loop to the Pisgah Circuit Barrett and I hiked the year before. So, when I finally had a few days to get away, I decided to head out there and give it a shot. Although it would be challenging, I felt up to the task. But sometimes months of meticulous research and careful planning aren’t enough. Sometimes a back-up plan and back-up to the back-up plan aren’t enough either.
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Trail Journal
Current river data showed it would be manageable, but the West Fork Pigeon River crossing along this route was still a big concern for me. From what I hear, there was a bridge many years ago, but it got washed out. Now, the only way to access this end of Fork Mountain Trail (aka Fork Ridge Trail) is by wet crossing. Rather than hiking several miles out just to find it was actually impassable, I decided to start at the river to see what conditions were like.
Although it appeared to be a simple enough crossing, it took much longer than I expected. This certainly wasn’t the most treacherous crossing I’d ever done, but avoiding the hip-deep pockets and swift spots in the river made it feel like we were taking one step forward and two steps back. After 20 minutes, we finally made it to the other side. We weren’t able to access the trail directly from the bank because of the current. So, we had to scramble up the side of the hill along a faint path made by someone that couldn’t access it either.
To my surprise, navigating this trail was much harder than expected as well. Several hikers that shared trip reports and reviews on various sites for it said “Although sections are steep and the trail is unblazed, it's relatively easy to follow.” In reality, it was a faint pathway, no more than a foot wide. We climbed over, under, and around one blowdown after another. On top of that, each switchback seemed to disappear into the landscape. At multiple turns, downed trees blocked the path making the rest of the way totally invisible. Places where other folks continued in the wrong direction before stopping only made things more confusing.
I wasn’t the only one having a tough time. Barrett was unable to keep his footing in places where the path was especially narrow. He also struggled to fit through tight gaps between the trees lining the trail. I repeatedly had to get his pack unstuck, then reroute him along the slope and back onto the trail. Over the next mile and a half, a knot formed in the pit of my stomach. I debated whether or not we could really take another 5.5 miles of this. A few more invisible switchbacks and downed trees later, we turned around. I felt bad about throwing in the towel, but something about continuing along this trail didn't feel right. The last thing I wanted was my stubbornness getting us lost, injured, or worse. For now, this route was more than we could handle.
After crossing the river a second time and returned to the car it was time to find a campsite. From there, I could easily figure out a back-up plan. I settled on the Black Balsam / Sam Knob trailhead. It was a central enough location to offer us dozens of possible backpacking routes. I called Jordan from the parkway to let him know plans were changing. I also told him I'd send more details from the inReach when we got to camp.
I changed out of my soaking wet pants into a pair of shorts I packed for the drive home. Then, we hit the trail once again. We set up in a grassy area below Sam Knob just over a mile away. A more sheltered site beside the creek would have been ideal, but the early birds already got those worms. I couldn't wait to get out of my wet muddy trail runners. Despite covering only 4 miles that day, the moisture and friction had done number on my feet leaving hotspots all over them. I covered the worst ones with moleskins before putting on warm dry camp slippers
I devised a Plan B and sent my follow up message to Jordan over dinner. Barret and I would do a shorter version of the Pisgah Circuit making our way up to Ivestor or Flower Gap tomorrow and return along Graveyard Ridge and the MST the next day. After the stressful ordeal earlier, hiking familiar trails to places we’ve already been sounded great.
Sunset came and went as Barrett and I sat by a fire. While tossing on some more sticks, I was startled by a loud snort. I looked up to see a four-legged figure at the edge of the camp. I yelled at it “Get out of here!” The animal ran off, but returned minutes later with three friends. Barrett sat up and growled at the group of glowing eyes. This time I stood up and banged on the bottom of my pot yelling. As the herd scattered, my headlamp reflected off their bright white tails. Surprisingly, no campers nearby came to see what all the commotion was about. Perhaps it scared them off as well as the deer. Either that or I sounded so fierce they figured I had whatever it was under control.
Not long after settling into my quilt, I noticed cold spots under my back. Next thing I knew, I was laying on the hard tent floor. An old tear in my sleeping pad I patched had reopened. I tried desperately to seal it back up, but nothing in my repair kit was working. The small tube of adhesive that came with it was now expired and wouldn’t spread across the fabric’s surface. I tried a couple pieces of tenacious tape as well, but the corners curled up releasing what little air was left. The only option was to make do without the pad tonight and head home the next day. I pulled Barrett under the quilt with me to stay warm. Times like this I’m glad to have a fluffy 100lb space heater with me.
As if the night before wasn’t ridiculous enough, the next morning took it to a whole new level. A sheet of frost fell off the rainfly and onto my arm as I unzipped the tent door. I looked across the camp in disbelief. Everything was covered in ice. EVERYTHING. The inReach predicted a high of 78 and low of 45 for this location. Going off that info, preparing for freezing conditions wasn’t exactly on my radar. Thank goodness my water filter made it into the tent somehow. Unfortunately, not all the gear was so lucky. My shoes were frozen stiff. I couldn’t get my feet in them even if I tried. All our water was frozen as well from my bottle to Barrett’s bowl. I sat wrapped up in the tent waiting for an updated forecast. The inReach claimed the current temperature was 43°.
I was at a loss, unsure where to even start. Maybe with a granola bar and figure out the rest from there. I retrieved the canister and sat back down in the tent. It was also covered in ice. I tried with all my might to press in the little tabs on the side, but I couldn’t get the lid to budge no matter how hard I tried. I worked at it until I was left with deep indents and smarting pain in my thumbs. I wasn’t getting into that canister any time soon. So, I turned my efforts to building a fire. I set the shoes, water bottles, and canister down around the ring and dug down to the bottom of the leftover wood pile in search of dry sticks. I lit a fire starter and slowly added the few pieces I could find. I defrosted the frozen sticks by stacking them around the edge of the dry ones. Once they were thawed, I knocked them into the fire and stacked some more frozen sticks around the edge. I continued the process until I had big enough pieces burning that the fire could feed itself for a bit.
There was now a small amount of water in the bottom of the bottles. I poured it out, boiled it, and let it cool enough to pour it back into the bottles to melt the remaining ice. Once I had enough water to fix coffee and breakfast, I made another attempt at opening the canister. Now that I had a fire thawing things in the background and access to our food, I could let out a sigh of relief.
The sun was shining bright by 10 a.m. and all traces of the freeze were gone. I was in the middle of packing up when another backpacker passed by. He stopped to ask if I saw the predictions on MountainForecast the night before. Similar to the inReach, it called for a low in the mid 40s on Sam Knob. He said up at the summit and his thermometer read low 30s. But unlike me, he didn’t encounter any frost or ice while on the mountain. Barrett and I left camp a few minutes later continuing the loop back to the trailhead.
The rest of the way felt more like walking up a stream than along a trail. On the bright side, my shoes were wet to start with. In between the flooded sections, we were treated to beautiful forest scenery and views of Black Balsam and Tennent in the distance. I temporarily forgot about all the bumps in the road. Regardless of how I ended up here, I was just content to be walking through some of my favorite mountains again. On the way home, we made a quick stop to visit the dragon tree. Barrett was uninterested of course, but I was thrilled to get a picture of us with the natural anomaly.
Takeaways
So what did I take away from this misadventure? There's a time to hold 'em and a time to fold 'em.
When struggling to navigate Fork Mountain Trail, it was better to listen to my gut and turn around rather than listen to my ego and continue into a potentially hazardous situation. No one wants to be seen as unprepared or incapable. If you share your outdoor adventures online, then this is especially true. Pressure to produce an exciting new trip video or maintain a certain image can lead to making decisions or taking risks you normally wouldn’t. Regardless of what others may think, there’s no shame in changing plans when you realize you’re in over your head. Although I hated folding so early into what I hoped would be an incredible trip, it was for the best. My sleeping pad was going to fail that night no matter what. I’m glad I was only a couple miles from the car when it did rather than seven miles plus a river crossing.
I’ve navigated plenty of unblazed wilderness trails before, but this one was a bit more than I felt comfortable taking on. Having Barrett’s comfort and safety to think about played a role in my decision as well. Other backpackers may not see Fork Mountain Trail or the obstacles we encountered on it as worthy of turning around over, and that’s okay. It’s also okay to change the plan when you’re having doubts about your ability to conquer the challenges ahead, regardless of your experience level!
Gear fails and the forecast changes. When faced with both of these situations, my first response was “I need to to get the heck out of here!” But in both situations staying put, at least for the time being, tuned out to be the wiser decision. By trying to pack everything up, hike out, and drive home in the middle of the night I’d be opening us up to all new risks. The same goes for trying to sleep at the trailhead. With how exhausted the events of the day left me, I was in no condition to drive. I wouldn't feel safe sleeping in such a highly trafficked parking lot either. (With how things were going I'd probably get a citation) Sleeping on the cold hard ground definitely sucked, but stuffing hand warmers and my dog into the quilt helped alleviate some of the discomfort.
As much as I wanted to be back at the car cranking up the heat, hauling out icy gear in frozen shoes wouldn’t have done my hotspot covered feet any favors. (Thank you river crossings and wet muddy trails.) We were better off waiting for things to defrost a little before breaking camp. Building a fire in the meantime not only helped keep us warm and speed the thawing process along, it also reminded me of the value in being a problems solver. Taking initiative resulted in a lot more character building than sitting in the tent asking “Why me!?” until conditions improved. While I'm a little disappointed this loop didn't work out, I'm still glad I had an opportunity to get out on the trail. More than anything it was an opportunity to learn and grow!
Thanks for reading this trail journal. I hope you found it encouraging as well as entertaining. While some of the setbacks along the way weren't funny at the time, they sure are in retrospect! Have you ever had a trip go completely awry? What was your biggest takeaway from the experience?