I hope you enjoy this three day adventure through the wild but oh so wonderful landscape of Pisgah NF’s Pisgah ranger district. There were a number of obstacles and surprises along the way, but nothing me and my trusty companion Barrett couldn’t handle.
Check out the itinerary I put together from this trip! Route details, resources I used to plan the trip, campsite and water source descriptions, elevation profiles, hand-drawn maps, and MORE all in one neatly organized PDF. (While it isn’t a substitute for doing your own research and preparation, hopefully it will take the guess work out of planning your own trip.)
Music featured in this video: “Little Black Balloon” by Fog Lake, “Happy Song (instrumental)” Pachyderm, “21 Years” by Arulo, “Folk Travel Vlog” by Alex Productions, “Mt. Princeton” by Kelly Latimore, “Acoustic” by Music Stock Production (tunetank.com), “A Human Being” by Andy G. Cohen, “Busted AC Unit” by Holizna, “Homeward” by Scott Buckley, “Darling Corina” by David Mumford, and “Long Trail” by Brian Boyko
Pisgah Circuit - 25 Miles through the Pisgah Ranger District
Hike Overview
Type of hike: Loop (clockwise)
Trails hiked: Flat Laurel Creek, Art Loeb, Greasy Cove, Graveyard Ridge, and MST
Time span: 3 days 2 nights
Total Est. Mileage: 25 miles
Trail Journal
Day One
The sound of a motorcycle engines rumbled in the distance. I peered cautiously around the next curve in the road, and pulled Barrett closer by the handle on his harness. No sign of them ahead. I looked over my shoulder. Nothing in that direction either. Must have been on the parkway. I thought. I loosened my grip on Barrett's harness. The distance from the gravel pull off to the actual trailhead seemed a lot shorter on the map. Thankfully, getting the road walk out of the way now meant we wouldn't have to do it 20 or so miles later. I planned for the route to end just a couple hundred feet from the car. Anxious to officially get this adventure started, I quickened my pace. My trusty canine companion plodded along beside me.
Patches of bright yellow buttercups covered the trailhead. I stopped to admire them, but Barrett was not interested. He continued down the dirt road dragging me away by his leash. Seeing one of only two possible parking spaces already occupied by a car camper made me feel better about the decision to park down the road. Imagine how chaotic it must be when groups of Saturday afternoon hikers are trying to get in here!
At our first creek crossing, Barrett wasted no time getting wet. Once again I got distracted by the scenery. I was so busy staring at the waterfall upstream that I didn't realize how deep he was wading. I turned to find him already up to his chest in water. I remembered packing a small battery bank in the top pouch of his pack. "Barrett get out of there! Come." He splashed his way back to me in no particular hurry. Crisis averted.
It wouldn't be a proper trip to Pisgah without sloshing through a little mud. I tried to keep my shoes dry by testing each step before fully committing to it. I misjudged a solid looking patch and my foot sank up to the ankle in muck. I accepted the other shoe's fate and plowed indiscriminately through the mud the rest of the way to camp.
After reenacting "Goldilocks and the Three Bears" with the many campsites along Flat Laurel Creek, I finally settled on a partly shaded spot with a view of Sam Knob. A little before dusk I decided to toss a couple necessities into a stuff sack and make a trip up to Sam Knob. I had a feeling I wouldn't want to take the detour tomorrow with a fully loaded pack. The higher we climbed the more that feeling was confirmed.
To my surprise, there wasn't much of a breeze at the top. A very determined cloud of gnats followed us to one of the overlooks. Another backpacker was set up a short distance from the overlook. I thought No view is beautiful enough to put up with all the bugs and sun exposure up here. The culmination of bugs and heat reminded me that Summer was just around the corner, and soon the trails would be unbearable. Better enjoy it while I can.
The way back down was a doozy. Right when Barrett would get a good pace going I'd slow him down to negotiate with the steep rock scrambles. We returned to camp right as the sun was setting. I sat beside the fire scratching Barrett's belly and offering him sticks to chew on until it was time to turn in for the night. Barrett dreamed of chasing squirrels, and I dreamed of trekking across wide open mountain fields.
Day Two
Barrett sat up beside me groaning and smacking his lips. I got a quarter of the way through unzipping the vestibule when he bulldozed passed me. The condensation on the rainfly was heavy, but Barrett didn't seem to mind getting a quick shower from it. I, on the other hand, did not appreciate getting my entire arm soaked by his impatience to get out. I unclipped the rainfly and spread it out on a nearby bush hoping it would dry out before we hit the trail.
I boiled water for coffee and Barrett's breakfast. They make dehydrated sausage patties for dogs now! Can you believe it? It may sound like a ridiculous luxury to give a dog, but it's a whole lot lighter than dry kibble. Plus, he seems a lot more excited to it. I broke camp in between sipping coffee and shoving granola bars in my mouth. Everything was packed up except for the tent. I check on the rainfly, but it was still damp. I carefully balled it up with the wet parts facing the inside.
Sam Knob trail was something out of a fairytale. A perfect path cut through a field of tall grass and dandelions. Rolling hills surrounded us in every direction. It's moments like this I wish I could bottle up and hold onto forever.
The dirt path turned into wooden stairs. The wooden stairs turned into gravel road. Before we knew it we were in the Black Balsam parking lot. I knew prior to the trip taking Big East Fork or Shinning Creek trail was out of the question. I scanned the signs posted on the info kiosk for any mention of damage to Greasy Cove trail. Nothing. As we walked away, I started to second guess myself. So, we backtracked to the board to read it again. Still nothing. I tried calling prior to the trip, but ranger stations aren't much help when no body answers the phones. We hopped on the Art Loeb spur trail to Black Balsam Knob.
Climbing up the rocky switchbacks, reminded me of my last visit here. A clear mild afternoon turned into a night of tent rattling winds. The fog the next morning was so dense I could barely see 50 feet in front of me. You would think with how many times I've hiked this trail, it would start to get old at some point. But it never does. As we started to crest Black Balsam I stopped to take in the view from behind. Since we wouldn't be coming back this way, I wanted to be sure I didn't miss it. That sea of rolling green balds is a magical sight every time.
At one point I had enough signal to make a call. I made another attempted at asking the ranger station about the condition of Greasy Cove trail. Having wind whip wildly around you is not really conducive to phone conversation. I squatted as low to the ground as I could trying to shield the speaker from the interference. It rang and rang. Eventually, it went to voice machine. I reasoned we would continue on the planned route, but be mentally prepared to backtrack and take another trail.
Being a dog, I don't think Barrett understands much about our trips other than we're going somewhere together. He also knows wherever that is, there will inevitably be a big patch of grass to roll on the way. During this adventure, Ivestor Gap was that place! The ritual is always the same. First Barrett sniffs around intent on finding the perfect patch. Once he's found it, he throws himself onto his back, and wiggles around snorting. At times I envy how happy such simple things make him. After about ten minutes of watching Barrett wallow around, it was time to continue onto Greasy Cove trail.
In what little info I could find about it, one person described the trail as "seemingly endless" They weren't wrong. Those 3 miles dragged on for what felt like 6. We rounded one steep descending switchback after another, never making as much progress on the GPS as I'd hoped. Seemingly endless. I repeated to myself.
If there was any doubt we were in Shining Rock Wilderness, trudging through tall weeds and ankle high leaf litter confirmed it. The monotonous rustling of leaves was interrupted by a the sound of laughter and whooping. It seemed close. We continued down another series of switchbacks, but there was no sign of people. On many occasions I've heard bees buzzing or brooks babbling and mistaken it for voices. This time I was certain I heard real people laughing.
At the top of another decline, I could make out a figure in the distance wearing a blue pack leaning against a rock. I glanced down at my feet to avoid tripping over a root, but when I looked back at the rock they were gone. Just when I was ready to admit I was hearing and seeing things, we caught up to the elusive hikers. It was a mom and four kids all dressed in bright neon colors. They were trying to reach Grassy Cove top, but ran out of time and had to turn around. They offered to let me pass, but since they already conquered the water crossings and obstacles on this trail once I felt better with them leading the way. For the next mile or so the brightly colored family was my guide through the unmarked unmaintained Shining Rock Wilderness.
Getting across Greasy Cove Prong was simple enough. Getting across the East Fork Pigeon River was more of a challenge. I’ll admit it probably would have been easier without a dog. We waited on the rocky bank as the brightly colored family attempted to cross a narrow section downstream. The mom went first. Then she helped each child slowly navigate the slick rocks while holding onto her trekking pole for support. After everyone was safely across she called to me from the other side “Be careful! I put these here, but they aren’t very sturdy!” I stared at the dubious path of rocks through the current. I wasn't sure Barrett and I could traverse it without slipping. She see I was hesitant. "There's another spot over there where the crossing used to be before it washed out!" She pointed upstream to an orange ribbon above a boulder. I surveyed our other option. The water was deeper, but much calmer. "I think we'll try that!"
We waded over to the boulder. I took a step up on a low rock then pulled myself up the rest of the way. Barrett looked up at me and whined “Come on Bud!” He leaned his front paws on the boulder and stared. “You have to jump up.” You have no idea what I’m saying. Okay I’m coming back to help you. I slipped my arms out of my pack and inched down the edge toward him. I grabbed a hold of Barrett’s harness and started to pull. He sprang off his back legs to the top. He whipped his soaking wet tail around and buried his head in my lap. It nearly knocked my off the boulder. This is NOT the time or place for doggy cuddles. I swung my pack back on and guided Barrett to where the trail continued. The brightly colored family was waiting to make sure we also got across safely.
This time I took the lead. There’s not much to say about Bridges Camp Gap trail besides there were a couple confusing washed out spots. But after taking a moment to make sense of things, the rest of the path became clear on the other side. According to the mom, this was nothing compared to the damage on Big East Fork. They attempted to hike it the week before and the conditions were truly impassible. We parted ways with them at a sharp turn off in the trail. Barrett and I continued ahead to our camp just passed it.
I got to work setting up camp in between swatting flies away from my eyes. After all the excitement today I could use a nap. Barrett had the same idea. He was happily snoozing on a rotten log in the shade. I unzipped the tent door and invited Barrett to take shelter from the annoying bugs. As he plopped down beside me, he let out a low grumble. I patted him on the head. "I know how you feel Bud." We dozed off to the sounds of the rushing river and flies trapped under the rainfly.
Around 6 p.m. I evicted Barrett from the tent (which he was not happy about) to start fixing dinner. He sat down in the vestibule and leaned against the tent door. I knew if I let him back in the tent without me, the first thing he'd do is curl up on MY sleeping bag and cover it in hair. He would probably puncture my pad too while he was at it. I've already patched that thing once this year thanks to Nora. There's no way I was going through that again. I shooed him away, and he returned to his rotten log in the shade. Within moments he was snoring. How this dog can take a post-hike nap, a pre-dinner nap, and STILL sleep through the night is beyond me.
After polishing off a package of beef stew and two cups of instant soup, it was time to feed Barrett. As I crouch down to put the bowl in front of him, I spotted a little black tail wiggling around beside his leg. "Barrett come! Come over here!" I motioned him over toward the fire ring. He leaped up, barking at the perceived danger. I told him to hush.
I went over to the place he was laying with a stick, ready to relocate the baby snake. It was gone. I turned around to inspect Barrett for bitemarks. Clinging to the fluff on his backside was a tiny black salamander. My laughter turned to horror as Barrett started to sit down. The salamander jumped out of the way just in time. I corralled it the rest of the way to safety with my hand. I apologized to Barrett for making such a fuss out of nothing with head pats. Better safe than sorry I guess.
Day Three
We had another day of beautiful scenery ahead. Best of all the toughest obstacles were behind us. At least, that's what I thought until we reached a warning sign for more trail damage. It read "The red X is at the location of the landslide." I compared the map on the sign with my GPS. Skinny Dip Falls. It kind of caught me by surprise.
If you're thinking "How could you not know about the terrible landslide at Skinny Dip Falls!?" For one, I didn't see any mention of it on the National Forest website before the trip. And two, I'm not on social media. So, it's not like I'm getting any updates from there. Only thing to do was keep walking and pray for the best. Worst case scenario, can't get across and need to take a detour to the next trailhead on the parkway.
To my relief, the crossing was no trouble at all. Orange ribbons led the way to a newly constructed staircase. The ribbons continued at the base of the stairs to the water. Together, Barrett and I made two big jumps to a second staircase on the other side. A white circle blaze tacked to a tree was waiting for us at the top.
We took a detour at an unexpected fork in the trail. To the left, the path faded into an overgrown tunnel of rhododendron. To the right, a more defined path traveled downhill. There was no split in the trail shown on my GPS. We followed the clearer path right into the middle of another backpacker's camp. His Pitbull did not appreciate the intrusion. It snarled and lunged while the man fought to keep a grip on the leash. Barrett retorted with huffs and grumbles. I apologized for barging in on him and asked if the trail continued through here. He pointed to an almost vertical stack of boulders. "I'm pretty sure it's that way." I doubted that claim, but he insisted. As we climbed over the jagged rocks and brambles it was 100% clear this was not a trail! The GPS showed the actual trail not far above us. I considered climbing down and backtracking to the fork, but the possibility of agitating the man's dog again deterred me. We pressed on through the brush up to the real trail.
I don't remember much about my only other visit to Graveyard Fields. Just that there were a lot of junctions to pay attention to and grayish brown grass everywhere. With that first bit of info in mind I wasn't surprised when we encountered an onslaught of signs to make sense of. Having the GPS certainly helped clarify which turns to take and which to avoid.
The wooden walk way through Graveyard Fields was another fairytale like scene. More rolling green balds rose above the myriad of plants that call Pisgah home. Much like the field at Sam Knob, it was a view I wish I could bottle up. The view from the ridge was also a memorable one of the parkway winding around the mountain sides. Unfortunately, all the magic and wonder of the scenery wore off when I realized my shoulders were sunburned and our water was almost gone. We took a short break on a partially shaded rock. I was careful not to spill any precious water refilling my bottle and Barrett's bowl. The next possible source wasn't too far, but in the event it was dry I wanted to be sure we would still have enough to get us through the last 6 miles.
The water source I was expecting was a measly trickle running under a foot bridge. It wasn't much, but it would have to do. I tied Barrett to a nearby tree and scaled the side of the hill where the water was coming from. At first, I struggled to find a good place to funnel it from. Barrett whined and carried on while the bladder refilled at a snail's pace.
He seemed to forget the traumatic experience of being a couple feet away from me for 10 minutes while I refilled his water bowl for a third time. We rested by a stubby tree. Barrett nestled himself deep in the branches. I wasn't willing to crouch under that many pokey prodding needles, so I sat on the edge of the tree's shadow. Soon we'll be in the Balsam forest with miles of cool dark shade. I reassured myself.
I looked down Black Balsam Road in either direction before darting across to the other side. The balsam grove was so dark and dense it took my eyes a moment to adjust. I struggled to see our next white blaze. I took a couple steps forward hoping that would make it appear. As I searched for a discernable path I started to get the feeling I was being watched. I turned around to find four Asian ladies following me. They were varying ages and all dressed khaki shorts and button up shirts. I stepped aside and offered to let them go passed me. Instead they stopped beside me. "Where is mile post 418?" The youngest lady asked. I wasn't exactly sure, but I knew following me wouldn't help them get there any quicker. I told them the post they were looking for wasn't in the direction I was going. They agreed and walked back to the road. Believe it or not, this actually happens to me a lot. I guess I just look like I know where I'm going. I once had a lady follow me all the way off trail behind a bush where I intended to take a bathroom break.
We finally found the white blazes of the MST and Art Loeb and followed them through the repetitive Balsam Grove scenery. Not long after leaving the Art Loeb behind to continue on the MST, I noticed a tiny path off trail. We followed it under dense branches to an incredible overlook. If you need more evidence for why Pisgah is such a magnificent place, this is it. Discoveries like this are hiding around every corner if you just take a moment to look for them. Sure, the grand vistas on parkway are also beautiful. But what makes this view special is most people probably hike right past the path to it never knowing what's out there.
By the last 4 miles of the trip, I was starting to lose my motivation. I noticed my feet dragging every couples steps. I was tired, cranky, and ready to be done. It didn't help that every time I checked the GPS the tracking icon barely moved. I dropped my pack beside a tree and cleared a spot for us to sit with my foot. Barrett collapsed next to me and put his head in my lap. Part of what makes Barrett an excellent trail companion is his ability to empathize with and comfort people. Nothing melts away tough times quite like a hug from a fluffy 120lb German Shepherd.
I didn't want an otherwise great trip to be spoiled by my fatigue towards the end. So, I regained the strength needed to power through the rest of the way. We hiked at warp speed over foot bridges, through mud puddles, and under thick forest canopy. I peeked down at the GPS hoping against hope we were making progress. We were mere feet from where the trail crosses the road! The sound of rumbling engines came into earshot, and the trees peeled back to reveal stairs down to the road. Our car was waiting in the gravel lot behind a large SUV. I wasted no time tossing our packs in the trunk and cranking up the air conditioning. Barrett snored from his doggy hammock in the backseat as I drove off down the parkway.
Know Before You Go!
In Pisgah National Forest, primitive camping is allowed at least ¼ mile away from any road or parking area open to public vehicle travel and outside of any developed recreation sites. Leave No Trace rules apply. A camping closure is still in effect for the Graveyard Fields area, and fires are not permitted within the Shining Rock Wilderness Area.
Bear canisters are still required in the Shining Rock Wilderness, Black Balsam, Sam Knob and Flat Laurel Creek areas of the Pisgah Ranger District. This order went into effect in March of 2015 and still applies. Bear canisters must be commercially made; constructed of solid, non-pliable material manufactured for the specific purpose of resisting entry by bears. Sorry Ursack Major, you do not qualify :( On this trip, I carried the BearVault BV450. It weighs about 2 lbs and provided the perfect amount of room for three days worth of food for me and my dog.