If you're wondering what makes Roan such a special place, I think this quote from an old Cloudland brochure answers it perfectly: "No pen can picture the grandeur of the mountain view... Too great for description, too lovely to paint, it can only be realized by actual presence." In August of 2022, I set out on another three day adventure with my trusty canine companion. Together we trekked a little over 20 miles across the Roan massif making stops at the many historic sites along the way like Cloudland Hotel and Yellow Mountain Gap (Overmountain shelter.)
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, info for local shuttle providers, 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.) seagrasstosassafras.com/product-page/roanmountain
Music featured in this video: “Anywhere I Go” by The Time Waves, “Sailing Away” by Holizna, “Armitage” by Kelly Latimore, and “1909 – Rose of the World” by Victor Herbert Orchestra, “Making Tracks” by Hey Pluto!, “The Heaven is Far” by Damiano Baldoni, “Ominous Night” by John Bartmann, “Secrets Held” by Sky Toes, “Gazing” by Andy G Cohen, “Sunny Side of the Mountain” by The Shoal Creek Stranglers, Overgrown” by Kelly Latimore, and “Acoustically Driven Instrumental” by David Hyde. Music from Uppbeat (free for Creators!): https://uppbeat.io/t/sky-toes/secrets-held and https://uppbeat.io/t/hey-pluto/making-tracks License code: JZVHM3YTTCZYQQ5L
Roan Mountain - Carvers Gap to 19E via the AT
Hike Overview
Type of hike: Out and back & Point to point / Shuttle
Trails hiked: Appalachian Trail
Time span: 3 days 2 nights
Total Est. Mileage: 22 miles (includes spur trips to High Knob, Cloudland, Grassy Ridge Bald, and Overmountain Shelter)
Trail Journal
Day One
As I pulled up to Carvers Gap, I couldn’t believe the crowds. Not a single parking spot to be found. On a Tuesday evening! I awkwardly turned around at the edge of the road. As I made a second pass over the area, a couple pulled out of the lot. Talk about perfect timing. With both our packs on, Barrett and I disappeared down the narrow path towards Roan High Knob.
Everything around us took on a rich greenish hue, with a canopy of hardwood forest over our heads and patches of ferns by our feet. Even the tree trunks sported a mossy green layer. I had only been here a couple minutes, and already I was starting to understand what made Roan such a botanical wonder back in the day.
The way to Roan High Knob was not strenuous, but it was very rocky. Thankfully, it didn’t take long to reach the wooden post directing us to our destination. I could see the roof of the shelter peeking through the spruce trees. As I walked through the dark doorway, I was hit with the smell of musty wood and hiker sweat. By this time of year the throngs of NOBO thru-hikers had long moved on (and handful of SOBOs had not yet arrived) yet this scent lingered. My theory is, after decades upon decades of use the walls of the shelter have now become infused with the odors of adventurers.
I climbed up the ladder to take a look around upstairs. I shone a light across the loft to reveal shredded wrappers, wads of tissue, and mouse traps scattered on the floor. I tried to crawl over to the window and the whole building groaned. Nevermind. I thought and climbed right back down the ladder. Barrett was waiting patiently for me at the bottom wagging his tail.
The shelter, dank and musty though it may be, has an interesting history. It originally served as housing for the fire warden that manned the tower back in the 1930s. It was repurposed as an AT shelter in 1980. Nowadays the tower is long gone and the area surrounding the cabin is roped off to “protect sensitive vegetation.” In spite of the ropes and signage, there was still plenty of room to set up camp in the woods nearby.
Once all the camp chores were taken care of, I decided to take Barrett on a spur trip to the Cloudland Hotel site. Leading up to the trip, I read a lot about the history of Roan and the old hotel. The most informative and entertaining resource I found was a book written by a former state park ranger named Jennifer Bauer Wilson. Roan Mountain : Passage of Time gives the whole story of the area with a couple chapters focusing on the magnificent Cloudland Hotel and the man behind its construction.
Unfortunately, much like the fire tower nothing is left of it today. So, to the unknowing visitor the site appears to be just an empty hilltop and a blurb of text on a sign. I think having the whole backstory ahead of time makes visiting more meaningful. Staring across the field I tried to imagine the crews operating a steam sawmill to cut the lumber for the enormous structure, the tourists pouring in year after year on the promise that the mountain atmosphere would cure whatever ailed them, and the local community hauling off every piece of furniture and scrap of wood at the end of its operation.
A story from the book that really made me laugh had to do with hikers posing for photos. She explained that not a lot of actual exploring was done by the visitors. In fact, many of the photos of "hikers" at Loins Bluff (now Roan High Bluff) were actually staged. They would hop out of the carriage on the road to the hotel, strike a pose with walking sticks, and hop right back in the carriage. It seems people haven't changed much since then. The only difference is we now have the internet to publish our fabricated adventures on.
We returned to camp just before sunset. I made a sorry attempt at starting a fire. The leftover wood in the ring was sopping wet. As I tried to collect some dry material to burn I realized pretty much every branch, stick, and twig in the area was soaked as well. Even the moss growing on the side of the trees was saturated. I decided it wasn’t worth the time and effort. So, after making dinner and checking the shelter a dozen more times for weirdos we settled in for the night.
At one point during the night I was scared awake by Barrett coughing and wheezing. As I crawled out of the tent to get him some water I noticed my knee hurt like crazy. I rolled up my pant leg and found a huge scratch and ugly purple bruise just under the kneecap. I must have banging it on something along the trail at some point. Maybe a rock or a blowdown? I couldn’t for the life of me remember. I took some ibuprofen and prayed it would feel better by the morning. The plan was to cover 12 miles the next day.
Day Two
After signing the shelter log, we made our way back down the rocky path to Carvers Gap. We made a quick stop by the car to drop off a few gear items I realized I probably wouldn’t need. I also used this as an opportunity to unpack my lunch from the bear bag, and top off my water bottle. The AT continued across the road from where we parked.
Right away, the views were incredible. The trail briefly meandered back into the woods before opening up again on beautiful vistas. We encountered a lot of elderly day hikers all of which stopped to ask “Oh, are you a thru-hiker?!” “No, I’m just a backpacker.” I didn’t know it at the time, but this would become my catchphrase; not only on this trip, but on the next two trips to follow. It was a little odd to me that so many folks asked. The NOBOs had long since moved on, and to my understanding no SOBOs had reached this section yet. I guess to the average Joe anyone on the AT with a backpack must be a thru hiker.
The trail served up its first round of complementary snacks at Engine Gap. Dozens of wild blueberry bushes lined the trail. The berries were so tiny and tart. They left my fingertips covered with blotchy purple stains. About this time, we reached the turn off to Grassy Ridge Bald. I remember reading in several places that you won’t encounter very many people past this point. That was 100% true. In fact, I can count on one hand the number of hikers we saw for the remainder of the trip… it was 5.
The spur trail to Grassy Ridge Bald was steep, rocky, and enclosed in rhododendron. Sadly, their bloom season was over. So there were no bright red and purple flowers along the way. The forest stayed behind as we climbed higher on the ridge. I spotted a large boulder up ahead. We stopped to enjoy the view and take a water break. Barrett immediately took advantage of a shady spot on the underside of the boulder. We only made it halfway to the actual summit before heading back down towards the AT. On the way back, we passed three of the last five people I mentioned. Barrett got lots of compliments from them for being a handsome, good boy.
It took a lifetime to reach Stan Murray shelter, and our next water source. When you look at all the pictures and read about the views at Roan, it can fool you into thinking it’s all vast expanses and wide sweeping mountain fields. Trekking through a green tunnel doesn’t come to mind. I don't know why it caught me by surprise to spend several miles in the woods. Next complimentary snack the trail offered was Bee Balm. Tall stalks of the red (and sometimes purple) flowers lined the path. I thought about making tea out of them at camp, but they would probably get crushed in my pack before then. I declined the offer.
Just before the shelter we passed the fourth person. Another solo female. “I think I may have seen a bear not far from the shelter.” she said. I thanked her and said I’d keep my eyes peeled. I did, but the bear never revealed itself. If there was a bear, it was probably long gone by the time we reached the place where she saw it. It was here I discovered one of the legs on my tripod was missing. It was just gone! I backtracked a couple hundred feet before accepting there was no way I could find it. So, for the rest of the trip I carried a little stick in my side pocket to prop up the nub that used to be a foot anytime I needed to use my tripod.
We took a lunch break at the shelter and I inspected my sore knee again. It didn't hurt to hike on, just to tough. The bruise and scab had developed a lot since the night before. It wasn't impeding the journey, so I took a couple more ibuprofen and forgot about it. As I swung my pack back on I started flirting with the idea of changing plans. I originally intended for us to reach Hump Mountain, camp there, and make our way back to Carvers Gap the next day. But even after resting and refueling, I could feel my energy waning. I wasn’t going to make it over both Little Hump and (Big) Hump Mountain. At least, not today.
As we descended to Yellow Mountain Gap and the spur trail to the Overmountain Shelter, I decided to check for service. 4G! My mind was made up. I would call Mountain Harbour Hostel and take a shuttle back to the car the next day. Something I should have planned from the beginning. Thankfully, they had availability in the afternoon. Now the plan was to take another break at Overmountain Shelter and camp somewhere near Little Hump before continuing along the AT to 19E.
We stopped along the Overmountain Victory trail to refill our water at the spring before continuing on to the shelter. There’s an incredible history behind the area. "Overmountain" refers to the Appalachian militiamen who marched all the way to the battle of Kings Mountain to take a stand against Major Ferguson and protect their land during the war for Independence. The Victory trail is a 330 mile path that traces the route of their journey. About 87 miles of the 330 can be traveled by foot. You can read more about it at the following sites:
I wasn’t the only one lacking energy. Barrett was really tired too after the roller coaster of ridges and gaps leading up to this point. It felt great to just sprawl out in the soft grassy meadow beside Overmountain. It gave me just the boost I needed to make that last climb up Little Hump Mountain. Along the way the trail served up the last item on the menu: blackberries.
From the top of the ridge I could see a little red dot down below. It’s crazy to think we were sitting beside that red dot not long ago. At this point, we passed the fifth and final other hike. The lady stopped to ask if I had ever heard of Big Yellow Mountain. I hadn’t. She had just come from there and recommended I make the trip too. The only thing is "it doesn't show up on the GPS…and the trail is partially blocked off…and there are “No Trespassing” signs everywhere. But aside from all that, the view is incredible and I should really go check it out." I told her I would think about it.
After the trip I looked into Big Yellow Mountain. Apparently the area is open to day hikers, and was a part of an acquisition intended to keep the tract of land protected from destruction and development. The hike didn’t sound nearly as sketchy with all that background info. I’m sure the lady meant well, she just didn’t do a great job pitch it.
The established campsite options near Little Yellow were limited. So, when we came across a secluded little area between a cluster of trees and a boulder, I immediately dropped my pack. Barrett was exhausted. I was exhausted. Finding this spot was perfect timing. There was another site not far off, but it was way more exposed than I liked.
Shortly after setting up, it was time to find a water source. Going off a waypoint I had saved from a tip on AllTrails, we made a one mile out and back excursion. The GPS map makes it look like there is a path straight through to it, but that wasn't the case. The trail actually made a hook shaped curve through woods and across the ridge/meadow (twice.) I let out a “Praise the Lord!” as we reached a piped source.
Our camp rested on the edge of the mountain overlooking a deep valley. Dark clouds rolled in and covered the far off peaks. Our side remained undisturbed by the storms for the time being. As I made dinner, I sat listening to the wind rip through the trees across the way. Moments later the sound of rushing wind was joined by pouring rain.
While the weather display played out in the distance, we were hit with the occasional raindrop here and there. I had better success starting a fire this night, but as the rain made its way across to us I decided to let it fizzle out. Eventually, the occasional drop turned into a steady drizzle. So, we retreated into the tent. I spent the rest of the evening curled up next to Barrett watching clouds play peek-a-boo with the far off peaks.
Day Three
Just under 8 miles left to go. We would have to get out of camp at a good time to make it to the shuttle by 2. I set my alarm for 6, which sounded reasonable the night before, but I couldn’t bring myself to actually obey it when it went off that morning. So, I hit snooze and slept for 30 more minutes. I pulled back the vestibule door to find a heavy fog all around. A chilly breeze accompanied it. Barrett took two steps outside the tent and after realizing it was dark, windy, and foggy took two steps right back in. He remained there, curled up on his mat, until the very last minute.
We continued across Little Hump Mountain, with the view of Hump Mountain growing nearer and nearer in the distance. Standing just below it, I could see the path we had to take winding up all the way up its side.
It may sound strange, but the climb up Hump Mountain was an other-worldly experience. The combination of waist high wildflowers, rolling mist, and not a single other soul in sight made the whole scene so surreal. Looking around, I had this overwhelming sense of peace. Like this is where I'm supposed to be and what I'm supposed to be doing right now. That’s the best way I can describe it, and even that is probably not doing it justice.
Reaching the summit took a lot longer than expected. We were moving a little less than one mile an hour. After briefly celebrating and taking in the scenery at the top, I decided to pick up the pace. On the other side of the mountain, the trail stretched out endlessly in front of us. So, I decided to let Barrett off the leash for a while. We were the only ones out there, and if another hiker were to come our way I could see them a mile off. He pranced along enjoying his freedom and occasionally stopping to snuffle around in the overgrowth lining the trail.
We made it to Doll Flats with a few minutes to spare. Just enough time to stretch out, filter water, and take a breather. Following the path to the water source, I noticed hoofprints in the mud. A little reminder we weren’t completely alone out there. The maker of the tracks revealed herself as I finished refilling our water. The doe gracefully darted up the steep hill before disappearing into the brush. The deer wasn’t the only animal we encountered on our journey to Mountain Harbour. We also saw an entire pasture of cattle and donkeys close to Apple House campsite. Surprisingly, Barrett was not at all interested in the livestock. I thought he would at least give a woof or tail wag at seeing them.
On the map, the shelter is still marked as being there. Which confused me since we passed by without ever seeing it. We didn’t see it because there’s no longer anything to see. The shelter was torn down some time ago. Now it’s just an area with a carsonite sign for camping. Because the shelter was so close to the road it attracted a lot of partiers. It was constantly full of trash and empty bottles. Supposedly at one point a vagrant was living out of the shelter. So, the Forestry Service made the decision to remove it. It’s pretty sad.
The road walk to Mountain Harbour wasn’t nearly as overwhelming as I thought it would be. After crossing the highway, there was plenty of shoulder to walk along without risk of being hit. As we neared our destination, the sign for the hiker entrance trail came into view. We made our way down the steep gravel path to the hostel. I checked in at the general store and paid for my ride. Meanwhile, Barrett fell in love with a lady German Shepherd there. I tried to explain to him that long distance relationships rarely work out, but he didn’t pay me any attention.
Our shuttle driver, Ms. Mary told me so many stories about thru hikers and their dogs. She talked about her favorite dogs that had come and gone over the years, as well as the ones she still keeps in touch with. I didn’t know this, but it’s not uncommon for hikers to pick up a dog along the trail and then abandon them in town or at a hostel. It was an ongoing battle for the folks at this hostel. She said what made matters worse is there aren’t any no-kill shelters nearby that they can bring the dogs to. One time a Rhodesian Ridgeback named Leroy came to them. If you’ve never seen one, they are enormous! They were originally bred to fight off lions. This dog was a gentle giant though. It just so happened a young man hiking the trail took an interest in Leroy during his time at the hostel. He wanted a dog exactly like him. Well, Leroy found his new home! Ms. Mary said she still gets pictures of all the adventures that dog is up to.
It wasn’t my intention to leave this journal off on such a sappy note, but that’s the end of it. We hopped out of the van at Carvers Gap and headed home. Although it wasn’t my intention to make this a shuttle hike at the start of the trip, I’m very glad I did. There’s a reason it’s the most common way backpackers experience Roan. If I had followed through on making this an out and back, I probably would have turned around before even reaching Hump Mountain, and I would have missed the highlight of the whole trip.
Know Before You Go!
There are no loop options for this section of the trail. If you plan to hike it, you will have to do it either as an out and back or shuttle. There are a couple options for how to do this. The most common is to park at Mountain Harbour Hostel for a fee and take a shuttle to Carvers Gap. OR if you're hiking with a partner, you can stage two cars.
While you may be tempted to park near Cloudland during your trip, overnight parking and camping is prohibited at that lot. The recreation area is day use only and there's a fee. Last but not least, the big red barn is closed indefinitely. Camping within 40ft of the Overmountain Shelter is prohibited! For more details on Roan Highlands, be sure to check out the downloadable itinerary I put together from this trip!