“For my birthday I want sunshine, swimming, and camping!” Angie’s voice crackled through the phone. The connection was poor but her excitement was still obvious through the static. She was a very strong hiker, had done several overnight trips, and was eager to try a multi-day backpacking adventure.
I researched several options and we chose to tackle a SOBO hike of the Art Loeb Trail. This 30 mile trek winds along the high ridges of the Pisgah National Forest in North Carolina. The trail promised epic views from several 6,000 ft balds including Black Balsam Knob and a cumulative elevation change of nearly 14,000 ft ensured the journey would be a fun challenge.
Over the next few weeks we set about formulating a plan. I knew finding water on a ridge top trail would prove challenging. Thankfully, Anti Gravity Gear created a pocket trail guide with a ton of trail data including water source locations. While I was figuring out on-trail details, Angie managed transportation logistics and was able to arrange a shuttle with Pura Vida Adventures.
Before we knew it, it was time to head to North Carolina and start hiking. After a meager 2.5 hours of sleep we piled in the car and thanks to copious cups of coffee stayed awake as we raced north to catch our 7am shuttle. Joe, our shuttle driver with Pura Vida Adventures, was awesome! By 9am we had our car staged at the southern terminus and were standing at the northern terminus staring at the 2,000 ft climb before us.
We trudged up the slick rocky trail though waste high foliage as the music of soft rain played in the treetops. The climb wasn’t particularly difficult but in my sleep deprived delirium I was struggling. Eventually, the sky cleared and we collapsed at the Cold Mountain trail junction to eat an early lunch and recover.
The afternoon was gorgeous. The sun was warm but the trees enveloped us in shade and an endless cool breeze rustled through the leaves. We traversed a narrow rocky ridge. The trail was choked with head-high mountain laurel but the green tunnel opened frequently to reveal endless cliff-side views.
We continued on plowing through the narrow trail. The branches raked over our arms, legs, and packs as we went. Angie’s pack looked like a street vendor’s cart. Everything imaginable was lashed to the exterior of this bag and the trail side brush began liberating her belongings. “Did you forget this?” I’d inquire with a chuckle. She’d turn to see me picking up her tent strut, jacket, or trekking pole. About the third time this happened, I laughed and exclaimed, “Yard Sale! That should be your trail name!” Her reception of this new moniker was lukewarm but I was determined to make the name stick.
As evening and camp drew near we paused in Flower Gap to soak up a commanding view of the surrounding mountains. We watched as rain clouds undulated through the green ridges concealing them for an instant only to reveal them again. We stood in silence mesmerized by the spectacle. Eventually, I pondered aloud, “It’s amazing we haven’t gotten rained on yet.” No sooner had I finished this thought than the sky opened and a deluge was upon us. We laughed, donned our rain gear, and hiked toward camp dreaming of dry clothes and warm sleeping bags.
Morning brought a thick mist. We pulled on our wet socks, squished into our shoes, and set off into the clouds. We were hiking at 6,000 ft and the surroundings looked more like the Pacific Northwest than North Carolina. It felt as though I was suddenly back on the PCT and I loved it! Yard Sale was all smiles too as she wiped the fog from her glasses. The wind howled and the mist came in sideways as we summited Black Balsam Knob. Our imaginations ran wild as we wondered what lay out there in the grey abyss.
The trail meandered through rhododendron tunnels and spooky conifer forests all morning. By the time we crossed the Blue Ridge Parkway the mist gave way to blue sky, sunshine, and a wonderful breeze. We stopped, hung our wet gear to dry, aired out our soggy feet, and enjoyed a leisurely lunch.
Things began to go slightly sideways as afternoon waned. We were nearing the end of an 8 mile waterless section and our campsite wasn’t far. We were looking forward to a cold drink and rounded the bend expecting to see a flowing spring only to find a muddy ditch. The spring was dry, we were low on water, and the next creek was several miles away. Our exhaustion was growing, my left knee was unhappy, and the prospect of hiking further seemed daunting. Alas, we mustered some motivation and pressed on toward water.
The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, the grey of twilight had faded, and an inky black night now concealed our surroundings. The dim red glow of our headlamps revealed a tent site as we summited the mountain. We paused to discuss our options. The stream was only a mile away now but were both dead on our feet. The decision was easy. We’d dry camp here, eat snacks rather than cook to conserve our remaining water, and have a streamside breakfast in the morning. Our decision proved fortuitous for as soon as the tent went up a heavy rain came down. We laughed and scurried inside very happy we weren’t sloshing through that last mile.
The morning was warm but beautiful. We rejoiced in the abundance of water and savored our streamside breakfast. The trail rambled through rhododendron forests and a maze of creek beds. Looking Glass Rock came into view and we paused to admire the granite monolith jutting into the sky. We pondered aloud and solved the world’s problems as we hiked. Soon our stomachs were grumbling and we stopped on a mountain top to eat lunch. Our only company was a whitetail buck in velvet. With full bellies, we continued on ready to knock out the last few miles of this adventure.
Soon the sound of rushing water and kids playing was echoing through the forest. The Davidson River and southern terminus weren’t far now. The last switchback came and went and we stood on the river bank. Yard Sale played in the water while I soaked my hat to cool off. We had done it!
Later that evening we sat perched on bar stools in Big Mike’s pizza joint. The place was loud and bustling with Brevard locals but we were too engrossed in the pictures from our journey to notice the roar. As the night drew to an end our reminiscing turned to dreams of the future adventures. “Where should we hike next?”
Note: If you plan to hike the Art Loeb Trail, definitely check out Anti Gravity Gear’s pocket trail guide. It was very helpful for picking campsites, locating water sources, and navigating unmarked trail junctions. Also, you can learn more about shuttle services at Pura Vida Adventures.