Cold Mountain

I have never read the book, Cold Mountain. I saw the movie, but I couldn't tell you much about it. But I have been to the top of Cold Mountain- the real Cold Mountain. And it lived up to its name. It was indeed cold, and windy, and foggy, and an alltogether dismal place to be. Perhaps if we had caught better weather, my account would be different, but I have only been there once, and it was as it was.

We started out from a familiar place, the Boy Scout camp where we had ended one of the most difficult trips of our lives, followed by the best beer and piece of cheese I ever had. I blogged about it a year ago. This time was going to be different, though. This time we would start at the Scout camp, about 6 miles closer to the trail that leads to the top of Cold Mountain. See, last year we were so burnt out and pressed for time by the time we reached Deep Gap, where the trail to the top of Cold Mountain splits from the trail down to the Scout camp, we decided that we would have to forego the trip to the summit of Cold Mountain in favor of actually making it to the car before sundown. This year the only goal was to reach the top of the mountain, and we were going to be sure to make it.

We started out a bit late on Friday afternoon. The weather was brisk, yet mild enough to shed all of my outer layers. We lost sunlight just as we approached a small trailside campsite and decided to camp there for the night. It turned out to be a great night, chilly, but certainly bearable. We sat around the campfire for a few hours, cooked my new favorite camp food, chicken quesadillas, and sipped whiskey through the night. I also used the occaision to break out my new toy, my backpacker guitar. Although I'm sure my singing voice sounds more like an animal in pain than the great rock star grit that I hear in my head, everyone seemed to enjoy the diversion.

The next morning was uneventful. Powerbars and coffee for breakfast, then we hit the trail. We made good time considering the trail climbed a couple thousand feet at about a 45 degree angle, and by midday we were at Deep Gap. Deep Gap is a gap between a place called The Narrows and the summit of Cold Mountain. It is relatively open and sparsely populated with oak and birch trees and the occaisional evergreen. At least three trails converge on Deep Gap, making it a relatively highly trafficed area and, at least in a few respects, not the optimal place to camp. More on this later.

After lunch (Wolf brand Chili, definitely worth the weight of an aluminum can if its cold out) we set up camp and headed for the top of the mountain. We had been fortunate enough to pay close attention to the area weather forecast, and knew that a storm was scheduled to roll in on Saturday. Because of this, we decided to set the tents up with the doors facing each other and to string a couple of tarps up over the opening for a cooking space and common area. With the tents pitched and the tarps taut, we headed up the trail toward the top of Cold Mountain. As we set out the clouds began to roll in, the wind picked up, and we knew it was just a matter of time until the storm hit, but we all knew that we had to get to the top of the mountain. It had haunted me for a year and I was not going to get this close again and not make it.

Because water is scarce, we filled our water bottles on the way up from a mudpuddle formed from water dripping off of a rock onto the trail. Not exactly the fountain of youth, but with the help of a trusty filter, it did the trick without setting off a second storm within our intestines. The hike to the top was tough and steep, yet leisurely. Everyone was in good spirits, knowing that we were finally going to the top. The weather worsened gradually as we climbed, but no one seemed to notice.

As we reached the lower section of the peak, above the treeline, the weather became apparent. We came across a couple of ledges that almost certainly would have provided breathtaking views except for the thick clouds that enveloped us at the time and prevented any visibility past about ten feet. All of my instincts told me to turn back, that the weather was going to catch up to us and that the timeframe for the trip down was shrinking. But I was not going to be deterred. I wanted to reach the top, as did everyone else. And finally, we were there, looking at the USGS benchmark that had been placed at the summit in 1934, conveniently labelling the top of the mountain for those too unobservant to realize they were there. By this time the wind was whipping so loud that we could barely hear one another, we had to hold on to our hats for fear that they would be blown into the abyss of the passing clouds. We peered over ledges into nothing but thick, grey clouds.

Yet the heavens were smiling on us. After a few gracious minutes at the top, we decided to head down. The trip down was quick due to the steep incline and just as we emerged from the trail and back into Deep Gap, the rain began to trickle. We made for the tents to get a warm drink and a snack and wait the rain out. But it never stopped. It rained, sleeted, and snowed all night. We sat in our tents eagerly awaiting the end of the rain so that we could emerge, start a fire, and go through the camping ritual we all knew so well. But it never happened. It never stopped raining. We sat there from three in the afternoon until after midnight and the rain continued. Finally we gave up, and settled in for sleep.

We awoke to bitter, bitter cold. We had planned on cooking pancakes and bacon for breakfast, but it was so cold that all we could think of was to get moving. We struck camp quickly, with few words, then hit the trail, back down toward the Scout camp. It would be about twenty minutes into the hike that I began to feel my toes again. I have never hiked that distance with so many clothes on. Snow flurries were flying around our heads nearly the whole time. And it was wonderful.

The point of this post is not to make the trip sound tougher than it really was. Many people have been in much tougher conditions on much higher peaks. My point is merely to tell the world, from the proverbial top of the mountain, how much I love these trips and how, even though it may rain, the wind may whip, visibility may be low, the trip is still worth making.