Wind Storm on
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Olivia and I had planned another trip to Mt. Le Conte in the Smokies but after poking around on the internet the night before our climb we ran across a wonderful opportunity to do something very different.
The Roan-Unaka mountain range sits on the Tennessee-North Carolina border and gets few visitors compared to a national park like the Smoky Mountains. And the range contains a unique ridgeline known as the Roan Highlands - a series of treeless mountains that offer spectacular 360-degree views for fifty miles in every direction. So after hastily altering our hotel plans we spent the night gathering maps and directions for an assault on three of Roan's best mountains.
Delayed by nearly half an hour after I lost the cars keys (they were in my boot but don't tell anyone) we struggled through a terrible ice storm en route to the mountain, with the car sliding all over the road. We finally made it there and parked at the state line on highway 143 in Carver's Gap, already at 5,500 feet elevation. We set off in high winds, heavy clouds and a hint of sleet but our unusually high starting point made for a pretty easy climb eastbound along the Appalachian Trail.
We quickly made it to the top of Round Bald and realized just how unique this part of the country really is. Its virtually impossible to find a treeless mountain in the eastern United States because the timber line (the altitude at which trees can no longer grow) is around 11,000 to 12,000 feet, but none of the east coast mountain ranges exceed 7,000 feet. As a result, eastern climbers spend most of their time scrambling through heavily forested areas and dramatic views are precious and rare.
But not in the Roan Highlands. In 1836, Dr. Elisha Mitchell (for whom Mt. Mitchell was named) rode horseback along this same ridgeline and marveled at the incredible views, writing of them in his memoirs. Now we see what he meant. The Black Mountains of North Carolina are visible to the east and the Blue Ridge Mountains are in the distant southwest. Everywhere you look there are mountains on all sides as far as the eye can see.
Checking our topos after the climb we realized that some of the directions we had were wrong; the mountain referred to as "Yellow Mountain" in the video is actually Grassy Ridge Bald, and the gap referred to as "Engine Gap" is actually Jane Gap.
We made our way down the opposite side of Round Bald, through a pass known as Engine Gap and on to Jane Bald where the views were even better. The peaks were close together and easily conquered - like hopping from one rock to the next while crossing a stream. The only difficulty encountered was a steep rock face covered with a sheet of ice. The angle could have been walked under normal conditions although it was fairly steep, but the ice forced us to get on our hands and knees and crawl to the top. It was the sort of ice that forms in a solid sheet over your sidewalk in the winter and makes for broken wrists and arms. The only safe way to get up it was on hands and knees.
To the north lay another mountain pass and then a mountain called Grassy Ridge Bald which towered above us at nearly 6,200 feet. As we hiked Grassy Ridge the Appalachian Trail curved along the north side of the mountain and missed the summit by nearly a mile, so we turned onto a barely discernable footpath and made our way toward the top.
A few hundred feet higher we emerged from a sparse patch of fir trees into the most vicious wind imaginable. We had to gain another three hundred feet of altitude and cross half a mile of open ground in the face of fifty to sixty mile per hour winds to make the summit. The wind chill was sub-zero and the battery on my cell phone went dead within minutes, which was alright since we were in the middle of nowhere and had no hope of getting a cell signal anyway. The water in my insulated bottle began to ice up and the cap froze solid.
We stepped out of the protection of the trees and into the wind storm and I struggled to stay upright. While I was firmly planting my climbing poles and hanging on for dear life, a few steps behind me Olivia was hit by a gust of wind and was blown completely off her feet. Fortunately this was a wide expanse of open ground; had it been a narrow ledge I would never attempted to make the summit against such winds.
Notice carefully in the first few seconds of the video that the summit of Grassy Ridge Bald is visible in the distance, but it is quickly hidden by the massive clouds that were rushing past us at an amazing speed. Visibility was ten miles one instant and ten yards the next.
It was still heavily overcast and our whole world was tinted with a deep purple hue. When the clouds parted enough to see more than ten feet, it was amazing to watch them rush past us. If you've ever stood by a campfire and watched the smoke blow in a hard gust of wind, you'll understand what it was like... but instead of campfire smoke, entire formations of cumulus clouds were flying past us at fifty or sixty miles per hour. I'd never seen anything like it. It was like being caught in a tornado that wouldn't go away.
Another real concern was snow. I had made up my mind to turn around immediately if even a light snow began to fall. The trail was faint and in some places non-existent, there were no visible landmarks or navigational points and with no snow on the ground we had no footprints to follow back out. And even if there had been any footprints they'd have been swept away by the wind instantly. There was nothing but frozen grass and ice-covered rocks in all directions. With no sun to guide us and no trail or landmarks follow, I wasn't willing to gamble that we could make it back by compass alone. If snow started falling I was going to turn around. Fortunately it didn't.
But the wind was bad enough by itself. Our sock hats were of little use against the biting gusts; it felt like we had no hats on at all. Our heads began aching... sort of like an ice cream headache that hurts everywhere from the neck up. The wind also cut through our gloves like a hot knife through butter and our fingertips began to go numb. Olivia had a full face sock hat on, but mine covered only my head. I didn't realize how cold my face had gotten until we got back to the car hours later - my face tingled with pins and needles on the ride home. But we made it across the open ground and found shelter among trees and brush near the summit.
The first two peaks were a cakewalk but we made up for it on Grassy Ridge Bald where the approach was steep and icy and the summit nearly blew you over. You'll notice that we have no summit photo for Grassy Ridge because my hands were too cold to operate the camera and my eyes were too watery to see. I tried to take a short video but the wind was so loud that the microphone didn't pick up my voice. Olivia and I worked our way silently back down the mountain; we didn't even try to shout over the wind. We were never in any danger but we both agreed later that if it had been ten degrees colder we wouldn't have tried it. We were at the limit of what our amateur mountain gear could safely handle.
A few hundred feet below the summit the winds died down - to perhaps thirty miles per hour - and we enjoyed the shelter of a few trees and some brush. That doesn't sound like much but it made all the difference in the world. We rejoined the AT and worked our way eastbound for another mile across the north face of the mountain where we found an old, abandoned campsite in a pass called Low Gap and struggled to build a small fire out of wet, frozen wood. We had lunch there before making the two-mile trip back.
Other than our adventure atop Grassy Ridge Bald this trip was really not a challenging climb, but the stunning scenery more than made up for it. Nowhere else in the eastern United States can you find 360-degree views in a major mountain range. The entire area has a unique look and feel. I thought perhaps we might regret not climbing Mt. Le Conte again, but in retrospect we certainly made the right decision. I'll be anxious to go again.
The Roan-Unaka mountain range sits on the Tennessee-North Carolina border and gets few visitors compared to a national park like the Smoky Mountains. And the range contains a unique ridgeline known as the Roan Highlands - a series of treeless mountains that offer spectacular 360-degree views for fifty miles in every direction. So after hastily altering our hotel plans we spent the night gathering maps and directions for an assault on three of Roan's best mountains.
Delayed by nearly half an hour after I lost the cars keys (they were in my boot but don't tell anyone) we struggled through a terrible ice storm en route to the mountain, with the car sliding all over the road. We finally made it there and parked at the state line on highway 143 in Carver's Gap, already at 5,500 feet elevation. We set off in high winds, heavy clouds and a hint of sleet but our unusually high starting point made for a pretty easy climb eastbound along the Appalachian Trail.
We quickly made it to the top of Round Bald and realized just how unique this part of the country really is. Its virtually impossible to find a treeless mountain in the eastern United States because the timber line (the altitude at which trees can no longer grow) is around 11,000 to 12,000 feet, but none of the east coast mountain ranges exceed 7,000 feet. As a result, eastern climbers spend most of their time scrambling through heavily forested areas and dramatic views are precious and rare.
But not in the Roan Highlands. In 1836, Dr. Elisha Mitchell (for whom Mt. Mitchell was named) rode horseback along this same ridgeline and marveled at the incredible views, writing of them in his memoirs. Now we see what he meant. The Black Mountains of North Carolina are visible to the east and the Blue Ridge Mountains are in the distant southwest. Everywhere you look there are mountains on all sides as far as the eye can see.
Checking our topos after the climb we realized that some of the directions we had were wrong; the mountain referred to as "Yellow Mountain" in the video is actually Grassy Ridge Bald, and the gap referred to as "Engine Gap" is actually Jane Gap.
We made our way down the opposite side of Round Bald, through a pass known as Engine Gap and on to Jane Bald where the views were even better. The peaks were close together and easily conquered - like hopping from one rock to the next while crossing a stream. The only difficulty encountered was a steep rock face covered with a sheet of ice. The angle could have been walked under normal conditions although it was fairly steep, but the ice forced us to get on our hands and knees and crawl to the top. It was the sort of ice that forms in a solid sheet over your sidewalk in the winter and makes for broken wrists and arms. The only safe way to get up it was on hands and knees.
To the north lay another mountain pass and then a mountain called Grassy Ridge Bald which towered above us at nearly 6,200 feet. As we hiked Grassy Ridge the Appalachian Trail curved along the north side of the mountain and missed the summit by nearly a mile, so we turned onto a barely discernable footpath and made our way toward the top.
A few hundred feet higher we emerged from a sparse patch of fir trees into the most vicious wind imaginable. We had to gain another three hundred feet of altitude and cross half a mile of open ground in the face of fifty to sixty mile per hour winds to make the summit. The wind chill was sub-zero and the battery on my cell phone went dead within minutes, which was alright since we were in the middle of nowhere and had no hope of getting a cell signal anyway. The water in my insulated bottle began to ice up and the cap froze solid.
We stepped out of the protection of the trees and into the wind storm and I struggled to stay upright. While I was firmly planting my climbing poles and hanging on for dear life, a few steps behind me Olivia was hit by a gust of wind and was blown completely off her feet. Fortunately this was a wide expanse of open ground; had it been a narrow ledge I would never attempted to make the summit against such winds.
Notice carefully in the first few seconds of the video that the summit of Grassy Ridge Bald is visible in the distance, but it is quickly hidden by the massive clouds that were rushing past us at an amazing speed. Visibility was ten miles one instant and ten yards the next.
It was still heavily overcast and our whole world was tinted with a deep purple hue. When the clouds parted enough to see more than ten feet, it was amazing to watch them rush past us. If you've ever stood by a campfire and watched the smoke blow in a hard gust of wind, you'll understand what it was like... but instead of campfire smoke, entire formations of cumulus clouds were flying past us at fifty or sixty miles per hour. I'd never seen anything like it. It was like being caught in a tornado that wouldn't go away.
Another real concern was snow. I had made up my mind to turn around immediately if even a light snow began to fall. The trail was faint and in some places non-existent, there were no visible landmarks or navigational points and with no snow on the ground we had no footprints to follow back out. And even if there had been any footprints they'd have been swept away by the wind instantly. There was nothing but frozen grass and ice-covered rocks in all directions. With no sun to guide us and no trail or landmarks follow, I wasn't willing to gamble that we could make it back by compass alone. If snow started falling I was going to turn around. Fortunately it didn't.
But the wind was bad enough by itself. Our sock hats were of little use against the biting gusts; it felt like we had no hats on at all. Our heads began aching... sort of like an ice cream headache that hurts everywhere from the neck up. The wind also cut through our gloves like a hot knife through butter and our fingertips began to go numb. Olivia had a full face sock hat on, but mine covered only my head. I didn't realize how cold my face had gotten until we got back to the car hours later - my face tingled with pins and needles on the ride home. But we made it across the open ground and found shelter among trees and brush near the summit.
The first two peaks were a cakewalk but we made up for it on Grassy Ridge Bald where the approach was steep and icy and the summit nearly blew you over. You'll notice that we have no summit photo for Grassy Ridge because my hands were too cold to operate the camera and my eyes were too watery to see. I tried to take a short video but the wind was so loud that the microphone didn't pick up my voice. Olivia and I worked our way silently back down the mountain; we didn't even try to shout over the wind. We were never in any danger but we both agreed later that if it had been ten degrees colder we wouldn't have tried it. We were at the limit of what our amateur mountain gear could safely handle.
A few hundred feet below the summit the winds died down - to perhaps thirty miles per hour - and we enjoyed the shelter of a few trees and some brush. That doesn't sound like much but it made all the difference in the world. We rejoined the AT and worked our way eastbound for another mile across the north face of the mountain where we found an old, abandoned campsite in a pass called Low Gap and struggled to build a small fire out of wet, frozen wood. We had lunch there before making the two-mile trip back.
Other than our adventure atop Grassy Ridge Bald this trip was really not a challenging climb, but the stunning scenery more than made up for it. Nowhere else in the eastern United States can you find 360-degree views in a major mountain range. The entire area has a unique look and feel. I thought perhaps we might regret not climbing Mt. Le Conte again, but in retrospect we certainly made the right decision. I'll be anxious to go again.