Shining Rock Southern Loop, Day 1

Field Notes XXVII: Backpacking and photographing Graveyard Fields to Mt Tennent in the Shining Rock Wilderness, NC

Welcome to Field Notes!

In late October, 2023 I backpacked the southern portion of the Shining Rock Wilderness in North Carolina. Honestly, it was a weird journey. I’ve been here before so it was nostalgic, but also emotionally heavy for other personal reasons.

As before, I’m covering this trip day by day in order to have the room to include photos I took along the way. Hopefully, by the 3rd part of the series I will have the film of this trip finished. I’ll also include some photos I took in the past to compare.

Now, on to the adventure story!

2500 years ago the philosopher Heraclitus wrote-

No man ever steps in the same river twice, for its not the same river and he is not the same man.

Just as it is for rivers, so it is the same for me and hiking trails. There are special places on earth that I am drawn to return to time and again, to be wrapped in their wildness and mystery. Even so, the wilderness and I are never the same.

I have cherished the Shining Rock Wilderness of North Carolina since childhood. I have seen it with young eyes wide with amazement, and I have looked proudly at my children as they have experienced it themselves. I was here in June of this year as a photographer, filled with the excitement and anticipation of seeking Catawba rhododendrons blooming. Now I return to see these mountains cloaked in October gold, but I carry with me the weight of heartbreaking personal events.

This is part of the magic of life. Though I have walked these trails before, every return is a new adventure. I am not the same man as in my memories, and these are not the same trails.

Timing a trip for peak leaf color is difficult this year. The southern US has been experiencing a deepening drought since mid summer. It is hotter than it should be and in the piedmont south of the mountains the leaves have not popped, but are already falling. Reports from the mountains indicate the color change is late.

I leave before sun up on a Wednesday, hoping for fewer people and for a better outlook for clouds. My disappointment grows with the daylight. A high pressure weather system has settled in and above me is nothing but empty blue. This is great weather to casually enjoy the outdoors, but very hard to work with as a photographer.

It is still early when I arrive at Graveyard Fields. This high elevation valley cradles the Yellowstone Prong River. The area is named so because at one time it was covered in tree stumps blanketed by moss, left behind by weather or logging. These have long ago been erased by fires, but at one time this area resembled a graveyard.

I stood in this parking lot with my son when he was small. The entire vista was obscured by clouds and a whipping wind. Years later I returned with both children. As we hiked to the upper falls we were caught in a storm and had to turn back. The memories linger, but now I stand here alone.

This high in the mountains the true leaf peak has already passed. Many trees stand completely bare. There are areas, though, maybe because of micro-climates or species of tree, that have held on to their color. I start my trek under the low angled October morning light that illuminates these remaining leaves in brilliant yellows, oranges, and reds.

Click to enlarge

Easy access and easy trails make for crowded conditions, even mid week. I arrive at the upper falls of the Yellowstone Prong to find it monopolized by a group lounging at the base. They make no moves to give me room, so I head out. From here, the Graveyard Ridge Trail leads gradually upwards towards the heart of the wilderness. There are fewer people and I only cross paths with a pair of backpackers at Balsam Gap. They are headed another way.

The luminous warm colored foliage I move through is intermittent. The leaves fall to earth with the sadness of irreversible loss. As I walk I contemplate the passing of time, of aging and endings. I carry a cauldron of emotion inside, at times still and at others spilling out in free flowing tears. I sought a trip of autumnal elation and awe, but the harsh beauty of the wilderness abrades me with fatigue and some fear. I find myself on a pilgrimage of grief.

The trails are wide and contour the ridge lines. Easy going, for the most part. I stop for lunch and coffee at Ivestor Gap, remembering the area dressed in flowers last June.

View from Ivestor Gap. Early June and late October 2023. Click to enlarge.

Now the slow, glorious climb to the 6000 ft Mt Tennent. I offer my tribute of sweat and exhaled breath. With the treeline left below, the mountainsides are scattered with low red bushes that shine like rubies and the standing twigs of mountain ash, bare of leaves yet clutching bright red berries. I pass the same pair of backpackers I saw at Balsam Gap and they recognize me, but are again headed the opposite direction.

The rocky summit of Mt Tennent is familiar from my trip here two years ago. The land looks redder this year. Views of the mottled warm ridges of Appalachia extend in every direction. As I stand looking outward I feel both at the center of all things, yet also insignificant and small.

I set up camp, soaking in the late afternoon sun. Large birds circle overhead and something about them catches my attention. I assumed they were vultures or ravens, but I look closer after catching a flash of white. Three bald eagles silently circle directly above. By the time my surprise fades they have drifted into the distance.

I photograph and wander and ruminate. The sun sinks low and with an avian croak a huge raven lands on the rocks near me. We stare at one another. Are you the same raven I saw here years ago? Do you recognize me with my greying beard and wrinkled eyes? Silence. Are you Huginn or Muninn? Can you help my thoughts and memories transcend these mysteries? He does not reply. I photograph him and he takes flight.

The sun sets with a melancholy awesomeness. The mountains have always been a refuge for me. They inspire me with their mysteries, challenges, and splendors. Nature takes away with time and constant change, but she also gives. Can the wild be a salve for the soul? Darkness covers the mountains, and I sleep.

Sunset on Mt Tennent, mid October 2021

Sunset on Mt Tennent, late October 2023

Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for day 2, as I hike from Mt Tennent to Sam Knob. As soon as I can I’ll have more photos of the trip up at my portfolio site-

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