Shining Rock Wilderness (pt 2)
Edition VII
In the last edition we learned a bit about Art Loeb, the namesake of the trail I followed through the Shining Rock Wilderness, and of the beautiful but brutal ascent to the top of Cold Mountain.
I spent that evening photographing south facing vistas in the fading light. The mountains were visibly hazy, a result of smoke from Canadian wildfires that drifted this far south. I later learned that his caused me extra work in the post processing of my photos, but I am still pleased with the results.
Here is a panorama that encompasses the entire scene and a few other select images-
Evening Light
I invite you to check out more of this series in my portfolio below-
In the morning, always coffee first. I then spent time at dawn watching the growing light and setting moon.
Coming down Cold Mountain, back through Deep Gap, I looked forward to the next stretch of trail. This was a long, sharp, rocky ridge called The Narrows. I hiked here in my youth and was caught in a thunderstorm. I remember crouching in the low spots, waiting between lightning strikes to sprint over the next rocky knob. There were no thunderstorms this morning, but I was pushed for time. I spent golden hour on the mountain top yet still hoped for more photographs on the ridge before the daylight became too harsh.
The trail angled up to the ridge from Deep Gap. I approached the crest with visions of Catawbas in my mind. Then, about 15 to 20 yards ahead, just out of view on the other side of the mountain, I heard a monstrous crashing through the forest. It was unmistakably a bear who had heard or seen me first and now raced away. Several moments passed and I no longer heard movement. I slowly inched to the top to look down the opposite slope. Gone. I never saw it.
The Narrows were every bit as rugged as I remembered and were stunning, speckled with rhododendron blooms. I stopped on many rock outcroppings for photographs.
The Art Loeb Trail advanced through the heart of the Shining Rock Wilderness. Stairs Mountain was another taxing climb. Then, Flowers Gap. This day I saw why it was so named. Two sloping mountainsides dotted in purple blooms met at this soft saddle. The neck high vegetation allowed for views in every direction. It saddened me that I was not able to stay here, but I still had miles to cross.
Continuing past Shining Rock Mountain, the Art Loeb negotiated an area with scattered white quartz boulders, for which this mountain is named. This time, I bypassed the detour to the top. The trail arced over Grassy Cove Top and became a maze of eroded channels. Ivestor Gap was visible at the bottom and one way or another I arrived there and set up my camp for night 2.
This place offered views of the mountainous distances both to the west and the east. However, as evening settled in, cold wet wind and cloud covered skies came with it. I waited for hours with my camera focused west, trying to see what the setting sun would offer. Rain spat at my face and lens as I huddled in my puffy jacket. The suffering was rewarding. Eventually the cloud cover cracked and the setting sun cast God rays onto the mountains. Formally called crepuscular rays, this is a phenomenon in which the light beams are visible as they pierce the clouds to illuminate the land below. The scene was a contrast of adversity and exaltation. I felt the weight of the miles as a throbbing in my lower back and hamstrings and an exhaustion induced bleakness. But, in this moment as I watched the light stream from the clouds onto the the receding peaks in the distance, I welcomed it all with unabated joy as few moments of consummate fulfillment.
The next morning the land all around was enveloped in cloud. The misty atmosphere allowed some very interesting photographs, but no view of sunrise.
From here the Ivestor Trail stretched back in the direction of home. This was a flat, foggy walk along an old logging road that contoured the terrain. The mountainside fell sharply to the left and rose sharply to the right. Here I was thinking back about the photos I took over the past couple of days, both excited and worried about the choices and settings I used. A couple of branches broke uphill to my 2 o’clock and brought me back into focus. About 25 yards away, through the rhododendron branches, I saw the bear. A ball of black fur, he saw me in the same moment and spun away. His back legs gave 2 tremendous kicks as he sprinted away uphill with an astonishing display of kinetic intensity. In a second he was gone.
I waited. To continue on the trail I would have to pass the area where the bear had just been. I waited some more. I called out “hey bear” several times and heard nothing more. Cautiously I moved on, but the bear had left the area.
And so, the third day was a much easier, mostly downhill trek. The miles slid by as the trail led out of the wilderness and back to my parked truck. There, I had the stashed luxury of a fresh cotton shirt waiting for me for the drive home.
Thanks for making it this far. I’m still in the process of finishing the photos I took on this trip, so check back often on social media or on my website. I hope you’re enjoying Field Notes so far. Want more photos, more stories, or more technical info on photography or backpacking? Let me know in the comments!