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Smokies Chronicle

A Year of Hiking in Great Smoky Mountains National Park

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This is the fourth in a series of hikes from the 2017 book Smokies Chronicle: A Year of Hiking in Great Smoky Mountains National Park by Ben Anderson. Anderson, a trail patroller and Adopt-a- Campsite volunteer for Great Smokies Mountain National Park, lives in Asheville. “The book provides a fresh look at the Smokies wilderness as witnessed during its four distinct seasons” in 40 individual hikes and personal narratives.

Describing the weather in the Great Smoky Mountains as unpredictable is not engaging in hyperbole. Most any time of year, weather shifts in the Smokies can be sudden and dramatic. Although the weather often differs slightly from cove to cove, typically the major disparities owe to fast-moving fronts, localized summer storms, or elevation differences. Regarding the latter, Exhibit A in the Smokies may be Baxter Creek Trail, a demanding 6¼-mile path from Big Creek to the summit of Mount Sterling. With an elevation gain of more than 4,100 feet, the trail can bring substantial variations in the elements during any season. But the changes also can be hazardous on occasion. I’ve experienced weather conditions atop the 5,842-foot-high Mount Sterling that were crazily different from those at the 1,700-foot-elevation Big Creek.

Mindful of that history, today I plan another trip to Mount Sterling, site of what is reputedly the highest-elevation fire tower in the eastern United States. The Mount Sterling tower rises about 900 feet higher than the next highest tower still standing in the Smokies. As I recall from previous visits, the tower is similar to the one on Shuckstack that I visited in August. It is a steel structure about 60 feet tall that also was constructed in the mid-1930s. But the Sterling tower was built by the Civilian Conservation Corps, rather than the Public Works Administration. Not surprisingly, the views from the tower are exceptional when it’s not bathed in clouds at its lofty elevation. As for today’s weather, the forecast calls for warm, sunny conditions with basically no chance of rain. We’ll see how that plays out, as Mount Sterling often seems to have a mind of its own when it comes to the elements. In any case, I’m determined not to be defeated by the weather today, even if I have no control over it.  

In terms of both climate and vegetation, the hike up Baxter Creek Trail from Big Creek to Mount Sterling is somewhat akin to traveling from North Georgia to Central Maine, as if hiking the entire 2,200-mile Appalachian Trail. At a good pace, in about three hours, I hike from a low-elevation Southern Appalachian ecosytem to a boreal zone dominated by red spruce and Fraser fir. (Fortunately, the balsam woolly adelgid, first discovered in the Smokies on Mount Sterling more than a half-century ago, doesn’t attack red spruce as it does Fraser fir.) Along the way, I see some huge hardwoods that managed to escape being logged. The forest diversity really is a remarkable thing to experience on a single trail barely more than six miles long.

•••

Only four cars are parked at the parking area for the trailhead and Big Creek picnic ground upon my arrival about 8:30 a.m.—fewer cars than were here exactly seven months ago in February on my last trip to Big Creek. But it is a weekday just after the Labor Day rush, so I’m not too surprised by the low number of cars, all of which probably belong to backpackers at this time of day. I smell a bit of wood smoke, confirmation that people are camping at the nearby developed campground. Although it’s a seasonably cool morning, by the time I return in late afternoon, the temperature at this elevation will be well into the eighties.

A sturdy steel bridge spanning rocky, roiling Big Creek marks the start of the formidable Baxter Creek Trail and the major elevation gain I have ahead of me. The bridge also is the northern terminus of the three-hundred-mile Benton MacKaye Trail, which begins in North Georgia and reaches North Carolina by way of southeast Tennessee. The lengthy path piggybacks Baxter Creek Trail for an especially scenic and diverse six-mile finale after crossing Mount Sterling—the highest point of the entire 300 miles. 

As I hike through a mostly flat, open area near the trailhead, I encounter a few blowdowns across the trail. Although they’re easy to negotiate with the level terrain, they initially give the trail the feel of a path that hasn’t been maintained for a while. Between the trail and Big Creek are the remains of a large chimney formerly attached to a lodge built during the area’s logging days. Those days certainly left a lasting imprint on the Big Creek watershed.

In about a half hour, there’s an easy rock-hop crossing of Baxter Creek, a stream that curiously makes only a cameo along the trail that bears its name. Soon, I see a cluster of white wood asters along the trail, just before an opening in the forest yields a fine view across the Pigeon River Gorge, which I drove through earlier to reach the park. I cross a branch of Baxter Creek, and, except for a seep or two, I will see no more water on the trail—it’s dry all the way to the top.

In short order, I meet a total of five backpackers, in three bursts, who are hiking out after camping overnight at the Mount Sterling backcountry site—the highest camp in the park without a trail shelter. A solo young woman from Michigan, nearing the end of her first trip to the Smokies, relates that she climbed the Mount Sterling tower to watch the sun rise. “I’m in awe of how beautiful everything is,” she gushes. Her view of the Smokies sharply contrasts with Bill Bryson’s sour review in his book about hiking part of the Appalachian Trail.

The ascent, on a good grade, now becomes mostly unrelenting, as one might expect with an elevation gain exceeding 4,000 feet in just over six miles. A pileated woodpecker makes its shrieking presence felt, if not seen, soon followed by the rat-a-tat of a red squirrel. Next, there are human sounds from a garrulous group headed down the trail. They are apparently the final wave of backpackers who pulled in at Mount Sterling campsite the previous day. 

 Finally, after a long steady climb, the trail reaches a switchback with a sign that directs descending hikers to take a sharp left in order to bypass the abandoned Big Branch Trail. I’m guessing that this trail, which also began at Big Creek, is one reason Baxter Creek Trail acquired its name from a creek it barely meets. That, along with the fact that two trails carry the Sterling name on the far side of Mount Sterling. Below this bend of Baxter Creek Trail is a short section of riprap, surely the handiwork of the CCC. At this switchback, the path finally begins climbing the spine of Mount Sterling Ridge. It becomes obvious in places that someone has recently cleared some thick undergrowth, making travel a bit easier than it was last time I was here. 

The trail works its way up the ridge, entering an area where red spruce becomes more and more prevalent among the northern hardwood trees—a particularly pleasant sight after seeing many massive dead hemlocks that have succumbed to the hemlock woolly adelgid. Soon I reach a switchback, which gives a false sense that Mount Sterling’s summit might be within range. In fact, the last time I hiked here with Karen, she asked hikers coming down if we were near the top and one replied, smugly, if not gleefully, “Ohhhhh no.” But yes, there’s still some work to do before the trail finally plays out at the tower.

After another bend in the trail, I continue through an area that has the look of a temperate rain forest with its lush growth and carpet of spongy moss. I hear what I think may be a raven, rather than a crow at this high elevation, but I don’t get even a glimpse of the bird through the thick foliage. Soon, a trail sign notes that water can be found 700 feet off the main path, via a side trail. At this point, Baxter Creek Trail begins a final steep assault of about one-third mile toward the summit of Mount Sterling.

There’s not a soul in sight upon my arrival at the top just after noon. And the weather? It’s mild and mostly sunny, in contrast to my last summertime trip to Mount Sterling when a fierce thunderstorm produced a cold, driving rain that was nearly ideal for also producing hypothermia. And today is in greater contrast still to a November volunteer outing several years ago, when not only the tower but also the summit itself featured a thin, treacherous glaze of ice. Ice skates would have been handy … if I had known how to ice skate. 

Although a power-line swath allows views looking east, Sterling’s verdant crown of red spruce requires a climb up the fire tower in order to see the panorama of soft, green mountains unfold. So up I go—six flights and nearly eighty steps—to reach the top of the tower.  (Footnote: Duke Energy is seeking approval to install a solar-panel array to replace the current overhead line that powers park communications equipment atop the mountain. Renewable-energy benefits notwithstanding, the 30-panel micro-grid certainly stands to alter the character of the Sterling summit, just as the tower did in the 1930s.)

As with Shuckstack on the opposite end of the park, the 360-degree views are stunning. With binoculars, I spot the low-slung, octagonal lookout tower on nearby Mount Cammerer, which I plan to visit in October. Prominent to the northwest is the Smokies’ second highest peak, Mount Guyot. But my favorite view is to the southwest, where I see the hulking, 6,155-foot Big Cataloochee Mountain, rising broadly amid a sea of green near the junction of Mount Sterling Ridge and Balsam Mountain. Below me, among the lovely red spruce, I see a couple of mountain-ash trees with their reddish-orange berries adding high-elevation color in September. It’s an exceptional perch, just above 5,900 feet in elevation if one tacks on the tower’s 60-foot height. 

After lunch, I gingerly descend the tower and decide to poke around the Mount Sterling backcountry campsite, which had plenty of business overnight. At a secluded site, I spot a blackened kitchen pot that has perhaps been left intentionally for community use. I then make a more significant decision: to continue hiking away from the Big Creek trailhead, traveling the Mount Sterling, Mount Sterling Ridge, Swallow Fork, and Big Creek Trails back to my car. The loop route will add nearly five miles to my trip, but because I’m departing the campsite about one o’clock I should have plenty of time to close the loop before dark 

I set out on Mount Sterling Trail, passing hitching posts on my left. (By forsaking a return on Baxter Creek Trail, I hike on horse trails the rest of the day.) It’s only about a half-mile to the junction with Mount Sterling Ridge Trail, where I bear right toward Pretty Hollow Gap and Swallow Fork Trail. Just before starting a brief ascent of a small knob, I inadvertently flush several wild turkeys to the left of the path. Soon, I arrive at the gap, where three backpackers have pulled in after climbing from Big Creek. I turn right on Swallow Fork Trail and begin a steady descent, enjoying a brief view through an opening to my left of Low Gap on the Appalachian Trail. The character of the trail changes at the first switchback, when the path turns away from Mount Sterling Ridge and begins dipping deeper into the Swallow Fork drainage. About halfway down, near a rock-hop creek crossing, I meet another solo backpacker. The lanky young man says he began visiting the Smokies with his parents when he was six years old, but has just now started to enjoy the adventures of backpacking. After crossing Swallow Fork on a foot log less than a half hour later, I’m within a mile of Big Creek Trail, which will lead me back to the car in another five miles or so. 

In addition to foliage and undergrowth that were absent along the creek seven months ago, I find the Big Creek route much drier than it was in early February. For example, a concrete ford that I waded through then is now desert dry. And Mouse Creek Falls, which in the winter came crashing off the ridge into Big Creek about two miles from the trailhead, today is just a trickle by comparison. But Midnight Hole, the popular swimming spot a bit farther downstream, still seems plenty deep enough for a cooling plunge.

Soon, I’m back at the parking area, after being on the trail from roughly nine to five on another good day’s work in the Smokies’ backcountry. Although I typically savor solitude on my outings as a way to clear the clutter from my head, today I especially enjoyed the brief encounters I had with several backpackers—mostly 20-somethings who seemed glad to engage in conversation with a graybeard day hiker. Perhaps all of them will be able to enjoy the fresh air and natural beauty of Great Smoky Mountains National Park well into its second century, long after I’ve bowed out.

From Smokies Chronicle: A Year of Hiking in Great Smoky Mountains National Park by Ben Anderson. Reprinted with permission of Blair Publisher. You can purchase a copy of Smokies Chronicle: A Year of Hiking in Great Smoky Mountains National Park at blairpub.com.

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