Pinnacle Mountain Fire Tower

Last week, on November 6th, I awoke with a strong desire to see a lookout tower. It had been a while since I'd last been in one, that being the Nordhoff Lookout Tower back in July. In fact, now that I think about it, I haven't really visited that many lookout towers...like at all.  Like, what? C'mon now! What am I doing with my life? Lookout towers are some of the coolest things ever. There's hundreds of thousands of them across the globe. And yet, I've barely seen even a fraction of 'em. Slide Mountain, Hi Mountain, Thorn Point, Buck Rock, Nordhoff, and the Cuyama Lookout Tower just about cover it for me. A measly selection of towers at best. I've gotta do better. 

There's something neat about a lookout tower. The architecture of it all, just a big ol' tower rising out of the ground, a spindly mass of steel and wood standing tall above the land, offering a bird's-eye view to whoever dares the climb. Lucky for me, East Tennessee and North Carolina have a plethora of lookout towers, many of them easy to access. I wanted to see one that required a wee bit of effort, just enough to get the blood pumpin' and lungs suckin'. The one on top of Pinnacle Mountain seemed to offer just that, so I set off on the drive to the trailhead, the skies crispy and clear. 

The trailhead lays off I-26, just outside of Unicoi, TN. I pulled into the dirt lot on the side of the road, a few other vehicles scattered around. I walked over to the restrooms where a map of the area was on display, highlighting the route to the top of the tower in bold color. I studied the route for a second, tightened my shoes, and then started up the trail at a steady pace. 

I had the whole thing to myself for a while, just me and the birds and the lovely fall foliage. Like the day prior at Buffalo Mountain State Park, the colors were absolutely amazing, all of them made better by the light of the mid-morning sun. I once again found myself stopping far too often to take pictures of the wonderful scene that surrounded me. Who woulda known that something as simple as leaves could be so pretty? 

I eventually passed a mile marker in the trail, a small, rectangular wooden object with a basic sketch of a lookout tower etched into its surface. These were a nice touch as they helped gauge my progress up the trail. From my understanding, the route would be nearly 5 miles long, slowly gaining elevation through a dense forest with almost no views until reaching the top. These markers helped me understand that yes, I was making progress. Pretty as the scenery was, it all looked very similar. I was kinda just moseying along though the woods, evidence of my gaining any significant elevation only evident in my legs. It wasn't until I was well past mile marker 2 where I started seeing some views through patches in the trees. I continued along, the weather still nice and clear. 

I passed by an old gentleman, the first person I'd seen all day. "Boy, you walk fast" he said. Dressed casually, sporting a long beard and carrying a big ol' walking stick, the guy looked like he knew these woods well. "I guess so" I said. "Going to the top?" he said to me. "Yep, and I'll see you there." At that he laughed, then replied "I don't think so." We parted ways, I continuing along with a steady gait, he with his easy-going, lackadaisical shuffle. 

It wasn't long after that when I saw two more folks, both of them trail runners. One of them passed me not much longer after I passed the old man, completely leaving me in the dust. The other one was heading back down, running fast, dirt kicking up at his heals. He took one look at me, said "Sup" and then was gone. After that it was back to solitude, back to silence. 

I came to a wide dirt road just past mile marker 3, the whole thing covered in crunchy leaves. There were no signs, no indication of where to go. A truck was parked by a locked gate, the road beyond which I suspected led to the lookout tower. But I didn't wanna walk on no road, so I looked around for the trail. I found one, straight across the road and to the right. The first indication that this was an extremely incorrect choice were the trail markers, which were red. And we all know that red=bad. Just look at Star Wars. The second indication that this was an extremely incorrect choice was that I heard a big ol' rumblin in the distance, an angry engine, the sounds of an off-road vehicle tearin' its way up the trail at breakneck pace. And the third, and most telling, indication was that I was going downhill. Yep. Ain't no lookout tower gonna be downhill. That's just plain silly!

The road

 

The correct trail

So I hightailed it back to the road, looking for another sign. I found it almost immediately; the proper trail was right in front of me the whole time. Just had to go straight and a little to the left. Green diamond-shaped markers identified the trail. And as we all know, green means go...so I went. Just as I was heading down the trail, a guy on a dirt bike drifted around the corner of the incorrect route, flying off the trail and onto the road. He bypassed the gate and kicked it into overdrive as he sped on up the road to the tower, the sound of his engine louder than my thoughts. 

Almost there...

This next part of the trail was definitely the most peaceful; only met one other group who were on their way down. The forest opened up a bit, some pines entered the mix, and I started to see views to the north and west. Tip Top, the summit I had climbed the day prior, could be seen in the distance, a small and unassuming little bump on a heavily forested mound of rolling hills. I followed the trail, gently gaining elevation, one step after the next, gazing up at the tall trees, observing the change in their leaves, watching as some broke free and drifted in the wind. I went up a switchback, then another and then I caught up with another group, two older guys who had never before been to the tower. We reached the top at the same time, each one of us gazing upon the magnificent structure for the very first time. "Wow" said one of the old guys. "Didn't think I'd make it."

This was by far the tallest lookout tower I've ever seen. The thing must've been at least 40ft. The older guys took off their packs and rested a bit, whereas I eagerly climbed the steep, narrow staircase to the top. I remember them being a tad rickety, highly reminiscent of Thorn Point, but perhaps this was a by-product of my imagination. Those things were long and steep and high. Though I'm not afraid of heights, these things definitely gave me a bit of an adrenaline rush, dare I say a bit of vertigo. The mind can play devious tricks on itself. But no matter. I desperately wanted to see the view at the top, so I trucked on up there without breaking stride.

View North(ish)

View East(ish)

A little south, a little west

Up top, I discovered the tower to be completely open to the elements. Perhaps at one time it was a functional fire tower, fitted with walls and windows and a stove and whatnot, but as of right now it's strictly an observation tower. All metal, all open, with a big ol' picture of a compass painted on the ceiling. 

By some miracle, the weather remained perfect. Panoramic views stretched off in every direction, the visibility utterly insane; I was able to see for miles and miles and miles. And the forest that surrounded me didn't even look real, appearing as if some giant had unloaded a can of multicolored spray paint upon the treetops. Deep green and gray in the higher mountains, sharp, fiery orange and red and yellow everywhere else. And to think that the "peak" of these fall colors had already passed, to think what this place looked like then, to imagine a scene even more insane than what I was already witnessing, it was impossible. I probably spent 30 minutes up in that blasted tower, gazing in each direction again and again and again, walking from one side of the tower to the next, trying to fully absorb the scene that lay before me. I've never seen so many trees, an entire forest, look so red. I became entranced by the sublime nature of it all, completely losing track of time. 

And then something flew into my hat and I snapped out of it. And then something flew into my face, and then my shirt, and then my leg. And before I knew it, I was surrounded by hundreds of ladybugs. Red, orange, yellow—they looked just like the fall foliage that lay before me. And they floated in the wind and buzzed around, their goals and aspirations a mystery to me. I brushed them off my clothes, and then they'd come right back, landing on my arm, my foot, my shirt. I couldn't get rid of them. Down below I heard one of the old men laugh "Look at all these damn bugs!" "Sure are a lot of them" replied his friend. They had gathered their stuff and were heading up the stairs.

I met them at the top, we chatted a minute, mostly about the swarm of ladybugs, and then I wished them a good rest of their day and set off down the steep, vertigo-inducing stairs. There were even more ladybugs at the base of the tower; perhaps that's where they had set up base. I didn't stick around to find out. Though nice at first, ladybugs can turn mean at the flip of a switch. Them suckers will bite, and bite hard. Not very ladylike in my opinion; maybe it's just the males that do that. I set off down the trail before they could turn mean, brushing off the remaining hitchhikers as I went. 

I trotted most the rest of the way down, stopping to walk when I darn well felt like it. Didn't see too many people making their way up, didn't see anyone heading back down. Though there were numerous mountain bike tracks, I didn't see a single rider all day long. It was a nice, easygoing, gentle downhill the whole rest of the way, my mind still thinking about the view I'd seen at the top. It replayed in my memory as I crossed the dirt road, as I rounded the turns of the switchbacks, as I exited the trail and started my car and drove on out of there. 

There was a particular mountain to the south, rising high above most everything else, that had caught my interest in particular. Later that evening I discovered that this mountain had a name, and a trail to reach it. I decided, then and there, that I'd climb it in the morning. So I turned in, falling asleep at a fairly reasonable hour, the image of those millions of red, red trees still burned into my mind. It had been an excellent day in the woods, with a superb lookout tower to top it off. I'm sure to visit more in the future.