White Rock Loop

 

I got off work at 11am and decided to check out a place called Buffalo Mountain State Park. Located very close to Johnson City, the park covers a small expanse of forested mountains, minuscule compared to the larger summits of Appalachia but beautiful nonetheless. Though the "peak" of fall foliage had passed, here in the lower elevations there was was still quite a bit of color on display. I followed windy roads towards the park, gazing upon the small, multi-colored mountains the entire way until finally entering the canopy. 

This was five days ago, on November 5th, and the weather that afternoon was absolutely perfect. High 60's, a light breeze, cloud-dotted skies and good visibility. I drove to a fork in the road, turning left to park at the desired trailhead. I had heard of something called the "White Rock Loop" about a week prior and had wanted to check it out ever since. According to the map, the loop would give me a nice sample of most of the park, circling its outer edges and hitting up three popular summits. I pulled into the small dirt lot, put on the parking brake, and then slid out of the car and onto the trail. 

It would seem that most do this hike counter-clockwise, following the trail up a drainage and then turning right to cross a small bridge. But I wanted to see the namesake "White Rock" first, so I'd be doing the loop clockwise, turning left at the bridge and immediately heading up out of the drainage to gain a forested ridge. Along the way, I found myself time and again looking straight up at the canopy. Every step farther down the trail offered a new perspective, a new collection of trees, new colors, new lighting. Some trees still had some green left in their leaves; paired with a bright yellow and afternoon sunlight they appeared like thousands of golden flakes suspended in the sky. Other trees were a mixture of oranges and reds, not as brilliant as the yellows but beautiful in their own, special way. I walked up a few switchbacks, following the trail as it made its way up the ridge, my feet slipping in the crunchy leaves, the trees gently swooshing overhead. All of it made for a rather peaceful walk, and I was enjoying every second of it.

C'mon now, don't take the shortcut!

At one point, I reached a junction with the "Wimp Shortcut." According to the map, this route steeply ascends the ridge, cutting out a large portion of a long switchback. Not wanting to cut the loop, I decided against taking the Wimp route, my decision highly influenced by the desire to see more fall colors. As I rounded the bend of the long switchback, I finally gained the ridge, walking in a forest of orange and red. For whatever reason, this was the most scenic part of the forest I'd seen thus far; had I taken the shortcut, I would've missed it entirely. I probably spent way too much time in this section taking pictures of the leaves, completely losing track of time. It wasn't until I met up with the other end of the Wimp Shortcut that I finally snapped to and continued trucking up to White Rock. 

A break in the trees, White Rock right

I gently gained elevation along the ridge, slowly closing the gap between me and White Rock. There were random moments when there'd be a break in the trees and a view to the east would open up, and I'd go off the trail and see what all there was to see. One of the breaks was quite large, a clearing of lichen-covered rocks with expansive views of the east and a clear view of rest of the ridge. Looking south, down the ridge, I could see another clearing in the trees, a large rock jutting out of the canopy with great authority. I figured that this had to be good ol' White Rock. Five minutes later and I was there, standing on the rock, looking at the best views I had seen all day. 

The view from White Rock

White Rock ended up being a collection of rocks, none of which were white. They were numerous and smooth, well-worn by the countless footsteps of those who've braved the trek to the top. I checked out most every outcropping, each one gifting me with the same spectacular view to the north and east. Much of Johnson City and Elizabethton could be seen, I-26 a small line jutting through patches of orange and green. Holston Ridge popped up in the distance, and far away, rising high above everything else, I could see Roan High Knob and Grassy Ridge Bald. It was neat to see everything from this angle; in fact, climbing a mountain is one of my favorite ways to orient myself with new territory. Each summit (if it has a decent view) offers a new perspective, putting much needed life in all those crazy contour lines on a map. I stayed at White Rock for a good ten minutes, soaking in the view, trying to orient myself as best I could. And then I set off down the trail, heading south, following the trail as it curved away from the ridge. 

Going down...

Random marker

I walked past a collection of radio towers, following the trail as it curved west. I climbed a small hump and then started down, rather steeply, back into the forest proper. The trail was well-marked with numerous signs and rectangular patches of white paint on several trees, and a good thing it was because the entire thing was buried in a blanket of leaves. Evidence of any trail at all could only be seen with careful observation, looking for the slightest indentation in the carpet of dry, crunchy leaves. 

I met some people who were doing the loop counter-clockwise, and travel was much easier afterwards as they had broken a path through the leaves. I continued going down, slipping, sliding, until finally going uphill yet again. At one point I passed a random marker on the side of the trail; why it was placed there I do not know. Not long after that, I reached a fork in the trail. I decided to head left toward "Tip Top," the highest peak in the park. It was only about .3 miles away, and I had plenty of daylight left, so I figured I'd give it a looksie. 

On the way to Tip Top

The way over to Tip Top was as scenic as ever, the trail following a gentle ridge all the way to the summit. The breeze was a tad stronger by this point, and with it came an occasional shower of leaves. I'd stop and watch as the forest rained leaves, all of them different colors, all of them glowing in the afternoon light. I'd never seen anything quite like it; a stupendous sight to see for sure.

Summit of Tip Top

Johnson City, TN

A small hump appeared ahead, the summit of Tip Top no doubt, and I climbed it without haste. On the summit there was a picnic table and a bench, as well as decent views of Unaka Mountain to the southeast and Johnson City to the north. For whatever reason, I enjoyed this spot much more than White Rock. Though White Rock had superior views, the summit of Tip Top felt a little more isolated, offering a glimpse of the rolling hills and mountains of Appalachia, colored red, orange and yellow on this lovely early November afternoon. I spent a long time on the summit, trying to point out landmarks, watching the leaves float in the wind, gazing at the sunlight dancing on the treetops. Reluctantly, I said my goodbyes and headed back to the fork. Once there I continued on the loop, heading down the mountain, taking pictures of the magnificent fall colors whenever the need arose. 

Down, down, down I went, following yet another ridge, descending deeper into the canopy. The downhill never stopped, proving to me that going clockwise is definitely the easier route. I only met two groups heading up, all of them walking at a steady pace, their faces showing the faintest of scowls spurned from the arduous toil physical activity. The trail eventually left the ridge, zig-zagging down into a dry creek bed. I was soon out of the sun and in the realm of shade. The temperature surprisingly got much colder, and I found myself forced to trot down the trail in order to warm myself. 

But the shade was short lived, and I soon found myself back in the sunshine. Eventually, I reached a sign marked "Sunset Point" and decided to check it out. Just off the trail was a bench and a nice view to the west. There were some people hanging around Sunset Point so I didn't stay long, continuing down the trail and nearing the end of the loop. 

View from "Sunset Point"

The last brief pit stop before the completion of the loop was a small little jaunt up to Huckleberry Knob, a tiny, open summit with nice views of the surrounding country. I could see the summit from the trail and decided I might as well head up there and check it out. On the top I found four benches and far superior views than those found at Sunset Point. A bucolic scene was on full display to the west and north of the summit; nothing but rolling hills, little homes, curvy roads, and patches of green grass. I took a few more pictures and then headed back down, almost done with the loop. 

The short path to Huckleberry Knob

There were more people out now, all of them heading uphill. The afternoon was growing long, the sun slowly falling across the sky. It seemed like most people were parked in the upper lot; this is where I would've gone had I made a right at the fork in the road near the entrance to the park. I passed the trail that led down into the upper lot, continuing my downhill walk through the forest back to where I had parked. I crossed the little bridge I'd seen earlier that afternoon, made a left, and completed the loop not much longer after that. The whole thing ended up being about five miles and change, with a fair amount of uphill and downhill—a nice, moderate outing and a great way to pass the time on a sunny November afternoon.