Table Rock and Hawksbill Mountain

 

I've been feeling especially lazy as of late. Haven't been spending much time at all in the local wilds. Sneezy winter illnesses and minor physical ailments played their small part, tempting me to lay on the sofa and binge-watch Netflix for hours on end. I succumbed to the temptation with open arms. January has been the month of the couch potato, and I've been the most willing participant. That was, until a couple of days ago.

A big ol' storm is brewin' out west, a storm that most meteorologists are claiming to be one for the history books. Stretching from Texas to New York, this storm is likely to leave chaos and destruction in its wake, with record amounts of ice and snow and maybe a tornado or two. Using my expert analysis and staggering intellect, I was able to deduce that this storm is probably gonna shut things down for a few weeks, so if I was gonna do anything this month, I'd better get to it. Pronto. 

The day to do it was Wednesday, the 21st. I wanted to do something quick and easy, something that required minimal effort but offered big rewards. My mind immediately though of Table Rock Mountain out in North Carolina, a summit I'd seen from the top of Hump Mountain back in December. Several weeks after summiting Hump, on my way to drop Grace off at the airport in Charlotte, we drove right by Table Rock, its pointy summit visible through the bare trees off of Highway 181. I was enamored. Fascinated. It looked even more interesting up close and was just begging to be explored. So that about settled it; I was gonna climb it one day. Doing a little research, I found that it's pretty easy to get to, just a short hike on a nice trail through beautiful country. Alright. It was settled. I was climbing this thing. 

I got a late start, arriving at the trailhead right at 12:30pm. A few other vehicles were parked in the dirt pullout on the side of the road. I started walking on the Table Rock Gap trail, moving along at a brisk pace through the chilly air. The forest here was a mixture of bare deciduous trees, tired and faded pines, and of course, tons of rhododendrons. A slight breeze slithered overhead; everything smelling fresh and clean. I walked on, the trail mostly flat, enjoying the peaceful scenery while I could before things got steep and rocky. 

The trail started heading uphill, and it remained that way for a long while. Switchback after switchback, higher and higher, views started to appear through the leafless trees. Bits and pieces of rock and debris materialized upon the ground, with several roots snaking their way up and down the trail, all of them well-worn by thousands of footsteps. Hawksbill Mountain became visible to the north, a large forested bump jutting out of the landscape. And then came the views of Linville Gorge, a wide, forested valley that stretched off to the northwest. 

Hawksbill Mountain

Linville Gorge

There was a small group of hikers making their way down the trail. They passed me by, wishing me a lovely day. I continued on, deciding to check out a little spur trail to the left that steeply made its way up to Table Rock. I assumed this to be a climbing trail; the route hugged the base of these huge cliffs with excellent climbing opportunities everywhere. I did a little bit of lookin' around, following this crazy path for a ways as it snaked its way around to the east. Once I had my fill, I decided to turn around and head back to the main trail, careful not to trip on the pointy rocks. 

Back on the main trail, I followed it for a little bit until reaching the official junction to the summit of Table Rock. The ground that surrounded me was covered in slick and slippery ice; in fact, much of the trail was in this condition. It wasn't until I was about halfway to the summit when the ice disappeared. I slipped a few times, fell on my hip a few others, but all of it was simple good fun. I carried on, the trees now mostly pines, the views getting better and better with each passing step.

I reached the summit in good time. It looked as if there had been a structure up there at one point, maybe a lookout tower. All that remained was a crumbly stone foundation. I found the USGS marker, dropped my stuff, and then looked around. I had the whole place to myself; not a soul to be seen. To the southwest were staggering views of Linville Gorge. And looking on, rising up in the distance stood Mt. Mitchell and Co, some of the tallest mountains east of the Mississippi. It was crystal-clear that day; the views stretching off into infinity. I took a few pictures and then made my way to the northern part of the summit, following a well-worn path through the low brush. 

Table Rock Summit

The path terminated in rocky cliffs that offered unobstructed views to the north, east, and west. These were by far the best views on the mountain so I lingered for a while, setting up shop on a little ledge. I found another USGS marker glistening in the sun, its existence a mystery to me. Oh well. Can't hurt to have a spare. 

I sat and soaked in the views, picking up landmarks in the distance, putting names on unfamiliar bumps. Off to the northwest could be seen Roan High Knob, Grassy Ridge Bald, Big Yellow Mountain, and of course, Hump Mountain, all of them looking quite cold and uninviting. Directly north rose Hawksbill Mountain, its rocky summit appearing like little dots of gray on a mound of green. And there, off to the northeast, rose Grandfather Mountain and Co, an interesting collection of rocky peaks that I'm sure to visit in the future. Off to the east I could see the mountains Grace and I drove through on our way to Charlotte, following them south as they grew shorter and shorter until disappearing altogether in the southeast. There, for miles and mile and miles, stretched an infinite land of green hills and tiny glimmering things and even tinier columns of smoke rising into the air. Civilization never looked so pitiful.

Northwest, Hump Mtn dead center in the distance

Northeast, Grandfather Mtn center left

East

Southeast

Southwest

These were some of the best views I've seen on an eastern peak; I could see why this is such a popular spot. But there was still one cardinal direction that hadn't revealed much to me, and that of course was the view to the south. So I gathered my things, said goodbye to my ledge, and then made my way back to the main summit. From there I followed another well-worn path that weaved its way through boulders and brush to the south, the pines waving in the breeze. 

This little jaunt to the south was proving to be quite fun, bobbing and weaving through boulders and trees. I followed a ridge of sorts, hopping from one rock to another. The thing kept on going, getting more and more extreme, but there was no need to follow it for very long. I picked out a nice, open spot, sat down, and enjoyed the tremendous views to the south, Lake James visible in the distance. Directly ahead, down the ridge, rose a plateau of sorts covered with several rock formations. This must be the famous Chimneys I'd read about on various trip reports, a land of rugged cliffs and scraggly pines. Standing there from my vantage point, I could tell that this place was definitely worth checking out. But not today. The clock was a tickin', so I reluctantly made my way off the mountain, retracing my steps back to the summit. 

South

Table Rock summit

Back down the trail...

I said goodbye to Table Rock and made my way back down the trail, stopping for a quick detour to check out something called "Devil's Cellar." I followed a path beneath the pines that eventually spit me out on top of a huge crack in the mountain. I was standing on top of a chasm, the cliffs probably 70ft or more in height. On the shady side of the chasm were a collection giant icicles, some nearing 30ft in length. The only other time I'd seen ice like that was up in Billings with Daniel and Liam. Strange to think that icicles like these could be found all the way down in North Carolina. But what do I know. I ain't no local. 

"Devil's Cellar"

I jogged the rest of the way down the trail to the car, my wrists frigid and limp from the cold. I luckily still had some time to kill so I decided to check out Hawksbill Mountain on the drive back. Why not? I'd been looking at it most of the day and it was right there so I might as well see what it had to offer. Plus, I'd read that the route up Hawksbill is short and steep, so it would be a perfect way to end what was turning out to be a pretty good day in the woods. I drove up the dirt road, finding a spot in the pullout by the trailhead. I got out, tightened my shoes, and then began the short jaunt to the summit.

The trail mostly passed through the woods as it made its way up the mountain. It's fairly mellow at first, and then it gets steep and continues to be steep pretty much the rest of the way to the top. I met a couple of hikers making their way down, a young man carrying a huge pack and an older guy with a scented bandana strung around his neck. I walked up and up, following the switchbacks through the woods, careful not to trip on a root or two. I reached a trail junction and turned left, ascending through woods until reaching a flat, open spot. From there I followed a well-worn path north and topped out on the rocky summit in no time. 

A guy was up there with his two pugs, all of them laying on the rocks in the sun just having a jolly good time. Wanting to give them privacy, I ventured a little ways to the north, posting up on some ledges. The views were much of the same that I'd seen on Table Rock. Linville Gorge, Mt. Mitchell, Grandfather Mountain, the whole shebang. I looked around for a bit before heading back to the summit proper, the icy breeze making me wish I'd brought a jacket. 

The Summit

Northwest

Southeast

I stopped and chatted with the guy for a bit, mostly talking about the coming storm. "Heard it's gonna be mostly ice" he said. "Yep" I said. "Seems like it." We wished each other well and I ventured to the southwest, following a rocky ridge of sorts that offered tremendous views of the surrounding country. These were without a doubt the best views I'd seen all day. Table Rock rose in the distance, looking like a stubby thumb jutting out of the mountain. Below was the rest of Linville Gorge, light reflecting off the icy cliffs like miniature suns. The views stretched on forever, the mountains rose and fell, frozen in place like gargantuan waves on a turbulent sea. And the sun slowly etched its way across the sky, falling toward the horizon, illuminating the whole scene with delicate winter lighting. And that got me thinking. Watching a sunrise or sunset on this peak would be absolutely spectacular. I could just tell, you know? It's just one of those peaks. I made a note to come back someday to witness such an event. But for the moment, I simply sat down, rested my head on my hands, and observed. 

Southwest

South, Table Rock left

Cool rock formations

I didn't want to leave. But it was cold up there and the breeze was chillin' me to the bone and I had no jacket and I had to be somewhere that night and I had a long drive ahead of me so I got up, said goodbye, and trucked on out of there. On the way down, by that flat area beneath the summit, I made a super quick detour to the south to see if there was anything to see of note. After poking around for a bit through brush and boulders, I found a nice little overlook of sorts that offered much of the same views that could be seen from the summit. Turning around, I made my way back to the trail, trotting and skipping the rest of the way back to the car. And that about wrapped it up. All that was left was the long drive back home.

I was glad to finally do something after succumbing to sloth for so long. It had been an excellent day in an excellent place, one that I'm sure to visit again in the near future. As for this coming storm, well, it's gonna be interesting. Maybe it'll be awful. Hopefully not. All we can do is just wait and see what it does.