Day 16, Fork Ridge to Yellowstone Prong

The low, thick layer of clouds left behind by the storm began to rise within the next hour of our hike. Patches of blue sky appeared above us, and there were brief moments of sunshine. I hoped we could find a spot to dry out our tents because they were soaking wet when we packed them.

Unfortunately, the sun didn’t stay out for long.

The first 2.5 miles of the day took a steady descent on a slope from Mount Hardy (6,110 feet). The mountain was named in honor of Dr. James Freeman Eppes Hardy. He practiced medicine in Asheville for 50 years and promoted the city for the health benefits of mountain air.

Streams that flow from the mountain's north slope are the headwaters of the Pigeon River. We had to cross a couple of them this morning.

On the descent, we followed another old railroad bed used for logging. Besides locomotives that carried logs and the men needed to cut them down, steam-powered engines of other types were used in these mountains. Skidders and winches provided efficient ways to cut and haul timber.

A rusting steel cable that was mostly buried next to the trail was a remnant of this operation.

We stopped to collect water when we arrived at the first of the streams forming the headwaters of the Pigeon River. From there, the trail followed the stream for about a quarter-mile as it continued on a steady descent.

At times, we walked through a thin forest. In other sections, the terrain was mostly covered in brush and shrubs. Even though the lumber company stopped cutting trees here about 100 years ago, no tall trees were growing to restore the forest. We were seeing the severe impact made by heavy logging.

After nearly all trees had been cut in the early 1920s, all that remained were piles of branches and trunks. The discarded forest debris became a waiting source of fuel for wildfires. On the night before Thanksgiving 1925, a fire raced across roughly 25,000 acres of the mountains, burning so intensely that the topsoil became sterilized.

The fire made it nearly impossible for the forest to regrow to its previous mix of Fraser fir and red spruce trees. A second fire hit the mountains in 1942, inflicting more damage to the fragile environment.

Rhododendrons and mountain laurels were flourishing at creek crossings, but again, we saw none of the spruce and fir trees that used to grow here.

We left Middle Prong Wilderness where the trail crossed a paved road. I noticed here more blue patches of sky. Maybe there would be a chance to dry our tents, I hoped.

Starting at the road, the trail climbed for the next 3.5 miles. It went up about 900 feet, with the first mile being the steepest.

We crossed a footbridge at a stream. It could be built here because it was not in the wilderness area, where most man-made structures are prohibited.

The trail ascended a slope of Pisgah Ridge, part of Pisgah National Forest. It was here that we finally found a forest of trees. Their spacing and consistent size looked like they had been planted to help the forest return to its former self.

Later, I learned about the restoration effort. The U.S. Forest Service began planting trees in the 1930s. To raise money for this, the Penny Pines Program was created. Citizens and organizations purchased trees by contributing a penny for each one planted. Much of the planting was done by Civilian Conservation Corps crews.

One group that took up this cause for reforestation was the Daughters of the American Revolution. Members of the North Carolina chapter collected enough pennies in three years to purchase 50,000 red spruce trees, which were planted on 50 acres of these mountain slopes.

D.A.R. members named their plot of trees the Jubilee Memorial Forest and gathered for a dedication ceremony on May 15, 1940. When the women arrived for the ceremony, they became worried about the puny size of the trees.

Forest Supervisor D.J. Morris wrote a letter to soothe their concerns, saying, "Please assure those of your membership who were apprehensive of the success of the venture due to the slow growth of the trees that this is perfectly natural, that everything possible is being done and will continue to be done to maintain the growth, and in time visible spruce forest will occupy the valley at the memorial marker."

A new generation of D.A.R. members returned to the forest in 2016, where they saw the truth of those words. They placed a bronze tablet near Devil's Courthouse, replacing one from 1940 that somehow got lost. It may have been a victim of the shortage of metals during World War II.

The women could see and admire the success of the Penny Pine Program, now a much more tangible forest. Many future generations of D.A.R. members should also be able to view it. Red spruce can live more than 400 years.

We followed a short side trail to a lookout spot at Devil's Courthouse, arriving at about noon. This was an open space built from rocks where people hiking from the Blue Ridge Parkway could enjoy the views. We spread out our gear to dry while we ate lunch.

When some day hikers arrived, we apologized. They didn’t seem to mind, and one person said he hiked the PCT in 2021.

We remained at the Devil's Courthouse lookout spot for more than an hour. That was longer than we should have stayed, given the mileage we were hoping to complete today. Still, the panoramic views were well worth the extra time. From this spot, it was possible to see North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, and Tennessee.

Thankful to have dry gear now, we packed up and resumed our hike at 1:30 p.m.

We didn't get far before seeing more steel cables rusting in the ground near the trail. Besides red spruce and Fraser fir, hemlock, poplar, and American chestnut trees were cut from these mountains and the valleys below. Hardwoods were used in the construction of homes and other buildings, and the rest was used for paper pulp and tannin processing.

There were a couple more spots along Pisgah Ridge where we could view the valley lying south of the trail and the Blue Ridge Parkway.

Then a mile past Devil's Courthouse, the Mountains-to-Sea Trail was joined by the Art Loeb Trail. This was a trail Polecat and I hiked in 2021, shortly after I completed the Pacific Crest Trail. This section wasn't flat, but compared to the long descent and climb we had just completed, it seemed that way.

We began to be concerned about water while in this section. We hadn't crossed any streams since mid-morning. I remembered that Polecat and I found a sinkhole with some water when we were here in 2021. We chose not to collect any then, but now, I was getting low on water. Finding that pool seemed like a good idea.

We didn't find it.

The two trails followed the same footpath a little more than a mile before splitting. The Art Loeb Trail headed up to Black Balsam Knob (6,214 feet). The Mountains-to-Sea Trail took a lower route, which when viewed on the map looked to be less challenging. This was a false assumption.

Logan and I were all smiles when Polecat took a photo of us, but I sensed that Logan was starting to wear down. Polecat was too. We still had more than three miles to go before reaching where we planned to stop.

If this hike hadn't been so tightly planned, we could have agreed to camp at the first spot we found. Unfortunately, we had a schedule to keep, which was needed because there weren't many places where Logan could join us for a weekend. We planned for my wife to pick us up tomorrow and take us to Logan's house where we could resupply. Polecat and I intended to return to the trail the next day.

Looking up to my left, I could see Tennent Mountain. That is where Polecat and I spent a cold and windy night during our Art Loeb Trail hike. The next morning, he slipped on some ice and tore his meniscus. A year and a half later, he's still suffering from that.

Seeing the mountain and remembering that incident made me realize why he sometimes complained about his sore knee.

The day wasn't getting any easier for either one of them. We still had another climb, which thankfully was short, then a 1,100-foot descent in just under two miles. The descent didn't help, because by now, the long miles were the problem.

I wished we could have made a better plan for when Logan joined us. The mileage and difficulty of the trail were becoming too much. Maybe thru-hikes aren't always fun, but a weekend hike is supposed to be. Logan wasn't having any fun right now, and Polecat wasn't either.

By the time we arrived at our campsite, which looked over Yellowstone Prong, I knew some changes needed to be made. I just needed to figure out what those changes would be.

That's when I remembered that a big storm was in the forecast. I checked my weather app and it was still on track to hit the day after tomorrow. Logan would be home by then, but Polecat would be back on the trail. I didn't want to hike in that and I knew Polecat didn't either.

When we sat down for dinner, I told Polecat and Logan I could tell they were not having much fun.

"It seems like we need a change in plans," I said.

Instead of walking all day tomorrow on a trail that may be as difficult as we found today, what if we asked Kim to pick us up tomorrow morning instead of the afternoon? And instead of staying overnight at Logan's, how about Polecat and I go home and regroup later?

No one disagreed with this plan.