Day 23, above Walnut Cove Overlook to Folk Art Center

I didn’t sleep well last night. There was too much noise outside my tent, first from a howling wind that made nearby trees creak and clatter, and then from rain hitting my tent. The rain began to fall at around 3 a.m.

The temperature wasn't nearly as cold this morning as it was the day before. The rain had stopped by the time I woke up, but water droplets continued to fall from trees and pelted my tent. When I crawled outside, a misty fog hovered over the mountain.

I started walking more than 30 minutes earlier than yesterday. The Mountains-to-Sea Trail continued on the footpath of the Shut-in Trail, which I had followed since leaving Buck Spring Lodge.

The trail made a steady descent from the mountain where I had camped. After a series of switchbacks, it passed near Walnut Cove Overlook, a car pull-out on the parkway. About 90 minutes later, I began to see the French Broad River, though it was barely visible through the mist.

The north boundary of the Blue Ridge Parkway along this section of trail was adjacent to Bent Creek Experimental Forest. The trail sometimes crossed from one property to another, but I could never tell which property I was walking on.

The experimental forest is a large federal facility covering nearly 6,000 acres on land that was formerly part of George Vanderbilt's Biltmore Estate. It has been used to study the health and growth of Appalachian forests since 1925.

The trail's descent continued for 3.5 miles, then passed through a gate and entered the grounds of The North Carolina Arboretum. This was a public garden of more than 400 acres, also created from Vanderbilt's former land holdings.

The trail remained inside the arboretum for only a short distance before exiting through another fence gate.

On the other side of the fence was another area of Bent Creek Experimental Forest. This section was called the Buell Plot, and some of the facility's earliest research was conducted here. In 1930, all of the trees in the plot were clear-cut to collect data on hardwood regeneration.

The mist that steadily fell since early this morning was now gradually turning to light rain.

There were no trail signs or blazes to be seen when I reached a side road, which connected to the Blue Ridge Parkway. I knew the trail crossed the French Broad River somewhere near here. Instead of checking the map to confirm which direction I needed to go, however, I started walking on the side road toward the first bridge I saw.

Only when I arrived at the bridge did I realize it was the wrong one. The bridge I needed was up the river, where the Blue Ridge Parkway crossed it.

The rain began to let up as I made my way back to the parkway and crossed the other bridge.

More confusion followed on the other side of the river. I couldn't find where the trail left the road. It took a little searching, but I eventually spotted a short post with a white trail blaze. It was set back a good distance from the road and wasn't in an obvious place to see.

From there, the trail became easy to walk. Though it was becoming muddy, the footpath was smooth and well-maintained through a lovely forest. Most of the time, it remained far enough from the parkway that I could not see or hear cars on the road.

My peaceful stroll was abruptly interrupted about 30 minutes later by a constant roar coming from a deep chasm. The deafening sound came from Interstate Highway 26, about 85 to 90 feet below where I was walking. Added to the traffic noise was an occasional rumble of a low-flying plane on an approach to Asheville's airport.

The trail returned to the parkway to cross the highway on a bridge. Parallel to it was another bridge, which was under construction. The one I was walking across will be removed when the new bridge is completed.

The $14.5 million price tag for the 605-foot-long bridge was part of a larger project to widen the interstate. Planning for the road improvements began in the early 2000s.

Building the new bridge and removing the old one has been a major engineering endeavor. To build it, 76 concrete sections were first precast in Wilmington, then transported across the state and assembled here. Fourteen sections were stacked for two piers, and the rest made up the bridge's superstructure spanning the highway.

When I walked by, I could see that a small middle section was all that remained to be dropped into place and connect the two sides.

Except for where the trail crossed other roads and highways, it followed a forest footpath away from the parkway. In one section, a tall chainlink fence separated parkway land from private homes. Seeing the backs of houses reminded me that I was not deep in a forest but in an urban area.

After passing under Interstate Highway 40 and crossing a bridge over the Swannanoa River, I knew I was getting close to the Folk Art Center. I called to let Kim know I would be there by 4 p.m. She picked me up soon after I arrived.

Today was mostly uneventful. The rain and my brief moments of confusion could hardly be called noteworthy.

The significant moment of the day came later, when I was at our son and daughter-in-law's house to stay the night. That's when I discovered I'd made yet another miscalculation in planning for this hike. Unlike the time Polecat and I got the mileage wrong in the Smokies and had to cut a section, this one was easier to shrug off.

Somehow, I added an extra day to my plan. I saw now that I could reach the end of the trail at Burnsville by Friday, but Kim and I had planned to meet there Saturday. We made a hotel reservation so we wouldn't have to drive home the same day.

I still don't know how I made this scheduling mistake, but it turned out to be a happy one. If I didn't change the hotel reservation, I could take a zero day and remain at our son and daughter-in-law's house in Asheville. When I realized rain was in the forecast for tomorrow, I knew spending the day with our grandkids was the only choice to make.

It was easy to trust my instincts on that decision.