Days 24-25, Zero Day and Folk Art Center to near CCC Pavilion

The next day, Kim and I dropped our oldest grandson off at school, then drove to the Southern Highland Craft Guild Folk Art Center on the Blue Ridge Parkway. That's where she picked me up on Tuesday, and it's where I would now resume my hike.

The day wasn't going to be as warm as yesterday, but I was glad to see there would be no rain. The sky was partly cloudy when I left the art center parking lot and rejoined the Mountains-to-Sea Trail. A gusty wind made the temperature feel much colder than it was.

The trail seemed flat when I started, though it was gradually gaining elevation for the first 1.5 miles.

This section of the trail followed the Blue Ridge Parkway in a narrow corridor surrounded by Asheville neighborhoods. I passed several residents, some walking dogs and others running.

Other residents of the area I passed were wild turkeys. They crossed the parkway near where the trail also crossed the road.

The gradual climb soon became much steeper. It was a long stretch of the trail that took me high above the eastern side of Asheville.

Extra exertion for the climb made me a little too warm, so I stopped to take off my jacket. That didn't last long, because the higher I went, the more I felt the gusting wind. The sky had also become cloudy, and I was getting colder, so I stopped again to put on the jacket.

The climb wasn't continuous. There were short drops, and there wasn't much wind in these gaps. I didn't need my jacket here, but I didn't stop again to remove it. I knew I'd need it again as soon as the trail resumed the climb.

Initially, I planned to stop for lunch at the site of Rattlesnake Lodge. When I checked the map and saw it was still an hour away, I knew I would be too hungry to wait that long. Instead, I stopped when I found a log to sit on.

I watched a couple of birds dig in the leaves for seeds as I ate my lunch.

At 2 p.m., I reached the spot where Rattlesnake Lodge once stood. All that remained at the site were the foundations of buildings. It had been the summer home of Dr. Chase P. Ambler.

Dr. Ambler ran an Asheville tuberculosis sanitarium. He built the lodge in 1904. The name came from its living room ceiling, which was covered with the skins of 41 rattlesnakes killed on and near the property.

When Dr. Ambler's wife died in 1918, he never returned to his summer home. He sold it in 1920, and it was destroyed by a fire six years later.

The U.S. Government acquired a right-of-way for some of the land in the 1930s to build the Blue Ridge Parkway, and the entire tract was purchased in 1976.

Several people were visiting the site when I arrived. Some were there for a picnic lunch, while others explored the ruins or were hiking in the area. Seeing so many people here made me glad I had stopped for lunch earlier.

I continued past the ruins of the lodge and outbuildings, including a tool shed and a spring house.

The trail led up to a small stream. Nearby was a stack of rocks, which were remnants of the fireplace of a small cabin. This had been part of a building used by workers when the lodge was built, which later served as a guest cabin.

I stopped at the stream to refill my water bottles. The FarOut app's map didn't show water at this location. It said the next water source was about 7/10ths of a mile farther up the trail, but this one was too convenient to pass up.

When I was done collecting and filtering water, I followed the trail through a narrow tunnel of rhododendrons. It wasn't long before I found the water source marked on the map. Getting water there would have been much more difficult, and I was glad I stopped earlier.

I wasn't far beyond the Rattlesnake Lodge site before the trail began to get much more challenging. Not surprisingly, there were only a couple of day hikers who had walked this far.

The climb continued to the top of Rich Knob (4,848 feet), but this wasn't the end of the climbing. From there, the trail began a series of short drops, losing some elevation before climbing again to reclaim it and more.

And the climb wasn't the worst of the route. It began to make many twists and turns, and there were several boulders to step over or around. One required squeezing through a large crack, which seemed a bit gratuitous for the trail to take this path.

Bull Mountain offered the first unobstructed view of the day. From there, I could see the Asheville Watershed Conservation Area, more than 17,000 acres of land protecting the city's water supply.

According to the Conservation Trust for North Carolina, the organization that maintains the conservation easement for the city, the watershed is home to eleven plant species and nine animal species that are listed as endangered, threatened, or significantly rare.

The ups and downs were unrelenting, dropping as much as 150 feet, then climbing another 200 to 300 feet. By 5 p.m., I realized my pace was much slower than I had planned, and I wouldn't reach my goal for the day unless I hiked in the dark. The spot I hoped to reach, which a commenter in FarOut said was surrounded by rhododendrons, would be a nice shelter out of the wind.

I now set a new goal, a pavilion near the Craggy Gardens Visitors Center. This wasn't necessarily where I wanted to sleep, but I hoped to find a stealthy spot in the vicinity.

The trail passed by a picnic area, and I had hoped to find a spigot there to refill my water bottles. Instead, I found a spring nearby, which was good enough.

When I saw a sign pointing to a gazebo, I wondered if this was the pavilion described in the FarOut app.

As soon as I reached the gazebo, I knew it wasn't the pavilion. Still, the view from there was lovely in the late afternoon sun.

Sunset was about 45 minutes away when I arrived, but the temperature was already dropping rapidly. I didn't stay long before continuing up the trail to find the pavilion.

The pavilion was open-sided and large. It was solidly built by a crew of the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s, long before the Blue Ridge Parkway or the Mountains-to-Sea Trail existed in this area. It was in great shape.

With a compacted dirt floor and no walls to protect from the wind, it would not make a satisfactory place to sleep. It was also probably illegal to sleep here, but now, after sunset, I was starting to get desperate to find a spot.

I noticed a side trail leading from the shelter, so I followed it. Less than a tenth of a mile away was a grassy, wide-open space, which was much too windy to pitch a tent. On the edge, however, was a stand of mountain laurel. It took a minute or two to find a spot that was protected and reasonably flat before I set up my tent. Still, it did the job.

As I was pitching my tent, I realized the temperature had already dropped below freezing. Moisture on the tent was starting to form ice, so I shoved my water filter into a pocket.

My last-minute tentsite was above 5,600 feet, which was high enough to get a good cell signal. After settling into my tent, I called Kim to make sure she arrived home safely after leaving Asheville. I would see her again in only two more nights.