Jutting nearly 6,000 feet skyward, it’s a crow’s nest for the more ambitious hikers traipsing the alpine spine of North Carolina’s Grandfather Mountain, a geologic old-timer birthed some 730 million years ago. It’s part of the Southern Appalachian chain that once stood as tall as the Rockies.
Carved by erosion into a craggy, wondrous outcropping of granite supporting 16 distinct ecological communities, including Fraser fir forest and high-elevation red oak forest, Grandfather offers access to 11 trails.
A few paths are fairly easy day hikes, suitable for all ages. But the way to MacRae Peak is quite daunting — at least for me, it is.
And it’s not the highest point on Grandfather. That title belongs to Calloway Peak, with an elevation of 5,946 feet. Mount Mitchell, to the south, is the tallest spot east of the Mississippi River at 6,683 feet above sea level. But the climb is not nearly as adventuresome as the route to Calloway and MacRae.
I’ve traversed Grandfather many times over the past
30 years and only recently decided to push through to Calloway Peak.
A year ago I started my climb on Profile Trail, which approaches Grandfather from the west at the base of the mountain. From the trailhead on Highway 105, the trail starts out easy, crossing the Watauga River before meandering through lush stands of rhododendron and a canopy of hardwoods.
But much of the course is a vertical climb over massive stones and jutting roots. After making it 3 miles to the upper level beyond the tree canopy, rain set in. Low-hung clouds and slick rocks made the rest of the route to join Grandfather Trail, and the climb to Calloway Peak, too treacherous. So I turned back.
My latest attempt in March was cut short by several factors, time and fatigue. With better planning, and a lot more advance training to get my legs in better shape, I will someday conquer that blasted peak.
But this time I came mighty close — all the way to Calloway Gap. My partner and I began the trek from the high-altitude parking lot inside the Grandfather Mountain attraction, which is managed by a private, nonprofit foundation and requires an entry fee of $20 for ages 13 and up, and $18 for seniors ages 60 and above.
The drive alone is worth the admission, although those with vertigo should plan on having a designated driver. It’s a steep, winding climb to the visitor center parking lot, where a 228-foot suspension footbridge allows a pretty spectacular view of the undulating Smokies.
Other amenities include a wildlife habitat — home to black bear, river otters, cougars, bald eagles and white-tailed deer. There’s also a nature museum, restaurant, two gift stores and plenty of picnic sites scattered throughout the 720-acre attraction, which is open every day of the year, weather permitting, with the exception of Thanksgiving Day and Christmas Day.
In my mind, late spring is optimal for hiking, as the temperatures are mild, rain is scant and ice at higher elevations has mostly melted. The trail can be slippery enough without icy patches. A series of hand cables assists hikers through some of the more difficult areas.
A draw for many of the hardier trekkers is the rugged landscape of Grandfather Trail, with sheer cliffs made passable by sturdy, wooden ladders. There are no harnesses, no safety lines — lose your grip and it’s bye-bye.
It’s amazing to see the diversity of climbers — people you might never suspect to be capable of assaulting such a formidable mountain. We passed a trio of senior men — one of whom professed to be 90 — working their way down, canes and walking sticks stabbing at the rocky pathway marked by blue, white or yellow blazes.
They did not make it to the top, but just seeing these guys out on the mountain was a bit of a shock. At 60, I figure I’ve got some pretty good years ahead of me.
Last year there was a lone hiker in her late 20s or early 30s carrying a small child on her back. Not to pass judgment, but WHAT WAS SHE THINKING?
It took every bit of two hours to reach MacRae Peak, and we both were physically exhausted. But scores of young people passed by on their way to Calloway Peak. So we persevered along the upper route that is Grandfather Trail, through the Chute, a rocky, uphill pathway bypassing Attic Window Peak and continuing past Indian House Cave and Alpine Meadow — one of the few spots where overnight camping is allowed, with a permit.
It’s only a half-mile from Calloway Gap to the peak, but progress is slow. With every step you lose your fascination with the surrounding beauty. You curse the rocks. The roots. You’ve labored nearly three hours and the end is still up ahead.
The park closes at 6 p.m. during the spring season, and if we turn back now we’ll make it to the car by 5, maybe.
So we give up on Calloway Peak and start the laborious climb down the mountain. Near the end, legs wobbly and shaking, I’m thankful that we decided to return when we did.
There will be a next time.
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