I subscribe to a number of hiking blogs from around the U.S. and even a few outside the country, to vicariously enjoy the adventures of other folks, to get suggestions for hikes if we travel away from home, and to get ideas and inspirations for Woodlands and Waters. In retirement, we’ve certainly cut back on the frequency of our postings, but we’re still getting out and about though we don’t blog about every hike we take.
Previously, we followed a relentless “post every week” schedule, which when combined with our work schedules meant that we’d hike on the weekend, then work on the blog for publication the following Wednesday. We rarely had hikes in the bag for the blog, so we were usually under deadline. Younger more spry outdoors bloggers often have a better strategy – hike now, blog later. As a result, some of them have a backlog of hikes that they document weeks or months afterwards. I offer a virtual tip of the hat to them for their feats of memory in recalling those adventures.
One result of these delayed posts is that as a reader I’d sometimes find myself inside in air-conditioned comfort, sheltering from a sweltering Southern summer, while the author was recalling his or her adventures in breaking trail through mountain snowdrifts, winds howling around summit cairns, being tracked by snow leopards (OK, I made that last one up). As a blogger in the southeastern U.S., this was doubly interesting reading since snow here is relatively sparse, and heavy snow is quite uncommon. Writers based in New England or Canada or the mountain West would discuss exotic gear like microspikes and snowshoes. Of course, for them it’s not exotic — it’s basic equipment for winter hiking.
For us Southern hikers, winter hiking is a different experience. Ruth and I both enjoy winter hiking. The views are often better, the risk of dehydration is lessened, there are fewer people on the trails, and we have clothing sufficient to keep us warm and dry. However, our winter hiking experience rarely includes hiking in the snow, for two reasons: (1) we don’t get much snow, and (2) if we do, there’s no way the roads will be clear enough to drive to the trailhead.
So, when we actually did get in a snowy hike, more or less by accident, I thought it was worth writing about, so I interrupt your spring in the guise of Old Man Winter. On January 15, 2022, parts of the southeastern U.S. had a significant snow event. We ended up with around a foot of snow in our area. Granted, we’re in the North Carolina mountains now so we expected more of the white stuff, but longer-term residents said this was an unusually heavy snowstorm. Turns out, there are these things called snowplows, and they have more than one of them (this would be a revelation to folks in our previous home in north Alabama), so the roads were scraped mostly clear in 2-3 days, though our neighborhood road had icy spots for two weeks afterwards. Even when we could get out of our neighborhood, many local trails in the higher elevations were closed due to snow so we were getting a little stir-crazy.
Twelve days after the snowfall, roads were fine though many trails were still closed. Brevard sits in a relatively low valley, so we thought that a portion of the Eastatoe Trail than runs from U.S. Highway 64 into the Pisgah National Forest would be an easy hike. We thought we might see a little snow, but it would be an easy flat hike along the Davidson River, just to get some fresh air and stretch our legs. Ruth had hiked part of this route in the fall and enjoyed it.
The Eastatoe trail, as a hiking trail, is kind of nebulous. Historically, the Eastatoe Path was a trading path used by the Cherokee linking mountain villages with the Cherokee town of Eastatoe in present-day South Carolina. The Eastatoe trail is a multi-use path with at least one section running indubitably for 0.68 miles in the Pisgah National Forest (PNF). However, its northern terminus is somewhat vague, though some sources state that it continues to a parking lot at the Davidson River Campground, which is also the eastern terminus of the Art Loeb trail. The southern terminus depends on who you ask. Some sources (and the actual trail signage) say the trail ends at Highway 64. However, Conserving Carolina refers to the trail continuing, still named the Eastatoe trail, as part of the city of Brevard greenway. The city of Brevard just calls these greenway segments; the local press and government officials seem to use the terms interchangeably. Frankly, it’s a mess. Descriptions of the trail variously list it as .68 miles, 1.2 miles, 1.68 miles, 5 miles … depends on who you ask. For our purposes, we’re using the definition on the HikeWNC website, which denotes the southern terminus at Highway 64 and the northern one at the Davidson River Campground parking lot.
Like many people, we began the hike at the parking lot of the Lowe’s, at the junction of Ecusta Road and Highway 64. There’s no parking at the actual trailhead. Assuming that you survive the traffic circle that you’ll have to navigate to get to the Lowe’s, your next challenge after parking is to cross Highway 64. Fortunately there’s a pedestrian crossing, so that’s no problem. After crossing Highway 64, we turned right and followed the paved trail a few yards to its end, at which point it became a gravel surface. In about 200 feet we arrived at a kiosk and a trail sign, which I believe marks the actual boundary of the PNF.
As you can see in the photos, 12 days after the snowfall there were still patches of snow on the trail and more substantial accumulations back in the shade of the trees. However, the now-graveled trail was mostly clear. This was to change very soon to a surface of compacted snow, hardened into ice, that completely covered the trail. Ironically, it would have been the perfect surface for microspikes, which I had received as a Christmas gift from Ruth, but I had left them at home, thinking, “Surely 12 days after a snow, the trail will be clear.” However, we weren’t complete maniacs: we both had two hiking poles, and other than a couple of very brief ice skating escapades, footing wasn’t a significant problem. If you don’t count moving at a snail’s pace on level ground as a problem.
This stretch of trail is generally heavily trafficked, and for good reason. It follows the south bank of the Davidson River from Brevard into the PNF, passing the Sycamore Flats Recreational Area and ending at the Davidson River Campground. It’s a wide and level gravel path, so it’s great for kids, dogs, runners, and cyclists. It’s scenic, running next to the river, but does suffer a little in the isolation department as U.S. Highway 276, a main artery through the PNF, runs along the other side of the river. On this particular hike, there weren’t many people on the trail or driving on Highway 276, so that contributed to this being a unique experience.
At about .55 miles from the kiosk, the Art Loeb trail peels off to the southwest. This is a popular long-distance trail in the PNF, running slightly over 30 miles. This National Recreation Trail is named for a local Carolina Mountain Club trail builder, and crosses through many very scenic areas of the Forest. We wanted to keep it simple, so we passed on the opportunity to cross an icy footbridge to go southwest on the Art Loeb trail, and instead continued straight ahead. It’s unclear as to whether the Eastatoe trail terminates at this junction (we didn’t see any signage to that effect), but it’s certain that the white-blazed Art Loeb trail continues northwest on to the Davidson River Campground parking lot. Almost immediately, the trail widened and the ice retreated.
The next segment of the hike was a simple matter of following the wide, open trail, with a couple of excursions for a closer look at the river, until crossing it on a substantial metal bridge about half a mile from the Eastatoe-Art Loeb intersection. A trail continues on the south side of the Davidson River, but signage indicates that the Art Loeb trail crosses at this point.
The final segment of the hike was more of the same — walking along a dirt road for about .25 miles to reach the parking lot at the Davidson River Campground.
From this point, we just retraced our route, going from the dirt, onto the ice sheet, and back onto pavement. Our GPS route started at the Lowe’s parking lot, for a total out-and-back of 3.045 miles.
Though this wasn’t a particularly long or challenging hike, it was a unique experience for us to get a taste of what our western and northern blogging compatriots routinely navigate for a few months of the year. For some of them, this hike is probably the equivalent of their walk down to the mailbox in October, but for these Southern hothouse flowers it was a confidence booster for tackling more challenging winter conditions.
Woodlands and Waters 