In September 2024 western North Carolina and extreme eastern Tennessee were hit by Hurricane Helene which severely damaged the area between Asheville and the eastern edge of the Smokies. A few months later most of the roads are still closed, and are expected to stay closed for months to years before they can be rebuilt. The parts of the Smokies farthest from us around Cataloochee and Balsam Mountain are closed, and not expected to open soon. Because they are so far away we rarely visit these parts of the park. But these are some of the park’s most interesting places, in part because of that isolation.
Since
the storm I’ve been remembering some of the trips that Jean and I had made
there. With my renewed interest in mountain biking, two trips stand out; the
Balsam Mountain and Cataloochee loops that are described in my guidebook
“Backroads Bicycling in the Blue Ridge and Smoky Mountains” (Bike Guide). The nuts and bolts
of both rides are included in the book, but some of the experiences I had
riding these routes are left out. For the Balsam Mountain ride it was another,
milder storm that made the ride so memorable.
I
only had about six month to ride all the routes I had proposed to include in
the book, while I was still working full time. With 27 rides that turned out to
be about a ride a week. I tried to alternate two trip weekends with weekends
off to stay on pace. Because of its length, and the lack of a nearby partner,
Balsam Mountain was a rare ride that consumed an entire weekend.
The
loop I planned started at the southern end of the Blue Ridge Parkway in
Cherokee, NC. I’d turn off on the Heintooga Ridge Road into the Smokies. The
road becomes the gravel, one way Balsam Mountain Road, then the two way
Straight Fork Road, before the Big Cove Road in Cherokee leads back to the
start of the BRP. Jean and I recently finished hiking all the trails in the
Smokies (Smokies 900), so I had driven the
loop previously. But on those trips the road was just a means to get somewhere,
not the destination to be savored. I was eager to get to enjoy the parkways and
scenery instead of just motoring along. 
The southern end of the Blue Ridge Parkway.
The
only part of the loop I was unsure about was at the start, but I found a small
pullout just north of the entry sign to the Parkway. This ride dates from the
analog era so I had no GPS or digital camera, only a bike odometer, film camera,
paper map, notebook, and pen. My Olympus pocket camera was loaded with black
and white print film as the book pictures would be printed in black and white. I
also took some pictures at the start with my 35 mm Minolta. I recorded my
mileage and observations in a field notebook carried in a pouch attached to my
fanny pack. I was riding my mountain bike (a hardtail Specialized Stump Jumper)
with a rear rack for my gear. My road bike (a 15 y.o. steel Schwinn Traveler)
would climb better, but my mountain bike would better handle the gravel
sections.
The
initial climb was relentless, 3500’ of almost nonstop climbing in ten miles to
the Lickstone Overlook near where the route splits off of the Blue Ridge
Parkway. Bike guide research is a great way to get in biking shape, so I was
ready for the climbs, and they were good
incentives to linger at the overlooks, I learned that Ball Hootin’ was the
practice of rolling cut timber down a hill to be loaded for rail transport to a
mill, a sure way to make a destructive practice much worse! There were five
tunnels along the way, none too long, but still a potential hazard for bikers.
I passed a short side road to the Barnett Knob Lookout Tower. Normally I enjoy
visiting towers and old tower sites, but the length of this ride gave me no
cushion for extra side trips.
Approaching the Big Witch Tunnel.
To
Big Witch Gap the BRP corridor is now part of Mountains to Sea Trail. From the gap
to Heintooga Road the Parkway can be bypassed on the MST which follows dirt BIA
407 on the Cherokee Reservation, and is generally a short distance north of the
BRP. If I was doing this loop again I would take the dirt road to have less
traffic and less pavement.
The
Lickstone Overlook not only marked the end of the major climbing, but also had
a display outlining the history of the Qualla Indian Reservation. Beyond, I’d
finally get to enjoy some cool high elevation riding after all my climbing.
Entry to Heintooga Road from May 2002.
At
11 miles I turned off the Parkway onto paved Heintooga Rodge Road and headed
north toward GSMNP. I’d soon reach the highpoint of the ride at 5500’ near
Mollie Gap. The Heintooga Road is part of the BRP, and has the same features as
the main parkway, including more great overlooks. One last stout climb led from
Black Camp Gap at 14.5 miles where the Heintooga Ridge Road becomes the Balsam
Mountain Road and enters the Smokies at the Masonic Monument. 
Sign for the Masonic Monument at the entry to the Smokies.
Once
in the Smokies I passed the south end of the Flat Creek Trail, a nice, but
little used route that doesn’t connect with other park trails. Then came the
south end of the infamous Polls Creek Trail, a favorite of horsemen, but
dreaded by hikers. Years of heavy horse traffic over soft soils had carved the
trail bed into a deep muddy trench decorated with horse droppings. In 2003 the
trail was temporarily closed, which eventually became a permanent closure, as
the trail was well beyond hope of repair. Perhaps in the future ambitious off
trail hiking enthusiasts will seek out the now abandoned trail for an exotic
adventure.
The Masonic Monument.
At
19 miles I passed the Balsam Mountain Campground on the left. Its high
elevation and remote location make this one of the most desirable campgrounds
in the park, especially in mid-summer. I noted that water and rest rooms were
available for bikers, and that this would make an ideal layover for someone
stretching the ride out to two days. But I didn’t linger in the campground, as
I now had some concerns about the weather.
Next
up was the north end of the Flat Creek Trail and the Heintooga Picnic area. Here
the fun would begin. The Balsam Mountain Road ahead was dirt, marked with all
sorts of warning signs for unprepared drivers. This was the section I was most
looking forward to riding, 13 exhilarating miles of cushy gravel, deep in the
heart of the park, and all of it gently downhill. This was the kind of ride
people would pay serious shuttle fees to ride. I’d made a 3500’ climb over 20
miles to get here, and now was the time to harvest the fruit of that effort.
Except
for one thing, it began to rain. To be honest, I don’t mind day hiking in the
rain. If rain is not too heavy, it is possible to stay reasonably dry in your
raincoat, and to remain warm and comfy. Taking guidebook notes is hard, because
keeping the map and notebook dry is tricky, but it’s possible. But biking is
another story. On the bike you go faster, the rain penetrates deeper, and you
get colder faster. It’s really tough to keep your maps and notes dry in the
rain and tire spray. Even with the luxury of picking my ride weekends in
advance I still had three rainy rides while scouting for my book. But no others
rain as bad as this one.
This
was no gentle rain. I’d have ridden slowly down the road just because it was
wet, but much of the time it rained so hard my glasses fogged up, and I could
not even see. Instead of enjoying the forest, I concentrated on a narrow window
ahead of my front tire as I splashed along, the scenery beside me just a blur.
I made one note of a mile marker shortly after leaving the PC, but nothing
after that until I jotted down some notes in the refuge of my Corolla. The top part seemed steep, at least down to
the side trail to the Spruce Mountain Campsite. Luckily, I had recorded
mileages on this road on the previous trip we’d taken to help finish off our
Smokies 900 milers, or I would have had to do the climb again to remeasure the
route.
I
stopped to take some pictures where the 1-way Balsam Mountain Road becomes the
2-way Straight Fork Road at the auto ford of Straight Fork at about 33 miles. The
auto ford was replaced by a bridge in 2006.
Straight Fork Auto ford.
There
was still about 4 miles of the paved Straight Fork Road in GSMNP before I
entered the Cherokee Reservation. Here I would just follow the paved Big Cove
Road back to my car. I’m always hesitant to ride in traffic, particularly on
roads where drivers would see few bikers (and particularly in the rain with
reduced visibility). But Big Cove seemed wide, low speed, and safe enough to
include in the book.
It
rained all the back to the car where I dismounted after 48 miles. I’d gotten most
of the data I needed for the guidebook, and experienced the character I needed
for the write-up. I would do a little clean up on the mileages in Cherokee that
November after my Tsali Ride. But the rain had washed away the long scenic
woods cruise that I’d hoped for. Much of our biking after the book was
published in 2003 concentrated on finding suitable mountain biking for Jean, so
I have not ridden the Balsam Mountain loop again. But assuming that the area
recovers from 2024’s Helene, this is still a ride I’d love to repeat.
