Looking Glass Rock

The Joys of Winter Hiking

By: Jayne Fought

When’s the last time you experienced the magic of the forest in the winter?  For me it was last year. Right now, I’m full of anticipation and excitement about the amazing things the forest will show me this winter.  As the days grow shorter and the thermometer starts to plunge, it’s common to feel the desire to hibernate. We get caught up preparing for family gatherings, shopping, attending holiday functions, we warm ourselves in the comfort of our homes, and we find fewer daylight hours to get outside. Resist! 

Seriously, resist! Your mind, body, and spirit need you to get outside throughout the winter months.  First, let’s talk about vitamin D. The human body produces vitamin D as a response to sun exposure. According to Medical News Today, “Vitamin D assists in promoting healthy bones and teeth, supporting immune, brain, and nervous system health, regulating insulin levels, supporting lung function and influencing the expression of genes involved in cancer development.”  Medical professionals are finding that many people are deficient in vitamin D. It is possible to boost your levels by taking supplements, but simply getting a few minutes of sunshine each day is the most efficient way to raise your vitamin D levels.

Getting outside in the winter exercises your spirit of adventure in what can be a sedentary season. There might not be the beautiful “Wow!” of the spring ephemerals, but there are many subtle beauties, indeed.  Once deciduous plants and trees lose their leaves, others, like conifers, enjoy their moment to shine and capture our attention. The Christmas ferns and club mosses demand to be noticed. Rhododendron, mountain laurel, and dog hobble provide a consistent green backdrop that lines the creeks and rivers.  Native holly often stand on their own in silent watch. Even the white bark of the sycamore tree provides contrast to the landscape. The deciduous American beech tree holds onto its light brown leaves until the new leaves of spring push them aside.

Fan Club Moss and Ground Pine carpet the Winter forest in a stunning green color.

Fan Club Moss and Ground Pine carpet the Winter forest in a stunning green color.

Studying the leaves of rhododendrons, known as “living thermometers” can tell us the temperature. At 32 degrees the leaves begin to droop on their stems. The leaves begin to curl like a cigar hanging from the stem when the temps reach the 20s and the leaves curl tightly looking like pencils as the temperatures fall into the teens.

This rhododendron “living thermometer” reads temps in the mid-20s.

This rhododendron “living thermometer” reads temps in the mid-20s.

Water and freezing temperatures combine to create an ever-changing series of icescapes on the creeks and waterfalls.  Early morning ventures reward us with an amazing variety of icicles and ice formations. Some look like stalactites and stalagmites. Freezing fog can create rime ice or hoar frost. Both are quickly destroyed by the rising sun and warming temperatures. Needle ice commonly forms as moisture from the soil freezes as it comes in contact with the air.  

Needle Ice on the Bracken Mountain Trail in Brevard, NC.

In the winter the forest opens up and provides longer-range views. The spaces feel larger and we can see nearby ridgelines, rock faces, and creeks that stayed hidden throughout the summer.  These views can help us get a feel for the topography of the area and help us as we navigate. The trails become less crowded. The winter forest is peaceful, serene and quiet. That’s not only due to the beauty of winter, but the beauty of the off-season. Our forests are ours again.

Finally, a few notes on safety.  Please check road conditions and/or closures before going out. Dress in appropriate layers and carry the 10 essentials.  Use caution on any trail that is covered in snow or ice, and do not venture onto frozen bodies of water. Make yourself visible by wearing hunter orange during any hunting season.  Stay on well-marked trails. Be aware of shortened daylight hours and quickly falling temperatures as daylight fades in the winter months. 

Heart-shaped icecicles at Slick Rock Falls.

Heart-shaped icecicles at Slick Rock Falls.

Lessons From Looking Glass

Lessons from Looking Glass

There’s this relationship I want to talk to you about.  You know the kind. On one hand, you get a little giddy with excitement, and on the other it’s that sweaty-palmed, “I think I’m going to throw up,” kind of feeling. Yes, my husband knows all about this relationship.  He even made the introductions and continues to encourage it. The relationship I’m talking about is my relationship is with Looking Glass Rock.  

We’ve all seen it from a distance as we’ve driven the parkway.  Maybe we’ve pulled off at an overlook to admire the giant granite pluton and its 400-foot walls reflecting in just the right light.  It’s a photographer’s dream. My first intimate experience with Looking Glass was a 6-mile round trip hike to the top as just another tourist in 2014, before moving to Brevard.  The trail was challenging for this flatlander from Northern Indiana, but the view from the top was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. It naturally became one of my favorite hikes.  I felt connected, drawn in, wanting more. It was puppy love. It was easy. 

My next intimate experience with Looking Glass was in July 2015.  By this time, I had been a Brevard resident for a year. I’d hiked many of the trails in the area, started working at Rockbrook Camp, and taught my first backpacking class.  A new opportunity to get a little closer to the rock presented itself. The man I was dating, now my husband, invited me to go climb the first pitch of Sundial, a route on the Nose area of Looking Glass Rock.  I’d been climbing in a gym a couple times 20 years ago, so naturally I said, “Sure!” 

It was very early on a Sunday morning, Clyde and I hiked in and put on our harnesses, helmets, and climbing shoes.  I looked up, put a hand on the cool rock, and started to feel a little nauseous. I belayed him as he climbed up 80 feet to a tiny ledge where he would belay me.  I quickly learned some new climbing terms. One is that the “eyebrows” that give Looking Glass a unique dimpled appearance don’t offer anything good to hold on to. I was visited by the “Spirit of Elvis” as my legs began to shake.  I also experienced the term “gripped,” meaning gripped with fear as I attempted to move through the “crux,” the hardest part of the climb. When I got to the top, I cried - not tears of joy, but of utter relief. Intellectually, I understand that the ropes, harness, and system are safe.  I’m statistically safer climbing that I am driving across town. My heart was still scared.  

As a little girl, I can remember trying to keep up with my two older brothers, climbing trees, silos, barn rafters, and even the roof of our farmhouse.  Every time I was scared. Sometimes I’d get “gripped” with fear and would need help getting down. Now I was reliving that feeling as an adult, but deep down I felt like that scared little girl.  How many times in life are we presented with something challenging, new, and exciting? How many times do we let our fear hold us back? The other day someone said to me, “When something scares the heck out of you, pay attention, and move toward it.”

I’ve done a lot more climbing since that day in the fall of 2015, but there’s still something about Looking Glass Rock that scares the heck out of me.  I’ve climbed the bottom portions of other routes, I’ve done some easy multi-pitch climbs on other rocks, and recently I rappelled 400 feet down off the top of the Nose of the Looking Glass - in the dark.  I love rappelling down. So what is it about climbing up? Do I feel out of control? Is it that I really don’t trust the system of ropes and gear? Do I want to quit when things get hard? Is it that I don’t trust myself? This is definitely a work in progress.  

Whatever you do in life, do something that scares you.  Courage, they say, isn’t the lack of fear; it’s taking action despite fear.  Face each crux in your life boldly and with courage. One of these days, I will climb my entire way up Looking Glass Rock.  One of these days.