Summer Camping At Pilot Mountain, Hanging Rock

Ginger Travis

I thought it was a good plan: Pilot Moun­tain in the spring. The mountain is an icon in northwestern North Carolina. I had always looked at it as I drove by but had never stopped to hike or camp or a spring bird count by kayak there. (The Yadkin River runs through the park.)

The mountain rears up, dramatically alone and steep, 1400 feet above the Piedmont plain. Pilot Mountain is a monadnock. And it is not just some green lump. Its last 200 feet are cliffs: bare gray quartzite walls topped with a shallow dome of trees—a little strange-looking, like the top tier on a wedding cake. But that top is absolutely distinctive. It looks like nothing else in North Carolina and it is visible for miles and miles. Thus it was called by Native Americans “Jomeokee,” the Great Guide.

It likewise became a landmark for Euro­pean settlers traveling south down the Great Wagon Road from Pennsylvania to North Car­olina—and is still a landmark for drivers up and down US Hwy 52.

In the 20th century, the mountain became the symbol of an insurance company, Pilot Life. And also in the 20th, the mountain, through the leadership of local citizens, was bought and protected as a state park. It packs a lot of possibility in its 3,700 acres: hiking, picnicking, rock climbing, horseback trail riding, paddling, car camping and primitive camping, en­joying 50-mile views, and observing nature, especially, in spring, rhododendron blooms and birds. (Ravens and sometimes Peregrine Falcons can be seen here.)

As for my plan, life got in the way. The Yadkin River flooded on the day of the spring bird count. Then I got a tick-borne illness, re­covered, and spent two weeks out of town. Came home to endless rain. Suddenly it was July. Yikes! And then I read that the Pilot Moun­tain campground was mostly closed weekdays till August while they dug up and replaced the sewer line.

Pilot or bust! Plan B was to camp at Hang­ing Rock State Park, about 30 minutes east, and hike at Pilot daily. Never mind the July heat, just go. It was 93 degrees in the Triangle on the day we left home. Also, a complication was Roy-Williams, the black Lab mix, I could not leave at home again. So with one thing and another, the trip turned out a little differently than planned. But we still had fun and learned a few things about camping comfort in the summer.

Day 1: We drove straight to Hanging Rock State Park and set up our tent and tarp at site 64, which I had reserved online. (This was on the lower loop. The entire upper loop of 42 sites had been reserved by LDS church groups comprising 150 teenaged girls and mothers. That group rocked.)

Campsites on the lower loop were plenty large and open, and sat atop a dry ridge where the tree cover was chestnut oak, sourwood and Virginia pine. Although the sites looked a bit worn, the tent pads had been recently rebuilt and were smooth and level. There were no hookups, but the two loops each had a shower house. Ours was clean, and I was deeply grateful for the showers.

Then we drove over for a first look at Pilot Mountain. The 30-minute drive involved many turns over a succession of narrow country roads. Then came a moment when we rounded a bend and . . . there it was, alone, dramatic: Pilot Mountain, the Great Guide. If you have any feelings for mountains, your first view of this one might give you the same thrill it gave me.

We drove to the summit parking area on Pilot’s Little Pinnacle, and with all the other tourists we milled around, read the interpretive signs and looked out across the Yadkin valley, 1400 feet below, to the Blue Ridge front 35 miles away and on into the mountains of Virginia. And then we looked back again at the Yadkin valley, and a thundering mass of darkness and rain was blowing straight to­ward us. Our signal to leave!

Back in camp at Hanging Rock we sat in the shade with our cool drinks and listened to a mellow claw hammer banjo tune beautifully played in another campsite. We ate cold chicken we had cooked at home. At 9 PM it cooled off, said my partner. But by then I was out like a light.

Day 2: Early-morning temperatures were in the high 60s and felt delightful. We were up at 6:30 to savor the coolness and take a little time with our coffee. Then we drove back to Pilot Mountain to hike the short trail circling the base of Big Pinnacle’s cliffs, the Jomeokee Trail. Hugely scenic.

Looking out we saw the same forever-views as the day before. Looking straight up, we saw 200 feet of stacked slabby quartzite. Looking down the steep forested slopes we saw evidence of recent prescribed fires, with shrubs and small trees sprouting like crazy. It was great.

Cathy had stuffed a fabric dog bowl in her pocket; we stopped twice to pour water for Roy. A black dog in the sun is a thirsty dog.

After the short hike, it was hot again and we’d had it. A passel of teenage-girl rock climbers were on cliffs below the parking area with their instructor—more power to them! We sat in the shade of an apple tree on the edge of the parking lot and ate whatever apples we could reach.

In late morning we drove through the country to the south of Pilot Mountain to see the Horne Creek Living Historical Farm (open Tues­day through Saturday) representing farm buildings, crops, and practices from around 1900. There are now-uncommon breeds of farm animals and a heritage apple orchard and demonstrations of things like molasses making.

Unfortunately, because we had Roy (on leash) with us, we could not go in—dogs are a bad mix with livestock. But we enjoyed talking with the young man at the entrance about the busloads of city schoolkids on visits to see where food comes from and how their great-grandparents might have lived.

Back at Hanging Rock in the afternoon we checked out the lake with swim beach, lifeguards and happy shrieking kids. Entrance to the beach is $5 per person, and canoes can be rented for $5 per hour. But no dogs allowed! The lake here was built by Civilian Conserva­tion Corps boys back in the late 1930s. Then they constructed a magnificent stone building out of the local rock to serve as a bathhouse and gathering place. It’s on the National Reg­ister of Historic Places.

Late that afternoon in camp I heard ravens croaking in the distance—a great sound.

Day 3: We got up early, drank our coffee, then walked 0.3 mile from the visitor center down through the woods to the Upper Cas­cade. We sat on a bench in the cool shade of morning and just watched the water sliding over a rock wall. Then I saw, in the ravine bel­ow the cascade, the sun lighting up something intensely lipstick-red.

The more I looked the more lipsticks I saw. These bright red objects on trees were the new seed cones of Fraser Magnolia, a deciduous magnolia species of our mountains. Frasers are kin to the big, beautiful Southern Magnolias of eastern NC. The bright red cones were new to me, a really cool surprise.

And then we walked back to camp, packed up, pulled out our DeLorme map book, and drove all the way home to Orange County on country roads. Not a minute on I-40. Sweet!

So, in the end? We sure hadn’t hiked far. With a dog in tow we hadn’t been able to use the lake at Hanging Rock or chill out in the two parks’ visitor centers. I’d love to go back when the piedmont cools off.  I want to paddle the Yadkin through Pilot Mountain State Park and hike the Grindstone Trail from the campground to the top.

At Hanging Rock I want to hike Cook’s Wall and Moore’s Wall. But I certainly learned a useful thing or two about summer car camping in the North Carolina piedmont. And I think life in camp is always good!

Finding Camping Comfort In The Hot Piedmont