Hiking Mount Pisgah: an Exercise in Cognitive Dissonance

    Mount Pisgah has a rich and varied history. First populated by the Cherokee tribe, the mountains were home to rich primeval forests. In later years, the Pisgah area was used for farming until George Vanderbilt acquired the land in 1888 and used it to start one of the first forestry programs in America. The hike to Mount Pisgah is a quick but steep 1 mile trek that offers amazing views from the top. The trailhead is right off the Blue Ridge Parkway, making this a great stop during a day of exploring. 

Getting There

At the beginning of the trail you will see a sign, nearly encased in lush folliage, that reads:

"This trail leads through Pisgah National Forest to the summit of Mount Pisgah. Named after the biblical mount from which Moses first saw the promised land. This peak affords a panoramic view of Western North Carolina."

    The sentiment seems so poetic at first. I imagine travel-weary settlers looking out over the lush, achingly beautiful blue ridge mountains and feeling that this is their promised land. A place where they can finally stop, make a home, and trust the land to provide for them. As someone who is perpetually seeking the next campsite and trail, this is something I can relate to in a way. The trail is flat and wide during the approach and I drink in the rich Tulip Poplar forest that seems to encase me while I walk. You could say that Pisgah is my promised land too. 

    But then, I remember that Reverend James Hall first referred to this area as Pisgah in the midst of a military campaign to eradicate Cherokee Native Americans, the original inhabitants, from the surrounding mountains. The Cherokee called the mountain Elseetoss. Suddenly, the word Pisgah takes on a different meaning. By naming this mountain Pisgah, Hall wasn't just acknowledging the beauty and abundance of the land, but staking an exclusive claim to it. The idea of Pisgah was not just poetic, but political. 

    I mount the first gentle steps of the ascent and reflect: hiking Mount Pisgah is an exercise in cognitive dissonance. How can the land be so beautiful and yet so bloody? As I climb the winding stone steps, I pass puffy pink Mountain Laurel blossoms floating like lanterns in a sea of green. If I didn't know any better, I would say that this is how I imagine heaven. But beneath the beauty, haphazardly peeking through the edges, lurk some uncomfortable truths. Like the decimated Cherokee villages that were burned in the wake of General Rugherford's campaign, what is now known as his "scorched earth" strategy. I wonder, is it because the land is so uniquely lush and spectacular here that people fought so ferociously to possess it? It seems a cruel kind of irony that such striking beauty would also inspire such striking violence. 

    The steps are steeper now and my lungs suck air in and out in a steady cadence. I wonder what life was like here for the settlers. Was it really a land of milk and honey? Maybe if you were willing to work for it. I remember that most people here had farms and grazed cattle to survive. Bit by bit, the settlers converted the woods to open fields and traded a centuries-old forest for cow pastures. I stop a beat to catch my breath and regard the surrounding slopes through a gap in the foliage. I try to imagine what this landscape might look like without all the trees. Maybe closer to Black Balsam, with its wind riffled fields and sweeping views. It would have been breathtaking, no doubt about it. 

    The unnatural beauty of the mountaintop pastures took their toll, though. Farmers trying to make a living subjected the land to years of back to back grazing and farming. Eventually, the rich soil that was built up by the old forests eroded, more slipping off the mountains with each storm. By 1888, when millionaire George Vanderbilt purchased the land for his estate, the mountaintops were severely degraded. For the first time in remembered history, Pisgah was teetering on the edge between promised land and wasteland. 

    As I climb higher, the thick hardwood forests give way to squat rhododendron and knarled beech trees. It is truly amazing just how many living things are crammed onto this one mountaintop. Below the canopy, there is a thick carpet of ferns and moss interspersed with otherworldly looking mushrooms. I round a corner and a songbird trills at me disdainfully before flying deeper into the forest. I wonder if this is what Vanderbilt imagined when he started his forestry program. After acquiring the struggling pastureland, Vanderbilt enlisted the help of landscaper Frederick Law Olmstead and forester Gifford Pichot to start one of the first sustainably managed forests in the US. They replanted the slopes with White Pine and hardwoods and watched as, bit by bit, the ancient mountain forests resurrected themselves. 

    I tick along up the trail and pass a spray of white wildflowers bursting into bloom. In 1898 Carl  Schenk established the Biltmore forestry school in the valley below Mount Pisgah. The school taught its students, part of the first generation of US foresters, how to harvest trees for profit while also furthering the longterm health of the forest. Over the years, Vanderbilt's Pisgah proved that people could profit from the land and help it to thrive simultaneously. As the forest developed from pine saplings into a flourishing hardwood ecosystem, Pisgah became a blueprint for similar forests across the US. Eventually, the Vanderbilts sold the land to the US Forest Service, ensuring that the area would continue to thrive into the future. 

    Now the last few steps are in view and I bounce up them with that giddy feeling that comes with reaching the top of a mountain. I stand on the wooden observation deck and look around. The view is mostly obscured today because of the Sahara dust cloud that blankets the mountains in opaque smoke. Usually, the top of mount Pisgah affords a panoramic view of sharp green mountains against opal blue sky like a polaroid photo, but today the cell phone tower on top of the mountain is more visible than anything else. Its iron skeleton rises into the sky, providing a jarring reminder of modernity in this world of ancient stones and forests. It's funny how the face of the mountain changes depending on how you look at it. This place is an amalgam of opposites; breathtaking natural beauty and the technology of civilization in the same square foot. Hard history and hope for the future tangled together in an inseparable mass. 

To see more cool places in Pisgah Forest, click here.