Pilot Mountain State Park’s Seasonal Faces: A Visual Run-Through (& Hike-Through)

Every single time in my life I have opted to go on a run or hike, the experience brightened my day, made me feel accomplished, enlightened me, or brought something good to my day in one way or another. While I am continuously forced to confront the tragic reality that I can’t spend every waking moment foraging, frolicking, or gallivanting through the forest unencumbered by my other responsibilities, I feel liberated knowing that I can bask in the afterglow of these experiences for as long as I can remember them. This past week, basking in the afterglow of the healing magic of Pilot Mountain State Park is much of what I’ve been doing. Whether you visit the park in the absolutely luminous fall season or hike Pilot Knob in the warming winter season, you will not be disappointed with the glorious scenery and incredible natural features.

Running “Grindstone Trail” (Fall – 2023)

Since moving to Winston-Salem, North Carolina from Wisconsin last July, I have felt a bit listless being away from family and friends whose comforts and closeness I grew so accustomed to. Running has been invaluable as an exercise in independence, meditation, and optimism. This past fall, I drove the 40 minutes to Pilot Mountain State Park just before dawn, ready to traverse “Grindstone Trail,” whatever that was (as it turns out, Grindstone Trail does, in fact, live up to its name). I parked in the lot just past the roundabout at the entrance I took into the park and checked the parking lot map like a responsible little runner, then decided to use my free trial of my AllTrails app to navigate the new trail (super helpful, by the way). Finally, I put in my AirPods (with silicone EarBuddyz so they don’t fall out, which I also highly recommend), grabbed my headlight, pushed play on my “Vibin’” playlist, took a swig of water and a few deep breaths, then embarked upon my run, determined to get to the “Pinnacle” – or, as high as you can go without climbing. The route was about 7 miles out-and-back.

Immediately, as I started through the cute wooden fence welcoming me onto the trail, I was skeptically greeted by a few low-hanging tree branches and twisty-turvy, slightly muddy narrow paths. It took me a second to get a feel for it, but I oriented myself relatively quickly and became engulfed in the uniquely astounding environment. There was nothing uninteresting in this place. I trekked along for a few minutes and already had to take a short break, as I was somewhat out of shape. I started to sense that I was indeed summiting something fairly altitudinous, but whether it was technically a mountain or not, I still don’t know or care to know. Labels – who needs ‘em.

My run was littered with breaking points, since this was my first time at this park and there were too many awe-striking views that I had to photograph (and because I wasn’t in shape for this elevation gain – but you gotta get in shape somehow). I carefully followed the trail markers and made mental notes of easily identifiable landmarks in case I got lost. I soon came to a very long hill, seemingly bookended by more tangled forest on one side and a mass of strikingly vertical trees on the other, scattered with rocks that were testing my coordination.

This hill went on forever, it seemed, and I was only greeted by more long hills for quite a while, each leading through a distinctly gorgeous subset of Pilot Mountain’s environment. Nearing the peak (and the somewhat unfortunately touristy parking lot that allowed people to simply drive their cars up to after I had done all this work!), I was gifted with the most captivating start to the setting of the golden sun through the fluttering and crisp fall leaves and gnarled branches. Thankfully, there was a functioning water fountain at the parking lot too, because an ascent like that takes a lot out of me.

I encountered an artist who was painting a most impressive rendition of the natural scene in real time, complete with the auras and feelings of the moment. He was kind enough to let me take his picture while he worked. We chatted briefly. After exchanging both of our most abbreviated ‘stories’ about how we ended up on Pilot Mountain in North Carolina, he emphasized the sentiment that everyone has a unique story. Given the gorgeous surroundings, I thought was a magnificent way of capturing the idea that, no matter our histories, we can end up in the same beautiful place.

I wound my way around “Pilot Knob Trail,” which is a distinct little excursion from the “Grindstone Trail,” but it was definitely the kind of place where a pilot would sit to enjoy the views and feel the enormity of the massive structure of which he was at the helm if the mountain were a plane. Pilot Knob Trail was like the hem of the skirt of cliffs that formed the tallest point of the mountain. The vistas of the tiny farms and roads that went for miles were as miniscule as a model train set, but the halfway-set sun cast a dreamlike glow over the scene that at once forced me to acknowledge my smallness and be utterly content with my place in the world at that moment. A philosopher might even call it an existential moment!

Slightly jarred by the thought of the impending darkness and the 3+ miles I still had to venture back through the winding forest with heavy legs, I made my way back across the touristy parking lot and onto whatever trailhead it was that spit me out before. Before I could get into the ‘zone’ again after being taken aback by such beautiful views, I glimpsed a sign that said “Three Bears Gulley” through the beaming light of the sun. In a nostalgic haze, I couldn’t resist stopping to appreciate yet another incredible view (always seeming more radiant than the last as the sun is setting) at this overlook with a name reminiscent of my brother’s favorite childhood book that my mom would read to us at night. I would go so far as to say that this was the best view of the sunset anyone in North Carolina was going to get on this particular day, and I wasn’t going to waste the opportunity to take it in.

The descent gets a little less idyllic from here (lol). The darkness descended pretty rapidly, as it does when you still have much to accomplish. The relief of the downhill, along with some boppin’ jams, kept me going at a quick pace toward the ‘finish line’ (or finish gate to the lower parking lot, to be more accurate). I was very grateful that I had brought my powerful running headlight to light the way. This is the point at which a fear of the dark can veritably improve athletic performance. I wound my way past some familiar landmarks, and some less familiar landmarks and forks in the trail that slightly worried me until I found more that were familiar again. The sun had now completely set. Nearing what should have been the end of my out-and-back route, I leapt over a few more little creeks and took a few more sharp turns, and then my headlight died completely.

I definitely freaked out for a second, then realized I had my phone. Unfortunately, the battery indicator on my phone was also in the red, and the flashlight feature isn’t necessarily kind to my iPhone’s battery. Maybe I shouldn’t have taken so many photos. Nah. Trying my best to sprint through the forest in the dark, through the most confusing section of trail with the highest frequency of wayward logs and trees, I actually took a wrong turn. Thankfully, I have a decent sense of direction. Still, I didn’t know that I had taken a wrong turn until I was trampling and stumbling on fallen trees. Not only did I stumble on fallen trees, but I sprinted right through a downed tree about six inches in diameter, snapping it in half with my abdomen and momentarily carrying the broken portion while I ran, just barely understanding what was happening, until I chucked it far into the woods like some sort of running lumberjack on steroids. If I hadn’t had enough gratitude instilled in me from the existential moments at the peak, I spent the rest of my run being grateful for not getting impaled.

After traversing tall grass and some concerning drainage ditches and encountering a creepy little maintenance building with a beacon of light emanating from it, I was able to orient myself and return safely to my car in the lower parking lot. I don’t know whether I was breathing sighs of relief as I held onto my car, stretching the back of my legs, or simply recovering from the multitude of physically demanding feats I had just put my body through. Either way, I was back! And I was thankful for the entire experience. I was quickly able to laugh at the unanticipated conclusion of such an otherwise spiritual adventure, and I learned that leaving with a fully charged headlight is vital to exploring the great outdoors at sunset.

~ ~ ~

Hiking Pilot Knob Trail (Winter – February 2024)

My experience hiking at Pilot Mountain was a bit more controlled than my run at the state park, to say the least. Hiking is a very different state of mind with very different (but just as magical) rewards. Returning to this beautiful landmark in the company of a friend during the daytime was healing in its own way. While I struggle with getting outdoors in the winter, hiking Pilot Knob Trail reminded me that some fresh air and breathtaking nature can work miracles to revive one’s sense of enthusiasm and wonder in the colder months. Furthermore, while winter has a bit of a reputation for being ‘bare’, I think the beauty that you can observe comes in large part from the mindset and attitude with which you approach your surroundings. I am working on developing more of a positive relationship with the winter season and hope you will join me.

About six years ago, I did an internship here in North Carolina with Wake Forest Health, and the goal of the internship was to research how pesticides affect the health of Spanish-speaking farmworkers who, to put it simply, are typically overworked, underpaid, and taken advantage of. During this internship, I worked closely with another intern who quickly became a great friend of mine. Since company can vastly define an experience, it was wonderful to be in the company of a great friend for this hike. We were both immersed in the beauty of our surroundings, with a keen eye for intricate details that others might surpass, such as ice formations, rocks, mushrooms, and plants. A mutual appreciation and respect for the surroundings and a genuine engagement with the environment and each other’s state of well-being made this hike all the better. The company surrounding us was friendly and inviting as well, and many hikers greeted us politely while respecting our space. Numerous kids were busy exploring the majestic site, making the most of their endless curious energy. When adventuring outdoors, there is something to pique everyone’s interest.

Pilot Knob Trail was at no loss for natural wonders or endlessly intriguing features. We noticed trees that had been scorched by what we guessed to be a controlled burn, whose nutrients had given rise to gorgeous scales of mushrooms. We were captivated by some ice formations on the ground and in the caverns of the cliffsides. The wintry nakedness of the trees and vines created intricate walkways and arches, and the vibrantly green cold-weather plants stood out in high contrast amongst the backdrops of sandy grays and browns from littered leaves and diverse mineral compositions.

To anyone looking for a spiritually refreshing excursion in North Carolina, I cannot recommend Pilot Mountain enough. It is an incredible landmark that offers absolutely stunning views and endless natural beauty, no matter the season. I hope that this offers some inspiration and motivation to any readers who have been thinking about visiting a new or familiar outdoor site, especially if you are feeling homebound this winter. Happy adventuring, and don’t forget to charge your headlight!