Going After Elisha

The year was 1794. French botanist Andre Michaux had just climbed to the top of Grandfather Mountain. He looked around, didn’t see anything higher, and concluded he had reached the highest point in North America. If you’ve been to the top of one of the rocky crags along Grandfather’s ridge, you can understand what Michaux was thinking.

It does look like it could—and should—be the highest thing for many miles around. So, according to the WPA Guide, when Michaux reached the summit and decided he was on the high point on the continent, he “triumphantly sang the Marseillaise.” His spirit and obvious elation are both admirable and contagious—but Andre, of course, was wrong. Wonderful mountain though it is Grandfather isn’t the tallest mountain in North America. It isn’t the tallest mountain east of the Mississippi or even in the Southern Appalachians.

Grandfather isn’t even in the top forty of the highest peaks in the Southern Appalachians. On the other hand, in the first half of the nineteenth century, many Americans—particularly those in the north— believed that New Hampshire’s Mount Washington was the highest mountain east of the Mississippi. At 6,288 feet and high above the tree line, Mount Washington’s summit does certainly look to be a fitting candidate. But some who had seen them thought that the highest peak in the east might be in the Black Mountains northeast of Asheville, North Carolina.

One of these was a professor at the University of North Carolina, Dr. Elisha Mitchell. Elisha Mitchell left his native Connecticut to become a professor at the university in Chapel Hill in 1818 when he was 25 years old. At that time the university had only 92 students and three professors.

Probably of necessity, Mitchell’s interests were many and varied. He taught a variety of subjects at the university from 1818 until his death in 1857. In 1828 he traveled to the west and climbed Grandfather Mountain. At that time he wrote that based on his observations, he suspected the Black Mountains and Roan Mountain were higher than Grandfather.

In 1835, to test his hypothesis, Mitchell paid his first visit to the fishhook-shaped ridge known as the Black Mountains.

I drive up the Blue Ridge Parkway from Asheville, past Craggy Gardens, and I park my car at Balsam Gap, at Milepost 359.8. follow the trail that starts at the Gap northwards along the ridgeline. To the east and far below is the Cane River Valley. Across the valley, and looming vast and dark is a huge ridgeline with several protuberances marking ridgetops. I cross over a high point on the ridge known as Little Butt and finally pass near the highest point on this ridgeline, known as Big Butt.

In 1835 Big Butt was called Yeates Knob. In that year, guided by a local man named William Wilson, Dr. Mitchell climbed Yeates Knob (now Big Butt) and stared (as I’m now staring) at the dark, huge ridge to the east. Mitchell knew the various knobs on that ridge were higher than where he was standing but that it was “a matter of considerable difficulty” to determine which of the knobs was the highest because he was unable “to determine how much of the apparent elevation of one, amongst a number, is due to its nearness, and how much to height.” I see the same knobs and have the same difficulty in judging their respective heights.

To the left, or north, there is Cattail Peak, Balsam Cone, and the Big Tom/ Mt. Craig complex. In the middle is Mount Mitchell. To the south is the Mt.

Gibbes/Clingman’s Peak/Potato Knob complex. They all look about the same height. You just can’t tell which is highest by looking. You gotta go there.

And take your barometer. Although we don’t know for sure, it seems likely that the next day Dr. Mitchell and William Wilson climbed the Mt. Gibbes/ Clingman’s Peak/Potato Knob complex, thinking that it was the highest point—although it is possible that they summited Mt.

Mitchell itself. Dr. Mitchell’s own accounts of this hike are not clear—and are even somewhat inconsistent. Again, confusion is certainly understandable.

Mt. Gibbes is 6,571 feet high. Mt. Mitchell is 6,684 feet.

Not a huge difference for an eyeball comparison—or even for a man with a barometer, which Mitchell had. Whichever mountain Mitchell had climbed, he used his barometer to measure its elevation at 6,476 feet above sea level—higher than Mount Washington. That fall Mitchell first published his conclusion that the highest peak in the eastern United States was in the Black Mountains of North Carolina. The news started to spread.

Mitchell had determined that the Black Mountains had peaks higher than Mount Washington—but had he determined the highest peak? Possibly harboring doubts as to whether he had actually climbed the highest knob in the Black Mountains in 1835, Mitchell returned to the Blacks in 1838 and in 1844. Both times he again climbed the Mt. Gibbes/Clingman’s Peak/Potato Knob complex and took his barometric measurements.

Apparently he was satisfied that he had found and climbed the highest peak—interestingly, the peak in the Mt. Gibbes/Clingman’s Peak/Potato Knob complex now known as Clingman’s Peak (the one that presently has all the antennas on it) was, in Mitchell’s day, known as Mount Mitchell. The future Mount Mitchell, three miles to the north of the former Mount Mitchell, would soon come to be known as Clingman’s Peak. Talk about your irony.

But this is just the beginning. Thomas L. Clingman was a North Carolina native who attended the University of North Carolina and was a student of Dr. Elisha Mitchell.

Clingman was valedictorian of the graduating class of 1832. Clingman soon became a lawyer and shortly afterwards was elected to the state legislature—in later years he would serve in the U.S. House of Representatives and the U.S. Senate.

But on September 8, 1855, Clingman was to be found in the Black Mountains following in Dr. Mitchell’s footsteps. Clingman climbed to the top of Clingman’s Peak (then known as Mount Mitchell as noted above) where he took a barometric reading. He then continued on along the ridge, heading north, until he summited present-day Mount Mitchell where he took another barometric reading.

This reading indicated a pressure .19 inches less than Clingman’s Peak—meaning he was at a higher altitude. Clingman thus became convinced that the present-day Mount Mitchell was actually the highest peak in the Blacks. Clingman also published his measurements and his conclusions. This publication had two results: (1) present-day Mount Mitchell began to be called Clingman’s Peak; and (2) many began to doubt whether Elisha Mitchell had actually summited the highest peak in his 1835, 1838 and 1844 visits to the region.

Dr. Mitchell apparently took offense at Clingman’s claims and in 1856 and 1857 both Mitchell and Clingman published additional articles explaining their positions and attacking the other’s

credibility. It became personal and public—at one point Mitchell accused Clingman of “injustice” and “wickedness.” Yet in one article, Mitchell did admit that it was not until his 1844 trip that he actually climbed the highest point, that is the present-day Mount Mitchell. This admission raised more questions than it answered, however, about what mountains Mitchell had actually climbed in each of his trips. And Clingman still argued Mitchell hadn’t climbed the right mountain even in 1944.

Clingman believed that his own 1855 ascent of the high peak was the first. It was in this context that the 64 year old Dr. Elisha Mitchell left Chapel Hill in the summer of 1857 for yet another sojourn to the Black Mountains—to take more measurements and maybe to clarify in his own mind just what peaks he had actually climbed. On Saturday, 27 June 1857, at about 2:30 p.m., Mitchell left the “Mountain House,” a cabin south of Mt.

Gibbes, and started hiking by himself to the north. No one is certain of his precise purpose but it is believed he intended to walk to certain settlements on the upper stretches of the Cane River where he would spend the night. To get there he would walk along the western side of the Black Mountains and then turn to the west and hike directly down the slope to the Cane River. But Mitchell never showed up at the Cane River cabins.

And Mitchell did not return to the Mountain House on the next Monday as he had informed others that he would. When several more days passed without any sight or sign of Mitchell, two search parties were organized—one led by future North Carolina governor Zebulon Vance and the other led by local guide and bearhunter Big Tom Wilson. The search parties found little in the area south of Mount Mitchell. But on Tuesday, July 7, 1857, in a spot a quarter mile or so to the west or northwest of Mount Mitchell, Big Tom Wilson found a couple of boot prints heading down Little Piney Ridge toward the Cane River Valley.

The tracks led to a creek and then followed the creek downstream. Big Tom Wilson knew the area well. He knew that the stream soon tumbled down a forty foot waterfall. It is reported that Big Tom Wilson suggested to his fellow searchers that they would find Mitchell at the bottom of the falls.

When the searchers reached the falls, Big Tom clambered down to the circular pool at the base of the falls. He first saw Mitchell’s hat and then he found Mitchell’s body submerged in the pool, pinned underneath a large log that must have been swept over the falls. “Here he is. Poor old fellow,” Big Tom called up to his companions. They pulled Mitchell’s body from the cold waters.

In his pocket they found Mitchell’s watch with the hands stopped at the likely time of the fall: 8:19 p.m., Saturday, July 27, 1857. It seems likely that Dr. Mitchell had been in a hurry to get to the Cane River cabins as he headed down the mountain in the gathering darkness on that Saturday night. He knew that the little creek would flow into the Cane River so he could follow the creek to his destination.

But walking in or near the creek’s edge, it was his misfortune to miscalculate or slip and loose his balance and fall into the water too close to the falls. Dr. Mitchell’s body was carried to Asheville and buried there on July 10, 1857. But greater forces were afoot.

Various supporters of Mitchell—and detractors of Clingman—clamored for Mitchell to be buried on the Black Mountains’ high point. The dramatic circumstances of Dr. Mitchell’s death proved compelling and Mitchell’s body was exhumed and reburied in June of 1858 on the very summit of Mount Mitchell—where he still lies today. Maps of the likely route of Dr.

Mitchell’s last hike show him skirting the summits of the Mt. Gibbes/Clingman’s Peak/Potato Knob complex on the western side and then heading down slope to Stepp’s Gap—site of the present-day ranger station. Mitchell then started up the trail to Mount Mitchell—again also passing just below this summit on the western side. Once Mount Craig was directly to his east, Mitchell turned to the west and headed down slope toward the Cane River Valley.

A steep slope leads you down to Mitchell Creek and if you head downstream you’ll soon arrive at the top of Mitchell Falls. Be careful. You will recognize the deep circular pool at the bottom of the falls from the old pictures. Dr.

Elisha Mitchell lost the battle of his last hike but he clearly won the war with Thomas Clingman. With his dramatic death and reburial on the summit of the highest peak, there was little protest when the mountain was officially named Mount Mitchell, and it was soon forgotten that the peak was once known as Clingman’s Peak. Clingman persisted in his explorations, however, and in 1858 he announced that a grand mountain in the Smokies, on the border of

North Carolina and Tennessee, was actually higher than Mount Mitchell. And he was close—and his championing of this mountain was enough to gain him naming rights. But Clingman’s Dome tops out at only 6,643 feet above sea-level—forty-one feet under Mount Mitchell’s triumphant 6,684 standard. Elisha Mitchell remains at the top.

And Dr. Mitchell’s silver-plated pocket watch—still stopped at the time of 8:19—what became of it? You can see the watch on the campus of the University of North Carolina in Chapel Hill in the school’s North Carolina Collection housed in Wilson Library. Postscript: If you make it to the top of Mount Mitchell, to climb the observation tower and visit Elisha Mitchell’s grave, you should also visit an interesting site down a side trail a hundred feet or so below the summit.

Not far down this trail is an expanse of exposed rock that protrudes horizontally toward the trail’s edge—a natural shelter from the elements. This protected spot was a convenient and well-used campsite for those visiting the summit of Mount Mitchell. It went by various names: the “Shelving Rock,” the “Sleeping Rock,” even the “Black Mountain Hotel.” When I visited the site the rangers said it was simply called “Camp Rock.” It was a popular site in the 1850s and after the Civil War, as tourism to the highest point in the east increased. During the War it was used by deserters from the Confederate Army who were hiding from capture by the feared Home Guard.

I’d like to tell you that Dr. Mitchell slept there or at least visited the spot—but I have not discovered any such report or reference in my research. Alas. Still well worth a visit though.

For more details about the Mitchell/Clingman controversy see: • S. Kent Schwarzkopf, A History of Mt. Mitchell and the Black Mountains (N.C. Division of Archives and History, 1985) • Timothy Silver, Mount Mitchell and the Black Mountains (University of North Carolina Press, 2003)