Roaming the Roan
A moody mountain tale of moss, mushrooms, and a little heartbreak
Roan Mountain has always felt like something out of a fairy tale. I’ve been hiking this trail since I was a kid, and every time I return, it’s like flipping open the cover of a well-loved storybook. One filled with misty magic, mossy carpets, and the kind of quiet that settles deep in your bones.
The trail up Roan has never been particularly bright or sunny—and that’s exactly why I love it. The forest has always been dark and moody, cloaked in dense trees that shut out the world and welcome you into their ancient, whispering shadows. Springs spill across the trail, ferns unfurl like green lace, and mushrooms—so many mushrooms—dot the path like little enchanted houses.
What makes Roan even more special is that it quite literally straddles two worlds. Sitting on the Tennessee–North Carolina state line, Roan Mountain is shared by Tennessee’s Cherokee National Forest on one side and North Carolina’s Pisgah National Forest on the other. You’re walking not just between ecosystems, but between states—crossing a border where wild beauty doesn’t bother with boundaries.
But this last hike was different.
Hurricane Helene had her way with the mountain, and the damage was... haunting. What once was a shaded tunnel of trees now stands cracked wide open. The canopy has been shattered—giants felled into splinters, scattered like matchsticks along the trail. It's tragic, yes, but also strangely beautiful.
With the tall trees gone, the sky has stepped in. Light now filters in where it never did before, illuminating the mossy forest floor in brand new ways. The surrounding mountain ranges—those iconic, blue-gray ridgelines—are suddenly on full display. You can stand among the broken boughs and see for miles.
And the trail itself? It’s become a stream. The springs now run freely down the path, making it more of a muddy creek than a dry dirt trail. Hiking it felt like wading through the aftermath of a storm—and in a way, that’s exactly what I was doing.
Despite the mess, or maybe because of it, there’s a sense of resilience in the air. The decay from the fallen trees is already feeding the loamy undergrowth. The moss is thriving. The ferns are pushing forward. Nature, in her infinite patience, is already rebuilding.
As much as we mourn what’s lost, it’s humbling to witness this raw, natural cycle of destruction and rebirth. Roan Mountain is changing—but she’s still the fairyland of my childhood. Just a little wilder. A little wiser.
If you’re thinking about hiking the Roan, make sure to check the Roan Mountain State Park website for the latest updates. Many trails are still closed due to storm damage, and conditions can be unpredictable.
Also, pro tip: bring layers. The temperature dropped from a humid 89 degrees in the holler to a crisp 62 at the overlook. Nothing like that high-elevation chill to turn a sweaty summer hike into a refreshing mountaintop reset.
I’ll be watching this mountain as she heals—camera in hand, muddy boots on, heart wide open. And next time I go roaming the Roan, I know she’ll be a little different again. That’s the magic of the mountains.
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