2023-05-14: Taum Sauk Mountain

Missouri: State High Point 23/50. Elevation 1772'. Solo ascent via Mina Sauk Falls Trail. 1.88 mi, 184' elevation gain, 29m RT.

"Till the storm passes over; till the thunder sounds no more; till the clouds roll forever from the sky!"

It was three in the afternoon on my 25th birthday and I was just cresting the summit of Taum Sauk Mountain, the highest point in Missouri. I had just finished a six-hour scenic drive through the Ozarks in northern Arkansas, done in lieu of a hike I had hoped for after summiting Mount Magazine that morning. My first time in Missouri had proven interesting; the highways have letters in them, the signs show town populations, and I had already had to stop twice to let cattle cross the road.

Like many lower-elevation highpoints, Taum Sauk Mountain has a road that goes quite nearly to the summit, with a little path leading to the high point proper. However, beyond that path is a three-mile loop that visits some overlooks and Mina Sauk Falls, a notable waterfall near the summit, providing an experience of what actual untamed Missouri uplands are like. My plan, if at all possible, was to hike this loop, but after the past day and a half I was prepared for anything.

When I arrived at the summit a storm was approaching; I had driven through part of it on the way in, so I knew it was nothing to scoff at. While I considered whether I should run the trail before the storm or try to wait it out, I stopped at an overlook just below the summit on the side of the road which hosted some excellent north-facing views.

Buck Mountain was the most prominent feature from the overlook.

Missouri's highest parts are characterized by low-relief forested rolling hills.

When I got to the trailhead, it was raining lightly, but thunder bellowed overhead, and the skies could open at any moment. I was on the phone with some friends who had called to wish me happy birthday and see how my trip was going; I stayed on the phone with them for some time, hoping that the weather would make up its mind so that I could make up mine. After a few minutes, I decided to rush out and grab the summit, so that even if the weather proved inconducive to hiking, I would still get the high point.

Signage and register at the trailhead.

This granite plaque marks the high point, rather than the more common metal USGS markers.

The top of Taum Sauk Mountain is home to a few benches placed by the Highpointers' Foundation, a small granite marker, and a large boulder. While the marker is at the base of the boulder, the boulder itself is technically the highest natural point in the state. The summit is reachable by flat paved concrete, making it one of the few highpoints with disability access. There was also a summit register, but on my attempt to sign I found the pen provided didn't work, and for once in my life I didn't have a pen on my person. I took my requisite summit pictures and then headed back to the car, planning to wait out the storm.

A view of the summit area, with the plaque, rock, and bench.

The summit area is characterized by young oak forests such as this.

Taum Sauk Mountain MO, elevation 1772'. US State High Point 23/50.

I waited at the trailhead for the better part of half an hour, determined to wait until the storm passed to make my attempt on the full length trail. Missouri wasn't getting away from me without a real, proper hike. However, quite unexpectedly, the storm didn't really seem to move, it just sort of sat on top of the mountain. As four o'clock approached, the latest I could stay on the mountain, I decided against my better judgement to brave the intermittent rain and the excessively close thunder and try for the trail.

Flooding along the trail near the source of the Taum Sauk Creek.

One of several very limited views of surrounding mountains along the trail.

I was surprised to find this prickly pear cactus (Opuntia cespitosa) growing among rocks near the summit. This is one of only two cactus species native to the eastern United States.

I made it nearly a mile down the trail until I came to a spot of open country. The ground here was very swampy, trees were very sparse, and despite this there were still no significant overlooks, and I was still a good distance from the waterfall. Being near the local height of land, and clearly the highest thing around in a treeless field, I wasn't quite comfortable continuing in this section with the constant barrage of thunder directly overhead. Reluctantly, I ran back to the car and headed on towards my next destination.

The best 'view' I got from the hiking trail, seen near the spot I turned around.

Looking out at a more grassy clear area from the edge of the forest.

My final stop for the day was meant to be Garden of the Gods, an extensive and striking rock formation in southern Illinois. According to my phone, this was exactly four hours from the base of Taum Sauk Mountain, and it was almost exactly four o'clock when I left. This gave me an arrival time of eight, just barely too late to really see anything. I knew that if I tried, I could probably shave off enough time to make the visit worthwhile between here and there, but that meant no stops, no dinner, and no rest until I arrived. Taking the philosophy of 'when will I be here again' to heart, I went for it.

Hills along Route 3 in southern Illinois, rising above the flat cornfields more typical of the state.

As I approached the rock garden, I saw tremendous thunderclouds looming overhead, and I raced them all the way to the parking lot. It was 7:45, I had fifteen minutes to explore the rocks, and the thunder was even louder and more imposing here than it had been in Missouri. Nonetheless, I left my car and ran as fast as I could through the formations, promising myself that I would one day return and actually enjoy them properly. For now I just wanted to see them before the anvil-shaped cloud in the distance arrived to ruin my night. Another family was there, all holding umbrellas in anticipation of the rain, standing on the rocks watching the storm approach in true Midwest fashion.

Hicks Dome, the eroded remnants of an ancient volcano, dominates the landscape between two rocks.

Evening fog fills the Grand Pierre Valley over some of the more jagged outcrops.

Windswept features jut out from the hilly forest over a wide ridgeline.

The approaching stormcell looms over the fascinating hoodoo-like formations.

Just as I returned to my car, the floodgates opened up and the rain came down. Prayers of thanks quickly turned to prayers of safety as I endured the worst thunderstorm I've ever been through, all while on the road. The sky was green, the lightning was red, and I learned the hard way that "slight chance of thunderstorms" means something very different in Illinois than it does in New York. There were times I couldn't see the road, times the road was replaced with a river, the whole experience was unlike anything I'd ever seen, much less driven through, in my life. After about an hour, the storm had passed, and I headed to a rest area in southern IN for a much needed rest from a tumultuous yet successful day.