It was late in the day, and nearly dark, as I pulled up to the entrance to Cheaha State Park.  Like the route to Mt. Mitchell, the drive up to Alabama’s highpoint had been quite fun.  There had been no one around, and AL-281 was a pretty good road, with lots of dips and turns.

I was surprised to discover that Cheaha State Park was a cool little place.  There were lots of well-maintained facilities, including a number of condo-style cabins, camping sites, a restaurant, and a gift shop.  Among other activities, visitors to the park could hike, rappel, camp, or pay a visit to the observation tower that marks the highest point in Alabama.

After passing through the unmanned entrance gate, I followed a one-way loop road up past several cabins, and turned left off the road, into a rather large parking area.  On one side of my car, a small picnic area bordered a stand of trees.  On the other was a fenced-off area that housed a pretty serious collection of electrical equipment and large dishes.  Rising out of the enclosure was what looked to be a huge radio tower, complete with interspersed red blinking lights.  Nearby, an interesting stone structure squatted within a well-landscaped network of stone walkways.

As I approached the stone structure, I heard a faint rustle behind me.  I turned, and was startled to see a dozen or so deer staring back at me through the darkness.  At my movement, they turned and trotted off into the trees, and I turned my attention back to the stone structure.  In front of the small tower, a sign read, “Alabama’s Highest Point. Cheaha State Park. Elevation 2407 ft.”

At night, the Cheaha Mountain observation tower looked pretty spooky, like something out of a horror movie.  Two rows of glowing lanterns lit the path up to the structure, which was modeled to resemble a castle turret.  There was a smaller rectangular building adjoining the tower, with a row of darkened windows that added to the ominous nature of the place. 

I entered the tower, and stepped into a small foyer, which was empty except for a bench off to one side.  At the far end of the foyer, a small door led to a staircase that wound upward, eventually reaching an enclosed platform where a coin-operated telescope offered daytime visitors a better view of the surrounding countryside.

After spending less than two minutes at the top of the tower, I heard a noise echo up the steps.  Deciding that the structure was either haunted or otherwise occupied, I exited the tower and took a quick look around to verify that I had reached the true highpoint.  As it turned out, the actual highpoint appeared to be a large boulder that was hidden out of sight behind the observation tower.  For good measure, I stood on the rock for a few seconds before returning to the car and beginning the drive to Britton Hill, Florida, 4.5 hours away.