11/29/99:
I thought I'd play it smart this morning and wait for the big buck that's been passing my campsite each morning. So I grabbed a cup of hot chocolate at 7:15am and placed myself along his path where I was sure to get a good picture. I waited half an hour in the cold and of course he didn't show. 4-5 days in a row he comes through, today he doesn't.
It was time to move out of Cades Cove so I went into Gatlinburg for gas and groceries and hopped on Newfound Gap Road that crosses the mountains from Tennessee into North Carolina. They're closing all the campgrounds except for Cades Cove on the Tennessee side and Smokemont on the North Carolina. So of course I'm at Smokemont now.
The first item on my agenda was to find a place to develop the 4 rolls of film I seemed to have used up. After driving all over the place I ended up in Bryson City. It could be as long as a week so that's how long I might be here. Bryson City also has a large post office and that will take care of the other important item on my agenda as I need to get my mail forwarded somewhere. I think my truck insurance is coming due so I have to get that taken care of in a hurry.
What can I say about the drive along Newfound Gap Road. Wow! The lack of foliage did not detract from the view at all. The other roads I've driven in the Smoky Mountains are all laid out along rivers and streams and the bottom of valleys, etc. Newfound Gap Road finally goes up into the mountains out of Tennessee into North Carolina. It seemed the top of the mountain was the state line because the Tennessee side was all up and the North Carolina side was all down.
And we went up and we went up. I guess we peaked somewhere around 4,000 feet. And the views were gorgeous (I'm not using adverbs like spectacular and majestic because I haven't been to the Rockies yet, but they would be appropriate). Looking across deep mountain valleys and hollows with steep forested slopes sliding down to meet them. And mountain ridges behind them, one after another surrounded by a blue haze and big white fluffy clouds for a background. It took me an hour to drive 10 miles or so because I kept pulling over to admire the next view.
The Cherokee Reservation is immediately adjacent to the Great Smoky National Park on the North Carolina side and route 441 leads you out of the park into the town of Cherokee. What a demoralizing place that is. One cheap gaudy store after another claiming to offer authentic Indian crafts and goods (probably imported from Taiwan).
Then I started seeing signs for Harrah's Casino and the place was jammed on this Sunday afternoon.
11-29-99 Bushwacking:
I'm camped along the Oconaluftee River (stream) at an elevation of 2300+feet. I guess the temperature was in the mid-30's again last night; not terribly cold but just a little below my comfort zone.
This morning I did the small self-guided nature trail in the park while waiting to make a 9am phone call. I found out that one of the smaller plants with leaves like a rhododendron are in fact Mountain Laurel, a plant with a pretty white flower in the spring.
The trail sign for the Smokemont Loop Trail is across the road from my campsite so it seemed a reasonable hike to do. The trail map shows it to be almost a 5 mile hike. If I felt good after finishing the hike I was going to start back up the trail the other way.
The trail started out as a well defined dirt road. The road split in a couple of hundred yards. Looking at the trail map, the left branch of the trail was 3.8 miles and the right branch 1.1 miles, so I chose the left.
The road quickly deteriorated and became over run with weeds and some kind of bramble. It was obvious this trail hadn't been groomed for a while. And as I continued along it became worse. The brambles became thicker and thorny vines and burrs became worse. If anyone came through here in shorts and short sleeve shirt they'd be torn apart, to say nothing of the probable ticks and jiggers lurking ready to suck the life blood out of a poor unsuspecting hiker. I constantly had to stop and retie my shoe laces as they were being pulled by the thorns as I passed. This trail was fast becoming the trail to hell!
After a mile or so I finally broke out of that mess only to encounter a lot of downed trees to scramble over, under and around. With all these deadfalls it was starting to dawn on me that maybe, just maybe, this wasn't the Smokemont Loop Trail. But what the hell, I'm an intrepid old soul so I kept going. The trail or path or whatever was still well defined. I figured I'd continue on until lunch time and then turn around and retrace my steps.
I passed several bare patches on the trail. Looking more closely I could see what might be large claw marks in a couple. In one, I saw what might be the paw print of a bear cub. So my conclusion was a female bear (sow) and cub(s) were searching for grubs or worms under the leaves. Works for me. Listen to me. I sound like a regular ol' Dan'l Boone feller.
The downed trees and deadfalls were becoming a bit much. They were slippery to step on, usually too high to step over and if I crawled under them the backpack would get caught on something. Some of them I had to climb up a hill to get around.
I was in the middle of one deadfall and saw where a buck had been scratching its antlers on a still live sapling. The sapling was too small for a bear to use for sharpening its claws so it must have been a buck.
The going kept getting more difficult and around 11am I came to a deadfall that proved to be too much. There were at least 10 downed trees with branches all tangled together with thick patches of those thorny vines. Steep hills were at both the top and bottom of the trees so it would be difficult to go around it. After a feeble attempt to go through it I backed off and called it quits. Yup, guess I am a quitter but I'm just a tired old man looking for a quiet stroll along a peaceful stream or some such garbage. None of that "when the going gets tough, the tough get going" crap here. Besides, I started to realize that for every step I took and for every obstacle I overcame, I'd have to do it again as I retraced my steps and that sucks. Enough with this bushwhacking stuff.
When I got back down near the trail head where the road originally split, I saw, off to the side a little foot path beyond the fork and a sign pointing up the trail saying Smokemont Loop Trail. Sheeeet!
11/30/99 Hiking Smokemont Loop Trail:
Last night was down in the mid-20's and today is forecast to remain in the 40's. I switched to the candle lantern in the tent last night for reading. I know the dangers of flames in the tent so I put the lantern in a large tin cup. I don't know if it heated the tent up any but it was adequate to read by if I held the book near the lantern.
The wind was blowing when I started out again for the Smokemont Trail. Once on the trail, it was as well defined as all other park trails. They don't use blazes on trees and rocks to mark the trail in the Smokies but the trails are so obvious even I can follow them with out getting (too) lost.
Things have dried out somewhat since the hard rains of a couple of days ago. There's much less dampness and the leaves are becoming much more fluffy and crunchy again. The leaves of the ever present rhododendrons were really droopy though, either from the cold or the early morning.
I was prepared for the cold and dampness this morning with a synthetic T-shirt, synthetic long johns, Polartec sweater, Polartec vest, Gortex Jacket, Wool socks and water resistant pants, glove liners and Polartec gloves. And I didn't remove anything until mid-afternoon. My fingers were still cold but everything else was toasty. The sun was shining brightly but not on my side of the mountain.
All the way up the trail I was being taunted with glimpses of great views through the trees. Views of multiple peaks and ranges could be frequently seen. Some of the closer ones were bright and clear while those farther away peeked through the blue haze.
The trail climbed steadily and as I trudged along I imagined myself in Nepal trudging up never ending snow fields as I made an assault on Mt. Everest. A whole line of Sherpa porters would be strung out behind me. The going is tough as I place one foot in front of the other, dig in, test the footing, take a brief rest and draw a deep breath of frigid air into my oxygen starved lungs and then repeat the process again, and again, as I trek ever higher into the mountains. All of this is occurring while a blinding blizzard rages with sub-zero temperatures and a 60mph wind screaming through the mountain tops. The Sherpa porters begin falling by the wayside, one by one, until finally, utterly exhausted, I'm alone on this lonely mountain and ready to yield my spirit up to the snow gods. And then, just as my eyes begin to close and my soul is ready to embrace the final sleep, a yeti (abominable snowman) appears, picks me up and carries me to the warmth…. But that's another story.
The trail finally began to yield some great views through clearing in the trees. I could see a whole series of mountain ranges in the distance engulfed in the blue haze while those closer at hand showed individual trees on their steep slopes.
And then, the rhododendrons and mountain laurel formed a canopy over the trail as it, oh no, started going down and down and down. This trail is supposed to merge into the Bradley Fork Trail. I had been thinking that trail must be really steep to climb in 1.1 miles the same distance as this one did in 3.8. And now this trail is going down to meet the other one. And Clyde's law of physics says that whatever goes down, must come back up again.
When I exited from the tunnel of rhododendrons and mountain laurel there was another great view. This one of steep forested slopes with vertical ribs leading down into a narrow valley (hollow) with patches of evergreen amid the brown of the leafless hardwoods. Many knobs and knolls and ridges and mini-peaks were scattered across the slopes with the sunlight providing great looking shadows and contrasts.
These have probably been among the best views I've seen while hiking. They would be even more spectacular in their spring or autumn colors. Then each view would require a full lunch break to fully enjoy them.
But the trail kept going down and down and I finally realized I would have to give up every foot of altitude I'd worked so hard to gain. Eventually I crossed a small stream on a log bridge where I found the Bradley Fork Trail. A log bench with a nice tree was conveniently placed so I stopped for a break and decide what to do next since it was only 11am. I could take the Bradley Trail back 1.1 miles to the campground. Or I could continue up the Bradley Trail into the unknown. Or I could, gawd forbid, retrace my steps back up the Smokemont Trail. I thought I'd save the Bradley for tomorrow so began the long trudge back up the Smokemont.
This time when I got to each of the views, I stopped for 10-15 minutes so I got to savor all they had to offer, which was a lot.
12/01/99 Hiking Hughes Ridge Trail:
Last night was in the low 20's again. The high for today is supposed to be in the low 40's and it's supposed to be the same for the rest of the week. Brrr! I was toasty last night. I dragged the remains of the wing tarp into the tent, folded it over, layed half on the air mattress, put the sleeping bag on top of that, folded the remaining section over the sleeping bag and then piled 3 blankets on top of that.
The sun was shining brightly on Thomas Ridge and the Sugarland Mountains behind it as I started up the Bradley Fork Trail below the Hughes Ridge around 9am. I reached the trailhead for the Chasteen Creek Trail in a few minutes and turned up it. I was planning a 5 mile trip up and another 5 miles back. Most of my other hikes here in the Smokies have been in the 8 mile range so this one would be a little more ambitious.
The Chasteen Creek Trail appears to be an old logging road that follows along, duh! Chasteen Creek. I came across a really nice cascading waterfall in the early part of the trail and made a mental note to keep a lookout for it on the way back for a picture. A good shot would require a little scrambling and I didn't want to waste any energy I might need later on.
The steeply sloping hills above and below the trail consisted of the usual rhododendrons, mountain laurel, pines and hardwoods. The rush of the nearby creek was constant as I worked my way higher.
The cold started to ease around 10am and feeling started returning to my fingers.
When trees in this area die and fall they're soon entirely covered with a rich green moss. That same moss begins growing at the base of many hardwoods and seems to work its way up the trunk. This probably aids or causes the death of those trees.
Around noon some nice views of neighboring ridges could be seen through the trees. More steeply forested slopes angled sharply downward forming deep V's with other slopes behind them doing the same. I can remember drawing those kind of mountains as a kid, a series of V's forming mountains and valleys, one on top of the other.
I soon found I was reaching a physical stage beyond which I don't like too push myself unless I have to. Close to 3 hours of steady incline, some easy, some moderate had taken their toll on both my legs and my mind and I began taking short 30-60 seconds rests every few minutes. While my hamstrings were aching, there was still a lot of strength in them so I guess the uphill grind was playing more on my mind.
I like to get to a destination before taking a lunch break but found myself looking for a place to fall down short of today's goal. Today I stopped around 12:30, probably a half mile or so short of the Hughes Ridge Trail junction.
A 20 minutes rest, some water and granola bars got the mind ready for the task at hand and I found the trailhead a quarter mile ahead. I saw a trail sign pointing to the right saying Smokemont Campgrounds 7.3 miles. Without much thought I went in that direction; what's another 2 miles going downhill? I didn't pay much attention to a trail sign lying on the ground saying the trail was closed. I had seen a Hughes Ridge Trail sign while on the Bradley Fork Trail and it didn't say anything about a closed trail. I figured at some point in time the trail was closed but was now open. This was a possible hiking option and I thought it would be a good idea to check it out going down rather than blindly trying to hike up it. Bad move!
Going back down the Chasteen Creek Trail would be 5 miles or so. The Hughes Ridge Trail was 7.3 miles. My logic told me since the Hughes trail was longer it would be a more gradual decline. Wrong! The trail was exactly as described, along the ridge, up and down all those little ribs I could probably see from a distance on another ridge.
By the time I decided there were more ups than downs, I was more than a mile into the trail and considered myself past the point of no return. I was more or less following a trail of disturbed leaves and assumed I was following the trail of someone else who had passed this way in the past day or two. Since I agreed where the trail led, I just shuffled along, stirring up the leaves even more, leaving myself a clearer trail should I have to return this way. I just hoped this guy had lots of trail experience. I didn't want to come across a pile of rags and bones in the middle of the trail.
I started to see areas along the trail that were all torn up. Either the hiker had lost something and spent some time searching for it or I've been following a bear and it was stopping to search for grubs and stuff. Then I came across a rotten log that had been pulled apart with chunks scattered all around. I know rotted would contains grubs, larvae, ants, etc. and to me that spelled bear. I started shuffling those leaves a little louder from that point on.
I'd passed over, under and around a few downed trees along and across the trail to this point. Now I started seeing some really huge trees that had been blown over or fell down because of internal rotting. These were so large they couldn't possibly be part of the second growth forest planted after the logging operations in the 30's. These had to be much older than that.
Some of these tree had been down for some time and I began to realize this trail really was closed; hopefully for lack of trail crews and not for some environmental reason. Well, I was several miles into the trail and really had no choice but to go on.
Eventually I estimated I was a couple of miles within the end of the trail when I came to an extremely steep pitch that had me slipping and sliding all the way down. Man am I glad I wasn't trying to climb that section. Soon I started coming across cross roads of old abandoned logging roads with no signs. Which way to go? Never fear! We have a GPS here.
I got it out and determined I wanted to go this way or that and proceeded confidently down the trail. After a while though, I started to wonder about the previously entered position that I was 'going to'. Where did I set that position. I began to suspect it had been set the other day when I was out bushwhacking somewhere along that 'trail'. Oh well. I figured I was a mile or so in the other direction from the campgrounds when I set it so I had an idea of the general heading I wanted to follow.
I was kinda following these blue ribbons I saw tied to branches and trunks along the trail. I thought these might be trees marked for cutting but there was nothing wrong with them. I don't think they were trail makers so I don't know what they were but I just kept following them.
I finally broke out on a dirt road. Cool! That must be the Bradley Fork Trail road so I get the GPS out to see in which direction to turn. It says turn right and I'm 1.3 from my last setting. So off I go to the right. But then I see this little blue sign that says "Posted! No Trespassing". Huh? No Trespassing in a National Forest? Uh Oh! Somehow I've entered the Cherokee Indian Reservation and have no idea where I am or how to get out. I really only have one choice and that's to retrace my steps and follow the road in the other direction, hoping I don't see another sign.
So I head in the other direction, hoping and praying this road doesn't start climbing higher. It doesn't but it does start branching and forking and I stay on what looks like the main road.
Looking down on the sandy roadbed I see lots of tracks in the sand. I'm trying to figure out whether they're a bear cub, bobcat or raccoon when I look up and see 3 mountain goats on the road. I think I'm out west in the Rockies or someplace like that. They spot me and take off down a steep slope (I said they were mountain goats didn't I?) and then I hear one of them's wearing a bell. So I guess maybe they're not mountain goats and I'm still in the Smokies, not the Rockies.
A mile or two farther I see this guy working in a small garden along the road side. I ask him where the hell I am and he confirms I'm on the reservation. He's a Cherokee and lives up the slope a ways and is used to lost hikers knocking on his door at night when they are drawn to his lights and ask for help.
He says the shortest way back to Smokemont is down the slope, up on the ridge and follow it for a half mile or so. Then he offers me a turnip and a ride. I decline both, thank him and head off down the slope, up on the ridge. At least I'm on the right side of the mountain and I know where route 441 through the National Park is. The sun is starting to set behind Thomas Ridge so I know where west is and can figure where north and south are too from that.
Well, I go slippin' and slidin' down that really steep slope covered with leaves. At the bottom is a little tiny spring and I try to follow it rather than try to climb back up to that equally steep ridge. I soon see that I have no choice and begin the 100 yard climb. It's so steep and the leaves are so slippery I can't go straight up but have to go along sideways, first in one direction and then back in the other. After stopping three times to rest on the way, I get to the top, hoping to see something familiar. So much for hope.
I follow the ridge a little ways, sliding down into little valleys and climbing back up the other side and then decide to strike out west for the road. So down I come off the ridge, right into a thicket of rhododendrons. And I mean a thicket. I spend 5 minutes or so pushing and ducking and crawling through it, constantly getting the backpack hooked on something and getting a pretty good cut over the left eyebrow. I take an aspirin every day. That keeps my blood thin so when I get cut I bleed like a hemophiliac.
Eventually I climb down to what appears to be a dry stream bed so I start following it north. Or at least I think it's north. I'm in a deep valley and can no longer see where the sun was setting. In a short time I find a tree that has fallen across the bed and has been sawed to make a passage. Ah Ha! I'm on a trail. But what trail and am I heading towards or away from Smokemont. And it's getting darker and it's getting colder.
And the GPS is acting funny. The distance from the last setting keeps changing as I sit there watching, as does the altitude. I figured I walked past the campground while on the road so north is the direction I want to go. A short distance along I see what appears to be a real trail on the other side of a creek. I cross over and sure enough, it looks real. And there's dried horse sh*t on it. I never thought I'd get all tingly over horse sh*t but things seemed to be looking up.
Except as I followed this trail it went up and up and up. And it's getting darker and it's getting colder. The GPS is seems to be agreeing with me a little now in that the distance to my last setting is narrowing somewhat.
I'm starting to mentally review the contents of my backpack in case I have to spend the night in the Smoky Mountains with the temperature in the low 20's. I have the rain fly from an old tent, lightweight and compact, something called a sportsman's blanket which is a heavy duty brother to those throwaway emergency blankets, a PUR water filter I haven't used in a few years, lots of matches, granola bars, flashlight, batteries, etc. I probably wouldn't build a fire and I would probably be very uncomfortable but I wasn't worried about surviving the night (much).
Soon I come across a trail sign but it's meaningless because none of the trails are mentioned on my map. Great! That's helpful as I continue up and down over these small ridges.
The trail is becoming very dim around 5:15 or so, so I get the GPS out for another look while I can. It's mildly encouraging as it now says I'm 1.3 miles from my location. I have to remember that that is 1.3 miles in a straight line and the trail may well twist and turn for many more miles than that.
I get the flashlight out along with a new pack of Panosonic AA batteries. I haven't seemed to have had good luck with these batteries. I just started seeing them in these southern stores for a buck or so less than the others so I picked up a couple of 4 packs. The ones I've used have gone dead after just a couple hours. So I intend to use the flashlight sparingly.
I come across another meaningless trail sign and then come across one that says Bradley Fork. Hey, I know him! He sounds like an old and dear friend. That's the trail I started out on this morning. So up and down we go some more but with a little more confidence and a little more energy. But the sign didn't give any distance so I have no idea how far ahead it is.
I can see headlights on 441 a quarter mile below me. Should I strike off down the slope and try to reach it? I talked myself out of that one and on and on I go, up and down these damn ridges. And always those nagging question, should I trust this GPS and am I going in the right direction? Maybe the trail signs got turned around and Bradley Fork is really in the other direction. Or what if this trail meets Bradley way up on top of some mountain. But on I trudge.
Finally, way down below me, I see what I take to be lights of the campground. Again I ask, should I strike off down the slope and try to reach it? And again I talk myself out of it and continue down the almost totally dark trail. I'm stumbling over roots and rocks and gawd knows what would happen to me trying to climb down a pitch black slope.
If this trail is going to break out onto the Bradley Fork Trail where I think and hope it will, I know I have to go a mile or so past the campground. The trail is going down but if it starts any kind of serious ascent, I would seriously consider tackling that slope in the dark.
And finally, there it is, the Bradley Fork Trail road. And it looks familiar and I know where I am. Lordy be and ain't I happier than a pig in sh*t?
I walk into camp at 6:45 moving faster than when I left this morning. I guess this goes back to what I was saying earlier. I never like to push myself past maybe 3/4 of what I perceive my physical limits to be. If I know I have some reserves left in there I can push myself a long ways past what I would like to. I've done it many times while sea kayaking and weather conditions have turned against me and it's happened a couple of times while hiking.
Maybe that's why I carry that 10-15 pound backpack around while hiking, to build up strength and stamina so it's there when I need it. I have no one else to rely on so if I can't get myself out of a situation…
I was overheated when I hit camp but the temperature was down in the low-30's already. I made some soup and hot chocolate and enjoyed them in the truck with the heater going full blast. I rigged the bedding up as I had last night and crawled in the sack. Major mistake!
I kept on sweating and the clothes kept on venting that sweat into the sleeping bag. The sleeping bag in turn seemed to vent it through to the tarp and in the morning everything was soaking wet, including me. I should have taken the time last night to, if not wash down, at least dry down and change clothes. I'm lucky and very thankful that I don't appear to have suffered from that experience.
Oh, by the way, those Panosonic batteries went dead after I used them steadily for an hour or so after arriving back in camp. I'll have to find some real batteries before going out again.