Smokies Day 6

For our final hike in the Smoky Mountains we decided to check out a section of the park that was new to us. The Greenbrier area is a quieter part of the park that sees lighter use. Located about 15 minutes east of Gatlinburg and consisting of a single, narrow road that follows the Little Pigeon River into the mountains, the Greenbrier area provides access to a number of quieter trails. Our hike for the day was to the Ramsey Cascades, an impressive waterfall located a couple thousand feet below Mt. Guyot. The trail makes a 4 mile, 2,200 foot climb into the mountains, and dead-ends at the falls. Since it doesn't connect to any other trails or access any campgrounds it sees lighter traffic than many trails.

On the drive to the trailhead we were treated to a show by some whitewater kayakers making the descent down the Little Pigeon. The previous day had brought over an inch of rain turning the creeks and rivers into raging whitewater displays. We had chosen the perfect day for visiting the cascades.

For the first mile and a half of our hike the trail was a wide dirt path that was closer to a road. It climbed moderately and afforded views of the creek along the way. Eventually the trail came to a roundabout, a first for a trail in my experience. Beyond this point the trail quickly narrowed and increased in difficulty. Trees of rhododendron blocked out the daylight, turning the trail into a tunnel. The surface of the trail had turned into moss covered rocks, thick, tangled mounds of tree roots and mud, all of it slick from the previous day's rain. It was slow hiking picking our way up the trail. Eventually the trail arrived at a bridged stream crossing. The park service had constructed a wood beam across the stream with a railing on the lower side. The crossing was a good ten feet over the raging water. Looking down made my toes tingle during the crossing. A second bridge of a similar nature appeared about twenty minutes later.

As the trail climbed into a more open and airy part of the forest I was struck by the giant trees. They were something like Sequoias of the East. Hundreds of feet tall and tens of feet in circumference, these giants blocked out the sun, preventing much of the undergrowth from taking hold. The result was an unusually open forest, something uncommon for the east where most forests have been logged in the last hundred years.

As the trail climbed further and further into the mountains it continued to increase in difficulty. In places it was necessary to use my hands to crawl over large rocks and under downed trees. The trail here was more like something I would expect to find in Maine or Canada.

After what seemed like more than four miles the trail finally spilled out onto large, flat slabs of rock at the base of the falls. Ramsey Cascades exceeded my expectations. Granted, we were seeing them at a high water level. Probably 40-50 feet in height, the falls were really a myriad of shorter drops, slides and chutes. The sun had finally come out, so we relaxed on the rocks and ate granola bars. Mist from the falls made it necessary to wear our rain coats while eating.

The skies cleared completely and the air warmed into the 60's for our return hike, making for a pleasant downhill stroll on a beautiful spring day. Ramsey Cascades is now one of my favorite Smokies hikes.

Sadly, our vacation had drawn to an end. We were lucky enough to experience the mountains in variety of conditions: buried in snow, shrouded in fog, frozen in sheets of ice and bathed in spring sunshine. My respect for the power and majesty of this place has grown considerably. Sad as I am to leave, our next adventure awaits, and the season is just beginning. Happy hiking everyone!

Smokies Days 4 and 5

We made the scenic drive on TN-32 out of Deep Creek, happy to be off our feet for a while. Mary remarked "look, we're going so FAST!" 32 is one of those roads that makes you question the engineers that had the nerve to design a road in this manor. Either that, or praise their competency in crafting a route through the mountains that saved us a trip on the Interstate. Conspicuously lacking guard rails, the road is not only never straight, it is rarely level from side to side. The 35 mph speed limit seems like a joke. Who could handle these hairpin turns any faster?

Eventually the road hooked up with the parkway and we cruised into Gatlinburg. As excited as we were for showers and a comfortable bed, we were dreading the experience of visiting the greatest tourist trap ever created. Gatlinburg has more ways to waste an unwise tourist's money than any place I've been unlucky enough to see. Haunted houses, Ripley's believe it or nots , magic shows, carnival games and freak shows line the streets of this eyesore. At Cosby Knob we had asked two thru-hikers what the oddest thing they had seen in their month on the trail was. After some consideration, they both agreed: Gatlinburg.

We found a reasonably-priced hotel room, and took full advantage of hot showers, scrubbing off the mud that was caked onto our bodies. Gatlinburg does have a couple of restaurants worth braving the sea of tourists. For dinner we hit the Mellow Mushroom. This pizza joint is in my top 5, and also has a huge draft beer selection. In the morning we visited the Pancake Pantry for breakfast. With a line that sometimes wraps around the block, Pancake Pantry is very popular, and for good reason. They specialize in giant plate sized orders of Crepes. We split the raspberry peach Crepes.

Having satisfied our cravings, we eagerly fled Gatlinburg and returned to the National Park. We couldn't quite bring ourselves to strap the backpacks on again so soon, so we elected for a front country campsite. Elkmont campground is run on a first-come, first-served basis this time of year and we had no trouble securing a campsite. We set up our new tent and organized our gear for some day hikes. Our site provided views of both the mountains and a pleasant, babbling stream that fed the Little River.

We decided to take advantage of the proximity of the Little River trailhead and take a pleasant stroll up the Little River trail. Our hike followed the raging creek up-stream for three miles, past countless waterfalls joining the creek from both sides of the ravine. The skies were partly cloudy and the air crisp and cool, probably in the low 50's. There was something very relaxing about not being in a hurry and having time to absorb the tranquility of the forest. A few brave wildflowers were beginning to appear on the hillsides, proof that spring was actually coming.

We ate our lunch on a couple of large rocks on the riverbank, doing our best to ignore the family that decided the best way they could enjoy nature was to lob rocks into the creek.

After our hike we heated up some dehydrated Mac and cheese for dinner. The campground was less than half-full and a laid-back atmosphere permeated the place. Obviously the type of folks camping in this cold spring weather are more likely to be mellow, seeking a quiet experience in nature.

We crawled into our down sleeping bags and opened our books. Mary quipped that I looked like a happy caterpillar in my sleeping bag. Funny as the comment was, it was a true. I couldn't imagine a more comfortable place in the world. The quiet of the woods was only broken by the soft music from our neighbor's campsite: Mumford and Sons, Avette Brothers, The Civil Wars - good taste!

Shortly before we turned off our headlamps the call of a barred owl sounded through the campground. It was quickly answered from across the river, and for the next few minutes we were treated to a cacophony of hoots and howls. It sounded like they were having a party in the woods.

In the morning we slept in, avoiding the cold morning air in favor of our warm sleeping bags. When we finally crawled out of the tent we were greeted by blue skies, warming sunshine and birdsong. We cooked up some oatmeal and coffee while planning our day. We elected for the Abrams Falls trail. I had avoided this hike due to its popularity, but now seemed like a good time to try it out. The trails in higher elevations would be an absolute mess with all of that snow melt, and any trail with a noteworthy stream crossing would be out.

The hike was beautiful, but beyond crowded. In multiple places we had to stop and wait for the traffic jam in front of us to clear to proceed. The trail followed beautiful Abrams Creek for 2.5 miles, occasionally climbing a few hundred feet above the water, offering views of the low ridges west of Cades Cove. The falls themselves were impressive. A single drop of probably 20 feet, Abrams Falls carried a high volume of water, providing for an impressive water show. A sign on the riverbank warned that there have been five deaths in the falls. We ate our lunch by the falls before making the return hike.

After arriving back at the trailhead we drove back into town to a convenience store for some cold beverages and a bag of potato chips. We enjoyed hot soup with our chips and beer at our campsite. Jealous of our neighbors campfire, we decided to splurge on a bundle of wood from the camp store. The wood was dry and burned quickly, offering a chance to warm up before we hopped into our sleeping bags. Just as the fire was burning out Mary spotted a bird gliding silently beneath the trees in the campground. One of the Barred Owls we had heard the night before landed in a tree near us. I always feel thrilled when I'm lucky enough to see these mysterious creatures in the wild. The owls would continue to talk throughout the night.
We returned to our sleeping bags and our books ready for another quiet night in the forest.

Smokies Day 3

Our second night at the Cosby Knob shelter was spent with a large, raucous group of young AT thru-hikers. Mary was the only female hiker for the night. When that much testosterone congregates in one place, particularly when that place is a cold, dank shelter in the woods, there is a propensity for hilarity and a bit of vulgarity. We were well entertained throughout the stay with the stories, jokes and antics of the thru-hikers. All of them had just come through the snowed-in high country during one of the worst spring snow storms in memory. Not one of them had a dry piece of clothing or gear left.

We had barely crawled into our sleeping bags before rain and gusts of wind began to pound on the shelter. I was relieved to be in a shelter in these conditions.

In the morning we were greeted by bright sunshine and bluebird skies. Most of the snow had melted during the night leaving behind a much more welcoming environment than the one we had gone to sleep in. We lazed around the shelter enjoying multiple cups of coffee while listening to the tales of the thru-hikers. We had decided to hike back to Big Creek and our Jeep. The rugged hiking across the snow-covered terrain in soggy boots had beaten me up more than I expected. My feet were sore and threatening to blister, and my pack had started to leave welts where it was rubbing on my hips.

The hike back down to Big Creek was more spectacular than on the way up. The heavy rain during the night and the snow melt above had brought every stream and creek overflowing its banks. The Smokies are a temperate rain forest, and it was easy to see why on this day. Water seemed to leap down the mountainside in all directions. The show became even more impressive at Walnut Bottoms. Big Creek had turned into a raging whitewater show.

Mary and I are beginning level white water kayakers, having taken a couple of classes. We were in the process of evaluating the possible lines for running the myriad of rapids when we passed three kayakers getting ready to launch from the riverbank. Watching these kayakers run the raging river was a real treat. All three of them flipped after the first big drop and nailed their rolls right away. They were obviously very good.

We reached the trailhead just as the skies began to turn gray and sprinkles started to fall. We threw the packs in the back if the Jeep and headed for a hotel. We'll take a night off in civilization before heading back into the park. This backcountry trip was unlike any other I've taken.

Smokies Day 2

Last night was a long, cold night of tossing and turning, although our winter bags kept us warm enough. Heavy rain pounded the tin roof of the shelter for several hours. The thru-hikers staying there were up and at it early, so we had the shelter to ourselves for breakfast. The skies cleared up a bit by the time we started hiking.

The hike started innocently enough. The trail climbed up to Ross Notch, which afforded spectacular 360 degree views. The mountains stretched endlessly in every direction, with patches of thick, white cloud drifting over the landscape. The surrounding hillsides had patchy snow lingering, but the trail was only muddy so far. After the Knob we dropped down to Camel Notch and a trail junction. We stopped for our first break here. Several AT hikers passed by while we rested. They all had dire news about what lay ahead: A raging river of liquid ice crashing right down the trail. Several of them mentioned that they were afraid they were going to lose toes in the process. One lady from New Hampshire said it was the coldest water she had ever felt. With each comment I could see Mary give me that raised-eyebrow look. Still, I wanted to press on.

The trail climbed steadily, and the further we went, the deeper the snow was we were climbing through. I think I would have preferred cold, frozen snow to the quickly melting muck we were in. It was impossible to keep our boots from getting soaked. As we approached 6,000 feet of elevation the views became truly spectacular. We had unbroken views to the East to the Mount Sterling Ridge. Mostly covered in white, it looked like something out of our ski trips to the East.

We took our lunch break before Mount Guyot. While we ate we listened to more horror stories from northbound hikers about the knee-deep ice water covering the trail ahead. All the while thick clouds of mist seemed to close in around the ridge. It was at this moment that I began to grasp the severity of our situation. We were cold and tired, sitting in deep snow, preparing to climb several hundred more feet before reaching our next shelter, which promised to be cold and snowed-in. As I finished my peanut butter wrap I realized suddenly that I was trembling from the cold. The idea of climbing higher in the suddenly chilling air was pretty unappealing. Mary was relieved to hear me suggest cutting our losses and returning the way we came.

We hiked quickly, eager for our body heat to kick in. The trail descended rapidly , and the air warmed as we walked. It seemed like just as the panic over the cold was subsiding, it began to rain. Big, hard drops of rain pelted us for the next two hours as we scurried towards Cosby Knob and a dry place to sleep. The rain aligned with the melting snow to turn the trail into a river. I've done a lot of hiking, and I don't think I've ever been so cold and miserable as I was today.

We reached the shelter and were elated to find there still was room for us. We got changed into dry clothes, had some hot soup and coffee and crawled into our sleeping bags, relieved the ordeal of the day had ended.

We're not sure what our next destination will be, but I'm certain it will avoid the cold and snowy higher elevations of the park for now. I had a coworker who once said "sometimes discretion is the better part of valor." I'm confident we made the wise choice today in getting out of the high country when we did. There is still plenty of park to explore!

Smokies Day 1

We had set the alarm for 8 am this morning, hoping to get a good night of sleep before a long day of hiking. When I pulled back the curtains to our hotel room I was disappointed to find gray skies and light rain. The mountains were completely obscured by low lying clouds and fog. When I checked my twitter I found more bad news. The high country had gotten 5 more inches of snow during the night. Newfound Gap road was closed, and a tweet from the park service said that only experienced hikers should attempt travel in the higher elevations.

By the time we had both showered, dressed and loaded the packs into the Jeep the rain had stopped and the skies lightened a bit. The free hotel breakfast had already ended (who ends a breakfast before 10 am?!), so we hit up the Waffle House next door for some delicious and greasy fare.

By 10:15 am we were on the road. Our nervousness was overtaken by excitement as towering mountains and a raging river both came into view. Our fears were further assuaged by a crowded parking lot at the trailhead. Apparently we weren't the only ones heading out today. The skies had cleared considerably by now, and the sun was streaming through the tall stands of still-bare deciduous trees. We were on the trail at 11am sharp.

My pack was heavier than I would have liked, and I could feel it dragging my shoulders down as I trugged up hill. Hopefully it will feel lighter after we eat some of this food. The trail followed Big Creek for most of the way to Walnut Bottoms Campground, and put on a spectacular show. The freshly melted snow ran a brilliant shade of blue, almost like the glacier fed lakes we've seen in Montana. It crashed over an endless series of waterfalls throughout its path out of the mountains.

The trail was crowded with hikers, most of them on day hikes. One couple moved at the same speed as us, providing the opportunity for pleasant conversation that distracted from the uphill climb. They were retired ex-military from Florida on a 1 year tour of America's National Parks. Talk about a dream vacation! They were both delightful to talk to, although the man provided a less than ideal report on the conditions higher up. They had climbed to the Mt. Cammerer fire tower the previous day and found snow over a foot deep. This was not the news we were hoping for.

We stopped for lunch at the Walnut Bottoms Campground, relaxing in the sun on a large wooden bridge over the creek. This might be the most appealing campground in the Smokies. I would highly recommend it to anyone on a shorter backpack. A couple of horse parties passed by while we ate. Two of the horses forded the steam, an impressive trick to witness, and one I'm sure to be jealous of the next time I have to wade a steam.

After lunch the trail began climbing much more steeply. Big Creek fell further and further beneath us, it's roar still audible for a while. Scattered snow began to appear on the hillsides, but the trail remained dry. Trails in the Smokies all seem to follow the same principles. They follow the path of least resistance, much like rivers, and climb gradually up ridges. The result of this is that a hiker is made to feel as if he is in a wooded maze. Approaching each blind corner on the trail holds the promise that the scenery will change. Rounding the bend and finding more of the same is the usual result. After hours of this, we would sometimes wonder if the ridge ever stopped climbing. We were both overjoyed when the end finally came into sight. Low Gap appeared before us, and for the first time we had views to the East and the West. We were out of the maze.

We stopped to take pictures and eat granola bars at the junction before heading south on the Appalachian Trail. As we climbed the crest of the Smokies we found more and more snow. In the places where the snow was melted, the trail was a soup of mud and water. It was slow going picking our way through this mess. Eventually, we arrived at Cosby Knob Shelter.

We were delighted to learn that the ridge runner working this shelter was the same man from our last Smokies hike! Billy is a former AT thru hiker, and really knowledgable about the area. He was working when the winter storm blew through last week. He showed us pictures on his phone that looked like something out of an Everest Expedition. I'm glad we weren't here any earlier in the week. Billy said that there were reservations for 8 parties in the shelter tonight that weren't AT thru hikers. Of the 8, we were the only ones staying the night. Most were no shows, and two hikers showed up, heard about the heavy snow that lay ahead and turned around and left.

We cooked some soup and a freeze dried dinner of rice and lentils that was surprisingly tasty. The thru hikers staying here tonight are a cold, wet, miserable bunch, eager to get out of the Smokies. Everyone was in bed by 8 am. As I write this, I am tucked into my zero degree sleeping bag, feeling pretty cozy. It was a long day and there is a sense of accomplishment warming me as I prepare to turn off my head lamp and go to sleep.