Smoky Mountain 7 Hike

The friendly lady ranger at Cades Cove in Great Smoky Mountain National Park (GSMNP) gave me a curious look as I explained our planned backpack trip itinerary. Our first day included hiking from Newfound Gap to Clingman’s Dome –an altitude gain of about 1600 feet. She glanced at another ranger who raised his eyebrows but said nothing. Observing that our hikers were old enough to know about Bob and Ray, rotary dial phones, and computer punch cards may have influenced her reaction. “Are you aware, sir, that the trail from Newfound Gap climbs just about nonstop uphill for the first seven miles?,” she asked politely. Well, yes we were, at least on paper. Visions of collapsed, wheezing hikers along the trail needing medevac transport flashed through my mind. We changed the subject. She mentioned proudly that she had hiked the same route recently, but without that first segment to Clingman’s.


View from Clingman's Dome with Pigeon Forge in the distance

Thus began our backpack adventure. Thanks, Andy S for arranging this trip. The Smoky Mountain 7 were mostly retired hikers, all members of the Buckeye Trail Association in Ohio. The trip was great. The weather was fantastic. John R often says rain accompanies him on any hike he has planned – not this time. The trails and scenery exceeded my expectations. Here are a few observations and episodes, in no particular order.


Smoky Mountain 7 at Derrick Knob Shelter. Do I hear banjos playing?

We wisely decided to nix the planned first segment and drive to Clingman’s Dome area, then hike downhill to the first shelter. Smart, huh? It took several hours of hiker dude denial to realize that we probably shouldn’t try the uphill hike.

The shelters were in excellent condition with extended areas under roof for cooking and protection from the weather. I did not see or hear a single rodent. All but one shelter had a privy. The Derrick Knob shelter privy consisted of a shovel and sign with arrow pointing down a hill that said “toilet area -->.” The hiker-with-shovel pose quickly became a photo favorite.

Weather is always an issue when hiking. The first night was cold – the Cades Cove rangers had warned us that the forecast for the shelters above 5,000’ was 27. OMG - 27?? I had figured lows in the 40s based on forecasts for area towns. That is why I always bring extra clothing just to provide a margin of safety in case of unplanned cold or rain. It was already in the 40’s as we hiked, which explains the odd sensation of seeing our breath hiking along the trail in September. We had no fire that evening; conversation slowly faded as the temperature dropped. By 9:00 most hikers had retreated to their sleeping bags. Temperatures were more normal after that first night.


"Smoke" in the valley

Hiking awakens the senses. There was the pleasant scent of pine needles and crisp, invigorating mountain air. For the visual senses, there were constantly changing views and hues - the forest, distant ridges, hillsides, the sky, clouds nestling in the valleys, and a few wildflowers. The view from Rockytop mountain, partially in the clouds at the time was beautiful. I didn’t want to leave that spot. The last day hike along Anthony Creek was outstanding – a gorge with huge trees with the comforting sound of the rushing water. For auditory senses, there was the frequent sound of dropping acorns and buckeyes – most noticeable as a loud clang on the shelter tin roofs.


View from Rocky Top

Those buckeyes made us feel at home, since we are from Ohio, the buckeye state. There were buckeye trees everywhere, even an area along the trail labeled as Buckeye Gap. Never mind that they were likely a different tree from the Ohio buckeye variety.


View at Newfound Gap

I was surprised how many people were in the park, even during the week in September. Parking lots at popular spots such as Newfound Gap and Clingman’s dome were full. Many people asked about our backpacking gear, itinerary, where we were from, and much more. Maybe we looked and acted strange or (the optimist view) perhaps they envied our adventuresome spirit. Probably it was some of each.

At the end of our hike a nice looking lady dismounted from a Harley that just pulled up in the parking lot. She excitedly wanted to know where had we been, did we actually sleep outside, what did we eat, where did we go to the bathroom (no, she didn’t ask that). I was basking in all of the attention until remembered how bad I smelled, and withdrew a few paces. Upon hearing our answers about camping out, she said emphatically, “Oh, I could never do that.” Her husband kept his distance from us.

We also saw many hikers. A family – father, son, daughter came into camp about 7:00 the first night at Double Springs Gap shelter. They had been hiking in the smokies for many years. So had their wife/mother who was now deceased. Their mission was a unique one – to sprinkle her ashes on Mount LeConte. The LeConte shelter was closed due to bear activity; we don’t know if they were able to complete their mission.

We met several serious hikers, often solo. By serious hiker I mean anyone who can hike twice as far as I can in half the time – and probably with less gear. At Derrick Knob shelter a young guy passed through later in the day on his way Spence Field shelter. About 3 am I arose for bladder relief therapy. I noticed a shadowy figure in a sleeping bag lying on a bench seat. Must have been a really late arrival. At daybreak, the shadowy figure emerged like a moth from a cocoon. It was the same cheerful guy who went to Spence Field shelter. He was alone at Spence Field and let his imagination get the best of him. That shelter had been closed recently because of bear trouble. An entry in the shelter log graphically described a bear incursion into the shelter. He couldn’t sleep and every sound frightened him. He decided to return to our shelter, hiking 7+ miles in the dark.


Self explanatory warning at Spence Field Shelter


Spence Field Shelter Log entries - complete with morbid sense of humor from 9/20 entry writer.

Then on the morning of our last day out, a super serious hiker strode into camp, looking for water. We learned that he was hiking the AT for the entire length of the GSMNP – and back – in 3 days! That is a total of about 144 miles. Wow. He was not a youth – probably late 50s. We figured he had to be hiking about 18 hours a day to cover that distance. At that rate, he could hike the entire distance of our modest 4 day trip before lunch.

On the last day, we met an amiable backpacker who ran a guide service in Glacier National Park. This was a short vacation visit to GSMNP, on his way to NC, to reconnect with the Smokies he had visited 30+ years ago. As we talked, John R nonchalantly blurted out, “there’s a bear.” I thought he was joking. But I turned around quickly enough to see a good sized black bear amble across the road 50 yards from us. We observed him/her nosing around in the brush above the road. After 35 years of being cautious about bears in the backcountry – I finally saw a real bear. And it was not invading my tent or shelter. Cool.

CW provided entertainment in the evenings with his Readers Digest clippings. The first two sessions were quizzes about definitions of obscure words – such as peckish and lugubrious. The last session was on weather terminology. These were fun, especially when smart aleck side comments were thrown into the mix.

CW is also an excellent writer, religiously keeping a trail journal so he can record trip impressions on his blog/website: cwspencer.com. We often tossed out ideas for inclusion in his journal or blog – such as his arachnophobia. He sat next to the fire on the last night working out the intro to his blog about our trip. He wrote in between nervous glances out into the possibly bear infested darkness every time there was a sound.


CW is ready for a bear incursion

Bob S had a great hike. On previous trips, his health challenges yanked him off the trail before we finished. I was proud of his effort and persistence. Besides he tells entertaining stories, some of which might even be true. Good job, Bob. I applaud him for his decades of involvement in Boy Scouts. Time to retire, Bob, so you can hike some more.

The National Park Service (NPS) and Appalachian Trail Conservancy (ATC) staff we met were all helpful and informative. NPS staffer Christine Hoyer helped us change our shelter reservation for the last night when we saw her at Double Springs Gap. An ATC trail crew was working on a section doing a couple of reroutes around degraded existing trail. They did an excellent job on trail building. I stopped and closely inspected their work and was surprised to learn all of their work was done with a mattock and crosscut hand saw. The new trail was so well graded and groomed I assumed they must have used power equipment. The crew were all friendly and politely listened to our trail building and hiking stories along the Buckeye Trail in Ohio. We saw an ATC ridgerunner the last day. I did not know such trail helpers existed.

As Bob Hope used to say, thanks for the memories. I’m rested up and ready for another trip.

Derecho

June 30 was a Friday. It was warm but there was no rain locally on the radar at 5:00. There was a little red section on radar NE of Columbus. No problem; we need the rain but that storm will dissipate, as most such storms do as they move east and lose energy. Anyway, it would not arrive here until late evening.

I returned from picking up take-out food about 6:00 and noticed the sky was really black. I looked up weather radar on my phone while sitting at a traffic light. Wow! That tiny red spot seen earlier was here already; now a giant swath of red and orange sweeping towards us. Another glance to the west, and I could see sheets of rain moving fast. Suddenly the storm hit - huge gusts of wind, mainly. I could not see for the dust. Trees bent 90 degrees from wind. Trash cans were airborne. At Greene St. and Colegate Drive a traffic light is out already. We shouldn't have to worry about power at home; it almost never goes out.

I turn onto Glendale Road and head out the ridge. Will I make it home? The van lurches from wind gusts. Trees fall into the road; then just as quickly blow across to the other side. A tree trunk lands in my lane. Gingerly I inch the van forward, and it clunks over and past the trunk. Traffic slowly meanders into and out of lanes dodging around obstacles and other vehicles trying to get through.

I made it home; branches, leaves, and grit littered the streets. But there were no large trees down, thankfully. We sat down to eat the takeout burgers I so bravely carried home through the storm. Suddenly there was a loud crack and....no power. No problem; it would be back soon as in the past. The rain stopped - for all the wind, there was almost no rain.

It was quiet with no power - no TV blathering, air conditioner silent. An occasional vehicle passed out on Glendale Road. I decided to locate the handcrank radio that I had bought a few years ago - and had not really needed since then. We did have a cell phone signal, so could access the internet on mobile devices. But there was nothing as yet on local news or emergency web sites telling us what was happening. Two hours later it was getting dark.

We deployed lanterns, candles, and flashlights. Heck, I decided to dig out the headlamps I use when camping. They are so convenient because their light is there all the time and it is hands-free. I also retrieved the camp stove; we may need it for coffee and cooking. We try not to think about the food at risk in two full refrigerator-freezers.

We retreat to the basement where it is several degrees cooler. Suz works Sudoku puzzles. I read a little by lantern light and occasionally glance at the internet. The dogs look at us strangely. They know things are not right. Time for bed; no fan and no breeze means it's warm and humid. Fitful sleep gradually sets in.


Early morning. Internet news indicates almost no one in a several-state area has power. I decide to drive around town. It is eerily quiet in the dawn twilight. No one has power. Traffic lights are dark. Drivers mostly realize that all intersections become 4-way stop streets with no traffic control devices.

I notice that gas stations are dark, too, yet cars are waiting at all open pumps, hoping the power comes back soon. There were no functioning gas stations within 50 miles because of the power outage.

We work outside cleaning up the lone large branch that fell in the woods and doing our normal yard work. There is no respite from the heat. Gabbie and Tess are noticeably uncomfortable in the heat. We decide to fill up the black tub with water. The dogs climb in the water to cool off. Suz and I douse ourselves with water from the hose and sit on the patio.

Later we enjoy leftovers from a still cool fridge and read before turning in. Only WMOA radio has updates on what has been a major event for millions of people in several states. We cringe at official statements from AEP that power restoration is days away.

Sunday we attend mass at St. Mary church. With the warm weather and no power, mass is over in 30 minutes. On the way home we discover that ice is available and stuff several bags into the refrigerator and freezer compartments.

Later I decide to golf. Why not? Turns out the country club has power now. When I return - could it be?....I hear the AC running. Power is back. Wow. What a relief. But we can't help thinking about how many others still have no power.

I realize how much we take for granted when power is on - so many electronic devices, the fixation with on-line access, emails, and other "stuff." We had a chance, for a day or two, to try other things like reading, talking, and doing nothing. Perhaps we can learn something about the experience.