2011 Review, 2012 Preview

Erect Trillium on Road Prong in April

I’ve just completed my second full year of Smokies hikes. Whenever I mention the fact I’m hiking all the park’s trails, people inevitably ask, “How many have you done?” or “What’s your mileage?” Taking the time to calculate this hasn’t been a high priority, but I guess it is time to check the numbers and gauge my progress. To date, I’ve completed more than a third of the trails and 30% of the miles needed to gain entry into the 900 Mile Club. Here are the specifics.

Trails Completed – 55

Partial Trails – 8 (Little Greenbrier, Bote Mountain, Hyatt Ridge, Hughes Ridge, AT, Beech Gap, Mt. Sterling, Low Gap)

Total New Trail Miles – 251

Total Miles – 374

White Slant-line Moth (Tetracis cachexiata) visiting Pink Lady's Slipper

Yearly Breakdown:

2009 – 7.7 new miles, 11.5 total miles, 3 trails complete

2010 – 98.1 new miles, 148.7 total miles, 22 trails complete

2011 – 145.2 new miles, 213.8 total miles, 30 trails complete

A look back at the first few posts on this blog reveals the blind optimism of a clueless hiker. I thought I could hike 300 miles a year and complete this project in about three years. HA, HA, HA, HA, HA!! Now that I’ve had a good laugh and a strong dose of reality, it is obvious that I could triple that original time estimate. The positive news is I logged over 200 miles in 2011 alone, a feat accomplished without setting foot in the mountains until late April when I recorded a paltry 9.3 trail miles. The real hiking began in late May with five trips through October.

A female Crane Fly (Ctenophora dorsalis), Cataloochee Divide in May

I can take heart from this accomplishment for several reasons. First, it means I’m genuinely getting the hang of it. I love hiking. When I began this journey in 2009, it was mostly a leap of faith to pursue a growing interest. I had no real experience and no gear. Things could just as easily have gone poorly, but here I am 374 miles further down the road and loving every minute of it.

Gem-studded Puffball (Lycoperdon perlatum), Hemphill Bald in August

Another reason to celebrate is my deepening love and understanding of the Smokies. I am not well traveled, but I doubt there is a place on earth I would find any more beautiful, challenging, or fascinating than these mountains. Discovering new (to me) plants, insects, fungi, and animals and learning their ecological roles is a personally rewarding and even ennobling pursuit. It is such a great feeling when little puzzle pieces fall into place and a sense of the totality of this rich slice of biological life begins to take shape.

Finally, this accomplishment comes amid what has arguably been the worst year of my life. Nick’s sudden death turned everything upside down and left me struggling to comprehend and adapt. My survival is due to three things — my family, especially my children Kate and Sam, my friends, especially my hiking buddies, and these mountains. The one thing, the only thing really, I have managed to do these last 12 months is organize trips to the mountains. I have found no energy for or interest in anything else.

My Bestest Hiking Buddies!

These trips have been my salvation, and for that I need to recognize two special friends — Mary McCord and Clarence Mayo. Mary has been nothing short of a lifeline for me. When I needed the mountains, I could count on Mary to join me. Her intrepid spirit is always ready for any trail, any time, and without her not only would my mileage for 2011 be significantly lower, my spirits would be as well. I am truly indebted, Mary; thank you!

Clarence’s generous support has enabled me to go further, faster. His detailed gear advice prepared me for the practicalities of hiking mountain trails and made the experience a heck of a lot more enjoyable. Like Mary, Clarence exhibits energetic enthusiasm for any hike and is an indispensable partner as the trails get more difficult and remote. Most of all, his steady encouragement guided me through initial doubts, fears, and errors and is now helping me focus on new challenges with confidence. Onward and upward, CE!

Speckled Wood Lily, showing its speckles, Cataloochee Divide, May

These two never complain when hiking with me, though it’s got to be irritating at times. I am usually playing ‘catch up’ on the trail when we hike together, yet I will find them patiently waiting for me. They even point out interesting things they know will only delay me further. I could not hike these trails without them. This blog is much better because of them. Such friends are priceless. Other Smokies pals like Susan (my confidante) and Allen Sweetser, Pat Cox (Momma Pat – we are the same age, but she is much wiser), Annette Ranger, Randy Small, Ken McFarland, Linda Phillips, and the Fern Frondlers have all been there for me, ready to hike or lend a supportive shoulder and comforting hug.

Doe at Elkmont in June

And then there’s this blog…Wordpress sent me a year wrap up and you might be interested to know that my blog was viewed about 10,000 times in 2011. Wow! Little Cataloochee Trail post got the most hits in a day at 108. I made 40 posts with 237 photos. Most visitors came from my book website, Randy Small’s hiking blog, and Google and Yahoo searches. The top search topic is Blue Ghost Fireflies, followed by Porter’s Creek Trail, Mt. LeConte Shelter, Balsam Mountain Campground, and believe it or not, Black Rat Snake!  Most of the visitors were from the U.S., but quite a few hailed from Canada and the United Kingdom. Garrulous Scott Ranger made the most comments, surprise, surprise! I also heard from Randy and my Nashville buddy Paul Moore. I’ve made some new friends too. Sharon and Dwight (the distracted fly fisherman) have commented on several occasions, and others have been moved to leave a note as well.

View from Mt. Cammerer, October

My heartfelt thanks to all of you! I am actively planning an even greater 2012 with hiking trips in late January, March, and mid-May on the books thus far, plus the Spring Wildflower Pilgrimage in April. So please stay tuned. Sharing this with you is a true joy!

Injun Creek & Ramsey Cascades Trails, Oct. 28, 2011

Dogwoods are colorful on Injun Creek.

Today Clarence and I are going exploring along Injun Creek, a manway next to the Greenbrier Ranger Station that gets quite a bit of use. Ken McFarland takes his Pilgrimage moss walks there to see many species of bryophytes — mosses, liverworts, and a hornwort — growing within the first quarter mile. I’ve seen numerous people hiking it the two times I’ve been there studying all those tiny plants. It ties in to Grapeyard Ridge at some point, and we are going find out where.

The morning is cool and intermittently rainy. It is just light showers but steady enough to require protection. Clarence and I both opt for our umbrellas. Injun Creek, named for the small stream it follows, really should be an official park trail. It is well worn and not the least bit difficult to hike. The park has even placed a couple of footlogs spanning the little creek for the convenience of hikers; therefore, it receives at least some degree of maintenance.

Injun Creek is a pretty little stream.

The ranger station probably sits at about 1500 feet. Any elevation gain along the manway is slight at first. It follows the creek past several flat areas where there must have been buildings or farm land or orchards in the past. There is a rock-lined spring on the right. A little more than halfway in we climb a small ridge overlooking the creek below on our left. The ridge line leads to a wide, flat area that attracts our attention. We quickly realize this is a campsite, and putting two and two together, we get 32.

Campsite #32 is on Grapeyard Ridge. When we hiked that trail two days ago, we passed a sign indicating that the campsite was 200 yards down a spur trail. Turns out that spur trail is none other than the Injun Creek manway. Clarence and I continue to the junction with Grapeyard Ridge and confirm this. Looking at a map, the manway probably tops out at about 2300 feet. Clarence estimates a length of 1.75 miles.

Flaming Red Maple at Campsite #32

The campsite looks very inviting — level and relatively open. A gorgeous Red Maple is flaming its signature color. Along the ridge path, fallen wet leaves of Red Maple shine like bright rubies on the ground. The manway/trail is quite rich and lovely overall. I see Ebony Spleenwort, Umbrella Magnolia, Witch Hazel in flower, White Oak, Muscadine Grape, Hornbeam, Sweetshrub, Spicebush, and the winter foliage of Toothwort. On the flat areas near the bottom and at the ranger station, there are several Flowering Dogwoods (Cornus florida) with dusky red foliage. There are also numerous patches of Lung Lichen (Lobaria pulmonaria) on tree trunks and even adorning the large stem of a grapevine.

We meet a group of ladies hiking in the rain to see the doomed engine. Taking this manway, just hang a left on Grapeyard Ridge, and you’ll find the wreckage just a short distance down in the shallow rills of little Injun Creek’s modest beginnings. I don’t know how far it is from the ranger station to Grapeyard Ridge trailhead, but Greenbrier Road, Grapeyard, and Injun Creek make a perfect triangle on the map totaling no more than 8 miles by my guesstimate. Now I understand why so many people use this manway. Who could pass up a rare loop hike that features the desolated remains of heavy machinery? Injun Creek deserves official designation as a trail with its very own sign!

Lung Lichen on Injun Creek

Back at the ranger station, Clarence and I debate our next move. It’s raining, it’s nearing lunchtime, and we’ve got an afternoon to kill. The choice is obvious. Eat and hike Ramsey Cascades Trail. He may not want to hike all the trails in the Smokies, but Clarence does enjoy the thrill of notching another one when given the opportunity. The impressive water feature at the end of Ramsey is calling him. I’ve got nothing else to do, so we eat lunch, don rain gear, and head out.

I decide not to take my camera and risk getting it wet since I documented the trail in April 2010. There aren’t many people here thanks to the weather, and with little gear to weigh us down, we make excellent time despite having to step carefully in the wet leaf litter and clamber over boulders. Having done it before, I am certain the end is near many times before we actually arrive at the cascades. Wishful thinking perhaps. Finally, we crest the last huge boulder and stand before that roaring crash of water tumbling down the rock face. We only stay a few moments, then turn and head back. The rain stops, and we put away our umbrellas but leave our raincoats on to combat the chill going down. Overall the entire eight-mile hike takes about four hours. This shows I can move fairly well when not hobbled by a camera and the desire/need to use it.

A land snail enjoys the wet weather on Injun Creek.

It rains off and on, mostly on, throughout the night. Next morning we are striking camp in cold, wet conditions similar to our arrival 10 days ago. It’s been a great trip, though. If Injun Creek is 1.75 miles, then our grand total is 77.1 miles. Not shabby at all, especially given that our final hurrah is none other than Ramsey Cascades! We are both ready for more. Other than being a bit sleep deprived (I’m still not getting a full night of zzz’s when camping, plus the Barred Owls would tear into one another in the middle of the night — now THAT will get you sitting straight up at 4:00 a.m.!), I could easily keep going. I can really feel the results in stronger, firmer leg muscles. What I wouldn’t give for this to be my backyard!

Crib Gap & Metcalf Bottoms Trails, Oct. 27, 2011

Stained glass view into Crib Gap

Thursday is cloudy and cooler with a chance of showers, just perfect for an easy day of odds and ends. I have two smaller trails to complete and certain sites I hope to check for fall color. Clarence and I can call it quits at any time should the weather become too drippy, but with rain gear and umbrellas at hand, it’s going to have to get might darn drippy to dissuade us. We are headed west out Little River Road.

Our first stop is Sugarlands Visitors Center. I’ve got a gift certificate that needs redeeming. Books are my Achilles heel, and I walk out with seven of them plus two nature trail guides (Alum Cave and Cove Hardwood). Kenneth Dodd Jr.’s The Amphibians of GSMNP, Venomous Animals and Poisonous Plants Peterson Field Guide, four “of the Smokies” guides on churches, grist mills, log cabins, and historic buildings, and Doris Gove’s delightful The Smokies Yukky Book will help me tease out answers to the many questions that always arise when I hike these mountains.

Part of Crib Gap is an old rocky roadbed.

Two of our trails are past the Townsend Wye. The forest surrounding Little River Road is incredibly beautiful, aglow with warm yellows and reds. One could stop virtually anywhere along the scenic drive and take a gorgeous fall photo. After so many brightly sunny days, the diffuse light from a cloudy sky is a welcome relief.

The first trail is an old one for me. I’ve hiked Finley Cane in snowy winter, late summer, and now mid-autumn. I had hoped to find impressive fall colors, but foliage on many of the trees still shows quite a bit of green. It is a very easy trail that goes fast, and at least Clarence can check it off. He is not officially hiking all the park’s trails yet, but should that bug bite, he’s one trail closer.

Across the road from Finley Cane and a few hundred yards into the forest down Turkey Pen Ridge Trail is the trail head for Crib Gap. Crib Gap Trail is just 1.6 miles long and gently climbs through a cove forest dressed in bright yellow to Laurel Creek Road. The trail is a wide, overgrown road bed. Numerous large rocks scattered willy nilly, half hidden in the fallen leaves, means my eyes are often fixed on my feet. Were it not for this, Crib Gap would provide a thoroughly relaxing stroll through open woods.

Water Tower at Metcalf Bottoms

The trails book talks of wildlife and mushrooms, but I see none of either. It’s not a good time of year to go mushroom hunting. Many are in decline if not gone by now and the leaf litter obscures their form and color. Wildlife is scarce too. Their food supply is disappointingly low this year. We saw a few red oak acorns on Grapeyard Ridge yesterday but virtually nothing elsewhere.

Crib Gap crosses Laurel Creek Road just over a half mile up. As the guidebook rightfully warns, this could be dangerous as drivers are not expecting to see hikers in such an unlikely spot. The trail continues its climb on the other side, curving through a narrow draw. From this end, the elevation gain is 500 feet to the high point (2200’) overlooking Crib Gap. The view through a tracery of tree branches is as beautiful as a stained glass window – warm hued tree foliage against cool toned Pinkroot Ridge and Scott Mountain in the distance.

Retaining wall and Yucca are all that remains of a home.

Clarence and I arrive at the junction with Anthony Creek at 3:33:33, marvel at that bit of timing, and return the way we came. It begins to sprinkle as we drive to the next trail on my list, Metcalf Bottoms. Given the lateness of the day and the damp conditions, no one is at the picnic area. We grab our umbrellas and prepare to knock out the tiny 0.7 mile trail.

Little Greenbrier School Cemetery

Like a burr under my saddle, I’ve carried the irritation of failing to do this snippet when Allen and I hiked Little Brier Gap Trail in the snow 21 months ago. Metcalf Bottoms Trail is also a wide road (and thankfully smooth) much of the way, passing the water tower that serves the picnic grounds restroom. Low stone retaining walls and spiky Yucca plants flanking what were stone steps are all that remains of a long gone home to welcome visitors. The trail narrows to a small path winding through the forest and crosses Little Brier Branch. It emerges on the back side of the Little Greenbrier Schoolhouse.

New granite markers

Built in 1881, with assistance from John Walker, father of the Walker Sisters whose cabin is nearby, the school’s first class was New Year’s Day 1882. It doubled as a Primitive Baptist Church for over 40 years. Early photos show a small belfry that is no longer part of the structure. Up from the school’s front door is a small cemetery enclosed in a weathered picket fence. Many of the original, upright rock slab headstones are no longer legible. In front of several of these old lichen covered stones are small rectangular blocks of granite, each carved with the deceased’s name. They look quite new.

Little River in Metcalf Bottoms

We head back to my car, crossing the Wear Gap Road bridge spanning Little River. In the misty drizzle and darkening skies, trees lining the shallow stream are richly colored and frame a barely visible mountain (Meigs?). The drive back up Little River Road is just as lovely, perhaps more so in the gathering dusk.

Grapeyard Ridge Trail, Oct. 26, 2011

Randy, Allen, Clarence, me, and Susan

It’s another lovely day in the Smokies, and a few friends are joining Clarence and me for a hike on Grapeyard Ridge — Susan and Allen Sweetser, two wonderful, longtime companions who really know their plants, and Randy Small, a biology professor at the University of Tennessee in Knoxville. Randy and I led a hike on Abrams Creek for the Spring Wildflower Pilgrimage one year, and we had a blast. I can see why his students rave so highly about him on the Rate My Professors website! He is hiking all the trails in the park and writing a blog about it too. Check out http://900-miles.blogspot.com. Susan and Allen lead hikes at the Pilgrimage as well. They have been actively studying the flora of Tennessee for quite a while. I always learn something new when hiking with them.

Susan takes a picture of Mountain Spleenwort growing in the boulder's crevice.

The five of us meet at the trail’s terminus on Greenbrier Road and ride together to the other end on Roaring Fork Motor Nature Trail. We get a helpful park visitor to take our group picture at the sign. The trail wanders indistinctly across an open field containing a barn, corn crib, and cabin once owned by settler Alex Cole and enters the forest on the far side. From there, it winds along the base of Mt. Winnesoka, climbs over Grapeyard Ridge, runs through James Gap, and descends to Greenbrier Road in 7.6 miles. Stone walls, little cemeteries, old road beds, and that famous engine wreck bear witness to hard working families and a rich cultural history along the way. A low elevation trail, Grapeyard Ridge tops out early at 3,000 feet and undulates gently down to 1,700.

Inside the Showy Gentian is a bright green starburst.

We do as much chatting as hiking, so parts of the trail are a bit of a blur. For the most part, it is the usual Smoky Mountain assemblage, though we do stumble upon interesting finds from time to time. A two-foot strip of Mountain Spleenwort is growing along a diagonal crack in a big boulder. There are a few plants of Showy or Appalachian Gentian in flower. It is such a lovely blossom, I cannot resist taking photos, even though I’ve got some nice images already. The inside of the flower is even more striking than the outside. I try to show the bright green starburst at the base along with the forked pistil and petal lobes. Without a steadying tripod, it is impossible to get sufficient depth of field to render the tubular flower sharp from top to bottom. I see another gentian in great shape near the end of the trail. Two flowers are closed, but the lobes of the third are spread open in the sun.

Gnarled branches of a Sourwood

Allen comments on the “yellow coves” and “red ridges.” In the protected coves, Tulip Poplar, Sugar Maple, and Striped Maple are colored sunny yellow. Along exposed ridges, Sourwood, Red Maple, and Scarlet Oak are fiery red. Pitch Pine and Table Mountain Pine appear in the exposed areas too. At a curve in the trail we pass beneath a Sourwood with spectacularly curved branches and stunning fall color. I’ve heard the comment, “Sourwood is a shrub that thinks it’s a tree.” How true. Its trunk often curves and leans, resembling the gnarled branches of a shrub as much as the upright bole of a tree.

Piece of an iron stove

About 2.8 miles from Roaring Fork, a horse trail turns left off Grapeyard Ridge and leads to the Smoky Mountain Riding Stables in Gatlinburg. Park maps show a few dedicated horse trails between this junction and Highway 321. Horses can use the section we just hiked, but from this point on, Grapeyard is for hikers only. Across Dudley Creek, stone walls disappear among the trees. These now purposeless assertions of property rights seem aimless and random as the forest reasserts itself, yet they retain the power to impress, demonstrating a blend of backbreaking labor and craftsmanship. We find pieces of an old iron stove here and there on the trail. The rusting carcass of a teapot, sans bottom, top, and spout, hangs pitifully from a tree branch.

The "injun" of Injun Creek

Just past Campsite #32, is Injun Creek, so named for the rusting engine carcass lying pitifully, nearly upside down, with broken wheels and gears nearby. The steam engine had been used to saw timber for a school in Big Greenbrier Cove. During the return trip, the driver got a bit too close to the edge, and the heavy iron machine tumbled into the creek bed below as the driver jumped to safety. Certain parts were salvaged, and the rest left to entertain hikers decades later. We climb to James Gap, the last big uphill section we face.

Very large grapevine

Grapeyard Ridge gets it name from the many and often large grapevines snaking into the tree canopy. Five species of grapes (Vitis) are found in the park. Summer Grape and Frost Grape are most common followed by Muscadine Grape. Young grape vines search for young trees to embrace, and the two species grow in tandem with each other. The ground-hugging plant Cinquefoil (Potentilla sp.) is showing fall color. Perched on an old post is the brightly colored nymph of an Assassin Bug (Zelus luridus).

Assassin Bug Nymph

The gradual descent along Rhododendron Creek puts us between Potato Ridge to the South and James and Blazed Pine Ridges to the North. The trail zigzags across the creek several times requiring rock hops that aren’t difficult. The trail guidebook warns of old road beds that strike off from the main trail. We spot some of these and wonder if one is the manway from the Greenbrier Ranger Station called Injun Creek. Clarence and I plan to hike it in a couple of days and debate which path it could be. Turns out none of them is…but that’s a tale for another post.

Llamas are ready to go home.

We exit onto Greenbrier Road at 4:30, and Mary McCord, with exquisite timing, drives up to see us. Randy heads home. Susan, Allen, Clarence, and I drive back to Roaring Fork to retrieve Susan’s car. It’s a slow drive behind visitors taking in the autumn beauty. At Grotto Falls, we get one last thrill. The llama train to LeConte has just returned from its latest trip, and the four-legged crew is lounging around their trailer awaiting transport home. I slow traffic down even more taking pictures, creating a llama jam!

Showy Gentian

Low Gap & Mt. Cammerer Trails, Oct. 25, 2011

Our hiking friend John

The weather today is spectacular, sunny with expected highs in the 60s. Clarence and I are going to the Mt. Cammerer Lookout, picking up the hike we scuttled a few days ago due to the storm. Not far from our campsite, there is a 0.4 mile spur trail that joins Low Gap at 0.8 mile. Perched on top of the trail sign is a pair of lost sandals patiently awaiting their owner. We start out here along with John, a hiker from Indiana, whose company we share to the lookout.

Low Gap Trail is 2.9 miles long from its actual beginning in the hiker’s parking lot. It is slow to add elevation at first but gets steeper as it nears the crest. The trail climbs between Cosby Creek and Rocky Face Mountain rising from 2200 to 4242 feet, one of the lower elevations along the Appalachian Trail within the park. We are northwest of the crest, and morning sun does not reach us. Our physical effort helps keep us warm. Chills set in when we chat with John a bit too long during a break.

Mountain Bugbane fruit

Sugar Maple, Umbrella Magnolia, Sharp-lobed Liverleaf, and Dutchman’s Pipevine enjoy the rich, protected cove of Low Gap’s lower section. Blue Wood Aster is in flower here along with a few Goldenrods. Black Cohosh and its relative Mountain Bugbane are both in seed. The latter waving tall wands loaded with capsules that look like tiny green pea pods even though it is not in the pea family. Nearing the crest the canopies of oak trees light up like torches in the bright sunshine.

Galax is brilliantly colored on Mt. Cammerer

Clarence, John and I are surprised when we arrive at Low Gap. The hike did not seem long or particularly taxing. That’s what good conversation on a gorgeous autumn morning can do for you. We meet a couple from Chicago who are also headed to the lookout when they finish their midmorning snack. Our climb is far from over. We must travel 2.1 miles along the AT to reach Mt. Cammerer Trail, and most of it is up. Yet it passes as easily and pleasantly as Low Gap.

It takes a little rock climbing to get to the Mt. Cammerer Lookout.

Mt. Cammerer Trail is a mere 0.6 mile long and hovers just under 5,000 feet. All the expected high elevation plant life is here, much of it exploding in a riot of red. Mountain Laurel and Rosebay Rhododendron enclose the trail in muted green walls. Galax (scarlet to deep carmine) and Teaberry (dusky maroon) brighten the trailsides amid near colorless Reindeer Lichen. Fire engine red fruit clusters of Mountain Ash and deep green needles of Red Spruce complement each other. Highbush Blueberry and Mountain Fetterbush are locked in a battle of fall color oneupmanship.

Mt. Cammerer Lookout

There is quite a bit of scrambling over boulders large and small to get to the lookout. Hands are needed nearly as much as feet in some places. It is worth the effort. The eight-sided building is a work of art. Located on a rocky prominence, the stone building offers a 360 degree unobstructed view of the surrounding landscape. Technically, Mt. Cammerer’s edifice is considered a ‘lookout’ rather than a ‘fire tower,’ as it is just two stories high and sits on the ground. From this vantage point, simply look south to see a real fire tower. Even without the aid of binoculars, Mt. Sterling’s 60’ tall metal structure rises well above surrounding trees in the distance. Mt. Cammerer’s lookout was built in the late 1930s. Masons shaped rock quarried from the mountains by the Civilian Conservation Corps. Typically four sided and in line with compass points, a square lookout would not fit this site, thus the octagonal shape. Actively used until the 1960s, it fell into disrepair requiring reconstruction in the mid 1990s. The mountain and the lookout are named for Arno B. Cammerer, National Park Service director who supported the creation of Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

Spotted Cucumber Beetle chowing down on my lunch

After soaking up the views, Clarence and I lean back on exposed rock to soak up some sunshine and eat lunch. We eavesdrop on other visitors’ entertaining conversations. I share some of my lunch with a colorful Spotted Cucumber Beetle. Its yellow wing covers have 12 large black spots, and the pronotum (hard plate on the front of the thorax) is bright green. As a larva, it is called the Southern Corn Rootworm and is loathed by farmers. As an adult, it is equally loathed for eating the leaves of many crops including cucumbers, soybeans, and cotton. This guy, though, is eating my freshly rehydrated Mountain House chicken salad. Hmmm? So what is in this stuff? Honestly, it is quite tasty. Clarence and I each have a loaded wrap and a bagel, with enough filling left over for a third person or a very hungry Spotted Cucumber Beetle and hundreds of his friends.

Just as we are preparing to leave, three older gentlemen arrive. Salt of the earth East Tennessee boys sporting among them a cowboy hat, set of overalls, University of Tennessee ball cap, and three pistols strapped around their waists in plain view. They came up on horseback.

Long stems of Solomon's Seal are nearly twice the length of my trekking pole.

The hike back to Cosby is even more pleasant because we are going downhill. At the AT/Low Gap junction, I spot a cluster of Solomon’s Seal stems that must be 5 to 6 feet long. The leaves have already faded from yellow to tan. For a while, botanists considered this Giant Solomon’s Seal to be either a separate species (Polygonatum commutatum) or a variety of regular Solomon’s Seal (Polygonatum biflorum var. commutatum). In general, plants are often found with multiple sets of chromosomes; tetraploids with four complete sets are common. These plants are usually larger with bigger and more numerous flowers. The Giant Solomon’s Seal is recognized as a tetraploid, but P. biforum is a highly variable species regarding size, flower number, and ecology. The Flora of North America states that some diploids can be as large as the tetraploids. Since the only difference is one of size, most taxonomists now consider all varieties large or small to be P. biflorum.

Northern Ring-necked Snake

We follow Low Gap to its true trailhead in the hiker’s parking lot at Cosby, walking past the Nature Trail and behind the amphitheater. As we near the end, Clarence sees a Northern Ring-necked Snake lying perfectly still in the trail, its head raised slightly. I take a final photo of the trailhead sign but fail to notice the perfect Puttyroot leaf in the background until I am reviewing the images at home days later.

Check out the Puttyroot leaf at the bottom of the photo!

Trillium Gap Trail, Oct. 24, 2011

Rugel's Ragwort seed heads

Within a few yards, Trillium Gap Trail hangs a very unexpected left. It turns back toward the lodge at a small hydrant-looking pipe and becomes a narrow footpath through grasses. Convinced that this is just a back way to the cabins, I lead Mary and Clarence to the right down an even less inviting path that is in truth a drainage ditch. We tumble out onto the real trail at the spring. Mary and Clarence keep going, but I want to know where on earth we went wrong and follow the trail back up. It leads past a cabin and turns right into the lodge grounds. Thoroughly confused now, I see a lodge staffer cleaning stove grates and question him about the trail. Perhaps he doesn’t understand me or maybe I don’t understand him, but either way the conversation is decidedly unhelpful. I walk back to the rear of the cabins and start up once more. This time I notice a nearly imperceptible crease through an open grassy patch to the left which leads me to the pipe. Make a note, when hiking down Trillium Gap, take that surprise left at the pipe and follow the little path as it gradually curves down to the right.

Satisfied that I have covered the trail, I can begin the hike in earnest. The upper part of Trillium Gap is beautiful with a truly primeval quality about it. Ghostly gray lichens cling to gnarled branches of Red Spruce and Fraser Fir, imparting a dark and ancient atmosphere to the forest. Thick mounds of mosses are everywhere. If sprites and dryads do exist, they would be found here.

Sphagnum Moss

This upper section can be rocky and wet, and the trail has been extensively terraced into gravel-filled steps in several places, perhaps to make it easier for the llama train that serves the lodge. It makes it easier for hikers too. The trail descends LeConte’s north side along the flank of a ridge extending northeastward. Within this shady aspect, large icicles hang from rock faces to the right of the trail. In places we are warmed by the sun until the trail turns into a sheltered cove where the temperature drops noticeably several degrees. There is a colorful patch of Sphagnum Moss, and the fluffy round seed clusters of Rugel’s Ragwort resemble multi-headed dandelions.

Llamas on their way to LeConte Lodge

We had originally planned our LeConte overnight for Saturday and Sunday. The shelter was full when I called for reservations, and I shifted it by a day, not realizing we’d be hiking Trillium Gap on llama day. What a pleasant and wonderful surprise to see several homely (in a cute way), long-necked, big-eared camel cousins plodding up the trail behind their handler. They seem to enjoy looking at me too. The camera doesn’t intimidate them, and they practically give me a wink as they pass. They also leave us marvelous little piles of llama pooh to sidestep.

Llama pooh - when they go, they all go at once!

Trillium Gap Trail is 8.9 miles long. These upper four miles are a bit steep and drop 2,000 feet in elevation to (wait for it…) Trillium Gap, where the trail coasts into a bright beech gap. This low pass was also known variously as Grassy Gap and Brushy Gap. Brushy Mountain Trail intersects in this location, too, on its way to the top of (wait for it…) Brushy Mountain. It was park service director Horace Albright (Albright Grove is named for him) who suggested Trillium Gap upon noting the abundance of these spring-flowering plants. In April of 2010 I hiked Brushy Mountain, but I don’t recall seeing impressive swathes of Trillium species. My notes only refer to some Trillium erectum plants in bud at a moist area just shy of the beech gap. However, I was one whipped little puppy when I stumbled up to Trillium Gap that day, so I’d like to check again before I discount Mr. Albright’s assessment.

The Beech Gap at Trillium Gap or Grassy Gap or Brushy Gap...Gap On!

This lovely beech gap is a great place for lunch with well-placed logs for sitting and soaking in the autumn sunshine, which we do. We have over five miles to go and can’t relax long. Trillium Gap Trail hangs another left (this one well marked and obvious) at the Brushy Mountain junction and winds down 1.75 miles through a boulder field to one of the park’s best loved features, Grotto Falls.

Grotto Falls

According to Waterfalls of the Smokies, the waters of Roaring Fork drop one mile in elevation from LeConte to Gatlinburg, reputedly among the steepest in the eastern U.S. Eighteen feet of that drop come as the creek plunges over a projecting lip of Thunderhead Sandstone. In the narrow valley, erosion has carved out a curved rockhouse allowing passage behind the falls. Large boulders for sitting and climbing and clear pools for summer heat relief give Grotto Falls the feel of a small playground exemplifying the “park” ideal. Even on this late-season Monday, there are quite a few visitors, though few venture up the trail beyond.

Someone who could use a bit more sense!

Clarence chats with one gentleman about firearms in the park. The man, who Clarence says is carrying a weapon though I don’t see it, feels it is important protection. From what exactly is a question for which I can never get a satisfactory answer. Bears and snakes are often cited, but in my view, they need protection from overeager gun permit holders. A little knowledge about wildlife renders moot the need for that kind of protection.

While we are on the topic of the overeager needing protection, a short distance past Grotto Falls is another smaller falls. A large downed tree spans the valley about 15 feet above the ground. Perched on this trunk out over the middle of the shallow, rocky creek is a man taking a picture. Unfortunately, there is no sure weapon against idiocy.

Witch Hazel flowers blend into the shrub's autumn color.

We pass many people along the one mile stretch of Trillium Gap between the falls and the short (0.15 mile) spur trail to the Grotto Falls parking area off Roaring Fork Motor Nature Trail. After that we are all alone. From the spur trail to the trail’s end, this section of Trillium Gap is incredibly beautiful – lush, rich, and quiet. It traverses the northern base of LeConte’s Rocky Spur. This cool, protected spot, should be lovely in spring, and Mary and I want to return. I finally find a Witch Hazel (Hamamelis virginiana) in flower here. This large shrub or small tree bucks the norm by flowering in autumn. Its thin yellow streamers for petals often go unnoticed amid the bright yellow foliage.

The trail comes close to Roaring Fork Road, and we see folks driving through admiring the sunlit autumn colors among other things. A truck comes to an abrupt halt as Clarence in full backpacking regalia strides by. The passenger window glides down and a lady sticks out her camera to take his picture. Authentic Smoky Mountain wildlife!

Fall color at the end of Trillium Gap Trail

We get to the Rainbow Falls parking lot where my car awaits about 3:30 – six hours. It’s pizza time, and Mary has generously offered her home for another round of baths. Such luxury!

Mt. LeConte, Oct. 23-24, 2011

Mountain Ash fruit

When Clarence, Mary and I arrive at LeConte Shelter, the first thing I notice is the dumpy old faded green port-a-potty (groan). It is the same one we had last year and apparently hasn’t been cleaned since Annette wiped it down 16 months ago. Somebody must use it, but no one in our group does, and from the look of the immediate area around the shelter, we are not alone. This shelter really needs a decent composting toilet.

Mary at High Top

On our last visit, Clarence and I did not locate Myrtle Point. He is determined to correct that failing. The three of us head down the Boulevard Trail. Our first stop is High Top. Mary has her picture taken with the pile of stones people have assembled in a vain attempt to make LeConte the tallest peak in the park. At about four feet, the pyramid of rocks is a tad over 46 feet shy of the mark.

Myrtle Point is a half mile beyond the shelter at the end of a short .2 mile spur trail off the Boulevard. It’s quite a scramble along this narrow, rocky path, but Myrtle Point itself opens up to a fairly wide and level area with an unobstructed view of the eastern horizon and all points south to southwest. Mary and Clarence stretch out on the sun-warmed rock while I walk around and shoot pictures. Two small shrubs with a tightly compact growth habit, Sand Myrtle and Carolina Rhododendron, form neat, nearly impenetrable carpets.

British Soldiers Lichen

Much of the herbaceous growth on LeConte has already succumbed to a killing frost leaving tan clumps of grasses and withered fern fronds. Mosses and lichens offer touches of color, such as the tiny but bright red fruiting clusters of British Soldiers (Cladonia cristatella). The equally red fruit of Mountain Ash is another spot of startling color in a natural palette now primarily reduced to greens, grays, and browns. There are spots of snow and a few tiny icicles in protected grottos. In one clump of moss, dripping water has frozen into a collection of ice stalagmites.

Mary & Clarence resting on Myrtle Point

After Myrtle Point, we walk to the lodge to use one of their composting toilets and get water for tonight’s dinner. We stop by the office to check out the 2011 LeConte t-shirt. Mary buys a bandana. Back at the shelter, we are joined by two young guys who also came up Alum Cave and plan to hike out on the Boulevard. It’s time to fire up the stove for a warm meal and prepare to hang our packs. Once all chores are finished, it’s simply a matter of waiting for darkness to climb in the sleeping bags. Just as night falls four men stumble up the path wearing headlamps. They came up Trillium Gap, the trail we are taking in the morning. They have already eaten and simply prepare for bed, put up packs, and climb to the top platform.

Ice Stalagmites

Nights on LeConte can be brutally cold, but we are lucky.  The overnight low is only 30 degrees, and there is no wind. I am very comfortable in my warm base layer clothing and down sleeping bag, and I fall asleep right away. I awake during the night and am sorely dismayed to find it is only 10:00 p.m. I rest fitfully trying to hold off a trip to the bathroom. Finally, at 1:00 in the morning, I arise stealthily, relief myself, and return quiet as a mouse to sleep until 5:45 a.m. when a watch alarm stowed in one of the latecomers’ packs starts beeping. Damn! It sounds repeatedly for 10 minutes, pauses for five, then starts again. After 45 minutes, Clarence awakes and others begin to stir a bit, so I say perhaps a little too loudly, “Some f***er’s watch alarm has been beeping for the last 45 minutes!” One of the guys above us climbs down, silences the watch, and goes back to bed.

A gorgeous Monday morning on Mt. LeConte

The three of us and the two young guys begin morning chores – dress, deflate and roll sleeping pads, stuff sleeping bags, retrieve packs, and fix breakfast. While I’m out back changing clothes, I get a whiff of frying bacon and envy the lodge guests’ hearty breakfast. The aroma gets stronger as I walk back to the shelter, and the two young guys are cooking up strips of bacon and trying to make pancakes. The bacon works great, but the pancakes turn out more like a casserole — a bit of a churned up mess. The guys have fun with it though, and we have fun watching…and sniffing!

Clarence, Mary, and I are ready to go by 9:20. We leave the two young guys to their dishwashing duties. The other four men are still sound asleep on the upper platform. They have not budged all morning. It’s a clear, sunny, beautiful Monday. Trillium Gap, here we come.

Alum Cave Trail, Oct. 23, 2011

Mary and Clarence at Arch Rock

Our second overnight backpacking trip begins the next day. Clarence, Mary, and I are hiking to the LeConte shelter. Mike, Mary’s husband, drives us to the Alum Cave trailhead on Hwy 441. We arrive at 9:00 a.m., and the parking area is already overflowing. The weather forecast is sunny and mild with temperatures in the 60s. Since this is a Sunday in October on one of the most popular trails in the park, the hiking forecast calls for mostly crowded conditions with occasional periods of solitude.

The Keyhole in Little Duck Hawk Ridge

Mt. LeConte is a beautiful anomaly sitting apart from the main line of mountains. Just a hair shorter than Mt. Guyot and Clingman’s Dome despite the pile of rocks people have left on its highest point, LeConte features some remarkable amenities the other two can’t touch, like Myrtle Point and Cliff Tops — two large rocky outcroppings with stunning views of sunrise and sunset respectively and innumerable opportunities in between to savor sweeping vistas. No spiral concrete viewing tower is needed here. There is also the famous lodge with accommodations for 60 people in rustic but still fairly comfy style.

Clarence in Alum Cave

Five trails converge on LeConte’s sprawling summit, and each gets its share of use. Alum Cave, however, seems to be preferred. The trail resembles a major two-lane thoroughfare. Today, Saturday night guests at the lodge are returning to their vehicles while Sunday night guests and all manner of day hikers are trudging their way up the mountain’s shortest and steepest approach. There are lots of reasons to hike Alum Cave, not least of which are Arch Rock, great views, the Keyhole, and of course Alum Cave Bluffs, but it is also a very challenging trail.  Narrow, steep, and rocky with certain sections that can quickly become downright treacherous due to the ever fickle weather enveloping LeConte, Alum Cave is not for the faint of heart. Maybe so many non-hiking visitors gravitate to this trail precisely because it really does feel like you are climbing a mountain…the whole enchilada in a five mile trek with the added bonus of a commercial enterprise at the top. Drinking water, food, bathrooms, beds, t-shirts…one stop shopping. Walking five miles can’t be that hard, right? Then you pass some of these visitors sitting in a stupor, sweating, and gasping for breath. Better be a damn good lodge up there!

Round Branch Ground Pine

I must say Alum Cave is one impressive trail. It is engaging scenically, geologically, biologically, and physically. Granted I am carrying a full pack, but it kicks my butt. Kudos to the non-hikers who actually make it to the lodge! The lower part of the trail follows Alum Cave Creek and one of its feeders Styx Branch and is covered in thick stands of Rosebay Rhododendron and Doghobble. The first unique feature is Arch Rock, a steep and darkly narrow passage carved out of slate in the Anakeesta Formation by the freeze/thaw action of water. Rock stairs have been placed within the passage.

Red Squirrel eating a Red Spruce Cone

Given that Alum Cave Trail begins at 3800 feet, in less than two miles you are in a heath bald at rocky spur Inspiration Point overlooking the wide valley.  You can also see Little Duck Hawk Ridge to the right, a craggy line of Anakeesta shale with a couple of holes, one known as the Keyhole, also carved by the freeze/thaw phenomenon. The ridge’s curious name refers to Peregrine Falcons, called Duck Hawks by settlers for their ability to snatch a bird and even a duck in midair. These birds of prey once nested here. Along this open stretch I find Round Branch Ground Pine (Dendrolycopodium hickeyi) and Ground Cedar (Diphasiastrum tristachyum) growing together.

Remnants of Red Spruce cones in the Red Squirrel's midden

Next is famous Alum Cave Bluffs with its enormous rock overhang and dry, dusty ground. It never fails to impress and looks more like something from the western deserts than the Southern Appalachians. Supposedly, many people opt to turn around at this point, but today we are not the only ones intent on going all the way. The big attractions are over, and from here on, it gets really interesting!

Proceed with caution! Some sections of Alum Cave would not be much fun in snow and ice.

Periodically, heavy rainfalls leave their mark in bare rock exposed by dramatic landslides as plants and soil wash down the mountain. The set of stairs about a mile from the top is a rerouted section of trail due to slides. The trail is often carved straight into the bedrock. Anchored steel cables provide a handhold when conditions are wet or icy. One rocky pass in particular could induce vertigo. Sheer rock drops away precipitously and the tops of trees appear far below.

An adorable Red Squirrel, a “Boomer,” runs across the trail with a spruce cone and stops to eat, giving me a chance to snap its picture. We see its messy midden of cone scales and cores close by. There is a lovely clump of Maidenhair Spleenwort tucked into  a rocky crevice. As we near the top, bright red clusters of Mountain Ash fruit stand out among dark green Red Spruce trees and bleached white skeletons of dead Fraser Firs. The trail passes through a shady Red Spruce tunnel.

YEEEE-HAAAAAAAA

We arrive at the junction with Rainbow Falls Trail by early afternoon and make our way past the lodge to the shelter. We are the first to arrive and lay claim to our corner for the night. I change out of sweaty clothes and place them in the sun to dry. We are ready to explore the summit of Mt. LeConte.

Snake Den Ridge Trail, Oct. 22, 2011

Ice crystals trace delicate outlines at the top of Snake Den Ridge.

Maddron Bald joins Snake Den Ridge about .7 mile from the latter’s junction with the Appalachian Trail. To complete Snake Den, I’ve got to head up before I can head down. Mary lives nearby and regularly hikes these trails, so she is quite willing to rest here and watch our packs while Clarence and I double this stretch. It is liberating and exhilarating to carry nothing but my camera! The difference is akin to sprouting wings; I’m practically flying up the trail. Apart from a few photo stops, we make good time.

It is a beautiful sunny day and cool – perfect hiking weather. The frozen precipitation from three days ago is still quite evident in patches of snow and icicles. Delicate crystals of ice line fallen leaves, mosses, and aging fern fronds with a transient beauty. Most plants are winding down. A few still hold the hope of progeny in ripe berries and mature fruit. Fluffy white parachutes of Rugel’s Ragwort seeds await transport on mountain breezes. Near the bottom, a droopy Fraser Magnolia is resigned to the season’s end.

Icy Atrichum moss

Clarence and I rejoin Mary at the trail junction for a quick lunch before heading for Cosby.  Snake Den Ridge is 5.3 miles (all up or all down) with an elevation change of 3400 feet. It descends the sloping ridge line of Snake Den Mountain. Inadu Mountain is to the right with the valley of Inadu Creek in between. A little over three miles down, the trail crosses Inadu Creek and finishes its descent on the lower flank of Inadu Mountain.

The word “inadu” is Cherokee for snake. Sections of Snake Den are excellent habitat for snakes — dry, rocky, south-facing slopes that provide ectothermic reptiles an ideal environment for absorbing heat. We don’t see any today, but Mary told a tale of her encounter with a Timber Rattlesnake on the trail earlier in the year. She had been hearing the occasional click of beetles all day, and when her walking stick stirred up quite a ruckus of clicks, she decided to search for the insect responsible. She turned around to find a rattler rearing its head out of the weeds, giving her the evil eye, and shaking that tail. She’ll never confuse that sound again!

Common Toadskin Lichen on the upper right is easily distinguished from the similar Rock Tripe (lower left) by color and texture.

As we move down Snake Den Ridge, the temperature moderates. I find a very warty American Toad hopping across the path. It is a dusty tannish gray and stubbornly camera shy despite my best efforts to charm the little guy (or gal?). Speaking of toads, Mary notices a large, flat lichen covered with little bumps. I later identify it as Common Toadskin Lichen (Lasallia papulosa). Its color and texture set it apart from Rock Tripe with which it could be confused.

Mary catching a few rays.

I’m easily distracted along the trail and often stop to photograph interesting sights and details, then rush to catch up. Mary is the sure and steady hiker, the constant “tortoise” to my whiplash inducing “hare.” Clarence will sometimes lag behind with me until he can’t stand it anymore, then he takes off to stretch his legs at Mary’s perfect pace. She slips ahead of us for a while today, and when we find her, she’s lying against her pack absorbing warm rays of sunshine like an ectotherm! She looks so relaxed and comfortable, Clarence and I shed our packs and join her.

This little Fraser Magnolia is ready for a long winter nap.

Most of the trail’s final mile follows an old road. A small cemetery is located near the turnaround. Snake Den Ridge concludes at the back corner of Cosby Campground very near our campsite. Before driving Mary home, Clarence and I gather fresh clothes and toiletries. She has offered us the opportunity to bathe at her place. Hallelujah!

Maddron Bald & Albright Grove Trails, Oct. 21-22

Mary & Clarence on Maddron Bald Trail

The first of two overnight hikes is planned today.  Mary joins Clarence and me for a stroll up Maddron Bald to campsite #29. Her husband Mike drops us off at the trailhead, and if you don’t already know where this sucker is located, you may have a tough time finding it. Just outside Cosby, a small residential street (Baxter Road) winds its way off Hwy. 321.  Watch carefully for a hairpin right turn onto a steeply descending gravel road. The trailhead is a short distance down on the left.

Maddron Bald, 7.3 miles long, rises 3500’ (1850’ to 5350’) following an old road for the first 2.3 miles. The climb is persistent but not punishing, though carrying a full pack with tent does impart a feeling of penance from time to time as the trail stretches ever upward. Its lower part passes through land that was cleared and farmed. The Willis Baxter cabin, built in 1889, sits in a small opening within the first mile. The little brown trail book recounts a bit of its history and notes that the chestnut log walls, joists, and rafters are original. A half mile further is the junction for Gabes Mountain and Old Settlers Trails, turning off to the left and right respectively. Maddron Bald forges ahead.

Common Katydid

Eastern Hemlocks along Maddron Bald call attention to themselves by simply looking green and relatively healthy. It is, sadly, an unusual sight in the Smokies these days. Young hemlocks from saplings to several inches in diameter are fully clothed in richly green needles here. Spray painted red dots appear on the back side of the trunk at the base. At the campsite one had three colored dots – blue, white and orange. Do the colors indicate different times for the same treatment or different types of treatments? I don’t know, but it sure is good to see some of these trees alive and well. Passing through a grove of larger healthy hemlocks gives a sense of the cool, deep shade and quiet atmosphere that was once a common occurrence in the Southern Appalachians but won’t likely be experienced as such for many generations if at all.

Blue Wood Aster

The day begins overcast but soon clears to a glorious blue sky and golden October sunshine. Along the way we see the foliage of Wild Strawberry, Fraser’s Sedge, a little white flowered aster that I can’t identify, and gorgeous specimens of Blue Wood Aster, formerly known as Aster cordifolius and now going by the botanical name Symphyotrichum cordifolium (quite a mouthful), in full flower. This blue aster is in its prime.

Insects are laying low this cool morning, but we do see one Common Katydid sitting quietly on a tree trunk. Clarence discovers a car remote key fob on the ground and hangs it on an eye-level branch. Fortunately for the owner no key is attached.

A lazy view of the Smokies in autumn.

There are many creek crossings heading up Maddron Bald. Cole Creek, Maddron Creek, Jones Branch, Indian Camp Creek, Copperhead Branch, and Otter Creek are flowing lustily. A couple of crossings have foot bridges, but most don’t. The recent rains make our rock hops something of a challenge. We contemplate carefully the best route and offer each other a helping hand. No one wants wet boots today. Mary and I pause to admire some of the lush mosses and liverworts growing along these cold mountain streams.

We hike past the first Albright Grove Trail junction and stop at the second for lunch. Lying on my back munching a peanut butter cracker, I look up through the lacy fronds of a Fancy Fern into the brilliant red foliage of two Red Maple trees and the deep green of a Hemlock set off by the bluest autumn sky imaginable. I reach for my camera, and it does not fail me. The captured image is so true to life I can almost feel the crisp late October air.

Big old Tulip Poplar in Albright Grove

After a brief rest and snack, Clarence and I walk the loop trail through the old growth forest of Albright Grove. Doris Gove’s poetic description in the brown guidebook’s account is perfect for this remarkable little trail. It is quite narrow, imparting a very intimate feel to the experience. Many people hike up to Albright Grove, but it doesn’t look ‘loved to death,’ which to me indicates that those who do make the effort to visit understand and appreciate the special beauty of this place. As Doris remarks, the “atmosphere…seems to require whispering.”

You can just make out the narrow trail running next to these giant Silverbells.

Many of the big old Tulip Poplars show the ravages of age and weather. The tree with the Elderberry shrub growing in the top is dead, the bark long gone. One Tulip Poplar still stands tall and proud in bright autumn yellow. The Silverbells are huge with their burnt potato chip bark. Evidence of old growth is everywhere – large, buttressing roots of living trees spreading out from the base to grip the anchoring ground and lumpy, pit and mound topography left by unearthed root balls and rotted trunks of trees toppled long ago.

Back on Maddron Bald again, Clarence and I buzz up the .3 mile separating the loop junctions to Mary, who has hiked Albright Grove on many occasions and opted to rest a bit and watch our gear. We resume the climb to Campsite #29. Not too far from our destination, there is a spur trail off to the left leading to a picturesque rocky outcrop flanked by gnarled Mountain Laurel, Reindeer Lichen, Highbush Blueberry (Vaccinium corymbosum) and Mountain Fetterbush (Leucothoe recurva). The latter two shrubs are clothed in deep red foliage.

Rocky outcrop off Maddron Bald Trail

Clarence arrives at the campsite before Mary and me and saves us a spot. It is located in a steep and narrow draw along madly rushing Otter Creek. As a result, it is noisy, bone-chilling cold, and totally lacking any decent places for a little privacy. It is a reservation site, and someone (who shall not be named) goofed big time and failed to notice this slight detail. The campsite is very full, but everyone finds a decent tent location and settles down for a long, cold night.

Sunset at Campsite 29

About 2:00 a.m., I get up for a bathroom run and step out of my tent to a dark sky full of fiery stars. I cannot resist the urge, despite the cold, to curl up on a rock near the fire ring and enjoy the brilliant display. Down the valley and through the trees, the twinkling lights of Pigeon Forge are clearly visible. I hear Clarence rustling around in his tent, and he too gets up for a night run. Next morning he is asking everyone who that crazy person sitting out in the middle of the night could have been. Seems all that rustling I heard was him frantically getting his headlamp to make sure the hunkered blob near the fire ring was not a bear!! No, just your crazy hiking buddy getting her stars fix.

Mountain Fetterbush

Next morning we finish the 1.6 miles of trail, pausing briefly to take in the spreading views from Maddron Bald and its carpet of Sand Myrtle along with Teaberry, Trailing Arbutus, and Red Spruce. As we near Snake Den Ridge Trail, rime coated foliage, traces of snow, and shattered ice from branches remind of us of Wednesday night’s high elevation winter storm.

Sorry for the delay in writing and posting these accounts. The remaining entries for this trip should follow in fairly short order.