chris
11-04-2003, 17:50
While New England is know for its stunning colors in the season of autumn, the Smoky Mountains are well deserving of praise in this regard as well. The weather on the October 24th was as good as it could possibly get: Clear and warm, with a gentle breeze. Not hot enough to make me sweat too hard, but not cold enough to require lots of clothes on breaks.
I started my haul up towards the Appalachian ridgeline from the Abrams Creek ranger station, which is on the west end of the park. The walk up was along the Rabbit Creek and Hannah Mountain trails, both of which provided great, low altitude views of the surrounding valleys and the massive, hulking figure of Gregory Bald. Here, too, the colors were at their best. Being a Friday morning, there was no one around either. Gregory Bald was my first stop of the day and about 15 miles in to the hike. This was my first time on the Bald and I fell in love instantly. Quite literally stopping to catch my breath when I left the rhotodendron thickets to gain the open expanses on top. Three hundred sixty degree views, sunshine, no haze, nothing to blight the views. Except for an ominous smoke plum arrising from the vicinity of Fontana Dam. I loafed about in the sun, enjoying this jewel without another soul around. After an hour of laziness, I set off along the pre-1948 Appalachian trail to regain the current AT at Doe Knob, along the way passing several groups of day hikers and section hikers.
I reached the new Mollies Ridge shelter a little before five, feeling quite fresh after a little over 20 miles of hiking from Abrams. The pack of broken down section hikers that formed my company for the evening did not look like they would appreciate my high spirits, and so I left them right away to fetch water. Nothing but a trickle: A liter every five minutes, maybe.
After spending a half hour at the spring filling my water bag, I returned to the shelter to cook some soup and meet my fellow shelter dwellers. Nice folks all around and looking much friendlier after a rest. A large fire and much rum later, we were all good friends, staying up later than usual to enjoy a perfect fall night, including the Milky Way.
The morning broke later than I expected, but still too early for the rum still in my system. I did manage to start ambling down the trail by 8:30. Unlike the previous day, I had much company on the hike down. I was heading towards Cades Cove, the most overrun part of the most visited national park in the US. A steady stream of day hikers were heading up to the AT and I was headed down. I didn't want anyone around. I wanted yesterday again. Peace and quite. My fault for going to Cades Cove. Once I cleared Cades Cove and was on the Crooked Arm Ridge trail, traffic dropped off considerably: It went uphill about 1500 feet in about 2.5 miles. At the top were spectacular views north to the small hamlets that ring the park. Quaint pastoral scenes that are so easy to appreciate from several thousand feet above.
Making my way towards the Ace Gap trail, I started to enter one of the more remote parts of the park. Or, at least my guidebook would have me believe that. Back at lower elevation, the leaves were again in that riot of red, purples, and oranges that make fall hiking so nice. Stepping across the road that marks the beginning of the Ace Gap trail, a large SUV rumbled by with a woman sticking her head out. She wore the exhilirated grin that you see on a dog's face as their car races down a road. The woman seemed so happy to be out here, so excited to see someone emmerging from the woods. I wanted to tell her to get out of her car. To go for a walk and see what this is all about. To enjoy this treasure that can all be hers. All she had to do was get out and go for a walk. The SUV rumbled down the road, hastily towards the park boundary.
The Ace Gap trail was quite deserted, except for the large trophy house about 50 feet from the trail. Ace Gap runs the boundary of the park in these parts and someone decided it would be a good idea to build right up on the edge of the trail. A little dismayed and a little jealous, I proceeded to camp 3, which was occupied, much to my suprise, by a group of eight Strohs swilling backpackers. Knowing how much beer weighs, I figured that they would run out of beer quickly. Apparently they were much tougher than I gave them credit for: The party didn't end until around midnight. Fortunately, they were quite enough for me to sleep, and the 23 miles I hiked to get in were long enough to tire me out.
In the morning, the string of great weather ended with over cast skies. I moved quickly, hoping to beat the rain. Of course, I lost. But, I was able to get a few rest breaks in, along with a bathroom stop, before the rain came down in soft, small pellets. A major ford of Abrams creek later, I regained the Hannah mountain trail, which I flew along back to my car and the end of a highly enjoyable 2.5 day, 53 mile hike in the Smokys.
I started my haul up towards the Appalachian ridgeline from the Abrams Creek ranger station, which is on the west end of the park. The walk up was along the Rabbit Creek and Hannah Mountain trails, both of which provided great, low altitude views of the surrounding valleys and the massive, hulking figure of Gregory Bald. Here, too, the colors were at their best. Being a Friday morning, there was no one around either. Gregory Bald was my first stop of the day and about 15 miles in to the hike. This was my first time on the Bald and I fell in love instantly. Quite literally stopping to catch my breath when I left the rhotodendron thickets to gain the open expanses on top. Three hundred sixty degree views, sunshine, no haze, nothing to blight the views. Except for an ominous smoke plum arrising from the vicinity of Fontana Dam. I loafed about in the sun, enjoying this jewel without another soul around. After an hour of laziness, I set off along the pre-1948 Appalachian trail to regain the current AT at Doe Knob, along the way passing several groups of day hikers and section hikers.
I reached the new Mollies Ridge shelter a little before five, feeling quite fresh after a little over 20 miles of hiking from Abrams. The pack of broken down section hikers that formed my company for the evening did not look like they would appreciate my high spirits, and so I left them right away to fetch water. Nothing but a trickle: A liter every five minutes, maybe.
After spending a half hour at the spring filling my water bag, I returned to the shelter to cook some soup and meet my fellow shelter dwellers. Nice folks all around and looking much friendlier after a rest. A large fire and much rum later, we were all good friends, staying up later than usual to enjoy a perfect fall night, including the Milky Way.
The morning broke later than I expected, but still too early for the rum still in my system. I did manage to start ambling down the trail by 8:30. Unlike the previous day, I had much company on the hike down. I was heading towards Cades Cove, the most overrun part of the most visited national park in the US. A steady stream of day hikers were heading up to the AT and I was headed down. I didn't want anyone around. I wanted yesterday again. Peace and quite. My fault for going to Cades Cove. Once I cleared Cades Cove and was on the Crooked Arm Ridge trail, traffic dropped off considerably: It went uphill about 1500 feet in about 2.5 miles. At the top were spectacular views north to the small hamlets that ring the park. Quaint pastoral scenes that are so easy to appreciate from several thousand feet above.
Making my way towards the Ace Gap trail, I started to enter one of the more remote parts of the park. Or, at least my guidebook would have me believe that. Back at lower elevation, the leaves were again in that riot of red, purples, and oranges that make fall hiking so nice. Stepping across the road that marks the beginning of the Ace Gap trail, a large SUV rumbled by with a woman sticking her head out. She wore the exhilirated grin that you see on a dog's face as their car races down a road. The woman seemed so happy to be out here, so excited to see someone emmerging from the woods. I wanted to tell her to get out of her car. To go for a walk and see what this is all about. To enjoy this treasure that can all be hers. All she had to do was get out and go for a walk. The SUV rumbled down the road, hastily towards the park boundary.
The Ace Gap trail was quite deserted, except for the large trophy house about 50 feet from the trail. Ace Gap runs the boundary of the park in these parts and someone decided it would be a good idea to build right up on the edge of the trail. A little dismayed and a little jealous, I proceeded to camp 3, which was occupied, much to my suprise, by a group of eight Strohs swilling backpackers. Knowing how much beer weighs, I figured that they would run out of beer quickly. Apparently they were much tougher than I gave them credit for: The party didn't end until around midnight. Fortunately, they were quite enough for me to sleep, and the 23 miles I hiked to get in were long enough to tire me out.
In the morning, the string of great weather ended with over cast skies. I moved quickly, hoping to beat the rain. Of course, I lost. But, I was able to get a few rest breaks in, along with a bathroom stop, before the rain came down in soft, small pellets. A major ford of Abrams creek later, I regained the Hannah mountain trail, which I flew along back to my car and the end of a highly enjoyable 2.5 day, 53 mile hike in the Smokys.