Reward is Worth the Risk!

Temperatures on Saturday, even in Gatlinburg, were supposed to be in the low 60s--a pleasant day in early March. After checking several sources to make sure Greenbrier Road had been opened, we decided to hike to Ramsey Cascades to see the snow melt from the snows that had fallen earlier in the week. I had never hiked to Ramsey, but had heard that it was a nice but difficult trail after you got past the first mile and a half or so. We expected there to be plenty of water coming over the falls as a result if the higher temps.

The first part of the trail was a wide, pleasant uphill grade on an old roadbed running parallel to the Middle Prong of the Little Pigeon River. The rise was fairly steep, but not really very difficult. It was an absolutely gorgeous day which was warming fairly quickly, so we stopped and shed layers a time or two along the way. Any snow that had fallen during the week had melted in this area leaving behind a little mud, but our footing was sure on the wide and rocky path.

At about 1.5 miles, we came to a turn-around circle which, I supposed, marked the end of the roadbed as the now more narrow path turned off to the left. Here we began to notice the first indications that there really had been significant snow in the area in the previous days. Snow remained on the banks near the river or in heavy shade under trees, but still the path remained clear.

After about another half mile though, things began to change. Snow became more prevalent and began to cover the trail. Somewhere probably about mile two we came to the first of two split-log footbridges spanning Ramsey Prong. Even from our first view of it, we knew it would not be a fun crossing. The footbridge was covered in snow and ice, making the walk over it a little disconcerting since we still don't have crampons or microspikes for traction. However, with careful foot placement and a little luck, we made our way over that bridge without too much difficulty. At this point, we never even thought of not continuing. The snow that covered the trail was still soft enough to not be too much of an encumbrance and our desire to see the falls in the melting snow runoff was strong. We pressed on.

Once we passed that footbridge though, the snow deepened and became more icy since on this side of the river there was almost no sun making its way onto the trail. I was extremely thankful for my Leki hiking poles because they provided tremendous additional traction. About this time we were met on the trail by a couple of young guys trail running coming down from the falls. They had on trail running shoes and were moving much faster than we were, so we figured we'd be fine. They also said the falls was frozen over and extremely beautiful, which only encouraged us further to press on.

Massive tulip poplars

Soon, we came to one of my favorite parts of the trail. At about 2.6 miles there stand some of the largest trees I've seen in the Park. We passed directly between two massive tulip poplars and stopped for a photo op. You can see how large they are compared to my hiking partner standing in between them for scale. They reminded me of the other massive tulip poplar we had seen on an earlier hike on Scott Mountain, an area since devastated by a tornado-like storm that passed through last spring. I still haven't been able to determine if that ancient tree survived that storm since the trail in that area is still closed. These two stately survivors and another even larger tulip poplar just up the trail suggested that perhaps even the loggers who ravaged the park decades before had not traveled this far up the now much steeper path we were traveling. I'm glad that somehow, they were able to avoid the greed and the saws that harvested so many other such beauties that once ruled these woods.

Beyond those trees, the path conditions continued to deteriorate and we came upon the second footbridge. We had only thought the first one was a treacherous crossing. Almost nowhere on this bridge could you plate boot tread on wood or even soft snow. This is the closest we came to turning around. Using our poles to chop ice up to gain footing, we slowly, deliberately made it across and continued on towards the falls. Again we were met by other hikers who had made it up and shared that it was definitely worth continuing to see. So, on we went.

The last half mile or so, we spent holding onto roots or rocks, pulling ourselves up steep, slippery pathways which wound between and over large boulders over which, thankfully, large roots grew which provided necessary handholds to pull yourself up on and keep from sliding backwards on the ice.


Very soon, we were rewarded with a view of Ramsey Cascades unlike anything I've ever seen in my life. Water raged over the falls, but the spray from the cascades had frozen on the surrounding rocks and ground creating a sparkling fantasyland around the waterfalls. Pictures cannot begin to capture the spectacle, one that a fellow hiker who had encouraged us not to turn back had described as "an OMG moment!" As I stood there admiring the grandeur of such a sight, I knew the way home would be more treacherous than the trip up. Descending along that icy footpath would be more tricky than the climb had been, and I was right. However, we returned safely to our waiting cars with no incidents other than a couple minor slips. Would I have done anything differently, other than having some traction devices for my boots? No way! I'm so glad we didn't give up! I may never see anything so extraordinarily beautiful again in my whole life. Occasionally the reward is worth the risk, and this was just such a moment!

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Ramsey Cascades in a Snow Melt

Ramsey was difficult to get to today, but it was soooo worth the trip!

 

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Wintertime hiking---my favorite!

I absolutely love hiking in the winter for so many reasons! A little over a week ago, my hiking buddy and I took out on a Saturday morning to get in a short hike, starting a little later than usual because of the questionable weather predicted on Friday night and Saturday morning. We had decided to let the sun get up good and make sure the roads were open before leaving our homes. The hike of choice was Curry Mountain, a nice 3.3 mile trek up to Meigs Mountain Trail which runs from Elkmont to Tremont. This was going to just be an in and out for a round trip of 6.6 miles, only 3.3 of which were going to be new miles for me. Jennifer had already done the trail, so for her it was strictly spending time in the woods and leaving the stresses of the work week behind.

The weather was nice as we left Knoxville, and we were surprised when it started to snow pretty hard as we were making our way through Townsend. We chose to drive up Little River Road so we could stop in at the Sinks to see what damage had been done by vandals earlier the week before. Thankfully, when we got to the Sinks, no sign of damage was evident to us. I suppose park officials had already sand-blasted the graffiti off the rock surfaces which had been tagged by some nincompoop who must have thought it cool to destroy one of the most beautiful places in the world.

As we made our way from the Sinks to Metcalf Bottoms picnic area where we parked our car before heading up to the trailhead, snow peppered around us, beginning to stick to the ground, but not to the road. We debated not hiking, but honestly, not for long. So far, this snow was very different from the conditions on the AT the previous Saturday which turned us around in search of less ice in lower elevations. This snow, light and dry, simply enticed us further as opposed to making the path more difficult. Even as we moved higher up the mountain and the snow began to really cover the trail, it never became treacherous--just gorgeous!

I love wintertime hiking for several important reasons. Most importantly, probably, is utter lack of snakes! I detest snakes with the fervor God intended when He cursed the serpent in the Garden of Eden. And in weather like this I don't even have to worry about them at all. That's always a plus!

Another favorite aspect of wintertime hiking that appeals to me is the lack of other people on the trails. It is rare that we see more than one or two people on any trail we do this time of year. Don't get me wrong; I don't have anything against people in general, but I do love the solitude and quiet that pervades the mountains and trails this time of year. On this hike, we only saw one other hiker--a young man who had hiked out of the campsite he and his wife had set up when it had started to snow the night before. They had hiked down off the mountain not knowing what to expect from the weather. I got the feeling he would have stayed, but instead he carried out his wife's backpack, leaving his own gear on the mountain. That's how we saw him coming down Curry Mountain as we were going up. He'd already been back to the campsite to retrieve his pack and was about half way back down when we were making our way up the trail.

And, then there's the views! In winter, views seem to stretch on forever, unimpeded by the foliage of the deciduous trees in the forest. Surrounding mountaintops covered in snow and oncoming clouds threatening to drop more snow on both you and those mountains make for an exhilarating sight. I do have a healthy respect for the unpredictability of winter in the Smokies, but we always hike prepared for weather conditions that may deteriorate. We are also smart about things, staying on the trail and fairly close to a trailhead when conditions are iffy. But there's no quiet as quiet as these mountains covered in snow which seems to insulate from all sounds even those made by the wildlife. If you stand amid a few inches of snow and hold your breath, it's as close as I've ever been to silence. Literally the only thing you can hear is the beating of your own heart. Now that's silence!

It also seems to me that when the clouds break after or during a winter snow event, the sky is more blue than I've ever seen it on other occasions. I'm sure there's something scientific at work here, but I remain oblivious to those reasons. I just am enamored by the sight. There was one such moment of crystal clear blue sky peeking out amidst snowstorm clouds noted in the photo below:

If you look carefully at the mountains just below the storm clouds you can see that they are literally being dusted with snow as the blue sky breaks out just above them. It was a spectacular sight.

I know as spring approaches, it will hold beauty and excitement of its own. It too, is one of my favorite times to be in the mountains. However, a part of me holds onto these special wintertime hiking days as the rest of the year marches on. To be honest, I suppose whatever season I'm in at the time is one of my favorites--each season holds its own unique advantages and surprises.
I suppose it's ok to adapt a popular bumper sticker here: A bad day in the mountains is better than a good day at work! Not surprisingly, I haven't had many "bad days" in the mountains!

iTrack Spring!

Though bone tired when I left work today, I resisted the temptation to go straight home and take a long nap. Instead, I reluctantly headed out with the bike I had, thankfully, loaded on the back of my Mustang this morning before daybreak. I drove to my favorite bike trail in the area--the Maryville-Alcoa Greenway for what I figured would be very short ride. I almost changed my mind even sitting in the parking lot of the greenway. The sun had been obscured by dense cloud cover, and in spite of the fact that the thermometer on my car said 55 degrees, the breeze made it feel much colder.

Bradford pear trees setting buds

I unloaded the bike primarily because I had driven 20 minutes to get there, and peddled off more slowly than usual. I love to ride my hike between hikes, but today I simply wasn't feeling it. As I peddled a little longer, I began to notice the day's troubles begin to melt away. Soon I noticed surprising early signs of spring--something I certainly had not expected.

Suddenly I had an idea. This year I will take the time to track the approach of spring, my favorite season of the year. The plan, though, is to only do so when I am either traveling on foot or on my Cannondale Quick. Since I usually carry my iPhone with me when walking or biking, that's what most of the photos will be taken with--hence, the title of this little series: iTrack Spring! However, when I hike, I'll have my Fuji XP camera with me, so I will use it on those adventures. I hope to bite my tongue (or fingers in this case) and, for the most part, let the pictures chronicle the advance of this most delightful time of the year.
So, off we go!

Jonquils gracing the edge of the trail

Most folks call this a weed, but it has a beautiful tiny blue flower.

Forsythia in bloom at the base of the Alcoa Highway bridge

This pair of Canada geese seem to be thinking Spring too!

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Ice Skating on the AT--I don't THINK so!

Our original plan for this Saturday's hike was to go to Ramsey Cascade in the Greenbrier area of the Smokies. We were all excited about doing a destination hike and having lunch by the falls on a day in which the high in Gatlinburg was supposed to be in the upper 50s. Thankfully, though, one of our group members noticed on Friday afternoon that Greenbrier Road was closed due to damage to roadway and bridges during the recent heavy rains and storms, meaning that even if we had driven to Greenbrier, we would have been a long way from the Ramsey trailhead when we would be forced to abandon our vehicles. We quickly came up with a plan B.

Plan B was another destination hike that I've been wanting to do for many months--Charlie's Bunion. Charlie's Bunion is a rock outcropping which received its name after a hike in which Charlie Connor and Horace Kephart made it to this spot. While there, Charlie took off his boots to reveal a bunion on his foot which was shaped much like the rock outcropping they were visiting. According to Hiking in the Smokies, Mr. Kephart told Charlie that he was going to get his name put on a national map in honor of their hike together and the uncanny resemblance of Charlie's Bunion to the now-famous rock outcropping. That was in the days before the founding of the Great Smoky Mountain National Park, and Mr. Kephart proved true to his word.

I've been to the nearby Jump Off which offers similar views, but never to Charlie's Bunion. It presents the opportunity for some of those photo ops where it appears that you are standing literally on top of the world, and I was ready for a new one. All was well in the morning as we headed up to the mountains from Knoxville, the skies crystal clear, promising superb views along the AT as we made our way toward the Bunion. This would have been in direct contrast to the weather conditions the last time we had made our way up the AT from Newfound Gap Road during our hike to Mt. LeConte via the Boulevard Trail. On that day, we were literally hiking in the clouds and the views were obscured throughout the entire trip. We were excited that the views would be spectacular with skies this clear and bright.

The first sign of trouble came as we neared the top of Newfound Gap Road. I had seen, a few minutes before, a few clouds roll over the mountain, but they quickly made their way out of the area, and the sky had cleared again. However, as we rounded a curve in the road, glistening treetops surprised us. Was that ice or snow or what? We decided that the clouds that had just rolled through had left enough moisture on the trees to freeze them in what must be pretty cold air above us. We stopped to take a few pictures and noticed that we needed our coats, but the temps were not unbearably cold.

However, when we got out of our cars at Newfound Gap, the weather was decidedly different even than it had been maybe a mile lower down the road. Up here the wind was whipping and there were snow banks left from plowing the parking lot. Anywhere water had crossed the parking lot as snow had melted yesterday, it was now a solid sheet of ice. Shocked, we donned extra layers that we had packed "just in case," and made our way out to the Appalachian Trail. Once on the trail, we began to warm up pretty quickly. The trees that flanked both sides of the trail protected us from the wind and made the hike much more comfortable than standing in the parking lot getting ready had been.

For the first quarter of a mile, the trail was "normal" including the stairs and rock scrambles typical on the AT. However, soon the path became covered with snow and ice making us have to carefully determine where each step would be placed to keep us from slipping on the ice. Disconcerted, I began to wonder if this was a wise move since none of us had any type of footwear made for these conditions. We kept going, lured by the prospect of those spectacular views that we knew would await us if we could just get to Charlie's Bunion. All of us were hoping that trail conditions would improve. But, they didn't. Two of the four of us hiking on this trip were close to or over 50. We kept envisioning a fall on the ice resulting in a broken hip or other bone. At one point I literally skated over one particularly iced over section of the trail. At that point, the two elders in the group called out to the youngsters up front and expressed out concerns and our perceived need for caution. One slip and bad fall on this ice could mean many lost weeks of hiking opportunities for those of us with more brittle bones. Reluctantly, we turned and made our way slowly and carefully back to the parking area. The trip back down was much more treacherous than the mile we had hiked going up, easing our disappointment a little at least.

Feeling somewhat like a wusses, we made our way back down Newfound Gap Road to the lower elevations where there was no sign of snow or ice. We left a car at the Huskey Gap trailhead just above Sugarlands Visitor Center and drove the other vehicle to the trailhead of Jake's Creek. We hiked up Jake's Creek for .7 mile to the intersection with Cucumber Gap and took a left. This pleasant trail was not new to me--I had hiked it with my kids when they were young. It was nice not to have to worry about each step you took. We relaxed and enjoyed the scenery around us and the peaceful sounds of the birds in the trees. At the end of Cucumber Gap we went right for a short time then turned left onto Huskey Gap. It was near here, as we crossed the bridge that traversed the Little River that we had evidence of the force of the floodwaters that had been ravaging the area and had resulted in washed out bridges and roadways. At the bottom of this bridge, on the upriver side, were two huge trees that had been washed down the river. They lay parallel to the bridge, lodged up against the abutments that secured the bridge in place. It's really amazing that these massive trees had not taken out this bridge entirely when they were slammed into its moorings. We had an increased appreciation for both the strength of this bridge and the power of nature that had taken out other such bridges in the park.

The Huskey Gap trail was another pleasant walk through the woods, characterized by big, old trees with little underbrush to obscure the scene. Admittedly, the ascent was steeper than Cucumber Gap had been, but it was still not a difficult climb. After Huskey Gap crossed Sugarland Mountain Trail, it began the descent toward Newfound Gap Road. This part of the trail was characterized by sections which were covered by vines hanging from the trees, making you feel as if you were hiking through some enchanted forest which just might possibly come alive at any moment.

All in all, this day in the woods had turned out just fine. I ended up getting 4.1 new miles (of the almost 9 we hiked) and came away with new appreciation for the unpredictable nature of the weather conditions that can await you in these mountains. I also realize that I need to search for some appropriate form of crampons, spikes, or something to carry with me when doing high elevation hikes in the winter just in case the need for them arises. I'm open to suggestions on what would work well for me, knowing that I never (at least not yet) intentionally set out to hike in the snow and ice.

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Iced In! When you can't hike, plan to hike!

On a day when Tennessee has declared a state of emergency as a result of the ice storm, all I can do is think about hiking instead of getting out there to do a little hiking. This storm is probably going to mean I don't get to hike tomorrow either, Saturday, as I had planned to--and that's a bummer!
A hiking addiction with a full-time job and family responsibilities means there's a great deal of time spent longing to be on the trail when you can't really get out there. But I've come to find that the planning that goes into a goal like hiking all of the trails in the Smokies is half the fun.

Every Smoky Mountain hiker should have a copy of Hiking Trails of the Smokies--probably considered by most to be the Bible of those who walk the trails of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. This book gives trail descriptions of every official trail within the park boundaries, listed alphabetically. The trail descriptions include not only interesting things to see along the path, but also historical accounts of the region and stories of those who lived here before the park was founded. There are also elevation maps which mark all significant water crossings--something quite beneficial especially if planning a winter hike when water crossings can be cold at best and dangerous at worst!

But if you are considering planning to hike all the trails of the Smokies, there's another resource you MUST have--Day Hiker's Guide to All the Trails in the Smoky Mountains by Elizabeth L. Etnier.
Liz had divided the park into regional sections and has mapped out a way to do all the trails in the park as day hikes, albeit some of them very long day hikes. This book includes directions on whether you need one vehicle or two for a hike and suggestions on where to park them. It also maps out designations of "new miles" and total mileage hiked for those of us who are tracking those statistics as a way to show progress toward the goal. However, this book would also be an excellent reference for anyone looking for day hikes that most park visitors never consider--something that is of great benefit during the highest visitation periods of the year when the most popular day hikes are often crowded, far from the secluded retreat you might be seeking. The vast majority of the trails listed in this book will not be well-traveled. In fact, on most of the hikes we do, encountering other people is a rarity.

And then there is the question of maps. I have two--The Great Smoky Mountains Trail Map on which I highlight the trails as I have completed them, a visual record of my progress and also a reminder of all that which remains to be hiked. Now that's motivation! I know hikers who have laminated this map and hung it on an office or bedroom wall, highlighting it as they go. That would be a great way to do it too, but I just keep mine folded on my desk. I highlight each new trail almost as soon as I get home and unpack my backpack.

My second map is a waterproof topographical map that makes almost every hike carefully stowed in my backpack, just in case something goes wrong. After having made a wrong turn on the AT last summer resulting in a harrowing 20-mile hike that was supposed to be a 7-miler, I have made it a point to hike with this map. I purchased it right after that hike, and it is a staple in my backpack. This map has enough detail to be of great help in case you should get confused at a trail intersection or need to know the fastest way out of the wilderness to get help.
Between all of these resources, which can be found here, I can spend hours on a cold, icy day looking forward to and mapping out the hikes I hope to do in the coming weeks and months. I can think of better ways to spend a day--hiking would be choice number one! But if it's too cold and icy to get outside, this isn't a bad way to spend an afternoon.

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On Top of Old Smoky, All Covered with Snow

Days of continual, soaking rain had been followed by an evening of snowfall in the Smokies and the surrounding area this past week. The deluge of rain for days had me itching to get out of the house to do something active besides going to the gym. An unexpected vacation day from the snowfall would have been a great day to hike but roads were closed in many sections of the park. However, it did allow us time to plan to hike on Saturday if the roads would just open in time. Sometime on Friday afternoon the road to Cades Cove did open, and we made plans to do a short hike in that area which would allow me to do a small section of Bote Mountain Trail which I had missed and also allow Jennifer the opportunity to do Lead Cove, a trail that she had been unable to do with us the first time.

The temperature was 28 degrees as Jennifer and I got out of the truck at the Cades Cove Picnic Area. The waters of that typically quiet river that runs through the picnic area were raging with run-off from the rains. An inch or so of snow remained on the ground in many spots making this a pretty morning for a hike.

We crossed two bridges as we made our way up Anthony Creek Trail, both of which were iced over like this one making the passing difficult. The foot logs that we crossed at least three more times were even worse, but it seemed that when the footing was the most slippery, there was a supporting rail post right where we needed to place our feet to prevent us from slipping off the log. Most of the time there was a layer of crunchy snow in which our Keen hiking boots could take hold. Passages were slow, but thankfully uneventful.

It felt great to get back out here even though there were only two of us able to hike on this particular Saturday. We actually thought about not hiking with just two, but I am so very glad we did. The scenery as we gained elevation climbing up to the ridge of Bote Mountain became more and more spectacular. The snow deepened and eventually covered not only the hillsides around us, but also the trail itself. The quietude suggested that we were the only people in the world, but footprints on the path below our feet assured us that we were not the only adventure addicts who had traversed this way since the snow had fallen.

It's moments like this, as the sun's rays make the snow-covered branches glisten as if they are coated in icing made of diamond chips, when you realize how inadequate cameras are and why you must get out and see things for yourself. I knew when I took this shot that there would remain only a hint of the beauty that I actually saw--enough to remind me, but not enough to convince anyone else of its magnitude. I guess you'll have to take my word for it.

Not surprisingly, the closer we got to the top of Bote Mountain, the more snow crunched under our feet. Up here, you could definitely see evidence of many other hikers who had come out to experience the mountains under the cover of snow. We chose our footing carefully on this section, paying so much attention to our steps that we totally missed campsite #9 which lies not far off this section of the trail. The only way we knew about it at all was because only a minute or two after we came to the intersection with Bote Mountain Trail we had company. Suddenly up the trail behind us came a group of men who had spent the night at campsite #9 and had seen us walk by on the trail. But we had not seen or heard them. They were headed to Rocky Top to witness the views of the mountains in the snow from that high vantage point, so we parted, going opposite directions on Bote Mountain Trail.

We had intended to rest for a while at the top (that's a pretty steep climb we had just made in the snow), but after lingering for only a few minutes, the chill began to creep in encouraging us to keep moving. I had not been cold on the hike with the exception of the first 1/4 mile or so when I had zipped my jacket up enough to cover my face. But here on the mountaintop the air was crisp and cold. As we moved along Bote Mountain Trail toward Lead Cove, we were afforded beautiful views of the valleys below shrouded in cloud cover. This short stretch of Bote Mountain Trail that was new to me (1.2 miles) was much more pleasant than the other parts of the trail that I had covered. There were fewer rocks to trip up an unsuspecting hiker and nice views on either side to enjoy as you walked.

At this juncture, we left the ridge line of Bote Mountain and began the descent back down Lead Cove Trail to Laurel Creek Road. Again, I found myself not wanting to leave the mountaintops. As the snow cover diminished and the sounds of the traffic on the road and the rushing waters of Laurel Creek reached our ears, we took a moment to be thankful--thankful for our friendship, the time spent in this special place, and the good fortune to live close enough to be able to frequent it with regularity.

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