The Great Smoky Mountains (Part 2/4)
Newbie mistakes and hikes…
On Saturday, we decided to drive to a trailhead and do some hiking, but as we were driving out of our campsite, we heard the ominous sound of something splashing and then clattering, only to look back and realize that I had forgotten to secure the very large Nalgene filled with cold brew — the filter with coffee grinds had still been sitting on top of the open bottle! To add insult to injury, I had been dripping the thing all morning, because, for some mysterious reason known only to the coffee gods, these beans just clogged the paper filter and dripped so slowly that one could see individual drops. Arggggh…
We finally drove to the Gabes Mountain Trailhead and hiked the 4.2 miles (out-and-back) to Hen Wallow Falls. In the guide provided by the campground, the hike was described as “moderate”, but we soon found ourselves scrambling uphill, trying to avoid the roots and rocks on the path. The hiking poles came in handy, but at the expense of saving our knees, we were feeling cramps on our hands, especially N., because of his unfortunate encounter with the sliding door of the van.
The downside of all this beautifully dry weather was that the waterfall was trickling, more than, well, falling.
We took some pictures — and N. wanted some video recording of the sound of water — and I then led the way back by basically trotting like a goat down the mountain as fast as I could. (And please note who’s carrying the backpack like a badass sherpa!) The trailhead by the Cosby Campground had a beautiful picnic area made even more beautiful by the season: bright fall colors, with leaves half on the trees and half on the ground; walking there felt like walking on crispy potato chips!
Today, we decided to hike to Clingmans Dome, but before we left, N. was adamant about washing the windshield. All campgrounds frown on washing one’s van/RV in the campsite, so we found a coin-operated carwash close by. Seventy-five cents bought five minutes of water-soap spray. N. was beaming about his clean windows, although he also kept muttering about a couple of missed spots.
Traffic was not so bad on the Newfound Gap Road. The twisty road, the colorful trees, the sun peaking through the branches — all made the drive seem more like a gift than a chore. (But beware: The Smokies are considered one of the most dangerous national parks — behind Death Valley NP — because of the nerve-wracking hairpin turns and steep hills.)
We stopped at a picnic area by the Chimney Tops Trail. It had a multitude of individual picnic areas, each with a parking spot, grill and picnic table. The best thing about this area was the noisy river/waterfall that descended through the rocks.
We made our way to Clingmans Dome and got a sense, for the first time, of crowds on the mountain. It’s touted as the highest point in the Great Smoky Mountains and the highest point in Tennessee, but does it really count when its last hundred feet come courtesy of a circular concrete observatory tower? It seems like cheating somehow.
I had been wondering about some trees that looked dead in this area of the mountains, and a chance encounter with a sign post in a lookout point explained that the area had been invaded by a non-native species of bug that killed only a specific type of tree (the hemlock, I think).