Tuesday, April 18, 2017
When I awoke this morning, I heard a sound no hiker wants to hear. No, it wasn't a camper next to me snoring loudly. It was rain hitting my tent.
Rain makes you change your routine. You have to be more careful how you pack and prepare to hit the trail.
| Weather | Rain in the morning, then overcast much of the day. Some sun late, then brief light rain. High temperature near 70. |
| Trail Conditions | Muddy in a few spots, but improving |
| Today's Miles | 14.6 miles |
| Trip Miles | 217.1 miles |
Rainfall while trying to pack is enough to put any hiker in a foul mood. For me, my bad mood was made worse by this was the start of the fifth day in a row of rain.
I knew the rain and resulting mud on the trail would slow me down, and this was a day I intended to go fast.
My plan was, if possible, to get to Tricorner Knob Shelter. I had walked this 19.4-mile section once before, and I felt I could do it today. If I was successful, tomorrow, my last day in the Smokies, would be shorter.
Admittedly, making it to Tricorner Knob would be a stretch for me, even in good weather. I have not walked that far in one day since I left Springer Mountain.
No doubt about it. The rain put me in a funk.
I had to remain in my tent while I packed so my gear would stay dry. I did it hurriedly, then quickly tore down my tent while trying to keep rain from getting in it.
My haste proved to be costly, and it didn't gain me much extra time needed to reach my intended destination.
One good thing happened, though. Just as I left my tentsite at Mt. Collins Shelter, it stopped raining. This brightened my mood a bit, but only for a moment.
Then I started off down the trail, which was covered in mud and flowing water, and I was back to feeling sorry for myself.
Just as it did yesterday, the trail went through the spruce-fir forest. In the misty morning, it felt primordial. It was the kind of scene where you might turn and expect to see a dinosaur crashing through the trees.
Instead, you would just see me splashing down the muddy trail.
One unusual sight that appeared more than once was a large, uprooted tree. The soil is rocky here, so trees are unable to establish deep roots. If they grow tall, they are vulnerable to topple over in storms.
When a large tree falls over here, it pulls up its entire root structure, which is often clinging to rocks.
On the way to Newfound Gap, the sky began to clear a little. It never became sunny, but at least it was no longer a blanket of thick clouds.
The trail remained wet with no sun to dry it out.
The trail followed a path roughly parallel to the road from Newfound Gap to Clingman's Dome. I could occasionally hear cars on the road but usually could not see any.
At one point, though, the trail entered a grassy opening adjacent to a parking area at the road. This was at Indian Gap.
The Road Prong Trail also intersected at this point. This was another trail that was currently closed because of damage from last fall's fires. It was once part of an old Cherokee Indian trail. By 1839, the trail had become the preferred route for traders, farmers, and later for Confederate soldiers who were crossing the Smokies.
It wasn't until 1872 that Newfound Gap was "found" to be the lower gap. Arnold Guyot proved that with his elevation measurements during an exploration and study of the Smoky Mountains.
Later, during the development of the park, U.S. Highway 441 was constructed through Newfound Gap.
The trail entered a fenced area, which was one of several spaces created in the park to protect certain plants. Feral pigs run rampant in the area and have become an ecological nuisance.
Shortly before I reached the trail's intersection with Newfound Gap, I noticed a sea of springbeauty wildflowers. They were so abundant that the mountain slope looked as if it was covered in snow.
Entering Newfound Gap was a bit of a shock to my senses. After being surrounded by nature for several days, I was suddenly thrust into a roadway and parking lot. Cars and people were moving in every direction.
A monument on the other side of the parking lot recognizes the important contributions John D. Rockefeller Jr. made in the creation of the park. President Franklin D. Roosevelt stood here on September 2, 1940 to officially dedicate Great Smoky Mountains National Park.
Tennessee side of the gap includes a popular area called Chimney Tops. Below that is the town of Gatlinburg.
Last year was a devastating time for the park and town. After a long drought through most of the summer and fall, trees, brush, and understory in the forest became kindling waiting for a match.
Local law enforcement investigators said two teens hiking on Chimney Top Trail just before Thanksgiving lit the match. Their senseless action resulted in more than 17,000 acres burned, 14 deaths, and uncounted misery for thousands of area residents and business owners.
The AT through the Smokies was closed during this time but was reopened in early December after rain arrived to help firefighters extinguish the remaining wildfires.
Early studies conducted by Park Service scientists in the burned areas indicate the forest has already begun to recover. It is expected to be rejuvenated in a few years.
Tourists were everywhere. For many, this will be one of the few times they exit their car while in the park. Much of their Smokies vacation will be spent in Gatlinburg or Pigeon Forge, wandering T-shirt and saltwater taffy shops.
Many posed for photos at a sign marking the state line between Tennessee and North Carolina.
As I stopped to eat a snack at rock wall next to the parking lot, a couple of tourists noticed my backpack and asked if I was a thru-hiker. When I said yes, they had questions about my hike.
The trail after Newfound Gap was beginning to dry. It was covered in large, flat rocks because the trail was maintained for heavy foot traffic, which slowed down my pace. For a short distance, it needed to be more durable here because it is one of the most traveled sections of the entire 2,200 miles. Tourists walking from the parking lot may only go a short distance, but they will be able to say they went for a hike.
Starting here, the trail climbed from 5,049 feet to again above 6,000 feet.
A little more than a mile and a half past Newfound Gap, the AT came to a junction with the Sweat Heifer Trail. This was a steep trail, as much as a 16 percent grade in some places. It can be followed down to the Oconaluftee River valley.
The trail supposedly gets its name from when farmers brought their cattle to higher elevations in the summer. They probably didn't go all the way up to where the AT is now, however. There simply isn't an area large enough for livestock to graze. Here, the AT follows a narrow, rocky ridge line.
A short distance past the junction, I met a trail volunteer named Don Dunning. He was clearing water bars as a trail maintainer and member of the Smoky Mountain Hiking Club.
SMHC is one of the oldest hiking clubs in the country, having been founded in 1924. There are more than 600 members of the club. The group maintains the AT within the park.
Don told me the weather has been so cold and the ground too frozen to be able to work on the trail. This was the first time he and other maintainers had been able to take care of some of the important tasks.
Water bars help channel water away from the trail to prevent erosion. Over time, they can become blocked by mud, twigs, and other debris. It's often up to volunteers like Don to keep them clear.
Other than stopping to chat with Don, I didn't take a break until I reached Icewater Springs Shelter. I ate a quick lunch, then filtered water at a spring that was on the trail just beyond the shelter.
The trail began to open up with more views after the shelter. Though it was still cloudy, I could see deep into the valleys below.
Even as the Smokies were being settled and lumber companies began clearing the mountainside, this ridge remained rugged and difficult to penetrate. Few people reached the tops of these mountains because the forest was so dense.
At the beginning of the 20th century, lower elevations were quickly being cleared by logging companies. The process was often haphazard, with branches and brush left behind. The debris clogged streams and ravines.
In 1925, a forest fire ignited on the North Carolina side of the ridge. It started in a pile of dead foliage left behind by loggers. As the fire spread, it raced over the ridge and into Tennessee. The intensity of the fire scorched the ground so deeply that the top soil became too sterile to support new plant growth.
Four years later, a torrential rain washed away the topsoil, causing severe erosion and exposing the rocks and boulders underneath.
It wasn't long afterward when one of the exposed rocks was given a name. The rock was called Charlie's Bunion because someone said it reminded them of mountain guide Charlie Conner's foot problem.
When the Civilian Conservation Corps cut AT along this ridge in 1935, they added a side trail to Charle's Bunion. Since then, it has become a popular day hike destination.
I had been there before and wanted to stop again this time. Daylight was running short now, however. I still had hopes of reaching Tricorner Knob, so I elected to skip it.
The ridge got narrow at times, almost like a knife's edge, with both sides steeply sloping to the valleys below.
In other places, Civilian Conservation Corps workers had to carve and blast through solid rock to cut a narrow ledge for the trail. This was a rugged and remote area of the park.
Even though I was pressed for time, I tried to pause from time to time to appreciate the views from the trail. There were many.
By the middle of the afternoon, while looking at another view, I reached the realization that I would not make it to Tricorner Knob before dark. My destination should be Peck's Corner Shelter, instead.
Continuing now with that in mind, I came upon a hiker hunched over by the weight of a huge pack. She turned around when she heard me approach.
Her name was Broken Arrow. She told me she was 70 years old and was thru-hiking solo. She started her hike on February 28.
Her pack was so large and heavy, she explained, because she is slow. This requires her to carry extra food for the extra days between resupply stops. Of course, the added weight slows her more.
Broken Arrow said she hoped to get to Peck's Corner before dark, as I did. I wished her well and moved on.
David Edwin Lillard says in his book of Appalachian Trail place names that several family members named Peck were granted land in this area that is now called Peck's Corner. A tree marked the corner of two of those tracts.
I arrived at Peck's Corner Shelter at 6:30 p.m. It was nearly a half-mile from the AT. I had never been there before. In fact, I only hiked in this part of the park once before. There aren't many trails in this remote area.
The shelter was not quite full when I arrived, so I elected to sleep in it. I don't usually sleep in shelters because they are often noisy. They can also be home to mice that like to chew into packs and food bags.
Sleeping in the shelter made sense for me this time, though. I wouldn't need to pack my tent in the morning, and that would save time for getting back on the trail. I wanted as much time as possible to reach Davenport Gap. My wife will pick me up there tomorrow. I will then go home for a couple of days, then drive to Baltimore to attend a work-related conference.
While I started to unpack and set up for the night, I chatted with Miss Bobbie, a thru-hiker. I also talked to some weekend hikers from Knoxville.
Suddenly, I broke my end of the conversation, and a sinking feeling began to set in as I searched through my backpack.
I could not find my stove. It was no where to be found.
Slowly, I began to re-piece when I last saw it and realized why it wasn't in my pack.
About the time I was finishing dinner last night at Mt. Collins Shelter, the area was becoming very dark. The sun had set by then and there was no moon. I quickly hung my food bag, but instead of going back to the shelter to pick up my stove, I forgot about it and went straight to my tent.
Then when I hastily packed this morning, I completely forgot about my stove. When I left, it was still sitting on a table by the shelter. My spoon was there too.
With no stove or spoon, I decided to eat trail bars for dinner. I still had enough for tonight and tomorrow on the way to Davenport Gap.
A couple of hikers kindly offered to let me borrow their stove or give me hot water for me, but I was so disgusted with the situation I couldn't bring myself to accepting their offers.
I crawled into my sleeping bag and tried to get as much sleep as possible. There were 20.5 miles now between me and a temporary return home.
Ain't nobody messin' with you but you
Your friends are getting most concerned
Loose with the truth, maybe its your fire
Baby, I hope you don't get burned
When the smoke has cleared, she said
That's what she said to me
You're gonna want a bed to lay your head
And a little sympathy
There are things you can replace
And others you cannot
The time has come to weigh those things
This space is gettin' hot
You know this space is gettin' hot
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