Archived Entry from our trip to The Great Smokies
April 1 2014
The sun dances,
soft and furious, as it splinters through the cracks of the forest canopy,
casting a series of shadows and golden light as I drove the winding road from
Gatlinburg to Newfound Gap…Hailed as one of the most scenic drives in America,
the byway climbs the backbone of the Smokies for 31.2 miles from Gatlinburg to
Cherokee. The road is a marvel in
engineering, traversing the heart and soul of the mountains, like a vein,
clamping onto the rock, winding through tunnels and switchbacks, virgin forests
and skirting tumbling rivers, inching its way up to the ‘Newfound Gap.’
A gap is a low
point in a mountain ridge. In New
England it is referred to as a ‘notch,’ and in Montana we call them mountain
passes. The words ‘gap,’ ‘notch,’ and
‘pass,’ all describe the bends and breaks to breathe in the mountain air at
5046 feet. The Newfound Road is the only
road in the Smokies that ‘passes’ over the Appalachian chain of the Smokies, a
backbone of stone, dense forests and raw, untapped beauty across the state
lines of TN-NC once only accessible through arduous backbreaking hikes through
the deep dense mists of the mountains, maneuvering cliffs and rivers, forests
and air stealing elevation gain. The
drive takes second gear and twists and turns, each curve of pavement revealing
splendor in the rough and wild.
Starting off at
the Sugarlands Visitor Center on the west end, the road snakes through a deep
mixed forest of deciduous trees. Each
mile slightly alters the topography and ecology of our surroundings, as flora
changes with elevation gain, creating a diverse and enchanting mountain landscape.
Rangers parallel a drive on Newfound Gap
Road as a trip from muggy Appalachian forests of Tennessee to the cool boreal
forests in Canada.
As a child I used to dream the forests of the Blue
Ridge were magical, with creatures of fantasy and myth, legends come to life in
the mystery of the jagged ambling hills.
I can still imagine hiking into these woods, perhaps in the mists of a
crisp day stumbling upon an ancient world, or a lost civilization. It seems fanciful, still there is a mystery
that lures you into the Smokies. This
land is not possessed with the daunting overwhelming in your face wonder of the
Rockies – both possess a unique whisper and shout that calls to the soul, each
with a chaos and peace…the Smokies has a rambling beauty, a maze that beckons
dreamers and skeptics to wander into the forest in search of answers – the
mountains guard their secrets closely, one cannot unravel all the hidden
wonders in this alcove of paradise, a paradise battling against the world. No one who enters these hills in earnest,
even the most cynical of heart, will be transformed by this land, the air thick
with the life of the forest, the tapestry of peaks and cliffs, caves and
valleys…it is nature’s impressionist artwork, best viewed in a panoramic
landscape, all the while best explored in the nuances of light and shadow on a
damp forest trail.
The first part
of Newfound Gap Road cuts through a gorge caved by the West Prong-Little Pigeon
River. The forest is still asleep after
the harsh frozen winter…even April’s 70 degree sunshine fails to awaken the
slumber trees…they will bloom in their time, verdant green and bursting with
color…to explode in a pageantry of fire reds in yellow before dying in flesh
with winters frost. I imagine that the
mountains are meant to guard the forests, to protect their roots against the
axes of men and the pests of the lowlands.
The mountains give life to the forests and the forests build on the
fountain of the rock and dirt from eons past.
Life, past and present converging as they fight against and uncertain
future. The trees bend in the wind, but
do not fall…they are strong, still it is a fight against the elements, from
extreme weather to non-native pests that disease the forests.
In the cycle of the forest, we can reflect
on our own transformation in life, the cycles and seasons of our own flesh and
soul. We bloom in glory, shining as the
sun, seemingly invincible, death’s first kiss is in the form of a fire-red
wonder show…it is the sublime moments of old age that peace finally comes and
life bursts into color…only to fall into the flesh, not the spirit…Yet even in
the winter sleep there is solace for you see rebirth in the leaves of the trees
with Spring and Summer…winter can kill the flesh, the leaves, but it cannot kill
the roots of the spirit…nature’s display of judgment and grace.
Here is a link to the type of trees in the Smokies
With the
elevation rising (pedal to the medal) Mount LeConte stands as an ancient
guardian, a castle of the clouds, the river runs at a breakneck pace, rapids
thundering like a bear in motion. Named after
the LeConte brothers, including famous geologist Joseph LeConte, the mountain
stands at 6,593 feet. It is the third
highest peak in the Smokies behind Clingman’s Dome and Mount Guyot. Mount LeConte is a favorite among hikers, who
trek the pinnacles via Alum Bluff Cave to the LeConte Lodge. The Lodge is a backcountry structure that can
be reserved for overnight stays (a year in advance). The summit offers stunning views of the surrounding chain of the Smokies. Alum Cave Trail – passes notable landmarks,
arch rock, inspiration point, duck hawk peaks, cliff tom, rainbow falls and eye
of the needle.
Another nearby
hike that I hope to attempt in a future trip to the Smokies is the Chimney Tops
Trail. This trailhead starts at the
idyllic picnic area tucked in the woods.
It is a steep climb scaling 1350 feet in two miles. The pain yields a gain of stunning rocky top
views of the surrounding vistas. The Cherokee
called Chimney Tops, a unique rock formation at the top of a cliff,
Duniskwalgunyi – “forked antler.”
Forty minutes (fifteen
miles) into our drive the forests open up to reveal a spectacular panorama of
the Smokies. The vast, daunting
landscape and whistling wind calling the soul into a humble regard for the
glory of nature, the creation of every living thing and the cold muddy ground
beneath your feet. The ambling,
wandering ridges of the Smokies consume those who are ‘lost’ in this
wilderness, the diverse landscape is oxygen to the heart – it can sweep you
into a higher state of mind, the sort of peace and chaos of stars coming out of
pitch blackness. It is a moment of first
light, a dawn that compels one to bask in the intricate beauty before
them.
Straddling the
North Carolina and Tennessee state lines, Newfound Gap stands as a window into
the heart of Appalachia. It is here that
the crossroads of these ancient hills collide in wide open wonder. At nearly a mile high (5046 feet), Newfound
Gap is the highest spot in the Smokies accessed via roads. It is also an intersection for the
Appalachian Trail. The arduous
Appalachian Trail is the stuff of legend and the work of hard treacherous
backcountry exploration over 2181 miles from Georgia to Maine. The AT traverses seventy miles of untouched
wild territory in The Great Smoky Mountains National Park. The 3 mile segment of the trail at Newfound
Gap is a moderate hike and a great opportunity for everyone to blaze the AT
even if they cannot swing a 2181 trek.
For hundreds of
years, Newfound Gap, was a quiet space unstirred by men. The Cherokee used the Indian Gap road, an
ancient trail to cross the backbone of the corrugated peaks and mystic mists of
the Smokies. The Indian Gap route was
believed to be the lowest pass through the Smokies until 872. Swiss geographer, Arnold Henry Guyot set out
to measure Southern Appalachian elevations.
He used a simple barometer to measure changes in air pressure to calculate
mountain heights. In most cases he was
within 2-3 percent of current values.
His work in the Smokies revealed Newfound Gap to be the lowest pass
through the mountains, offering relief to those traveling across the
mountains. The lower, easier crossing
usurped Indian Gap as a ‘New Found’ gap.
A primitive road was carved along the Newfound Gap pass road, eventually
paved into the current Newfound Gap road – the only road in the park that
traverses the bear claw spine of the tallest strain of mountains east of the
Mississippi.
The vistas from
Newfound Gap are sublime. Staring out
into the sapphire hued ridges of the Smokies, I felt as if I were standing in the middle of a watercolor
painting. The mountains rim moving in
fluid motion in the color of the sky and earth.
The Blue Ridge haze creating an illusion of the mountains being an ocean
of blue, each peak an undulating wave, the clouds ships on roaring waters. Each subtle layer luring you in. Each second lost in the expanse, you discover
newfound marvels, some as subtle as a bird dangling on the edge before taking
flight or a lone wildflower, to the cold dirt snow reflecting the muddy
transition of winter to spring. The
beauty instantly charms you with a flirtation, yet it is in returning, allowing
the wind to guide your eyes and color to give you wings to soar among the
mountains, valleys and hidden treasures, weeping rocks and chimney tops that
you realize though the Smokies do not overwhelm sight like the Rockies, the
beauty lingers and grows deeper in time.
Time echoes its song in the Blue Ridge, rambling in the wind, rising to
tell stories of eons past. You feel
history in the soft whisper of the wind and the promise of the future and
responsibility of stewardship in the glow of the sun. Yes these hills, mountains are wise, their
peaks like a widow’s brow, the strata of rock wrinkles – each wrinkle lessons
in time and spirit…the forests breath and the mists a soothsaying fog.
A highlight at Newfound Gap is the
Rockefeller Memorial, which pays homage to Laura Rockefeller. The Rockefeller’s donated 5 million dollars
to the park as a matching grant to ensure the Smokies would be set aside as a
national park. In a future blog post I
will delve deeper into the history of the Smokies and its uphill battle in the
1920s-30s to become a National Park. It
took the pennies of students to impoverished citizens to the wealthiest
Americans to act as advocates for the Smokies.
Their sacrifices have preserved and protected this land for our
generation, now it is our duty to continue the active mission of conservation.
At Newfound Gap
I finally stepped on Tar Heel ground. Straddling the state lines of TN-NC is a
moving jig through my own history. I
grew up in North Carolina, these are the mountains of my youth, while Tennessee
is where I lived for five years – living on dreams, climbing mountains only for
hopes to shatter into glass, and rain it fell hard as a hurricane, it has taken
five years to see the rainbow of joy through the prism of the glass. I can step on TN and NC soil with a newfound
hope and resiliency of spirit.
Leaving
Newfound Gap, we drove the steep rugged seven mile paved road to Clingmans
Dome. April 1st is the first
day the road is open to vehicular traffic.
Clingmans Dome
is the beacon of the Smokies. It stands
guard at 6643 feet, it is a ‘castle’ rising from the mists to kiss the
sky. Here you can converse with the
clouds and meditate in the whisper of the wind.
Stretching across the Tennessee and North Carolina lines, Clingmans Dome
is the highest peak in the Smokies and third highest peak east of the
Mississippi after NC’s Mount Mitchell and Mount Craig. It is a must see sight in the Smokies…a
pinnacle, a spire and outpost for the ‘buzzard.’
Circling around
until we found the last open parking space, we trekked the strenuous half mile
paved vertical path to the Observation Tower situated on the summit of
Clingmans Dome. Even the aged hiker in me struggled with each step towards the
precipice, the abrupt elevation gain squeezing the air out of my lungs. This landscape truly is breathtaking. The thin air is contrasted by the dense
moisture that lingers from mountain storms and the fresh scent of fir trees
growing along the ridge line. Elevation
gain is the hardest part of mountain hiking.
Even living at 5,000 feet in Montana and hiking summits in Yellowstone,
you do not stay acclimated to high elevations, each foot pressing deeper into
your lungs and testing the human elements.
Here the beauty spurs you to fight
for breaths and continue to climb up the mountain, my knees cracking and my
hamstrings sore. It is hell on the
knees and lungs, but standing atop the cliffs of lonely mountain paths you will
never feel more alive. I struggled to maintain even breaths as I
ascended the mountain, my knees cracking and my hamstrings sore, still I
powered through, focused on the promise of a stunning view at the top, all the
while stopping to breathe in the scenery step by step.
The hike atop
Clingmans Dome offers a unique window into the volatile beauty of the harsh
extremes of highland Appalachia. Like
Newfound Gap, Clingmans Dome is much colder than surrounding peaks and valleys,
creating a cold damp wet coniferous rainforest environment more akin to Canada
than the southeastern United States.
Clingmans Dome is home to one of the largest Spruce Pine forests in the
United States. The slopes and crags of
the mountain lined with the graceful stoic Fraser Fir.
The Fraser Fir
is a species of fir native to the eastern U.S.
It is found only in the highest elevations of the Tennessee, Virginia
and North Carolina Mountains. Fraser
Firs have an enchanting aroma of earth and sun, winter and spring. Their
needles are cyclical and spired, poised and verdant. The Fraser Fir is an integral part of this
mountain landscape. Sadly this indigenous species that has inspired the
song of birds and poems and foundations of the homes of man is in full frontal
warfare with a deadly invasive species, the Balsalm Woolly Adelgid. This insect was introduced to the region from
Europe during colonization. As a new
pest to the Fraser it has no natural immunity to the insect and therefore
little natural defense to stop the spread of an Adelgid epidemic. The insect injects the tree with toxins,
blocking the path of the tree’s nutrients, causing the tree to starve to death.
Thousands of dead trees stand on these hills as a warning and testament. From the view tower at Clingman's Dome, the
endless stands of petrified white stalks of wood are ghosts haunting the
otherwise lively and vibrant landscape.
A ranger said
that ‘humans do a lot of cruel and stupid things, we consume by greed and
smother life from the earth, but humans also have the capacity for compassion
and care. We can learn from our mistakes
and the mistakes of our fathers to create a better way forward. It does not mean you cannot erase the mistakes
of the past, but you can work to preserve what is left for the future and strive
to be better stewards of the land, not only in our own time but a time as deep
and luminous, misty and faithful as the Smoky Mountains themselves.’ We are by nature flawed, selfish and
stubborn, still there is a crying out from these mountains for protection and
connection. We are allies, nature and
man, we cannot overtake one another lest the world falls into chaos. As with any relationship it is one of tender
care, thought and diligence, compromise and respect – otherwise one is cheated
and the other withers away – until the ‘conqueror’ too falls by the sword.
The National
Park Service is working with top scientists to act as protectors and guardians
of the forests in the fight against invasive insects (we had a similar struggle
against the native pine beetle in Montana);
it will never bring the ghosts pines of the mountain back to life, but
life can be restored, reborn again with a healthy forest through pilot programs
to aid in the defense against the Balsalm Woolly Adelgid and its cousin the
Hemlock Woolly Adelgid (killing off hundreds of the park’s hemlock trees); The
frost of the past winter, bitter and unrelenting actually has been an advocate
in the fight, subzero temps can kill off Adelgids.
Peering across
the glorious mystery and majesty of the Smokies from the Observation Tower atop
Clingman's Dome I travel across the miles.
The ridge of ambling hills is like an ocean of blue, waves dancing on the horizon with the ebb and
flow the wind and the sky a ceaseless blue.
As a storyteller I dream that this was once an ocean and Clingman's Dome
an island in the sea. A magical queen
lived on the mountain, one day a bear man swam across the ocean of blue,
stepping onto the island, he set eyes on the beautiful queen and they fell in
love…while an evil trickster and jealous hunter killed the bear. The snake bite the bear in hope of stealing
the queen’s fortune, while the hunter used his arrow to hit the bear’s heart –
the hunter in love with the queen and jealous of the bear man. Lost without her love, the queen used her
powers to turn the ocean into mountains so that no one could ever disturb her
silent heart, while she commanded the clouds to rain ice and snow, wind and
fire onto these hills. The trees sprang
up as guardians and protectors of the lost and lonesome, avengers of the
deceivers of the night. The ghost trees
are those who sided with the snake and hunter – warning never to forget the
power of the mountain.
My mom and I
stood in awe of the landscape for twenty minutes before descending back to
Torrey Ridge. Our next part of this
adventure continues at the Oconaluftee Visitor Center and Cherokee North
Carolina.
