Part II: Clingman's Dome to Cherokee NC

April 1, 2014 continued.

          “There is a quiet peace in this mountains.  It lures you in with the whisper of the wind and dances with a subtle flicker of the sun.  The trees are firmly rooted as time changes, able to bend in storms.  The leaves lie naked in vulnerability in hiding from the winter chill, only to burst forth in spring color, a reminder life persists against the depths of frozen death, test and resolved and resilient.  So that when the seasons of Spring and Summer enter the precipice of winter’s breath, they do not shy away from the struggles ahead, instead the full beauty of wonder of the forest sings in an explosion of color, golden as kings of the mountain, tears of joys they shout in color when the crisp golden orange leaves start to fall.  I find my life in the quiet peace of the forest.  It is not a startling revelation, but a slow climb up the back of a mountain to a vista I could have never imagined in my wildest dreams.”

          I wrote the passage above describes the subtle and deep wonder of the Oconaluftee region of The Great Smoky Mountains National Park.  With each footstep on the compact dirt ground the past rumbles.  This land was created by conflict in geologic forces, upheaval in motion, only in that chaos could such mastery be formed, soft and sweet as spring emerging from the cloak of snow.  The song of the Cherokee, their language and legends is connected with this land.  The connect runs so deep that each Cherokee story and word comes from the mountains and the clear waters of the Oconaluftee River, while the energy of the Cherokee civilization remains alive in these hills, as stewards of the land. 

The town of Cherokee North Carolina is located at the southern terminus of the Newfound Gap Road.  Set against the backdrop of tall ambling forests and the peaks of the Smokies, Cherokee is the perfect spot to soak one’s senses in the lore of this ancient land and commune with the history and mystery of the mountains.  Located on the Cherokee Reservation, within the Qualla Boundary, it continues to be the ancestral land and center of the Eastern Band of the Cherokee Tribe. The town boasts a thriving arts and cultural scene define by the diverse culture of a tribe older than millennium.  

 

I prefer Cherokee as a base to Gatlinburg because it still reflects the heart of the land.  Cherokee is a town built in the mountains, echoing the mists of the mountains.  It is not elegant or refined, rather homey and inviting.  It exudes a calm peace and forgotten tranquility without losing modern convenience.  Cherokee is laid back and sophisticated.  It has a nice balance of touristy and the heart and soul of the mountains.  It has numerous hotels and bed and breakfasts, homegrown restaurants and Cherokee art galleries.  Cherokee has keep the personality and character of the tribe’s culture imbued into the city streets.  The Cherokee language paired side by side with English.  The Cherokee have an excellent museum working to educate others on their outstanding culture and history.  In the summer months, travelers can enjoy top notch drama in ‘Unto These Hills,’ an award-winning theatrical production telling the story of the Cherokee, including their tragic persecution in the Trail of Tears.   

 

          I am fascinated by Native American culture.  The Cherokee are the song of the Smokies, a great civilization cut down by the nefarious aims of strangers driven by selfish aims.  For 1000 years the Cherokee lived in the Smokies.  It is the Cherokee who bestowed the name: ‘Shaconage,’ translated as ‘The land of the blue smoke.’  The Cherokee cared and tended these hills as a holy place.  The corrupt spirit of man may fail, but the healing powers of the Oconaluftee and the Blue Smoke of the mountains had the spirit of hope and healing.  The blue smoke rising, the forest’s shade and winding backs of uprooted trails and weeping waterfalls and roaring rivers provides timeless inspiration.  It is a place of quiet peace even when the ominous storms gather, the rain falls as nourishment for the hills…The Cherokee have faced insurmountable odds driven by prejudices and hate, yet their persevering song and traditions are a reminder of the power of healing and forgiveness, hope in despair and fighting for social justice in all times.  I only have admiration with the tribe.  I eagerly continue to learn and grow in knowledge of their history, lore, culture, art and civilization.  It is woven into the tapestry of the Smokies as much as the trees and rivers themselves.

The Cherokee have lived on this land for generation after generation and to step humbly into their sacred land is a gift.  I only had hospitality from the locals and look forward to returning and continuing to blog about Cherokee and their cultural history.

          Famished after traversing mountains, my mom and I decided to stop at Wendy’s for a late lunch, after which we returned to the Oconaluftee Visitor’s Center (Smokies) to load up on hiking information, human and geologic history of the region and sightseeing tips.

          The Oconaluftee Visitor Center is beautifully sited in a ‘cove,’ a dell in the midst of rambling rock fortresses and the Oconaluftee River rushing in the near distance.  The center is completely LEED certified and has a plethora of exhibits. 

          The Ranger suggested that we take time to explore the Mountain Farm Museum on site before ambling along the Oconaluftee River Trail.

          The Mountain Farm Museum is a collection of historic log buildings gathered from throughout the Smoky Mountains.  The edifices narrate the story of nineteenth century life in the land of the blue smoke.  Intrepid pioneers settled in the Smokies of Tennessee and North Carolina in the 1800s, building agriculture communities…these communities were actually highly sophisticated given the remote and harsh life one endured in the mountains.  It took fortitude and a hardy belligerence to let roots grow deep in these hills.  In every plank of wood and nail, there is a story, in every cinder box a conflict and a peace.  Closing my eyes and breathing in the mountain air as I step into the antiquated log structures, I sense the past and the more you search the past you find how relevant it is to the present – from neighborly feuds, camaraderie, the rosined bow of fiddle and the toil, sweat and tears in agriculture, battling frost and disease, death and resurrection the human and natural element ties us together into universal truths and lessons, lessons about preserving the land and the costs of mismanaging the natural treasure of the mountains (logging…deforestation, over grazing…

~

     

   The Oconaluftee River Trail offers a glimpse into the living legends of the Cherokee, a riparian ecosystem and mixed forest topography.  It is one of the easiest trails in the park in terms of elevation gain and grade, but it continues to be one of my favorites.  The Oconaluftee Trail embodies the quiet peace and glorious restlessness of the mountains and coves.  With each step you are on a journey, a journey that engages the soul to pause and the mind to contemplate, while inviting hikers to pause, staring at the river rapids, allowing the beat of a haunting wind whisper the legends of the Cherokee, who carved their culture, inspired in creation by this resilient land.  Along the 2 mile (4 mile round trip) dirt path are signs bringing to life Cherokee lore.

          Oconaluftee comes from the Cherokee word, ‘Egwanulti,’ which means by the river. The Cherokee consider the Oconaluftee River to be a sacred place.  The ritual of ‘Going to the River,’ stepping waist high into the paradoxically roaring and calm waters of this the flowing water is said to cleanse a spirit and heal a body’s wounds.  Every day the Cherokee would ‘Go to the River,’ as a sign of repentance and reflection.  In Cherokee tradition the river is known as ‘The Long Man,’ as it stretches out long and narrow, other times wide and flooding over its banks tempestuously.  Standing on the banks of the Oconaluftee there is a sense of the river as a metaphorical spirit.  It is a life force that feeds vegetation, nourishes crops and quenches the thirst of man.  It supplies trout for both bear and man.  It is the wading waters of wildlife.  It the mountains are the heart of the ecosystem, the trees are the oxygen and the rivers arteries and veins – a sustaining force.

The Oconaluftee Trail meanders through a dense forest of eastern hemlock, yellow buckeye, eastern sycamore, flowering dogwood and tulip trees.  One thing that has astounded me about the Smokies is the diversity of trees, and the expanse of deciduous trees.  Right now the deciduous trees, recovering from the harshest winter in twenty years, remain asleep, barren and seemingly lifeless. On my next trip to the Smokies this same forest will be alive with a spectrum of color from hues of green to the wildflower violets and vibrant yellows.  Over forty species of wildflowers grown on the banks of the Oconaluftee River.

 

The highlight of this trail are the interpretative signs detailing the myths of the Cherokee, their cultural history and flare for storytelling.  Their stories are inspired by their love of this ancient land, a land of lore that they are intrinsically tied to in body and spirit.  The Cherokee like many other Native Americans were monotheistic, believing in one Creator God, The Great Spirit who was all powerful and good.  They knew of the battle of good and evil and that good in the end is more powerful, yet there is an eternal tug of war in this world.  They belief everything in the earth has a spirit, a life within it, from the trees and forests, to the muddy and hard ground, the rivers and streams, animals and wildflowers.  They revere the land because it is given by the Great Spirit.  I think this is akin to the Christian and Jewish traditions and we can learn a lot about selflessness and respect of the land from the Cherokee’s reverence for the Great Spirit, God, the Creator and his glorious creation in the world around us. 

The Cherokee Creation Story: The Buzzard

When the earth was formed at the beginning of this distant time, the world was covered in water and all the creatures of lived in the sky in constant flight.  On land one dreams to soar to the clouds, still the birds and sky creatures need a foundation to rest.  

The creatures of the sky were curious about what lay underneath the expanse of water, deep and hidden.  So one day Dayuni’si, a small, yet intrepid water beetle volunteered to explore the depths of the water.  Skimming across the surface he found no solid ground, however when he dived down he found mud and the foundation of the earth.  In time the ground expanded, spreading out from the water and to the ends of the earth.  After all this occurred, one of the animals attached this new land to the sky with four strings.  Just after the Earth was formed it was flat and soft.  The sky animals decided to send a bird down to see if it had dried.  They send the great Buzzard from Galun’lati to prepare the earth for habitation.  The buzzard flew down and by the time he reached the Cherokee land he was so fatigued that his winds began to hit the ground. Where the wings crashed to the ground, there a mountain or valley formed.  The mountains of the Smokies still resemble an ocean, a blue mist expanse of mountains and valleys – all carved by the wings of a weary and magnificent bird. The land was lit by the sun and moon and the stars and it remains the land of the Cherokee and creatures of the forest.

Other stories along the trail included the tale of Utkena, the giant serpent and the battle for her magical rock, as well as the creation story of evergreens and the ‘sleeping’ deciduous  trees

          The interpretative signs along the trail – The Buzzard/Creation/Utkena. 

          As we were returning to the visitor center my mom and I spotted four cow elk wading on the banks of the river, shrouded in the shade of evergreens.  Elk are very common in Yellowstone and Montana, still this viewing is a special treat.  Elk, like bison, wolves and cougars once called this land home.  Elk measured in the thousands to millions only to be depleted by hunters and obliterated like bison from the Appalachian Mountains.  In 2001, Great Smoky National Park began a reintroduction program of elk into the park.  In the past thirteen years their numbers have grown with a healthy population around 160 elk.  To gaze upon these elegant and massive creatures in their historical range, thriving, is a joy as a conservationist. 

          Driving home the sun began to set as a firestorm of color before dipping below the mountains, leaving an aura of twilight.  In the interlude of dusk, several wild turkeys crossed the road.  We paused once again at Newfound Gap, the panorama a soft and alluring glow of warm reds and burnt oranges in the mists of the mountain fog.  Darkness revealing lonely stars twinkling as beacons in the night.

Part I: Smoky Mountain Crossroads~Newfound Gap

 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 1^st 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.