IN THE SHELTER

While 2009 certainly had some great moments, it didn’t feature nearly enough backpacking for me. With the year winding down, and more than a week off from work, I was determined to squeeze in at least one more overnight trip.

Unfortunately, the blizzard in mid-December and the Christmas ice storm had left a mess in the mountains. By the end of December, the highest elevations still had considerable snow, and trails in many other areas were littered with fallen trees. Between those factors, family obligations, and a weather forecast that promised more frigid temperatures and snow, just getting out was a challenge.

Ultimately I decided to slip away for a quick overnight trip on Tuesday and Wednesday. Those days promised the best weather, and fell conveniently between Christmas and New Years. The Smokies were an easy choice for my destination. Boone has been sick with a mysterious ailment, and I wasn’t planning on taking him. Under those circumstances, I figured I might as well go where I wouldn’t be allowed to bring him.

My initial thought was to hike Mount LeConte. It’s been at least 10 years since I’ve been there, which is practically a crime. A bit of pre-trip research indicated that there was still more than a foot of snow up there though. From past experience, I knew those trails could be a bit treacherous even without the effects of a major blizzard. Upon further review, I decided on a slightly less ambitious route.

I called the park’s backcountry office on Monday and scored the last spot at the Icewater Springs Shelter for the following night. I was surprised, as I didn’t think there were that many people as crazy as me. The weather forecast called for dry weather, but highs were only expected to reach the 20’s, with lows in the teens. That’s unreasonably cold for most people, including my wife. She laughed at my invitation to join me on this trip. Hopefully I’ll get her out with me come spring!

The easiest route to Icewater Springs is from Newfound Gap. The hike is only about 4 miles, and the elevation gain is modest, since the trailhead is at 5000’. However, I’ve been feeling lazy and out of shape lately. I suppose that’s a side effect of the holidays. Still, I was determined to shake myself out of my malaise with a harder workout. I decided to start my trip at the Kephart Prong Trailhead. By starting there, I’d get the chance to cover some trails I’d never hiked before. From the trailhead, I’d hike up along Kephart Prong to the shelter. Then I’d climb the Sweet Heifer Gap Trail to the AT, which I’d follow to Icewater Springs. On the second day, I’d make a loop combining the AT with the Dry Sluice Gap and Grassy Branch Trails. The Grassy Branch Trail would bring me back down to Kephart Prong, which I’d follow back out. The total hike would be 15 miles, which seemed reasonable for a 2-day trip. Then again, the first day would also require climbing about 3400’, some of it in the snow. Was I ready for that much of a workout?

The drive to Cherokee Tuesday morning seemed to take forever. I made lousy time, thanks in part to having to stop three times along the way. The final stop was at the ranger station, where I picked up my permit. During a visit to the restroom, the button on my hiking pants went flying. The trip was off to a foreboding start. At least I was confident that I could count on my pack’s waistband to hold my pants up!

There were only two cars at the trailhead when I arrived. I gathered my gear quickly and hit the trail a bit before 11:30. The sun was shining, but it was startlingly cold there in the valley. At least there wasn’t any snow down at that elevation. The dry trail ahead promised at least an easy start to the hike.

I crossed a broad bridge over the Oconaluftee River and followed an old road upstream along Kephart Prong. Before long I passed the remains of an old CCC camp, which included a standing chimney. From there I headed up the valley, crossing the stream several times on footbridges. Kephart Prong was a pleasant companion, and I made good time up to the Kephart Prong Shelter. I stopped there at 12:30 for a quick lunch. I didn’t linger long though, as I still had a big climb ahead of me, and daylight would begin to fade in four hours.

The Sweet Heifer Gap Trail wasn’t terribly exciting, but it was a good path. It contoured around the hillsides, gaining elevation without climbing steeply. Early on some muddy patches and a few fallen trees were the only obstacles. About halfway up though I began to run into snow and ice along particularly shady stretches of trail. Two creek crossings were a little tricky, as the water was definitely up thanks to the recent weather. The second crossing was at the base of a small, partially frozen waterfall. The rocks I needed to cross were all encased in ice. I had to break up the ice with my stick as I proceeded cautiously from one stone to the next. Luckily I made it across without incident.

A bit later the snow became more uniform. Again I was fortunate, in that I wasn’t the first person to hike this trail since the storm. I was able to follow the tracks of those who’d preceded me, which made for easier hiking than breaking trail through fresh snow. I climbed and climbed, and finally emerged from the woods into an open expanse of young Beech Trees. I was treated to my first views here, as I gazed south towards the peaks of the Nantahala National Forest. I continued to climb, and the views opened up more as I gained elevation. Near the top of the climb, I found a small bench with a fine vista to the south. I took a few minutes to enjoy this spot before walking the last few yards to the Appalachian Trail.

The snow at the top of the ridge was deeper than what I’d seen thus far. The good news though was that the path was well-packed due to heavy traffic. On the other hand, the packed trail was very icy. I considered putting on my Yaktrax ice cleats here, but there wasn’t a good place to sit down, and putting them on while standing is awkward at best. In hindsight, I should’ve doubled-back to the bench I’d just passed. Instead I pressed on, eager to reach the shelter. It was now after 4pm, and I still had a mile to go.

After only a short distance I reached another fine view into North Carolina. Beyond here, I passed a regular stream of hikers heading back towards Newfound Gap. This was startling, as I hadn’t seen anyone all day. Most of them were dayhikers, presumably on their way back from Charlie’s Bunion. I also passed a couple of backpackers coming from Mount LeConte.

I did ok without my ice cleats for awhile, but eventually I slipped on a patch of ice and tumbled into a snow bank. While I was down there, I decided to stop being stubborn and put on the Yaktrax. Once they were on, I no longer had to take great care in where I placed my feet. I shuffled on in the direction of the shelter. Two minutes later, I reached the junction with the Boulevard Trail out to Mount LeConte. The shelter was a ¼ mile ahead. There, I briefly considered taking a quick side trip out to take in the view of Mount LeConte from the Jumpoff. It was getting late though, so I decided to skip it. Instead I pressed on, ready to get out of my wet clothes.

I reached the Icewater Springs Shelter a few minutes later. The shelter is located in a small meadow with some nice views into North Carolina. On this occasion, the meadow was hidden under a foot of crusty snow.

I noticed two things immediately upon my arrival. First, some enterprising hiker had stretched a tattered tarp across the front of the shelter. Second, there was a tent pitched in the snow in front of the shelter. This alarmed me. The problem with getting the last reservation at the shelter is there is always the possibility of someone showing up without a permit. When that happens, the shelter can’t accommodate everyone. If that was the case, I’d have a problem. I’d left my tent behind in an effort to shed some weight from my pack.

I ducked into the shelter and was relieved to see that there was quite a bit of space still available. There I met my companions for the evening. This included four middle-aged guys and two of their sons. Two of them were from Knoxville, while the others were from Florida. Florida! The weather must’ve been a real shock to them. We all introduced ourselves while one of the boys got to work building a fire. These guys had come prepared. One of them had hauled in three artificial logs. They don’t put out a lot of heat, but they helped get the fire started. That fire certainly was a welcome sight after a long day tromping through the snow.

I changed into dry clothes, including under-armor, fleece, a down coat, hat, gloves, and wool socks. I was actually pretty toasty by the time I went out on the porch to make dinner. I made a quick run down the trail to the spring for water, and before long I had water boiling. I shared some extra sausage with my new shelter mates, and enjoyed a dinner of jambalaya while watching the light fade. It was a colorful sunset, ending with a nearly full moon suspended in a pink sky.

Over dinner, I had one sighting of the hikers in the tent. It was a college-aged girl, and she didn’t look happy. I can’t really blame her, as tenting out there in the snow couldn’t have been comfortable. Her boyfriend or husband or whatever was in the tent, and never made an appearance. They also had a dog with them, which annoyed me a little bit. I certainly don’t have anything against dogs, but I never bring mine to the Smokies because they aren’t allowed. If Boone smelled another dog on my clothes on my return, he’d never believe my excuse that I didn’t bring him because it’s against the rules!

Once darkness fell it got bitterly cold. I retreated into the relative warmth of the shelter and enjoyed the fire. After dinner conversation centered around some entertaining stories, before it took an unfortunate turn towards politics and religion. Those are two things I prefer to avoid discussing when I’m in the wilderness. This is particularly true when at least one individual is armed (hey, it’s legal to carry a gun in a national park now). When I was asked how often I listened to Rush Limbaugh, I wasn’t quite sure how to respond. I was pretty sure, “never, unless you count the occasions when Stephen Colbert mocks him” wasn’t a good answer. Despite this, my shelter mates were friendly guys, and the evening was pleasant.

Around 8pm two additional hikers showed up. This was startling, as it had been fully dark for more than 2 hours. They’d left Mount LeConte at 11am. That’s only a 5-mile hike, but it had taken them 9 hours! They described the conditions as horrific. The trail was a treacherous combination of deep snow and ice, frequently blocked by fallen trees. It sounds like it had been the hike from hell. Apparently I’d been correct in thinking that LeConte would be a bit too intense!

Come bed time, one of them shared some extra chemical hand warmers. I dropped one into my sleeping bag, and it did add a little heat. I was plenty warm in my sleeping bag, but I still had a rough night. Sleep was hard to come by. Twice I had a rat walk across my head. As luck would have it, I came down with a cold that night. I woke frequently because I couldn’t breathe. Then, I’d lay awake listening to a bizarre chorus of noises echoing through the shelter. It would start with a snore at the far end, followed by a snort. Then, from somewhere in the middle would come something that sounded like a wounded dog being attacked by a chain saw. Another snore would follow, followed by a fart. I’d then add an exclamation point with a honk on my hanky. Then it would start over back at the beginning. By midnight, I was beginning to think that the couple in the tent had the right idea after all.

C. BUNION

It was almost a relief when morning came, even though I felt awful. My head felt like a balloon, and my nose was raw from blowing on a frozen bandana all night. It was hard to get up, but at least I knew that the hiking would be almost all downhill.

I went out for water, and was stunned at the difference in temperature outside. That tattered tarp was extremely effective! The wind had kicked up overnight, and it was brutal out there. Inside it was cold, and some of my neighbor’s water bottles were frozen, but it was much warmer than it was outside. I hurried back from the spring, and made hot chocolate and oatmeal inside. Then it was time to visit the privy. That was a pleasant experience, too. I don’t really want to talk about it. Let’s let it suffice to say that the seat had about an inch of ice on it. Is it possible to get frost bite on the buttocks?

I was the first hiker out of the shelter, as I departed at 9:15. It was still mighty cold, so I left my under armor on under my regular hiking clothes. I also wore my down jacket, marking the first time I’ve actually worn it hiking. The wind was still howling, and my eyes immediately began to water as I hurried towards the relative shelter of the spruce forest.

Trail conditions were wicked, after all of the previous day’s snowmelt had frozen in a fine glaze. In places, it looked like I was walking across a pane of glass. Even with the Yaktrax on, I moved cautiously. They performed admirably though, and I didn’t slip a single time.

A long descent from Mount Ambler featured fine views in each direction. The best vistas were of Mount LeConte, shrouded in ice. Meanwhile, in a fine example of irony, bright rays of Jacobs Ladder were shining down on Pigeon Forge, in the valley far below.

Before long I reached a signed spur trail to Charlie’s Bunion. I had been here once before, several years ago, but this didn’t look familiar at all. I took the side path, hoping that I’d be able to enjoy the views from the bunion. The snow-covered path traverses the brink of a cliff, but the footing was good. I continued ahead, passing a steep gully leading up to the top of the outcrop. Climbing up there in those conditions was out of the question. Instead, I rounded a sharp corner, and new views unfolded to the north. I danced along the edge of the yawning gulf on my left, passing along a wall sparkling with massive icicles. A few minutes later, I rejoined the AT.

I was puzzled, as I knew I’d been to Charlie’s Bunion previously, but none of this looked familiar. I continued ahead on the AT, and reached an unmarked junction that I did recognize. This steep, rocky path led up through an open meadow to a minor peak. I climbed up, rewarded with spectacular views of the Kephart Prong Valley, with waves of distant peaks beyond. At the top I was treated to one more view of Mount LeConte. I huddled under a spruce tree to block the wind and enjoyed a snack. After a bit of loitering though, flurries began to fall. Clearly it was long past time to start down.

I rejoined the AT, and followed it a short distance to the junction with the Dry Sluice Gap Trail. I continued ahead briefly though, towards the Sawteeth. After only a short distance, I found what I was looking for – a view back at the dramatic sheer cliffs of Charlie’s Bunion. I checked that out for a couple of minutes before doubling-back to the junction.

The hiking from here was more challenging. Initially the trail went uphill, and only one set of footprints marked the snow. Unfortunately, the previous hiker had much longer legs than me, and I wasn’t able to follow in his steps. I had to break through the crusty snow, which was quite tiring. Before long though, I reached the crest and started down a gentle ridge. I reached the next junction quickly, and turned to follow the Grassy Branch Trail.

After only a few minutes I reached an open, sunny spot next to a stream. I paused there to filter water and to relax in the sun. I was out of the wind there, and soon I was shedding layers. The hike from here was mostly easy, as I quickly left the majority of the snow and ice behind. The only difficulty came just before reaching the Kephart Prong Shelter. I encountered a pair of rockslides that were tricky to negotiate. The first required a steep down–climb, and I had to shed my pack and drag it behind me to get down safely.

The last 2 miles of trail from the shelter out were rather crowded. I passed several groups of dayhikers, one set of backpackers, and a fly fisherman in the last hour. On this last stretch I stopped a couple of times to take photos of Kephart Prong and the Oconaluftee River. Conditions for photography were good, as it was a cloudy afternoon.

I returned to the car at 3:30. I started for home, but made one side trip on the way. I headed over to Mingo Falls, as it has been on my to-do list for years. The parking lot had several other cars, which wasn’t surprising. Everywhere I’d been in the last couple of days had been busy. It almost seemed like summer or the fall leaf season out there.

I was gathering my gear when two minivans pulled in. Out jumped two big families featuring lots and lots of kids. I hurried up the steps leading to the falls, intent on getting there ahead of the crowd so I could get some photos.

That didn’t work out very well. I arrived at the viewing platform in plenty of time, but had some difficulties with my tripod. Then I had a challenge finding somewhere to place it, as the platform railing was the exact same height as my tripod. By the time I got set up, a horde of children hopped up on Christmas cookies, candy, and fudge descended on me. Just as I took my first photo, the platform began rocking like the S.S. Minnow lost at sea. Sigh.

Initially I thought they would get cold quickly and leave. After all, the platform at the base of the falls felt like a freezer. While the children ran laps around me, I set the photography aside and enjoyed the waterfall. Mingo Falls is spectacular. At 150’ high, it’s easily one of the finest falls in the southeast.

All too soon my patience evaporated. I remember the Kevin Adams guide mentioning another waterfall just upstream. I backtracked to the top of the stairs and found the trail, obscured by leaves, heading up. I followed it up switchbacks through a recently burned area. I made a couple of wrong turns, before stumbling on the correct path. I crossed an exposed, icy rock face above the brink of the falls (exciting) and headed upstream through the woods. A minute later, I reached the upper falls. The upper falls is much smaller, but still pretty. There are additional cascades below, but I didn’t see an appealing way to get down there. I settled for a few photos of the main drop before heading back down to the main falls.

The minivan crowd was gone when I returned, although there were several other people on the platform. These folks weren’t doing jumping jacks though, so I was able to get a few photos. By the time I was satisfied, it was getting late, I was freezing, and my cold was definitely getting worse. I headed back into Cherokee, where I picked up some McDinner and some sinus medicine. The drive home was miserable, thanks to my bloated sinuses and some bad traffic, and it was a huge relief to get home safely. Despite it all though, it was a great trip. The scenery, adventure, and solitude made for a fitting end to 2009. Now let’s see what next year holds!

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