With the return of Spring, I felt like it was time to revisit the Smokies. I planned a 4-day backpack, and Bob decided to join me. He took a couple of days off from work, and we tried to decide on a route.

I left Charlotte at 6:30 on Friday morning and met Bob at the National Forest Ranger Station in Nebo just after 8:00. I signed a release, which allowed me to leave my car there. We continued together all the way to the Waterville Exit, just over the line in Tennessee. From there, it only took a few minutes to reach the Big Creek Ranger Station. We filled out our permit, and after a couple of minutes, found the Chestnut Branch Trail, which starts just up the road from the parking area.

We hiked up a pleasant trail along a small stream. I was hoping to see wildflowers, but they weren’t really out yet. We saw trillium that were almost in bloom, but not quite. Then, we left the stream on switchbacks and climbed more steeply. I had been expecting a steep pull over the first mile and a half, but it wasn’t that bad. We reached the AT in less than an hour, and vowed to push on to Mt. Cammerer before lunch. This would mean a late meal, but we wanted to spend a lot of time enjoying the view from one of the most scenic peaks in the Smokies. Plus, we knew that it would be good to get the 3500’ climb out of the way.

We ascended on the AT and began to see flowers immediately. Up on the ridge, the foliage wasn’t out yet. The extra sun meant that the flowers were blooming earlier despite the higher elevation. Initially we saw painted trillium, but soon they gave way to large white trillium. At first we saw a few here and there, but then we reached a rocky slope below Mt. Cammerer. Here we found boulders, moss, and entire hillsides covered in trillium.

We continued the climb, and reached a rock outcrop around 1pm. From the cliff, we had a great view of the Pigeon River gorge and the Big Creek Basin. Mt. Sterling loomed across the basin from us. We planned to come down from Sterling on Monday, so it was interesting to see the end of our trip ahead of us. The view was nice, but it was a warm, sunny, humid day. In the Smokies, that means haze. We knew that the views ahead would be severely limited by the weather. How much though, we had yet to find out.

We resumed the climb, and began to hear thunder in the distance. I knew that afternoon storms were likely, and we picked up the pace. I wanted to reach the summit before the storms did, but it was not to be. Fog rolled in seemingly from nowhere, and the first raindrops began to fall. I was in a pretty pissy mood when we stopped to put on rain gear. Why didn’t we get an earlier start?

With rain gear in place, we climbed another hundred feet to a junction. Here was the trail that led out to the Mt. Cammerer lookout tower. Should we try for it? We knew it was another half mile, and the mountain was already fogged in. There would be no view. However, the tower is fully enclosed, and would shelter us from the storm. But would it be safe in a thunderstorm? We’d have to hike across an exposed cliff to get there. A brutal gust of wind settled the debate. We’d take a chance on making it to the tower.

We headed down the trail, and passed three guys coming from the tower who must’ve felt differently. They warned us that the end of the "trail" was more like rock climbing. We hurried on, as the wind was howling. There was no telling when the full strength of the storm would hit us. Moving quickly was difficult though, as the fog was so thick visibility was only a few feet. Soon the forest ended and was replaced by a low tunnel of rhododendron. This did nothing to block the wind, which was by now probably gusting to 50 mph. Then, the heath ended, and a wall of rock loomed before me out of the fog. Visibility was so poor, it was hard to tell where to go. I scrambled up the wet rocks, clinging to them to keep the wind from blowing me off. Then, the stone tower appeared out of the fog in front of me. It looked like a vision out of "The Lord Of The Rings". The tower clung to the end of a rocky cliff and withstood the brutal wind. In turn it disappeared and emerged as the clouds raced by.

I scrambled up a series of rock shelves and mounted the stairs. I raced to the landing, but could barely budge the door because of the wind. Finally I forced it open, and Bob and I ducked inside. It took the strength of both of us to shut and latch the door against the strength of the wind. As soon as we did, the full fury of the storm broke. Great sheets of rain battered the windows. The tower swayed in the wind. Brilliant flashes strained our eyes as lightning struck nearby. Hail began to pound the wooden deck outside. For better or worse, we were sheltered from the storm. Now we had to ride it out.

The tower was a single small room with many windows. The panes made me nervous, but held. The doorway was leaking, so we huddled against the far wall. The storm raged for what seemed like hours. Eventually though, the adrenaline drained, and somehow I became sleepy. I stretched out on the floor, hoping that the storm would break soon.

I woke to warm sunshine on my face. I’m not sure if I was more surprised about the sun, or the fact that I had been asleep. Bob was out cold nearby. I got up and looked out a window. I was stunned by what I saw. The storm had passed to the east, leaving only hundreds of wisps of clouds rising out of the valleys. The haze was gone, and we could see forever. There seemed to be no limit to the extent of our views, save to the east. There beyond Mount Sterling, the sky was an ugly bruise punctuated by the occasional scar of lightning.

I woke Bob, and we reveled in our good fortune. Never had we seen a Smoky Mountain view to compare with this. We both got a little carried away with our cameras, although I’m sure the photos will never do the moment justice. To the south and east, we could see the route of our entire trip laid out before us. To the south, the ridge dropped down to Low Gap before climbing again to Cosby Knob. Beyond, it circled the basin and reached its high point at Mt. Guyot. Then our route curved back over Balsam Mountain before reaching its end on Mt. Sterling.

It was hard to leave. We’d been at the tower for three hours, and we debated spending the night. However, there was no water, save puddles, and it would leave us with a 17 mile hike on Saturday. Plus, it’s technically illegal to camp there. Eventually we packed up for the hike over to Cosby Knob.

We hiked back over the rocky cliffs, which was a different experience now that we could see. We reflected on our afternoon. If we had arrived earlier, we would have been treated with a nice, but hazy view from the lookout. Then, we would have hiked through the full fury of the storm. Instead, we had suffered no more than wind and drizzle, and we had been treated with a truly miraculous view. We had no room to complain.

We hiked on to Cosby Knob. Shortly after we left the tower, the fog closed in around us. Our miraculous view had indeed been brief. Further rain held off though, and we descended to Low Gap. This was a surprisingly pretty place, full of ferns and wildflowers. Then, we began the last pesky climb to Cosby Knob. By the time we reached the turn to the shelter, we had climbed over 4000’ in 9 ½ miles. Not too shabby for the first day of the trip.

We descended to the shelter and found a crowd. Thru-hikers were still coming through, and Cosby Knob was near capacity. Luckily, there were two spots still open in the shelter. We took those, just ahead of a solo hiker who arrived a few minutes later. He tented nearby. Nearly everyone else had been caught out hiking in the epic storm. All save us were wet and chilled. Somehow, two hikers had made a heroic effort to get a fire going. This brought cheer to an otherwise gloomy hollow.

Bob and I enjoyed a dinner of pasta and pesto. We listened in to the conversations of the thru-hikers, and found them discouraging. They all seemed to revolve around one of two things. Either it was an obsession with mileage, with how far they had come, and how far they had to go the next day, or week or month. Or, it was an obsession with reaching Mountain Mommas. Mountain Mommas is a convenience store down on Big Creek which offers groceries, showers, and most importantly, hot cheeseburgers. There was much talk that night of cheeseburgers. As the veteran of several weeklong backpacking trips, I can understand this fascination with cheeseburgers. My thoughts on the final day of a long trip often revolve around junk food and cold beverages. This conversation seemed unhealthy though. I pictured six months of fantasizing about cheeseburgers. Through the entire evening, exactly one thru-hiker said anything that suggested that he was enjoying the actual hike. Many of them limped about the shelter like elderly old men. How many would make it to Maine? My money is on the one guy that seemed to be enjoying himself. His head seemed to be in the right place.

Thru-hikers go to bed early and sleep hard. Bob and I were the last ones down, at 9:30. I worried about getting to sleep in a crowded shelter, but its occupants were too tired to make noise, or even to snore. I slept well, and woke refreshed and ready for a 14 mile hike on Saturday.

MISTY MOUNTAIN HOP

It was easy to get up early on Saturday. The first thru-hikers left at 6. Never mind cheeseburgers – they were heading for Mountain Mommas for breakfast. We waited for the sun to rise, which didn’t really happen due to the persistent fog. We had our cocoa and oatmeal, but still beat half of the thru-hikers out of the shelter. The rest were waiting to time their arrival at Mountain Mommas for lunch.

We had 14 miles ahead of us. Fortunately, it was fairly easy terrain, except for the beginning. We started out on a gentle climb, and soon passed the 5000’ elevation point. This was significant, as we wouldn’t drop below 5000’ until sometime on Monday. We passed through a gap or two and then began to climb in earnest. Our arrival at Inadu Knob meant that we were near the magical 6000’ level. Here the hiking was through vast dark tunnels of spruce and fir. There were occasional breaks though. Beyond Inadu, we reached a clearing, which is used as an emergency helicopter landing pad. This provided a view down the Big Creek valley. Most of the mountains were hidden in mist, but Sterling tried to reveal itself as the sun warmed the air.

Beyond the clearing, we entered an even darker forest. We approached Mount Guyot, and were surprised by three dayhikers. They were doing 20 miles from Cosby campground to Marks Knob, a 6000’ peak. The high peaks in this, the most remote part of the park, are hard to reach outside of extended backpacking trips. Or, apparently, 20 mile dayhikes. We wished them well, but Bob had his eyes on a 6000’ peak of his own.

We found a faint trail heading up to the summit of Guyot. Guyot is the second highest peak in the park, and I knew Bob would want to go. I was having second thoughts though. For one thing, there is no view. For another, I knew that I’d have to come back with Christy and do it again sometime anyway. Plus, I was having second thoughts about the whole South Beyond 6000 thing. I had already done more than half of the peaks, more or less by accident. However, ever since I’d done Gibbs, in the Black Mountains, I was having doubts. Gibbs involved crawling up a steep slope through rhododendron and thorns. The summit was so overgrown that I had to crawl to the alleged high point. No, there was no view (though there was a great view from the trail below). So what was the point really? It was all beginning to seem rather silly to me. Most of the high peaks in the Smokies are the same way. A lot of floundering around in the bushes with nothing to show for it. I’m all for bushwhacking for some adventure, but this doesn’t qualify in my mind. I was more than content to take a break and let Bob have a go at the summit. Someone had to stay back and watch the packs anyway.

Bob disappeared, and I enjoyed 30 minutes of quiet in a beautiful forest. He eventually returned, and thought that he’d been successful. He’d crossed a false summit, descended, and then climbed again. He found a cairn, which might’ve been the high point, but it was hard to tell on the broad, flat peak. He checked that one off his list with my blessing.

We resumed our hike, passing several strong springs below Guyot. Then we descended, and reached our junction with the Balsam Mountain Trail. We continued a little out of our way though, down to the Tricorner Knob Shelter. Here we had a late lunch in a sunny meadow and filled up on water. The fog had finally broken, and the day was getting warm.

We still had 6 more miles after lunch. We left around 2 and hiked the long, flat Balsam Mountain Trail. I had envisioned a well groomed trail under a towering Balsam forest. This was rarely the case. There were stretches with beautiful trees, but in many areas dead trees had created sunny openings. The trail was rocky and very weedy, to the point of being almost overgrown. I can only imagine what it’s like in August. On the upside, it would provide a feast of blackberries. Today, the shrubs only entangled us and slapped at us as we tried to pass by.

We’d seen a number of people on the AT, especially thru-hikers. Now that we were off the highway though, we were all by ourselves. We didn’t see a soul for six miles and enjoyed it. We also enjoyed a lot of wildflowers. The trillium we’d seen earlier were gone, but they had been replaced by trout lilies and Spring Beauties. The Spring Beauties were so thick, in places it looked as if it had snowed.

We reached the only view on the trail late that afternoon. It looked out over Gunter Fork and down Big Creek. In the distance, Cammerer and Sterling seemed to stand guard over the valley. We had already circled more than halfway around the basin.

We descended to Laurel Gap through a beautiful forest. The final mile of the day may have been the best one, although we were weary from the journey. We reached a junction with the trail to Mt. Sterling, but stayed on the Balsam Mountain trail to reach the shelter. We had hoped to have it to ourselves, but our afternoon solitude had been an illusion. We found two groups at the shelter, plus a couple more tenting nearby. There was still plenty of space though, and the shelter was in a lovely meadow. It is easily the nicest shelter I’ve seen in the Smokies.

Despite our long day, we arrived in plenty of time to enjoy the evening sun. We relaxed around the campfire, courtesy of our shelter-mates, and enjoyed an adult beverage involving lemonade and vodka. Then, we wolfed down our jambalaya dinner, and the rest of the loaf of French bread I’d brought. Yes, I carried a loaf of French bread on a 4-day backpack. Well, Bob was carrying the tent, so I had the space. Plus, bread is a lot lighter than a 5 pound tent.

We spent the evening talking with our shelter mates. We found much in common with them. We had each taken many trips out west to similar destinations. One group had hiked every trail in the park twice. Now that’s a goal that I can embrace.

We stayed up a little later, enjoying the fire and a sky full of stars. Eventually though we retired to our bunks. Sunday promised an easier day, with great views from Mount Sterling. Hopefully the weather would hold.

STERLING

We got a late start on Sunday. After Saturday’s marathon hike, we weren’t in any hurry. We only had to go six miles to Mt. Sterling, which seemed like nothing. Once we got going, we discovered a wonderful trail. The first few miles were mostly flat or a bit downhill. We hiked through more gorgeous balsam forest and past carpets of wildflowers. The highlight was a little gap west of Pretty Hollow Gap. It was full of flowers, ferns, and big trees.

We reached Pretty Hollow Gap in a pleasant grassy clearing. Then the final difficult part of the hike began. We started up an old gravel road traveled heavily by horses. We reached the ridgecrest, only to descend quite a bit before resuming the climb. Once again we hiked through a lovely balsam forest. Finally the Mount Sterling tower loomed overhead. We reached it in time for lunch, and I climbed up for the view. I was not disappointed. I had been here once, but in cloudy weather. Today was crystal clear, which was appropriate for a place with the name Sterling. The view was fantastic. The entire western portion of the Smokies was in sight, from Cataloochie to Balsam Mountain to Mount Cammerer. The entire route of our journey was visible. In the distance was either Mount LeConte or Clingmans Dome, but I couldn’t tell which. Beyond the Smokies we could see the Plott Balsams, the Shining Rock area, and Mt. Pisgah. Far to the east we could see the Black Mountains.

After lunch we went for water. It was a half mile walk to the spring, and we were determined to do it only once. We filled up everything and returned to set up camp. We couldn’t decide between the clearing below the firetower and the sheltered sites amid the balsams. One couple from the previous night was there, and debated the same thing. Eventually we both opted for the shelter of the woods.

I spent the afternoon enjoying the sun and the view. The gnats were horrible down on the ground, but it was breezy enough on the tower to chase them away. I spent hours reading a magazine and enjoying the scenery. Later, Bob came up and I stood to let him pass. As I did, I kicked my Nalgene bottle, still half-full of lemonade. I watched helplessly as it plummeted a hundred feet to the bare ground below. That Nalgene had been through a lot. Now though, I had to go down to assess the damage.

I reached the bottle, and I was stunned to find it still intact. It had landed in the grass, which may have helped. I brought it back up with me and enjoyed the rest of the afternoon.

By late that day clouds were beginning to move in. The wind was blowing from the east, and a change in the weather seemed likely. We returned to camp and heated our dinner of chicken and noodles. Graham and Neel invited us over to enjoy a campfire. We spent the rest of the evening gathered around it, enjoying warm drinks and discussing past trips. At sunset we returned to the tower, but the sky was overcast and there was nothing to see. Later we returned again, to view the lights from surrounding towns. The clouds must’ve really thickened though, as only a few lights were visible. It seemed unlikely that we’d make it out on Monday without getting wet.

CHEESEBURGER IN PARADOX

The rain started at 4AM. I woke, groaned, and went back to sleep. We got up a little after dawn, such as it was in the eerie fog. We debated our best course of action. We could lay low and hope that it passed. In the distance we heard thunder. We were camped on a mountain top almost 6000’ high. We decided that it would be best to get moving. We packed up in the tent as much as possible, but eventually had to brave the elements. We finished packing and had a cold breakfast. Mine consisted of a handful of raisins and an energy bar that was nearly impossible to chew. I was beginning to look forward to cheeseburgers myself.

We hiked down the Baxter Creek Trail through fog, rain, and beautiful old growth forest. The trail was a mess, with fallen trees blocking the path seemingly every hundred feet. It was a spectacular day of crawling through the mud and climbing over snags. Yet, despite the rain and fog and blowdowns, it was a great hike. The forest was gorgeous. Wildflowers, boulders, and ferns were everywhere. We passed cliff faces and caves. The Baxter Creek Trail is best known for having the biggest climb of any trail in the park. What is less known, is that it is a great hike, even in a downpour.

The lower portion of the trail wound through coves of hemlock and poplar, which reminded me of Joyce Kilmer Forest. The thick green vegetation gave the appearance of rain forest, which probably isn’t far from the truth. In many places I was reminded of hiking in the rainforest on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington. Despite the conditions, I was in no hurry for it to end.

We reached Baxter Creek, which is nowhere near the Baxter Creek Trail except at the very end. We walked right through it rather than rock hopping, which would have been tricky. We were soaked anyway. We descended past an old homesite and reached the raging waters of Big Creek. I had hiked along Big Creek twice before. Both times, the water had been low and the stream had been mainly a bed of rocks. Today was different. The water raged through furious rapids. Thankfully, the trail crossed a sturdy bridge over the creek. It’s a good thing, as fording would have been impossible.

We crossed the bridge to the picnic area and hiked down the road a mile to the car. We then drove back to the picnic area to use the bathroom and change clothes. It was good to get out of our wet clothes, as it was a chilly day. Then, we headed for Mountain Mommas.

Mountain Mommas is an interesting place. There are many signs, most either promoting either Christianity or the war in Iraq. They don’t sell beer, but have an entire wall dedicated to cigarettes. We ordered cheeseburgers and fries, which were surprisingly good although Bob had some difficulty with the mustard. Afterwards, we indulged in ice cream. There’s nothing like an ice cream cone on a cold, rainy day.

We returned home, and I heard on the news reports of flooding in the Smokies. Our decision to leave Sterling when we did had been a good one. It had been a great trip. There had been some bad weather, but it had often led to a wonderful surprise. Now I have to plan the next trip. There are still many trails in the Smokies that I haven’t hiked.

Back to Great Smoky Mountains National Park

Back to Hiking and Backpacking Trip Reports

Home

Please remember to Leave No Trace!