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Published: February 7th 2014
Cades Cove
An hour east of Knoxville, Tennessee on the quiet side of the Smoky Mountains, an 11 mile, one lane, one-way loop circles the valley of Cades Cove. All from the comfort of your vehicle, you can watch the valley spread out like an all you can eat buffet steaming across the hood of your car. You can absorb the tranquillity of the passing pine and oak trees with no worry of blisters or mosquito bites, your rear end cupped gently by the soft, plush, leather seats of the vehicle.
The most beautiful part about experiencing nature in this way is that you can defy it. In the 90 degree heat accompanied by the 90%!h(MISSING)umidity in the dead of summer, you can bask in the cool whispering of the AC as it gently kisses your sweatless face. In the raw, wet cold of the winter, you can cuddle up in your snuggie, and blast the heat on high, hotcoco in hand, camera in the other.
If you are one of those unfortunate souls with non functioning indoor climate control, you can to roll down your window and feel the fresh air spill over your face. This
Just a quick break.
I don't know why, but I can't stay out of trees. Silks of not! may be short lived as the 214 cars in front of you in bumper to bumper traffic may be kicking up more dust and exhaust to find the experience refreshing.
The true nature lovers, willing to lose their place in the assembly line of cars can pull off at viewing areas. These pull offs feature 1800 vintage cabins, and fenced in fields where you can spot an occasional white tailed deer.Trail blazers can park at trailheads. These are paved hiking trails so you dont have to plan ahead for appropriate footwear, and the the trails loop back to the parking lot, so there is no fear of getting lost or needing a map.
As your vehicle makes its way towards the end of the 11th mile, your heart will be racing with a new appreciation for the Smoky Mountains. You had had a front row seat to witnessing the calm peacefulness of God’s creation and you were able to do it all in less than 5 hours. In the distance you may even hear the Osborne Brothers whispering the sweet melody of Rocky Top from the mountains. Then again, it may just be a radio from the hummer
16 cars back.
On the Trails
My hiking adventure however does not take place on the 11 mile loop. In a parking lot off to the side of Cades Cove, our journey begins with turning the car engine OFF.
At the Anthony Creek Trailhead Sarah and Holley, and I emerge from the vehicle. All three of us went to college together at Maryville College, less than an hour from the park. We grabbed our packs full of water, trail food, gloves, and Burt’s Bees Lip Balm. Sarah and Holley grab their walking sticks and we are ready to hit the trails.
Though the Cades Cove Driving loop is one of the largest draws to the Smokies for tourists, the locals sneak off away from the crows to explore the unpaved trails that weave through the mountains, connecting ever so calculatingly like a giant spiderweb.
The day was brisk and the fresh air filled my lungs. As we began our hike, the damp earth hugged our boots as we sunk into her with each step. On these trails, we were not a tourists; we were home.
We started on Anthony Creek Trail, from
the eastern side of cades cove campground. The gravel path started out wide and open with the tall narrow trunks of the oaks watching us like silent ghosts as we passed beneath. As we walked up the trail, the path narrowed; stones dissolved into wet earth; and soon a small stream of runoff carved a mote-like trial at our feet. Rhododendrons reached out to greet us and beds of ferns nestled on the forest floor. Holly and Mountain Laurel encompassed us and brought a subtle life to the chill of the winter’s 34 degree day. Anthony Creek ran downstream to our left and after about a mile we came to our first foot bridge. The footbridge was made of a tree trunk split down the center, flat side up and a single handrail to grip as we passed over. The creek was bellowing over rocks in small falls and for someone mildly scared of heights, the short walk across was invigorating.
After a little more than one and a half miles, we were on the Russell Field Trail. Our path steadily climbed the side of the mountain through a series of switchbacks for three and a half miles. After
about a miles, the ridge on the other side of Cades Cove came into view. From between the the bare hibernating branches of the trees, we could see the sun lightly linger on the evergreens and shimmer off of the hoarfrost on the tips of the highest branches miles away. We decided it was time to break up and do some solo hiking. Holley took the lead, Sarah followed shortly after and I brought up the rear.
Now that Anthony Creek lay behind us, the forest was quiet. There was no sign of wildlife, not even the distant knocking of a woodpecker disturbed the silence. Unlike the lush trail near Anthony Creek, the side of the ridge was covered in dried leaves, broken branches and ferns. The eerie skeletons of the Hemlocks haunted the forest. Their frail figures standing upright, limbs and needles eaten away years ago.
A small insect called the Hemlock Woolly Adelgid made its home on the East Coast in the 1920’s. Since then, this invasive species has infested these trees all down the coast and has been killing off the largest and more mature Hemlocks first. There has been ample research and attempts to
rid the forests of these invasive little critters, but as of now the hunt for the cure is still on. (For more information see
http://www.romanticasheville.com/hemlocks.htm)
As I climbed I felt my heartbeat pick up the pace and my legs begin to settle into their steady, numb routine. We were half way through the six miles stretch to the top, all up hill. I felt the temperature fall as I climbed higher, and the trickle of water that once carved a small streams into the path was now a series of stagnant glass casings shimmering like jewels when they caught the light.
After a few miles I was at the top of the ridgeline, taking another switchback to the other side. I welcomed the flat trail and followed it into a lush thicket. The water flowed down the trail with me until I crossed a stream and then headed back up hill. After another mile, the thicket dispersed and I was once again headed up. At the top the trees cleared and we were on a grassy knoll right outside of a backcountry shelter on the Appalachian Trail. I found Sarah and Holley unpacking their lunch on a log in
the sun. The warmth of the sun was lost on the bald of the mountain. Exposed to the breeze, we ate quickly and were on our way.
Now on the Appalachian Trail, we traced the Tennessee/North Carolina border. We stopped again at a grassy glade just a few meters off trail. The edge of the glade abruptly dropped off, leaving a panoramic view of the Tennessee side of the park. The sun poured over us as we lay wrapped in a tall, dry grass. Sarah and I did some Acro Yoga while Holley soaked in the healing sun.
Back on the trail, we headed up once again. Every now and then we rollercoastered down only to whisp back up again. At one of the rises, we noticed little piles of ice at the the base of the trees. They were each perfectly round, but soft and mysterious. Further on we broke to the top of the mountain where the low winter sun greeted us. All around I heard the the slight sound of tinkling, like a light hail on a tin roof. As we stopped to catch our breath, we could see small pieces of ice falling from
above. As we looked up, the bare branches of the trees glittered with melting hoarfrost. We stood and watched as they fell to their final resting place on the forest floor.
After two and a half miles on the Appalachian trail, we were now descending on Bote Mountain Trail. We were once again encased in a lush green tunnel. Water steadily flowed down trail with us. We picked up speed and started to make good time. Sarah had to be at work in just a few hours and we still had about five miles and a 45 minute drive ahead of us. We stopped only for waterfall lookouts and pee breaks.
As we retraced the 1.6 miles of the Anthony Creek Trail our hearts pattered. On the 13.2 miles of trail we had passed fewer than a dozen hikers, making our experience reflective and intimate. Our steps were full of joy and somehow the chaos of everyday life seemed much easier to bare. Our bodies were tired, but our souls were rejuvenated.
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Joe Culver
non-member comment
My son lives in Weaverville, NC--near Asheville. He has hiked all the trails along that area. He regularly does the Appalachian Trail that traverses the Blue Ridge Pkwy. Beautiful in the fall...Here, we had a thaw of sorts...temps as high as 54. Back to normal now, tho--single digits again. Take care, kiddo! I read your posts all the time. I also got your postcard--are you still in Vegas? More later!