written Friday, June 27th
For one reason or another, I had decided that I had not had enough camping the previous weekend with Louise and Brad and decided to go on a solo camping trip. I think it had to do with the fact that I have a lot of free time to kill, but also because I am looking for some adventure. Don’t get me wrong, the last camping trip was awesome and certainly not what I would call easy. But I wanted something more challenging, both mentally and physically. Even with that expectation, it turned out that I had no idea what I was to be in for.
Still being so close to the Smokies, with its abundance of natural beauty and difficult hiking trails, I figured I should head back there. It’s about 750 square miles in size, so there was still a ton to see even after spending 3 and half days in the area the previous weekend. The only bad part would be that I would have to drive through Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg again. No matter. Every rose has its thorn.
I decided on the Lakeshore Trail Loop, a 23.8 mile hike labeled by the National Park as “strenuous”. I assumed that, since the last trail I hike with Louise and Brad was labeled as strenuous and was not all that bad, this trail would be of a similar vein; difficult, but not insanely so. Perfect.
Now, they say when you assume, you make an ass out of u and me. Since it was just me on this trip, it would be more accurate to say I made an ass out of me and myself. That’s a double wammy, and it certainly bore out as the events of the trip unfolded. But of course I didn’t know that at the time…
It was to be a three day, two night backcountry camping trip. On the first day, I planned to drive to the trailhead, hike 7 miles to my campsite, and get plenty of sleep for the day to follow. The second day would be the most difficult: an 11 mile hike, a large portion of it uphill, to the second campsite. The final day would be a 6 mile hike back to my car and civilization, where I would more fully appreciate the wonders and comforts therein. Awesome. I’m such a great planner.
The last time I drove to the Park it was a three hour drive. Now, where I was headed, the trailhead for the Lakeshore Trail Loop, is on the very southern part of the park, and actually is in North Carolina, not Tennessee. Coming from the North, this meant that I had to drive through the entirety of the park to get where I wanted to go. It amounted to an extra 50 miles, which I assumed would add about another hour and half to my trip. No problem. I would get there between 2 PM and 3 PM, which would leave me plenty of time to hike the 7 miles to my campsite before sunset. It doesn’t get dark here until after 9:30 it’s crazy. I’ve got this planning thing doooooowwwwn, son.
So, I headed out from Louise’s place about 9:30 in the morning on Wednesday. I got on 75-South towards Knoxville and then to 640-East with no delays. The previous trip down we ran into some construction on 75-South but it was smooth sailing this time. Sweet, I said to myself, more time for lounging by the campfire tonight. Then I made my way into Pigeon Forge. Lots of traffic, but that was expected this time ‘round. The blinking lights faded into the background as I drove by. I was focused on my trip. After driving through Pigeon Forge I continued on the highway connecting Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg, a two-lane, one-way road surrounded by woods and streams on either side. The road seemed newly paved and was a very smooth drive, no noisy grumpiness coming from my tires. I was listening to “Fresh Air” (with Terry Gross!) on NPR and was hearing a fascinating interview with Jill Bolte-Taylor, a neuroscientist who had had a stroke and was talking about her experiences. Completely engrossed in the interview, I didn’t see that the car in front of me was slowing down, preparing to come to a halt…
errrRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!
My tires screamed on the previously pristine asphalt road. I stopped a couple feet in front of the car in front of me, my head whipping back against the head rest. I saw the couple in the car in front of me turn their heads around quizzically…
“What the…?? That asshole almost hit us!”
Phew. Close one. But my mind quickly shifted from panic to frustration as I looked at the line of cars in front of me. Awwwww man what the hell. “How can there be traffic?? We’re surrounded by trees and rocks and streams!” I remember thinking to myself. Like it or not, the Smokies were a popular tourist spot, which means cars… lots of them.
The traffic was literally crawling. I couldn’t have been moving more than 5 miles an hour. I know this because it took me about an hour to get traverse the 5 mile connecting road. The culprit? Construction. What was being constructed you might ask? I’d tell you, except that there were no construction workers or vehicles in sight! One lane was entirely blocked off by orange cones for reasons that are still completely unknown to me. Come on. Humor me. Leave some construction vehicles, dig up piles of dirt, I don’t care. Leave evidence that I can see so as to assume that there was purpose in blocking off that lane. Not just the cones. Please, not just the cones. I made use of my time though. I can now add to my résumé “Can make peanut butter sandwiches while driving” should I feel the need to add a little extra something to catch the employer’s eye.
So about an hour delay. Frustrating and unexpected, yes, but I still had plenty of time. Certainly there won’t be any traffic on the mountain roads. WRONG. About half-way through the park, I was coming around a bend in the road and saw the car in front of me completely motionless…
errrRRRRRRREEEEEEEEE!!!!!
My tires screamed again. I managed to stop about 3 or 4 feet in front of the car in front of me this time (the interview with the neuroscientist had long since ended by this time). Oh no, more construction??? You’ve got to be kidding me! But there was something different this time. We were not crawling, we simply weren’t moving at all. I saw people sitting on the side of the road, their cars turned off. GREAT.
“Ok ok”, I thought, trying to remain positive, “I can do some other packing related chores. I’ll double-check my list of supplies and make sure I have everything and then I’ll put all the stuff I’m not taking with me on the trip in the trunk so as to not tempt and potential thieves.” Done. 20 minutes later, still nobody moving. “Ok, I’ll pack my backpack, putting the items I will least likely need while hiking on the bottom and the things I may use towards the top, making sure to distribute the weight as evenly as possible.” Done. 40 minutes gone by, the cars still sit idle. What the hell is going on???
Finally, after an hour, people started getting back in their cars and the line slowly trickles down the rest of the mountain pass. I wasn’t thinking about my trip at all anymore. I wanted to find out what was going on that would cause a complete blockage of the road in both directions. The answer? Fallen trees. Turned out that a tree or trees had fallen from the side of the road and was blocking both ways. I passed a crew of about ten workers who must have just worked their asses off trying to clear the road as soon as possible. “Well now I can’t be mad at that” I thought. A tree fell, and those guys were just doing their job. My frustration aside, my day was now less an hour, and I began to worry a little bit at the timing of my hike. Really, still plenty of time though.
Onward to the trail! I actually drove through the entire park and onto an Indian reservation in North Carolina because of the way the roads were designed. I had a map of where I was to go, with corresponding names of roads and cities, so I figured I was fine. The written directions on the map were even more encouraging. Two sentences, three roads in total. Cake.
What I soon found out was that the third road was not so easy to find. The map showed that the road branched away from a town called Bryson City, leading northward toward the trail head. But it didn’t say exactly where. So I drove through Bryson City, looking for Lakeshore drive. Nope. Thinking I probably just missed it, I turned around and drove through it again. Bupkis. Ok ok, I’ll just get on a road heading north and find it. So I started driving north. I crossed a bridge. “Perfect! This map shows that you have to cross a bridge! This road is also pretty windy, which corresponds to the map, and it’s pretty secluded, also corroborating the maps story” I thought.
The road ends. No trails. Only trailers. Shit.
Along the true road’s doppelganger, I saw a mini bed and breakfast, and decided it would be best to stop and ask for directions. It was run by an older woman, in her mid-fifties I’d say, who was very happy to see a potential customer. An odd place to have a bed and breakfast I thought. Near the end of a road that dead ends? She knew the area better than me I suppose.
She was very nice and talked with a warm southern accent. “Are y’all goin’ on a hike to tha middle of nowheres along the the lakes?” I thought I’d act the part. “Yes, ma’am. Sure am. Y’all know how to get there?” I think I may have even spoken in a southern accent. Not intentionally, but I have this weird tendency to talk like the people I’m around. Like some sort of vocal chameleon.
Anyway she started giving me detailed directions, which I thought I understood pretty well. She said she didn’t know any of the street names but that it was the left at the first stop sign and then you can go past the high school and then make another left, and so forth. I thanked her in my copycat southern, and headed out again. Ok, there’s the stop sign. Left. Aha! The high school! Another left. Alright, now where’s lakeshore drive?? Hmmmm…
Now I’m driving wherever. I know that the road heads northwest. So I keep heading that way hoping that I’ll eventually find it. The roads of this area were like a labyrinth designed to keep people from leaving. Roads curled around each other more than once, so that sometimes you would be driving down a road and see street x on the right, only to continue down the road and see street x again on the left. I wish I was exaggerating.
By some miracle I eventually came onto the road I was seeking. It was actually called Fontana Road, instead of Lakeshore Drive as my map had indicated. The map wasn’t even worth the dollar I paid for it. By this time I had lost another hour or so. I arrived at the trailhead around 5 PM. Much later than I had planned for sure, but still enough time to get to the campsite before dark. My time of introspection by looking at fire would have to be cut short that night.
So I triple check my supplies and I can’t find my lighter. Where did it go?? I had it just a few hours ago… AWESOME. Not only did I need the lighter to start a fire, I needed it to light my stove since I found out that the auto-starter part of the stove was sold separately on my last trip. GREAT. On tonight’s dinner menu: cold Beefaroni in a can. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
Can’t anything go right??? Throw me a frickin’ bone here.
[to be continued...]
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