Headed East: Smokey Mountain Follies

6/27

Not figuring in the time change from Cookeville to the Gatlinburg area, by the time I had updated my rations at the Wally World in Newport, and headed to my next abode, the day had gotten away from me.

When I pulled up and saw the hand painted $20-$30 room sign, I should of turned the car around right then and there. But, ya know, I have stayed in SO many hostels over the years, I could do this. I mean, I had my own private room, and there was air conditioner. What hostel does that for so cheap? None. Yes, there was food leftover from tenants the day before. Yes, I organized the fridge for them just to get my stuff to fit. Yes, there was one shower for the whole hostel.

I still didn’t flinch, from San Diego to Ireland, I had seen the worst and best of hostels. As long as I got a good night's sleep, all would be well in the world of Marianda. Plus, my excitement to just finally be in the Smokey Mountains was boiling over. So, I headed to my laptop to start mapping out my next few days.

But, as the evening progressed, the old fart in me came out in frustrated waves of regret.

By midnight, being as there might not be any sleep for the evening, as doors slammed and people congregated loudly in and out of the hostel, I was determined to find a new place to stay. By 1 A.M., my new Airbnb was booked in Gatlinburg, (where I should have booked in the first place), and I attempted again to get some shut eye. By 3 A.M, I was trying everything, from meditation, to deep breath, to prayer, to just pleading with God, “Please!”

After 3 A.M, it did seem to quieten. Only a door slam now and then, and the bump, bump, bump of the music by the campfire had dissipated. I slithered into a dream at one point. Did I sleep an hour? 30 minutes? I have no idea. All I know is, thank you Lord, I was packing my bags and heading out the door the next morning.

(NOTE: I do have to say, the new owner was a lovely gentleman. This hostel, in restoration process, does have much potential to be a hiking and traveler haven, as there are no other hostels in the Smokey's. I will note, I have talked with the owner several times since I have left. I hope to either one day see it again in its true new awesome glory, or maybe even invest in it myself and participate in helping it to become what it's capable of..... I know! I just said that.)

6/28

As the dust flew behind me out of the parking lot, I needed to hit a trail and fast to reset my zen mode. Not 30 minutes later, I was following a magical gravel road, surrounded my a canopy of green, the roar of Little Pigeon River by its side. How convenient that I had unknowingly stayed down the road from the first Greenbrier entrance into the Smokey Mountain National Park. About 5 miles in, the road charmingly concluded at the doorway to the return of my sanity, my first trail head. My virgin hike in the Smokey Mountains was about to start; Ramsey Cascades. Just having breakfast not too long before, I felt confident I could trek this first feat out without the need of packing my fanny. With 4 miles written across the sign, I quickly grabbed my poles and headed out.

The muddy, rocky route infused with green fern and moss promptly lured my peaceful mojo back into being. All along the trail, vast boulders helped to create beautiful cascades of waterfalls along the path.

Little Pigeon and its numerous magical streams seemed to stay with me, a welcome companion, creating a constant painting of lush green, azalea, and rhododendron.

Waterfalls beautifully crashed their way through the boulders no matter how deep I traversed into the trail. I crossed the much flow of river several times, sometimes over log cut man made created bridges that seem to magically blend with the earth and trail. Sometimes I had to trek over the cold water, hitting the rocks perfectly to try and keep my sandals and feet as dry as possible.

As I went deeper and deeper into the journey before me, I soon began to realize that the 4 mile sign at the trail head meant 4 miles out. I thought about the fact that I had no snacks in my fanny. 8 miles on what seemed to be a constant gradual climb? This girl needed trail angels.

(NOTE: I learned quickly that I was not in Arkansas anymore, where the sign number means your total distance on the trail. I took this to heart and prayed my oatmeal would stay with me a little bit longer. I never would not have sustenance again when I was on a trail in the Smokey Mountains.)

As the trail turned to slick rock, and my poles helped to maneuver me up the last parts of the trail, I passed a family that seemed super friendly. Could they be my trail angels? I humbled myself and asked if they had any snacks left, explaining my bollix. This wonderful clan from Ohio, including two teachers, gave me a cliff bar (my favorite flavor actually). Then, to my surprise, they handed me a turkey and cheese wrap! You want to talk about feeling recharged! My mind, body and soul were elated and ready to finish!

Not ten minutes later, I heard her raging. There she was, Ramsey Cascades, absolutely beautiful. Some records say she's 90 feet, some say 100. But all records say she is one of the tallest in all of the Smokey Mountains. The water fell in a beautiful melody down the slick rocks before us. She moved so fast and powerful that it was quite chilly and windy where myself and the other hikers perched ourselves upon the rocks. Everyone seemed to be enjoying their much deserved rations of fruit, jerky and snack bars, as we all took in the moment together. As I bit into my turkey and cheese wrap, thankfulness flooded my body. Thank you, my trail angel family, for giving me nourishment when I needed it the most.

After gabbing about and taking photos for fellow hikers from Tennessee, Michigan and Detroit, I said my goodbyes to my first Smokey Mountain destination, and headed back down the trail.

Then here it came, the first down pour. Did I have rain gear? Of course I didn't! LOL! It didn't last long, as I frolicked along the muddy trail. But, not too much later, the sky opened up again, making sure this time my clothes were entirely soaked from inside out before she stopped yet again.

(I would learn this is to be expected in the Smokey's...and to always be ready for it)

But, full of new energy, I didn't seem to care. I beamed from ear to ear. Had this been a most spectacular first trail? Yes! Did my trail angels inform me that I had spontaneously ended up on one of the hardest trails of the Smokey Mountains after a sleepless night? Affirmative! Did my soaked body feel exhilarated when I finally made it back to my car? Oh, you know this! I stretched out, grabbed more snacks for the road, and headed out, feeling like a beast.

So where to next? I put in my next hike location and hit the road, realizing quickly, I was heading right into Gatlinburg. Being that I was soaked, and it was already past 3, I changed my coordinates and headed to my next Airbnb to clean up.

As I drove through the adorable, but packed town of Gatlinburg, I could see why people love this little tourist haven. Its village presence along the river, shops and restaurants along the main street, all surrounded by the Smokey Mountains, was quite a visual display.

A few minutes later, I stepped into the cuteness of my redone hotel room, and hit the showers. I contemplated the fact that I was walking distance to the main strip of Gatlinburg. So why not? Let's see if this little town actually deserved exploring. I decided my second hike for the day would be trekking down to the main street and taking it all in. Maybe a local tap and a book was in order to end my day?

But, then, here it came. Before I was even done with my shower, a loud and roaring entrance from mother rain decided to pay me a visit yet again. But this time, I wasn't on a trail without rain gear. I was safely in my cute little hotel room that would be home for five days. And being that I was running on questionable sleep from the night before, having hiked eight miles already, I felt content. I made some dinner and grabbed my laptop. I loved having nothing to ponder for the rest of the evening, except for one monumental decision. Where would I be hiking the next day?