Smokies SB6K Backpack – Day Two – 6/9/12 – BalsamMountain/ Appalachian Trail/Off-Trail – 12 Miles
I got up once during the night for a nature call andrealized anew what a bad spot my tent was in. Getting out of the door required crawling uphill, and when I stood up inthe pitch dark I could not get my balance on the slope. Arms pinwheeling, I pitched forward into atree branch about neck high, which bounced me backward onto my butt, and then Irolled downhill back onto my tent. Thankgoodness I didn’t knock it down completely, it just sagged a little (okay, alot). After peeing, I crawled back inand vowed to die there rather than get up again in the dark.
The trail crew guys were up early making noise, which neverbothers me – I enjoy lying in my sleeping bag while other people are up. They left by 7:30 a.m. and I carefullycrawled uphill out of my tent again. Hadto wake Jeff up. We packed our stuff,ate a little something, and then explored the crew’s base of operations. We had a fun Goldilocks moment sittingin their chairs in the shelter – tee hee.
Packs on our backs and ready for three more SB6K’s, Jeff wasin front of me as we headed back to Balsam Mountain Trail. As Jeff stepped past, a brownish four-footsnake popped out from underneath the shelter and began its slinky sidewaysapproach down the path straight toward me. I began to yell, “Hey, hey, hey!” which to me meant “Snake, yikes, saveme!” and to Jeff meant absolutely nothing because he didn’t turn around(perhaps he thought I was singing?) Istopped on the path and the snake kept coming, until I stepped off to the rightand it slithered off to the left. Ididn’t make note of its markings because I was fascinated by its graceful glide.
In the first half-mile we caught up with the trail crew,taking a quick break from their morning’s work improving Balsam Mountain Trail. With hazel hoes and rakes theyhad cut deeper into the bank and widened the trail. Ours were the first hiker footsteps on thisnew improvement.Balsam Mountain Trail is one of the best trails in the parkthat few people ever see. From LaurelGap the trail takes a distinct left turn and runs along the ridge of BalsamMountain, acting as the horizontal bar of the letter “H” connecting the MountSterling ridge on one side and the AT ridge on the other. It’s an easy trail to walk on, not muchchange in elevation, with glimpses into the valleys on either side. The trail character alternates betweenhardwoods and alpine forest, rocks and roots and lush green ferns.
Peaking through (notice the dark cloud looming above?)
Balsam Mountain Trail #1
Balsam Mountain Trail #2
Balsam Mountain Trail #3
Balsam Mountain Trail #4
Bear print – we saw several of these, always headed in theopposite direction – I guess Mr. Bear was here yesterday?
Dropping our packs to climb Luftee KnobAlthough not a picnic, bush- whacking up to the summit ofLuftee Knob was not as difficult as Big Cataloochee yesterday. In retrospect, Big Cat was an excellent firstexperience to measure the other summits against. I didn’t like it, I was exhausted by it, butI survived it and felt that elation of accomplishment. I continually asked Jeff for a ranking of allthe other summits and a comparison to Big Cat. Why? I was going to do them nomatter what. But with any endeavor thechallenge is mostly mental, and it helped me to get psyched (or resigned) towhatever was coming up. Luftee Knob wasa .6-mile round trip, less steep but just as gnarly with lush undergrowth anddowned tree obstacles. There wasnothing to indicate the summit other than Jeff’s GPS said so.
A couple of miles further along Balsam Mountain Trail wereached our next challenge, two summits originating from the same location onthe trail, one to the right and the other to the left. First, Mt. Yonaguska, which Jeff had notsummited. (Those funny SB6K guidelines say that either Mt. Yonaguska orTricorner Knob can count because they are the same height and are consideredspurs of each other – Jeff has bagged Tricorner Knob.) So up we went, the shortest trip yet at .25miles each way and Jeff creating a GPS track, to this scenic spot on top of Mt.Yonaguska. (And how do you pronounce that? Yon-uh-GOO-skuh. Say it out loud now. Nobody is listening.)
Coming back down, Jeff says “Follow me.”
And I’m trying.A little rest and something to eat while Jeff explains ournext summit to Mark’s Knob. This is 1.1miles one way, which I equate to multiple hours based on what we’ve experiencedso far. But…this used to be a maintainedtrail (decommissioned how many years ago?) going around Mt. Hardison and Mark's Knob and over to Hyatt Ridge Trail (which now dead ends at Campsite 44) and it’s relatively level, not muchelevation gain until the final push, and discernible where trail builders cutthe trail out of the mountainside and leveled it (just like the trail crew wasdoing when we passed them this morning – go back and look at that photo). AND several people had put up flagging tapethe whole way. I was thrilled.
Summit of Mark’s Knob
New growth on balsam branches
One rather significant detail – unmain- tained means crews no longer clearthe deadfall on the trail. We were constantly stepping over, duckingunder or climbing over trees of all sizes. On the return leg we counted about 350 trees across the trail. Yes, that means that out-and-back, 2.2 miles,we had over 700 trees to negotiate around. Yetthis was my favorite summit because of little elevation gain and a marked pathso I could find my own way. On the return, Jeff took the time to also summit Mt.Hardison (the “trail” skirted around the summit), adding to his long list ofbagged peaks and making his time a little more worthwhile. He still arrived back at our meeting point onBalsam Mountain Trail shortly after I did; he can move much faster when I’m notwhining along behind.
And hey, look, it’s still early. Maybe we can make one more peak today? Mt. Chapman is beckoning.
One more mile and we reached the end of Balsam MountainTrail and our home for the night, Tricorner Knob Shelter. We’ve stayed here before, know that theshelter sits on a very narrow ledge and there isn’t much room to pitch tents ifthe shelter scene is less than fun. As wewalked down to the shelter Jeff pointed out a camping spot to the right of thetrail, sitting high up on the ridge. Perhaps we’ll end up there? Butlet’s see what’s going on at the shelter first.
Five backpackers were sprawled out in the shelter,20-somethings from Texas who were hiking the Smokies section of the AT. Their first question was did I bring anybeer? (I didn’t even need to look atJeff for his opinion.) We chatted withthe young’uns for a few minutes, didn’t get any warm and fuzzy feelings, andthen we left to conquer Mt. Chapman.
Mt. Chapman is an SB6K mountain about a mile south ofTricorner Knob on the AT. Then it’s ashort bushwhack (.2 miles one way) but quite steep. I was running out of gas by now and even alittle elevation had me breathing hard.
Dead balsam on Mt. Chapman - unusual bleached effect
Yellow bead lilies were so numerous we couldn’t avoidwalking on them (aka blue bead lilies when the blooms fade and it bears dark bluefruit).
View of Mt. Guyot – shuddering chills and ominous music –one of tomorrow’s goals and the worst one of all (and those clouds hovered all day but no rain)
Summit of Mt. Chapman – four SB6K’s in one day! On the way back to Tricorner Knob Shelter, we discussed our sleeping options. TheTexas folks didn’t have reservations, so it was possible that the shelter couldget a lot more crowded. As we talked, wecame up behind a young couple with loaded backpacks who was also headed forTricorner (without reservations). They wondered what we were doing, hiking around up on the AT without anygear at all (we had left everything at the shelter for this short sidetrip).
That settled it for Jeff – he was going to check out the littlecampsite and relocate. Iwasn’t thrilled because rain was on the way and I did not want to take down awet tent in the morning. But it seemed amore peaceful option than staying in the shelter.
Again…oh ye of little faith! The five Texans had discovered the campsite and moved in themselves!
If we’d had a webcam set up, the next few hours would show the weary young couple from the AT arriving andspreading out their gear, several more hikers showing up, investigating thelayout, choosing hidden spots in the woods behind the latrines to hang hammocksor set up tents, and various forms of food prep, including one guy who didn’tlike to carry a stove (minimalist) but was not shy about asking for any hotwater anyone had left over (yes, I let him use my stove). One of the Texas girls came back to get herhiking stick, which was leaning against the wall and I had mistaken for a random stick and had hung my sportsbra on to dry (sorry about that). We ended up having a very pleasant evening, just Jeff andme and the backpacking couple staying in the shelter, talking about past hikes and future plans. A goosebumpy feeling, the farthest point away from a road in all of the Smokies, sitting high up on a mountain as the light faded. Slept well.
"Keep close to nature's heart, yourself; and break clearaway, once in a while, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods. Washyour spirit clean." ~John Muir
Suited up for a wet day – two SB6K summits to go.
Despite the clouds, we still had a view and some rhodosblooming on the AT
An old granddaddy rhodo- dendron bush covered in glowing lichen
Rain gear doesn’t really keep you dry when it’s above 50degrees, because you sweat inside with the exertion of hiking.
Slimy snails were every- where, a bumper crop, and they seemedto bother me much more than the thought of gigantic rattle- snakes.
The summit of Mt. Guyot at last.
The final summit of Old Black was also difficult but muchshorter, a .4-mile roundtrip.
Continuing northbound on the AT past Old Black, we kept oureyes peeled for the remains of an F-4 Phantom fighter plane that crashed intothe ridge near Inadu Knob in 1984.
The smoky view from Snake Den Ridge Trail
Galax blooms lining the trail
Something big was digging around here not long ago
Can never have too many photos of rhodo- dendron up close
Crossing Inadu Creek on Snake Den Ridge Trail, I met afellow here who had backpacked in overnight carrying a huge camera and tripod
Alternate-leaved dogwood
Fun fungi
A half-mile from the end of Snake Den Ridge Trail is theWilliamson Cemetery.
Another adventur- ous weekend for the Wild Women, this timebased in another of my favorite camp- grounds of the Great Smoky MountainsNational Park, Deep Creek. Thecrew: Leida, Karen, me, Ellen, Joan and Carol. 
But we fearlessly walked through the tunnel, and at the farend Karen climbed up on top of it to see what she could see. We walked a few dozen yards beyond until thewide road bed narrowed, then turned and walked back through the tunnel. And it had stopped raining and the sun wasbeaming.
Morning, an elaborate breakfast of eggs, bagels, fruit,etc. Someone asked me if this was a lotdifferent than what we eat on a back- packing trip and I laughed. On backpacking trips most people don’t evenbother to light a stove for hot water. Peanut butter spread on a granola bar is elaborate. 
Several hiking options: I chose a 13-mile loop route that efficiently covered a portion of theDeep Creek trail map, a route that Carol had hiked with me before. She planned a loop route that matched minefor the first few miles; then when I turned left, she turned right so she couldcover some new miles. So we hikedside-by-side loops with a shared central trail, like a butterfly withwings. 
Carol and I headed out first on Deep Creek Trail right outof the campground. Tom Branch Falls isjust .2 miles from the trailhead. 
A right turn onto Indian Creek Trail brought us almostimmed- iately to Indian Creek Falls, looking robust today. As we paused here we met a group of a dozenhikers from Haywood County (I think?).
We passed Stone Pile Gap Trail on the right where Carolwould close her loop hike, and then the Loop Trail on the left where I wouldclose mine. Ten minutes later we saw a “nohorses” sign that indicates a cemetery. 
I had done some research online and had my eyes open for two cemeteriesalong Indian Creek Trail, and this was the first one, the Laney Cemetery. Most graves were marked with bare rough stones.
Grave marker for Liza Conner Parris, born 1841, died 1918,possibly a victim of the flu epidemic of 1918?
A tree burl
New spring green on the rhodo- dendrons
Lovely green ferns
My mom called this running cedar. She would wind it around a wreath form tomake a Christmas wreath for the front door.
Flame azalea
An impressive blowdown on the Loop Trail. Always wonder what it would be like to seethis happen.
In mid- afternoon I turned back onto Deep Creek Trail for mylast mile. The parade of tubing folkswas steady, toting or dragging their tubes, some dads carrying kids on theirshoulders. For the first float down thecreek, people hike more than a half a mile to the farthest put-in. Each subsequent float is shorter as thethrill of the ride is eclipsed by the work of the hike. 
I was the last hiker to make it back to camp. Everyone was set up down at the creek, tryingto unwind. (It was working.) We compared adventures of the day – Carol sawsnakes, the other gals explored a cemetery. 
Karen, Joan and me
Watching the tubers go by – most of the adults asked for abeer
Another in my series of “feet first” photos
After a couple of hours of doing absolutely nothing, Leidagave us our assign- ments for cooking dinner: a delicious stew in one Dutch oven and my fabulous “bear scat” cake inanother one. Ellen threw some veggieswrapped in foil on the coals just in case the main course did not turn out asadvertised. I must say that the stew wasthe most delicious dish I have ever tasted and everyone had seconds. 
From the parking area on Lakeview Drive (the Road to Nowhere)Noland Creek Trail goes underneath the road, a little hard to figure out atfirst, and my memory was blank on how I did this last time. We looked for a side trail, found one, butobviously not the right one – oh, well, a shortcut. On the way back we figured out the properroute.
Beautiful Noland Creek 
Between the fourth and fifth bridges once stood the Millschool, “…also called the Rust school because most of the pupils were childrenof people who worked for Rust, so Rust paid for the teacher.” Also on the fifth bridge was a happy snaketaking a sun bath.
So far we’d had a pleasant Sunday afternoon walk in thewoods. On the return hike we turned toexplore the track at the “no horses” sign. The tire tracks lasted nearly a quarter mile, then a faint footpathextended beyond, up and up and up…and steeply up another quarter mile to a verynarrow finger ridge. As we slowlyclimbed I kept looking up to where the cemetery might be, guessing that it mustbe on the other side of the ridge in some flat spot. Well, it was at a flat spot – a very skinnyflat spot on the very top of the ridge. We found a dozen graves, some very small,lined up side by side in a single line extending out on the narrow, sharp ridge,no markers other than rough stones. The “History Hikes” book tells that a descendant of the valley “…said the ridge was sonarrow that they had to be careful while burying people so their feet did notstick out over the side of the hill.” 
We backtracked down the faint, steep path to the beginningof the wider track and saw another faint path to the right leading to an impressivefieldstone chimney. 
Scattered around thefoundation ruins of the house were rusted metal bed frames, an old sink andmetal scraps. “History Hikes” claimsthat the house here was used by patrolling park rangers until it mysteriouslyburned down in 1979. 
Carol and I finished our hike and headed for the flatlandsof Charlotte. I learned later that theother four Wild Women had done a loop hike beginning at the Tunnel, now one oftheir favorite places. Brave!