Day 12: Great Smoky Mountain National Park: Part I

Based on mountain man Ray Ball’s recommendation, we went to GSMNP to drive the loop at Cades Cove in search of bear. Since one of my lifelong goals is to ride a Smoky Mountain black bear, this seemed like the best way to make that happen. Unfortunately, it was raining Dings and dogs, so we figured the chance of achieving this particular lifelong goal was pretty slim. Plus, we got a fairly late start anyway and there were antique stores to peruse along the way, so our chances dropped even more.

On the way to the Cove, we saw our first wildlife…some lame (and wet) deer. Fight the urge to post comments saying, “If you wanted to see those, you didn’t have to drive to Tennessee. You could just look in my yard.” While deer are, indeed, lame, I saw them A) while on vacation and B) in a national park, not on the streets of downtown St. Louis or crossing the road from Queeny Park. That makes them slightly less lame. Oh, and I don’t care that you hate them and want them deported to Texas so that they stop ingesting your precious hibiscus or that you have to be on the lookout for them as you drive to the mall to buy glitter makeup at the Sephora.

Stupid wet deer

We moved on from the wet, grass-munching deer and made our way to the Cove, where we saw misty mountains and more, you guessed it, deer. Apparently, deer are quite plentiful in GSMNP. Bears, not as much. As we turned around the next bend over yonder, we saw our second wildlife species, the great wild turkey, and not the 101-proof variety for you bourbon swilling lushes out there. Again, I know you see them in your parent’s backyard every Saturday night. Goody. We don’t.

As we continued our drive around the Cove, the car in front of us suddenly slowed to a halt. I immediately began cursing these morons for being complete tools until I saw the reason for their abrupt stopitude…a Great Smoky Mountain National Park black bear ambling through the woods and heading toward the road. I stopped my cursing fit and fumbled for the extremely well-packed camera. Unfortunately, between my fumbling and Mr. Bear’s speedy gait, by the time I powered up the Canon, he was out of range. Needless to say, I was not pleased. And I know that since I do not have photographic evidence, it did not really happen. Consider this my GSMNP Fail.

We continued our drive and kept climbing in elevation. The Dodge Avenger was not pleased. While the rain somewhat cleared, there were still beaucuop clouds up in yonder sky, which made for some pretty incredible views. About 7:30 p.m. we decided we would try to make it to Clingman’s Dome, the highest point in GSMNP, to complete the quick ½-mile hike to up to the Dome. The literature did state that while only a ½-mile, it was extremely steep. “Pish posh,” said I, as we made our way to the parking lot at the end of the seven-mile road to Clingman’s. Pish posh until we reached the foot of that most dastardly of paved paths to the stratosphere. This ½-mile path was, indeed, paved for your hiking ease, but it was at an 89-degree grade, thus making such a trek difficult for those out of shape folks out there, of which I would not be one. Okay, I just lied. I think I’m officially the fat and old guy I always defied that I’d become. Oh well, it happens to us all except for Richard Simmons, Jane Fonda and Olivia Newton-John, I guess.

I’m not sure how long it took us to reach the Dome, but my need for frequent breaks to quench the brushfires in my calves and to relearn how to breathe, did not aid me in my quest to the summit. And once I did reach the top of the paved path from Hades, there was another great upward-sloping walkway to reach the Dome. It was then that I realized that God was punishing me for some transgression from my youth. Maybe it was for that time in 1993 when I nailed a fellow employee at the grocery store with a Chips Ahoy from 50 yards away…just speculation on my part.

Ramp from hell

Once that old Busch Stadium ramp to the general admission nosebleed seats was conquered and we stood on Old Rocky Top Tennessee, the intense, boiling hot pain in my calves and lungs subsided. It was then that I was able to observe the view for what it was – a complete and utter thing of beauty. In a 360 degree rotation, you could see a thunderstorm, misty mountain tops, a fiery-red sunset beginning to form, and even the towns of Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge in the distance. It was, as Eric Cartman once said, “sweeeeet.”

The trek down God’s joke on Dave was not much better. While the lungs no longer seared in pain, the knee joints locked in an instant case of mega-arthritis and the lateral collateral ligaments decided to contract dry rotted rubber bands. That 89-degree angle is not man’s best friend, to say the least.

We got back to the car and decided that we would sit in pain for the next two days and probably not leave the car due to the pain of the death march. That is until we saw a pull off for an incredible view, and photo ops, of a ridiculously cool sunset to the west and a rainbow to the east. The colors changed drastically each second as the sun was in its last few minutes of dropping below the horizon for bedtime. The reds, oranges and purples flowed seamlessly into one another like a Monet, and the only sound you could hear was the constant clicking of camera shutters and the occasional Matt Holliday ear canal infesting moth buzzing by.

Rainbow (dedicated to P.J. Brennan)

And with that, we headed back to the mountain man cabin for the night only to get up and do it again the next morning.

See the photos from Day 12 HERE. I can tell you that while the pics of the clouds and sunset are pretty cool, they, in no way, do them justice. It’s one of those “gotta be there” things.