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Back on the trail for Mother’s Day
For anyone who doesn’t already know, the Ruralite Cafe and the Brown Mountain Kitchen are linked by some 41 years of shared history.
It seemed like the proper time to come clean about that, seeing as how Dona blew our cover this week by writing about our shared Mother’s Day present – a night at LeConte Lodge in Great Smoky Mountains National Park – courtesy of our 30-year-old daughters, Elizabeth and Angi.
Dona has already provided a detailed account of the food – excellent – and the weather – foggy – which means I can focus more on the experience of being back on the trail with my first backcountry hiking partner.
While the Brown Mountain Kitchen columns have proved to be a popular feature for our paper, they do have a downside for me. Having Dona tell her own stories means I can’t write as often about all the funny things she’s done and said since 1971 when we were roommates at Western Carolina University.
This past weekend was significant for several reasons. It marked the first time the four of us had gone off on our own since Angi and Elizabeth were toddlers. As cute as they were then, it’s a lot easier to take them places now that they can pack their own gear. Actually, they took us, given that they arranged – and paid for – the whole perfect experience.
As Dona pointed out (see page 7B), the weather was mostly gloomy, though the heavy rains held off. We were pretty much curtained off by fog on Saturday, but on Sunday the clouds lifted every now and then to provide a few breath-taking views. As the much-faster Elizabeth and Angi – runners both – pressed on ahead of Dona and me, we found ourselves remembering earlier hikes together.
To get to LeConte on Saturday, we chose the longest route: a ridgetop Smokies trail called the Boulevard, which is typically accessed the way we did it – by taking the Appalachian Trail north from Newfound Gap.
Four decades ago, Dona and I hiked from Russell Field on the AT to Cades Cove; 30 years later we reversed that trip – almost.
Our 1972 trek initially had a different destination. Our goal was to hike along the AT from Cling-mans Dome to Fontana Dam, where Dona’s family was going to meet us with a picnic lunch. However, that plan was sidetracked by a less-than-happy camper desperate to return to civilization; our 2002 attempt to at least make it back to where we left the AT was derailed by time constraints.
When Dona and I set out 40 years ago with our friend Phyllis for a five-day wilderness experience, we didn’t know much about hiking and even less about backpacking. To call us “novices” would be giving us way too much credit. Our packs were too heavy. Dona’s cheap hiking boots hurt her feet so much that she tied them to her backpack two hours out and finished our journey in the sort of red-flowered flip-flops we used to buy for 49 cents a pair.
Phyllis’s troubles began with her too-weighty pack, intensified through the blisters that quickly covered both feet, and peaked with the rambunctious bear that rattled the Spence Field shelter gates all through our third night on the trail.
Shortly after we started walking on the fourth morning, Phyllis came upon the sign that literally changed the state of our destination. At Russell Field, the weatherworn trail marker’s cryptic message – Cades Cove 5.2 miles; Fontana Dam 11.8 miles – provided a beacon toward escape from her misery.
“Cades Cove. I’ve heard of that. There’s a campground there. That’s where I’m going,” Phyllis said.
And she lit out down the mountain in search of running water and junk food.
Dona decreed it would not be safe for any of us to press on alone, and pretty soon we were following Phyllis down the mountain.
When Dona and I camped with other friends at Cades Cove in 2002, we looked for the place we had entered the campground 30 years before. After a few minutes we found ourselves standing in front of another trail sign that indicated it was 5.2 miles to Russell Field.
Deciding to retrace our steps, the two of us, accompanied by our friends and fellow campers Barbara and Tonya, set out for the AT around noon. Unlike Phyllis, our 2002 partners appeared to relish being in the backcountry and seemed just as disappointed as we were when we had to turn back barely a mile from our goal.
That wasn’t the case this past weekend. We had plenty of time, and we easily walked the 8.2 miles to our destination. While we were on the AT, Dona and I discussed the fact that we’d hiked a portion of it in 1972, then we’d tried to get to it in 2002, and here we were back on the AT in 2012. We’ve decided we’ll try another hike in 2022.
Next time we’ll start with the picnic at Fontana Dam. After we finish our fried chicken and pimento cheese sandwiches, we’ll set out on the AT and see how far we get.
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