Great Smoky Mountains
October, 1974

Quiet, Solitude, Fear

After the revelations the previous spring I fell in love with being outside away from the built up world.  I skipped a semester of school and worked that fall.  The last week of October I spent hiking in the north part of the Smoky Mountains park.  Unlike my spring adventures I traveled alone.  A friend dropped me off at the trailhead at New Found Gap and my parents were to pick me up at the end of the week’s trip.  I was not afraid of being alone; I had planned the trip conservatively and made my exact itinerary well known.  Even in late October the trail is heavily traveled and I was not completely alone at night except for one night.

Traveling alone was a different kind of experience compared to the trekking with good friends of the privious spring.  I set my own pace and had more freedom of movement.  On Wednesday I pulled into Tri Corner Knob very early in the afternoon.  I dropped my pack off at the shelter and decided to explore the area.  I went down the fork of the trail that I was not taking the next day looking through woods and observing what I could.  I began to realize that, more than likely I would be alone that night and a gnawing fear began to creep into my mind.  About an hour out I sat down beside the trail and listened to the profound silence of the deep woods on that ridge top.  The vegetation was thick and with no wind  there was no noise.  I was absolutely still.  As I sat there the only sound I could hear was the ringing in my ears from a concert I had attended the previous week.  After fifteen or twenty minutes I looked down at my boots and saw a tiny vole – no bigger than the width of my boot.  He stayed there for several minutes and scampered off.  This sort of thing had never happened to me before.  I had never allowed myself to become so quiet before.  I felt as if even my soul was still.

A few minutes later I was granted a reprieve from the solitude and the accompanying fears  I heard another hiker clanking down the trail towards me.  He was also planning to stay at the Tri Corner Knob shelter.  We both proceeded to the shelter and spent the evening talking and enjoying each other’s company.  The next morning we went in our opposite directions and I went to down a side trail to Laurel Gap shelter and I knew that I would alone that night.

That night happened to be Halloween, and the night of a full moon.  Most of the fears that had come to me were focused on this night, but when I got there I had little fear.  Something had happened during that morning’s walk and the previous afternoon; I had overcome the fears that had enveloped me.  Instead I experienced a new kind of joy from the solitude I found during the walk.  It was a gift from the mountains.  On arriving at the shelter I found a water filled horse trough and bathed almost a weeks worth of grime off and then spent the afternoon reading in the warm sunshine.  That night I did retreat to the shelter and close the bear fence tight, but the only thing that disturbed my slumber was the ever present horde of shelter mice.

The next morning I continued down intro the Deep Creek Valley, an untouched virgin forest.  As I approached the valley floor I came across a water fall where the water slid down a smooth almost vertical rock slab into a small pool next to the trail.  The scene was incredibly beautiful, but I was disturbed as I left it.  Although seeing it was nice, I was filled with sadness because I was not able to share the experience with someone else.  I now knew the price of solitude.

It took all day to traverse the valley and climb back up to the ridge top and the Appalachian Trail.  It was dusk when I pulled into the Cosby Shelter.  I found it filled with a group of hikers from New England with whom I shared a joyous night of swapping lies and tales.

Saturday, my last day, was spent hiking down off of the ridge and out to the highway where I was to be picked up.  Before leaving however I made one more side trip down the Appalachian Trail to the Mt. Cammerer lookout.  From here one can see the entire north end of the park and beyond.  The lookout was surrounded by large fields of waist high to shoulder high heather.  While at the lookout I was filled with joy, both from the view and the accomplishment that traveling the distance I had come and learning how to be there alone gave me.  Returning back to Low Gap I started to down to the park entrance.  It was easy going, and I made very good time.  Near the bottom I went through the Cosby Campground that had been closed for the season two days previously.  It was rather strange to go through there and not see anyone.  Instead of many people and their noise there was the now familiar silence.  I was not entirely alone however; a small yellow butterfly flew alongside me as I went through the campground.  I interpreted this as the mountains saying good-bye.

This adventure solidified my love all things wild but more importantly gave me the confidence to venture out on my own.  It set the pattern for most of my treks.  I now knew what was gained and what was lost traveling alone in a wilderness.