Hayrides

            I am sure most, if not all of us, know what a hayride is, but let me reiterate for those who somehow have just not been enlightened. A hayride is enjoyed while sitting on hay in the back of something. The fun part is that YOU do not have to drive and are free to look around without constantly watching the road. Hayrides in the Cove are given for a fee on a large flatbed trailer pulled by a truck. Usually guided by a ranger, they can be a very relaxing end to your day.

            Stopping at several points along the way, a brief overview of the Cove history is given by the guide as well as personal anecdotes and insight. It begins before sunset and returns you to the stables well after dark. Be mindful of the season for the temperature can drop drastically during the spring or fall. Hot days can quickly turn into cool evenings especially when out in the open air with a wind driven by forward movement.

            The majority of the time it is I who drives through the Cove. For this reason, these hayrides are a special enjoyment of mine. Though still not at the slow pace I prefer, they give me a chance to wonder at the beauty of this place. The evening air is invigorating and the views breathtaking. It is a completely different outlook when seen this way. Instead of just to the left or right, eyes can gaze upwards too at the tree limbs passing overhead. It was on a hayride I first noticed the black walnut tree. Quite abundant in the southeast, its leaves grow in such a fashion as to create circular clusters. This pattern only becomes clear when looking at the branches from underneath the tree.

            As the tour makes its way around the loop road, the forest comes alive with countless sounds created by its nocturnal inhabitants. Hundreds of insects seem to compete for who can be the loudest. It is amazing all this noise comes from something so small. One of the quietest denizens of the night sometimes seen is the brown bat. Flitting about at dusk or just after, they are often mistaken as swallows or other small birds. The erratic flight and quick change of directions will reveal their true identity.

            Bats are very interesting creatures doing us a grand favor with all the insects they eat. However, they are almost as misunderstood as the wolf and just as much a victim of unwarranted bad publicity. Contrary to hype created from movies and books, bats are not out to get the unwary human. They have no interest in us at all for we are far too big of a morsel to even draw attention. The vampire bat, not indigenous to this area, gets its name from biting livestock, not people. Even then, it is just a bite and not a swarm of bats on the hapless animal. The majority of bites to humans are caused when someone catches a bat and tries to hold it. It is not the bat’s fault. It is doing what any other animal would do if cornered. I would strongly advise not to try this for in addition to being painful, bats are known to be carriers of rabies. Though usually never showing the effects themselves, it can be transmitted to anyone bitten.

The mountains and ridges transform as the setting sun paints upon them different shades of red and orange. Finally, as darkness begins to take its hold, the stars emerge for their own grand show. If you have never been far away from the lights of the city when night fell, you have indeed missed something never to be forgotten. Literally thousands of twinkling stars beckon from the dark skies above making it difficult to pick out even the most recognizable constellations. A bright moon will take some of this away, but it will still be far beyond what most are accustomed to seeing from the backyards of their subdivisions.

Excerpt from Under the Smoke

 

Progress - or is it ?

Today's world is so chaotic and hectic. Employers push deadlines and create high stress environments they expect you to thrive in. The electronic age is a driving force with its ever changing technology and constant introduction of gadgets to awe the consumers.

            Do not misunderstand me. I am a casualty, if you were, of the data dependency. I sit and type this on my laptop as I text one of my daughters on my cell phone. I do historical research on the internet, keep communication open via email with my re-enacting unit, update webpages, spend time on marketing and advertising for my writing and my wife’s photography, use Facebook for re-enacting contacts and also keep in touch with family and close friends. All of this is done from either one of our computers and is part of the magic we call progress.

            On Dictionary.com, progress is defined as the development of an individual or society in a direction considered more beneficial than and superior to the previous level. In some cases I would have to agree, but taken as a whole, progress to me has destroyed the American way of life because we never adapted it to coincide with our modern era mentalities. I have many times said that I believe we could survive just fine as a society without most of the newfangled things this “development” has given us. Medical advancements is some areas have been beneficial especially with regard to knowledge and diagnosis of. Of course, I also know this reflects on other advancements which allowed these to happen. However, I know that my wife and four-year

old daughter are alive today due to medical advances. Fifty years ago or more, they both would have died.

            Taking that into consideration, there are times we would like to have that primitive cabin way out in the wilderness for us to escape to. It would be a place with no modern worries, phone calls, urgent business conference calls, traffic delays, car horns, sirens around the clock, or stress filled workdays. Ideally, the cabin would have its own garden, the forest full of wild game, and the streams packed with fish.

            This would indeed be wonderful and as much as it pulls at our soul, we could not just disappear to a place like this. We have too much family and friends and yes, responsibility to do this beyond a long weekend. Though having a place like this is indeed a dream for us, we know in this day and time, it would have to be “wired-in”. Of course, who is to say we can’t hit that main power switch from time to time and enjoy quiet nights by lantern and days of working the earth.

Mt. LeConte

At 6,643 feet, Clingman’s Dome is the highest peak along the entire length of the Appalachian Trail within the Great Smoky Mountains. Mt. Guyot is second at 6,621 feet and Mt. Leconte comes in third at 6,593 feet. I was in the neighborhood of twelve years old when my parents and I, along with my sister, tackled the hike up Mt. LeConte via the Alum Cave Bluffs trail. It rises steadily the entire distance of about five miles save for one brief drop along a half-mile section. The views at several places are absolutely spectacular making the uphill grade more than worth the effort.

            The trailhead is located on the Newfound Gap Road approximately 8.6 miles from the Sugarlands Visitor Center or 20 miles from Oconaluftee coming from the North Carolina side of the park. It is well marked and has a large parking area due to its popularity. The weather was cool and overcast with a fine mist.

            Within the first mile or so, there are several creek crossings with footbridges. Use caution for they can be slippery especially if it has rained recently. As always, it is a good idea to have extra socks on hand in case feet get wet. There is nothing more miserable than having wet feet on a long hike.

            Just over a mile into the hike, the trail appears to stop at a large rock formation. However, it actually goes upward through the center of the rock through a steep cleft on stairs built out of flat stones from the nearby creek. This is known as Arch Rock and was created by the effects over time of freezing, thawing, and erosion.

            About a half mile further, the trail leaves the trees behind as it crosses a large rocky outcrop. If the hike has been timed perfectly, there is an explosion of color from the rhododendron and mountain laurel growing in this area. An overlook spot known as Inspiration Point is just off the trail and offers a breathtaking view of the wooded valley below across to the cliffs on the opposite ridge.

            From here, the trail climbs steeply another half mile before arriving at Alum Cave Bluffs and continuing along the base. The cliff itself rises up and overhangs a large sandy area. The history of these bluffs goes all the way back to old stories of the Cherokee. A mining company was once formed to extract minerals from it and a Confederate fort was even built nearby for protection during the Civil War because the minerals found here could be used to help make gunpowder.

            After the bluffs, the trail rises sharply for the next half mile. A small, side trail branches off in this area ending at a rocky outcrop known as Gracie’s Pulpit. From here, there is a great view of the peaks that comprise the crest of Mt. LeConte. Before beginning the last couple of miles to the top, there is a respite from the uphill climb as the trail briefly descends.

            Nearing the top, the trail crosses a steep rock face. Much care is needed in this area for on the left is quite a formidable drop. There is a steel cable attached to the rock face that should be used in any weather. A steady stream of water trickled down the cliff crossing the rocky trail. While traversing this section, my mom made the comment, “It would take a bird to get water from these falls.”  This particular landmark has been known to us ever since as “Bird Falls”.

            The trail curves back around to come out on Cliff Top. Below you is Bird Falls and the view outward across the open vastness of the mountains is breathtaking. Several of the peaks with names commonly recognized as being in the Smokies are visible here. The Chimney Tops, Newfound Gap, Sugarland Mountain, and Clingman’s Dome can all be seen on clear days.

It was at this point a light drizzle began to fall. With the amount of rain falling in the Smokies each year, particularly in the higher elevations, it is extremely advisable to carry some type of raingear on even the shortest hikes. Taking ponchos from waist packs, we only paused a few minutes before continuing.

            Before reaching the end at a trail junction, it is said the vista includes peeks at Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge. However, the drizzle had turned into a steady rain with the clouds hanging low on the mountains making it impossible now to see very far beyond the next ridge. Turning right onto the Rainbow Falls trail, we walked the last few hundred yards to the cabins of LeConte Lodge located just off the trail to the downhill side.

            Tired and hungry, we sat down to eat a small lunch of sandwiches and granola bars. The cold rain continued to fall now causing small rivulets around us. Though soaked to the skin with my lunch quickly becoming the consistency of mush, negativity was not about to deter me from what we had accomplished. This was the longest trail I had hiked in my lifetime up to that point. I was thrilled to be sitting there at the top of a mountain in the Smokies no matter what the weather happened to be. The feeling of accomplishment warmed me inside.

            A short time later, we started back down from whence we had come. The rain stayed with us pretty much all the way back making our footing precarious in some places. The trail itself contained small streams as a result of runoff from the slopes above. I do not believe any of us made it back to the car dry or without mud from losing our foothold. Looking back on this fondly, I know this is an experience I will never forget.

Excerpt from Under the Smoke.

Hiking Addiction

    
     Ok, maybe it is just a certain group that feels this way for I know some who would beg

and plead to know where the end of the trail is. They want to know at what point can they

turn back........

     For my wife and I, we sometimes have to MAKE ourselves turn around and head back to

the truck. There is a passion within us that keeps us wanting to trek deeper into the

wilderness. We want to know what is around the next cutback. What is beyond the next

ridge line ? It is an "addiction" of a safe kind.

      Many times, nothing at all jumps out to the inexperienced eye. However, it may just

be a rare rock outcrop, a tree just up the slope torn apart by a bear, a tiny wildflower hiding

snug against a downed log, or a drastic change in the flora of the forest floor.

      The forest is always changing. The same physical trail traveled throughout the year

will be a different experience each and every time. Take your time and look high and low.

Open your mind and senses to the subtle changes taking place. It will broaden your

appreciation and love for the wilderness in which you spend your time.

Skunks “Tree” Their Prey ?

Skunks “Tree” Their Prey ?

             Most wild animals that have been fed by people logically start associating them with food. This can be very dangerous when it comes to larger mammals like bears, but most people cannot quite see the black and white cat-looking skunk as dangerous. I guess it really is not in the same way bears might be, however it can be very dangerous for the skunk. If an animal begins recognizing humans as a source of food, they lose their fear of people. This causes disastrous results especially along our highways. A particular animal seeing cars go by remembers they have been fed from machines like these and approach ever so closer until…… Suffice it to say this is how some animals near our parks get killed.

            Though we ourselves have always made a point in NOT feeding wildlife, it is apparent others have not adhered to this warning. It is apparent from the persistence some animals have shown through the years. This story is about a skunk who not only expressed his desire to have some of our food, but was not going to take “no” for an answer !

            At the time our kids were all under the age of 10 and very much into the nightly “skunk hunts”. Camped in the spot next to us were my parents. As we gathered flashlights, my father volunteered to stay at camp to keep an eye on supper cooking on the stove. With all the kids in tow, we set off into the darkness. In our search, we only found one or two of the furry targets, but it was enough to thrill little hearts. Arriving back at camp, we were soon startled by the exclamation there was a skunk in my parent’s campsite.

            As we rounded the tents, a most comical sight befell our eyes. Imagine a cartoon of a woman on a table with a mouse underneath. Well, this is about what it looked like. My father was on top of the picnic table with a visitor below. The skunk was walking to and fro occasionally rising up and putting its front paws on the bench. Its little nose would sniff this way and that. My father was trying to “shoo” it away without getting it excited.

             We had to have our fun laughing and tossing pebbles near the persistent little guy in an attempt to distract his interest. Of course we remained a safe distance away. Paying us no mind at all, the skunk was intent on wanting whatever it was on that table that smelled so good to him.

            My father now decided to embellish things somewhat for the kids. Starting to dance around on the table, he quietly added, “It’s a skunk ! Oh dear, a skunk ! Whatever shall I do ? A skunk !” This caused us to laugh even harder. Apparently, the increased noise agitated the animal for his pacing quickened. His gaze started darting between the table and us. Now fearing he would soon be sprayed, my father urged us to “cease and desist”. However, giggle boxes had been turned over and there was no chance of stopping the laughter.

                I guess the skunk finally decided the situation was too much for him. The aromas that drew him there apparently were not worth the effort anymore. Waddling off into the darkness in search of a quieter campsite, he left us. Ever so thankful, my dad breathed a sigh of relief as he climbed off the table. For the rest of the night, we would not let him live down the image of looking like a scared woman attempting to scare away a mouse.

Excerpt from Under the Smoke  
 

It's a Bear !!

It’s a Bear !!

            The Smoky Mountains are home to over 1400 black bears. There are hundreds more throughout the Southern Appalachians. One of the biggest threats to these animals is human interaction. By saying this, I am referring to people who feed them or leave food in areas easily accessible. This causes bears to lose their fear of humans and sometimes results in dangerous situations for animal and person alike. Because of this, signs are posted throughout the park informing visitors the area is bear habitat and urging them to keep food put up.

            Bear sightings in the Cove were few and far between for us as I was growing up. They were there but it seemed our timing was just not right for us to see them. We heard many stories of other people seeing them, but these occurred mainly in the higher elevations. The sightings for us were just extremely rare. It was all about to change for we were about to have a close encounter.

            As was customary every evening, we spent the time after nightfall around the campfire and playing games on the picnic table. We would roast hotdogs on the fire or cook on the Coleman stove. Later, marshmallows would be impaled and turned into smoking or flaming black-crusted lumps. They would be combined with chocolate and graham crackers to create smores. I myself never did acquire a liking for this gooey mess. Instead I would go straight for the plain graham crackers. 

            Supper was over and food put away except for snacks and drinks. We were sitting at the table and well into a game of rummy. Quiet time had arrived in the campground decreasing the sound level noticeably. Crickets and katydids chirped loudly from seemingly everywhere. Frogs croaked incessantly. It was in this hour it happened.

            Pausing to listen intently, we were not sure anything was really heard at first. When no unusual sound was discernible in the night, we returned to the game. Wait – there it is again. It was low and far off, but we all heard it this time. It sounded like a growl. Thinking back on it now, it was more like a sound your dog might make while playing tug-o-war but it was a growl nonetheless. Whatever it was now had our full attention as our eyes strained into the night and only one word filled our minds – BEAR.

            Becoming louder as it approached, we decided it was time to retreat. If it was a bear, he could have whatever he wanted on that table. I for one was NOT going to fight him for it. Moving as slowly and deliberately as possible we made our way to the relative safety of our camper. Once inside, we unzipped the plastic windows and gazed out through the screen intently hoping to catch a close-up view of the elusive animal.

            The growling had grown quite loud and seemed very near. Surely, it must be right outside the camper ! We pointed our flashlights here and there hoping to illuminate the darkness at just the right moment to catch a large black shape lumbering through the campsite. Having never seen one this close before, the prospect of doing so kept us on watch for some time. Time passed with the elusive animal never showing itself and soon even the growling noises subsided.

            The next morning, we looked in vain for signs of our visitor. Nothing was disturbed and no tracks were visible anywhere. Giving up the hunt, I started playing with the boy from the campsite next to us. At one point, we found ourselves running around the camper. My dad was still sleeping inside and the sound of his snoring could easily be heard. We got quite a few laughs cracking jokes about it.

            Amid the jokes and laughing, the boy I was playing with said, “You think that’s funny ?  My dad sounds like he’s growling when he snores. It sounds just like a bear !”

            I just stared at him. My mom and sister had stopped what they were doing too. He looked at us questioningly, “what did I say wrong ?”

            We all looked at each other smiling, knowing without a doubt exactly where the bear had been the night before.

Excerpt from Under the Smoke 

Little Greenbrier Spelling Bee

Little Greenbrier Spelling Bee

             The Little Greenbrier School sits in a clearing on the north side of the park. It is reachable by following a road from Metcalf Bottoms to a small parking area. One of the first things noticed is a graveyard surrounded by a weathered picket fence. Many children are buried within struck down in their early years by different types of ailments. As with most cemeteries in the Smokies, it is obvious when a sickness ran through the community just by reading the dates on the tombstones. Many of the old and young would have died during the same time.

            The school itself is a simple one-room structure representative of many that once stood in this area. Unlike today, there were no set dates for school starting or ending for the year. The teachers were usually not from the immediate area. The community would pool their resources and pay them to teach lessons to the children for as long as their payment provided. In many cases, there were weeks in between school sessions. In larger communities, such as Cades Cove, a teacher could be hired from the community making schooling more routine.

            We attended a ranger led program at the school that took a turn we did not expect. A retired school teacher named Miss Elsie Burrell was there to give a very informative talk on the school and what some kids went through just to get to school. Many walked for miles on trails over the nearby ridges to get a chance at some education. A small piece of this education was learning how to spell and she was about to show us how spelling bees were conducted in the late 19^th to early 20^th centuries.

            We have all participated in spelling bees at different times throughout our years in school. They announced a word and either you rattled off the correct spelling or you did not. That was all there was to it. Well, I assure you prior experience was no preparation for what was about to be learned in this schoolhouse.

            The confident air of a schoolteacher was apparent in this woman’s actions and tone of voice. As she stood there in period attire, it was not difficult to picture her giving lessons within these walls. Her mere presence demanded attention as she detailed what was to be done. The assumption this would be easy was soon shattered for there was more to this than just spelling a word. After finishing the explanation, she asked for volunteers from the group to take part. I am sure the number of people wanting to do this dwindled as her talk progressed. The handful of brave souls now gathered at the front of the schoolroom and the contest began.

            For every word given, a person had to do the following.

1)                  Say the complete word

2)                  Say the first syllable

3)                  Spell the first syllable

4)                  Say the first syllable again

5)                  Say the first and second syllable

6)                  Say the second syllable

7)                  Spell the second syllable

8)                  Say the second syllable again

9)                  Say the first and second syllable again

As you can see this gets progressively harder and more confusing.

10)              Say the first, second, and third syllable

11)              Say the third syllable

12)              Spell the third syllable

13)              Say the third syllable again

14)              Say the first, second, and third syllable again

When you have spelled the last syllable, you finish by saying the complete word once again. As you can imagine, this spelling bee was over in record time without having a winner. I have always considered myself a pretty good speller, but I was getting confused just listening to them get tongue-tied.

Thinking about the kids learning in this manner in the 1800s and early 1900s makes you wonder. Has progress given or taken away ? Is what we have gained worth what we have lost ?

Miss Elsie provided this wonderful program for the public until she was 95 years old. Sadly, she has passed on but her memory remains for those whose lives she touched as a schoolteacher and in her daily life.

Excerpt from Under the Smoke

Park and get out of the car !

The main thrust of my book is to park the car and actually enjoy wherever you are visiting. How many of you have rushed through a state or national park OR know of someone who has ? Did you enjoy the visit ? Probably not and left without seeing much of anything as well. The roads which wind their way through our parks and back roads leave much of the wilderness out of sight.

Want to enjoy the experience more ? SLOOOOOOWWWWW down, pull over, shut off the car and actually get OUT into the fresh air !

Webpage now active !!

My author webpage is now active !! Take a look and let me know what you think !!

Webpage

"Under the Smoke"

          Starting down the road of marketing and publicizing the book I have been working on for several years. In addition to a website, I have Facebook, Twitter and Tumblr accounts. Following is some information on the book, Under the Smoke.

          Over nine million people included a visit to the Great Smoky Mountains as part of their vacation plans last year. The majority chose to view the mountains from the comfort of their cars or motor homes. Hastily driving through the park, they briefly glimpsed the mountain peaks or passed through Cades Cove annoyed at their slow progress. Without realizing, they have considerably limited their overall experience of what this place has to offer. Covering over 800 square miles, it is obvious only a small percentage can be viewed from the few roads cutting through this wilderness.

           Through countless trips and hikes over the years, my love for these mountains has continued to grow. Under the Smoke expresses the effect this place continues to have on my life while sharing its beauty with others. Contained inside are stories of my experiences interspersed with factual anecdotes concerning the people, places, and wildlife of the Smokies.

           There are many books on hiking trails or historical places of the Smoky Mountains. However, Under the Smoke adds special insight to help people identify with the mountains on a personal level. Under the Smoke would find a perfect niche alongside other books located on the shelves of visitor centers at the park as well as numerous gift shops and bookstores adorning the streets of surrounding towns. Though written about the Smoky Mountains, it would also be well received beyond the Appalachians for its message is relevant regardless of where the reader’s wilderness might lie.

          It is my hope that after reading my book, people would take the time to slow down and appreciate nature. Hopefully, they will pull over, shut the car off and add their own experiences and memories to their wilderness.

          I will be including excerpts from the book in future posts. Let me know what you think.

Sincerely,
Gene Harmon