The peaks and ridges of the Smoky Mountains are a beautiful sight by themselves. Covered in white, the view transforms to absolutely magical. I have only seen them blanketed with snow a couple of times. The second was very light and gone before afternoon. The first, and much more memorable, was as a boy at the tail end of a trip.
Most of the time, we made our way to Cades Cove by Highway 441 from Cherokee, NC over the mountains through Newfound Gap to the Sugarlands Visitor Center on the Tennessee side. At this point, we would turn off 441 and follow the Little River Road west toward the Cove. If you remain on 441 north, it goes straight into Gatlinburg.
Snow hardly ever appeared in the Atlanta suburb where we grew up. It seemed to always skip the snow stage and go directly to ice. You can imagine then our excitement when the snow started to fall. The flakes were big and quickly turned the ground white. My father stopped at Sugarlands to inquire about the weather and check road conditions.
He shared the news with us upon his return to the car. Snowfall had been in progress in the upper reaches of the mountains long before it began where we were and there was no end in sight. The road over Newfound Gap was closed to all traffic unless equipped with snow chains. Travel north of Gatlinburg to Pigeon Forge and beyond was not much better. A decision was soon made to get snow chains and head over the mountains on 441.
I would like to interject a little information here. It is bad enough to drive in unexpected snow with or without chains, but we had a camper in tow as well. Now I understand why my parents were so apprehensive about this trek though my sister and I considered it all a big adventure at the time.
Chains were purchased at a gas station on the south edge of Gatlinburg and we started off into the heavy snowfall. It was slow travel as the road began its climb toward the peaks. Thick forests bordered on each side of the road and tree limbs hung heavy with snow above the carpeted floor beneath. At a snail’s pace, we crept ever so higher up into the mountains.
Soon, the Little Pigeon River could be seen alongside the road. Icicles hung from branches low enough to be splashed by water as the river danced along its way. Rocks above the water had been transformed into snow-capped icebergs stranded in the cold, clear current. A thin vapor hung above the river.
As the road curved ever higher, the trees thinned out enough for us to see the mountains around us. The thick white flakes which continued to fall obscured all but the nearest peaks. The panoramic scenes reminded us of countless Christmas cards and holiday movies seen through the years. It was hard for us to believe we were not in the far north somewhere for we had never seen snow like this before.
After what seemed like hours, we finally reached the area of the Clingman’s Dome turnoff near Newfound Gap. My dad decided to stop for us to play in the snow. I think it was also a chance for him to relieve his death grip from the wheel of the car.
Surprisingly, there were a fair number of other people on their way over the mountains and many used the crest as a stopover before the descent. We joined other kids already at play in the deep snow. Snowballs flew at random to claim as a target anyone who found themselves in their path. Though it was very cold, it was much different than the small amounts of snow we have had in Atlanta over the years. This snow was drier and did not saturate the clothes. Much to our chagrin, it was soon time to load back up in the car.
With a deep breath, my dad put the car in drive and slowly eased back out onto the road. He spent the rest of the drive with a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel and an intense forward stare. I am most positive this was no adventure for him and can only imagine his nerves on edge as he quietly looked forward to the level road as it neared Cherokee. He could not even relax enough to enjoy the views we did as mere passengers.
For me, I can honestly say it was one of the most beautiful trips I have ever taken across the top of the Smokies. The thrill of deep snow like that has never been equaled and will live long in my memories. The closest it has come was a massive snowfall at my house northwest of Atlanta several years ago or what I experienced while stationed in Oklahoma. Even then, it was not the same and in the latter case, I definitely could not enjoy it as a child would. On that particular day near Clingman’s Dome, it felt as if we were in a winter wonderland on top of the world.
Excerpt from Under the Smoke
No comments:
Post a Comment