The peaks and ridges of the Smoky Mountains are a beautiful sight by themselves. Covered in white the view transforms to absolutely breathtaking. I have only seen them blanketed with snow a couple of times. The second was only a light dusting that was gone before afternoon. The first and much more memorable was as a boy at the tail end of a camping trip.
Most of the time, we made our way to Cades Cove by traveling 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 continuing 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 going directly to ice. You can imagine then our excitement when the snow started falling. The flakes were big and coming down fast quickly turning the ground white. My father stopped at Sugarlands to inquire about the weather and check road conditions.
He shared the news with us upon returning to the car. It had been snowing in the upper reaches of the mountains for a long time with 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 having to drive in unexpected snow with or without chains, but we were towing a camper as well. Looking back now, I understand why my parents were so apprehensive about undertaking this trek though my sister and I considered it all a big adventure.
Chains were purchased at a gas station on the south edge of Gatlinburg. Turning south, we started off into the heavy snowfall. It was slow going as the road began its climb toward the peaks. Thick forests bordered on each side of the road in this area. 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 racing alongside the road. Icicles hung from branches growing low enough to be splashed by water as the river danced along its way. Rocks protruding above the water had been transformed into snow-capped icebergs stranded in the cold, clear current. A thin, fog like vapor hung above the river.
As the road curved ever higher, the trees thinned out allowing us to see the mountains around us. Thick white flakes continued to fall obscuring 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 on the steering wheel.
Surprisingly, there were a fair number of other people making the trek over the mountains and many others were using the crest as a stopover before beginning the descent. We joined other kids sliding around and running through the deep snow. Snowballs seemed to be flying at random claiming anyone as a target who found themselves in their path. Though it was very cold, I do not remember it being much like the small amounts of snow we have had in Atlanta over the years. This snow was drier and clothes were not saturated after playing in it. Much to our chagrin, it was soon time to load back up in the car.
Taking 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 down staring intently forward with a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel. I am most positive this was no adventure for him and can only imagine his nerves being on edge as he quietly looked forward to the road leveling out 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 playing in snow like that has never been equaled and will live long in my memories. The closest it has come was being snowed in at my house northwest of Atlanta several years ago. Even then, it was not the same. On that particular day, it felt as if we were playing on top of the world.
Excerpt from Under the Smoke
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