THURSDAY
Since I survived yesterday’s hike I will probably survive today’s. Description of today’s wildflower hike: “Abrams Falls Trail, 9:30-4:30, in Cades Cove. Stroll along this river trail and discover wildflowers like gay wings which flourish in this limestone valley and view one of the park’s more picturesque waterfalls. Elevation change: 500’ ascent. A 5 mile, moderate hike.”
The terrain is not particularly mountainous in that area and I’m looking forward to seeing the special flowers in a limestone substrate. We arrive 45 minutes early, having driven on circuitous roads through attractive meadows. Sue is going on a different hike this day.
Warnings abound: not getting into the waterfall pools where five people have died, how not to kill a bear. Bears are fairly common in the park. Years ago, when much less was known about how to treat wild animals, national parks encouraged feeding bears. They even had viewing stands where hotel guests in the parks could gather after dinner to watch bears foraging over leftovers. Now there are regulations for keeping safe distances and not feeding bears. These are for the safety of the bears and the people. Still, we saw parents holding small children as they approached to see the bears more closely. We were aghast!
We wait as the sun gathers strength to see who our leaders will be. Kathy meditates in the car while I scout around. I must be hyperactive because I cannot sit still very long. I will never be able to calm myself through meditation. There are two Spring beauties for me to photograph while waiting: Catesby's trillium and Wood Anemone.
Tom Patrick is one of our three guides (it must be a popular hike). Cathy and Sue know him from earlier times but while I have heard his name, this is my first experience. He is the botanist for the State of Georgia and an expert in trilliums. He is full of energy and enthusiasm. And Larry (yesterday’s guide) is here again. The third guide is a young whipper-snapper. I glom onto Tom to experience a different commentary.
Surprisingly to all three leaders, the first part of the woods has been burnt. Was it lightening? Or a set fire? If so, by whom? If they were trying to remove the aggressive rhododendron they overdid it, Tom says. While occasional fires are helpful to many plant species, they can be harmful to trillium. Charred woods keep going on till we reach the water, which stopped the fire.
There is a foot of uncharred soil to the right of the trail. There, we see climbing arbutus, several kinds of beautiful violets, then a new kind of bluets which look like they’re growing on thyme. Surprise: they are called Thyme-leave Bluets.
Wild ginger has little brown jugs at their base. Tom examines and reports on several tree types. I love trees and used to know their names when I lived elsewhere but that fourth concussion limits my ability to hold onto new names. I am consciously choosing to not pay attention to tree names. I’ve got a possibly wacko idea that if I let in a tree name, a flower name will escape.
Oh dear, here are the beautiful leaves of a flower I know I know the name of. What the heck is it? Shoot. Anytime I see only the leaves but remember the name of the flower, it is such an achievement! Tom dismantles the root of leaves he recognizes as Yellow Root.
I now know why this trail is labelled as “moderately difficult.” Rocks!
I have no problem remembering the beautiful ground cover called partridgeberry because I rarely see the flower. More commonly a red berry not eaten by wildlife is visible amidst the small dark green leaves. I covet that plant but it needs an environment I can’t provide. The teensy leaves are partridgeberry.
What I enjoy about Tom is his excitement when something new appears. “Oh, look at this!” he exclaims. I’m thinking he’s probably seen it 259 other times. Hugh Nourse (former leader of the Ramblers) was the same way.
Later, I discuss age with Tom. He is a few years younger than I am. He and Larry have no interest in retiring since they walk in the woods almost every work day already. What could be better? they ask. I think about my last job at UGA. I was in an office with no windows. No wonder I retired the very first month I could!
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| Panic Grass |
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| Wood Anemone, I think. |
We see Wood Betony (a.k.a. lousewort). This variety is mostly all yellow. The type I saw with Debbie at Victoria Bryant was bi-color: yellow and plum. I love the leaves.
Hay-scented fern is the only one that’s hairy. The hairs are on the stem. Tom repeats a way to remember how to identify New York fern. Its frond is narrow at the top and bottom, “like New Yorkers who burn their candles at both ends.”
What made rocks slant like this? Tom doesn’t know. He leaps from rock to rock.
We discover several kinds of pussytoes. Some are solitary. Some have a full cat paw. I would love to have a large patch of pussytoes in my yard but may not have the proper environment for it.
Wild bleeding hearts require limestone or slate. Its leaves are like squirrel corn or dutchman’s breeches because they are in the same family. Ants carry the seeds of all three. Just like trillium. Tom tells us that some of the trilliums we see could be hundreds of years old, as old as the trees. This blows my mind!
Maybe the bleeding hearts above bled out. (Not really, they are probably seed pods.)
We see beautiful cross vine draped over some high rocks. Tom points out a tall plant he says is a giant Solomon seal. Some of the rocks are shiny black. Geology is fascinating, but in many ways it requires learning a new language.
I think I see daisy fleabane but Tom calls it Robin’s plantain. This is where it would be good to know more about the leaves.
We see mountain silver bells, giant chickweed, also called star chickweed, sweet shrub. We saw these yesterday also. An older trillium (they get pinker as they age).
Tom points out in short order: Climbing fern, (looks like a vine), creeping phlox, dwarf iris, and Carolina vetch. The only plant I'd seen before was dwarf iris.
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| These four photos are the climbing fern. |
Tom says, "Oh, wow! Looks like creeping phlox."
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| An ash in the back, then Robin's Plantain and dwarf iris in the front. |
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| Carolina Vetch |
I find and name the first gay wings. Tom points out its anatomy, including the propellor. What a terrifically named flower! But Tom promises more await us down the trail.
A whole community of gay wings near the water. And we also see Indian cucumber plant before the bridge heading for the Falls.
When we eat lunch at the waterfall (where five people drowned) we see lots of wild bleeding heart and more gay wings. This whole trip is incredible. Not one of the beautiful flowers and trees we have been seeing were planted here. This is their natural home.
Walking back guide-less, I see a bear sleeping in a tree. (It is the lump in the "Y" shaped tree.) Bears den in and on trees in the Smokies because there are few caves for them.
And behold, two black snakes are enjoying each others’ company. Lest you think I am a hot-shot wildlife spotter, let me tell you the truth: other people found them first and were taking pictures. So I spotted the photographers.
Driving back we are stunned with the blinding white of some dogwood trees. Immediately after, we see a crowd of cars and some insane people walking perilously close to a black bear. The man on the right is much too close! To learn more about bears, click on: Bears
FRIDAY
We wake up early seeing rain, so we have a hearty breakfast. I put on all my rain gear: hat I’d sprayed with waterproofing stuff, hiking books likewise sprayed, waterproof fishing pants, and a rain jacket with a hood. I had sprayed my backpack to make it waterproof.
We leave the house at 7:45 to get to the Porters Creek Trail wildflower walk beginning at 9 AM. Sue drives through rain in the westerly direction, like we took toward Cade’s Cove. But then we turn left somewhere (I am in the back seat) where we end up on a very bumpy rocky road with deep holes. [Helen, it was still not as bad as the routes we took in the North Georgia woods looking for waterfalls. When I was thinking of death — of my car or us.]
Why is it so far away? It was supposed to take only 45 minutes and we’ve been on the road longer than that. Sue can barely see through the rain-soaked window. When we can go no farther, we stop at a park office and find we are altogether on the wrong side of Gatlinburg. On the worn map of the park trails, the “Q” looked like the “O” which designated the location for this hike.
So we arrive at the “O” (Porters Creek Trail) over two hours late. And it is pouring. I had not brought my waterproof camera because it does not do close-up photos well. I am afraid to expose my Canon to the rain so I take very few photos.
When we walk on the trail we see people returning already because they had had enough of the rain. Then we approach a very loud stream with big boulders and a very skinny bridge with a leaning handrail. One of us cannot continue so we head back before getting to the Falls. They should put a note about the bridge in the description of the pilgrimage hike.
The rain abates. Kathy wants some exercise so she heads back briskly, saying she’ll meet us on the road while Sue and I amble along, seeing huge boulders, an old homestead and a well-kept cemetery. All this while I’m sure my waterproof clothing and backpack are holding back the moisture.
By the time we get back “home” I realize nothing I have on is waterproof except my skin. I wring out my t-shirt, hang up everything else to dry. My backpack is wet. Everything inside it is wet so I spread it all over the rug, hoping it will dry.
I immediately take a hot shower. For a change, I am chilled. Kathy suggests that Sue and I put our boots in a low oven to dry. After a delicious dinner we head for the Conference Center. First, I register legally for Saturday’s hike. Some folks had dropped out so there was a spot for me. It will be tough so I have some ambivalence about signing up.
Then Kathy picks out her birthday present from an array of books, t-shirts, mugs and note cards celebrating the Smokies and all national parks.
A terrific photographer shares photos of 23 of his favorite national parks, which are celebrating their 100th anniversary. Yellowstone in the winter is my favorite. Maybe some day I will go there.
Before I go to sleep I write to some friends, asking them to pray that I can walk Saturday’s hike without having to be airlifted out.
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