Our walk in the woods

Setting off from the Newfound Gap car park towards Icewater Spring Shelter, a measly 2.7 miles down the Appalachian Trail, Lachie and I were both worried we wouldn’t fulfill our dream. We wanted to meet someone battling their way 2181 miles along the Appalachian Trail, from Springer Mountain in Georgia to Mt. Katahdin in Maine. One of the reasons we’d come to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park was to meet Bill Bryson, author of the hilarious book, A Walk in the Woods, and his companion, Katz. Or, failing that, meet someone as funny and foolhardy as Bill was in his attempt to walk the entire length of the Appalachian Trail.

The day before, Lachie and I were eager to explore the area surrounding our campsite at Cades Cove. We were also keen to avoid battling other tourists. Most seemed determined to only leave their car to get a Kodak moment in front of National Park signs, simply to prove they were there. Before heading out on the Rich Mountain Loop Trail we took a vow not to have a Katz moment and throw the water bottle away because it was too heavy. Water bottles in hand, we ambled along the trail discussing where we would find the ingredients to make smores that night. “But did you see a supermarket in Gatlinburg? Maybe we could look in Pige- argh, a bear!”

A safe place to hide from bears.

It stood thirty feet off the side of the trail, one paw poised in mid air, staring intently at our panicked faces. Frantically, we scrambled back past each other to what appeared to be a safe distance.

“Are we supposed to keep eye contact with a black bear or try and be big and scary?”

“Black bear? It’s got a brown stripe across its back.”

“Are there even brown bears in the Smoky Mountains?”

“I dunno. You read the National Park brochure this morning.”

“Yeah, I read it out to you. What did I say?”

“Wait, wait. It’s walking away. I think we’re OK. Quick, get your camera out!”

From then on, large sticks and rocks accompanied our water bottles as we continued along the trail, glancing furtively over our shoulders every few minutes to check we weren’t being stalked. 

“Bill Bryson saw a bear, didn’t he?”

“Yep. But we handled it so much better.”

Back on the Appalachian Trail, in the first five hundred feet of our paltry hike, all we’d seen were half a dozen dawdlers, already further from their cars than they probably should have been, and a fit family of four, far too clean and cheery to have been through-hikers. Oddly, five hundred feet seemed to be most people’s limit – we had the trail to ourselves after that, until we reached the shelter.

 “It’s April now,” mused the through-hiker, standing outside Icewater Spring Shelter, his home for the night in the park. “I have to be in Chicago on September 10th. Not sure if we’ll have enough time to make it all the way to Mt. Katahdin.”

The Appalachian Trail at Newfound Gap.

Lachie and I frowned, both doing the maths in our heads, but still excited about happening upon a through-hiker. For the next five months he had no other plans but to walk another 1972 miles? The longest I’d ever hiked was three weeks. The furthest I’d ever driven was Melbourne to Byron Bay, a grand total of 1053 miles. I pulled out my phone and saved “Appalachian Trail through-hiker finishes” into September 10 in my calendar.

“We stayed in Gatlinburg last night,” our through-hiker continued, pushing his drooping wide brimmed hat out of his eyes and picking at the melted hole in his Polartec windcheater sleeve. “Can’t say we ever expected to visit a place like that on the Appalachian Trail.”

Lachie and I nodded vigorously, remembering the carnival-like town we’d driven through a few days before. The dense, green and brown patterns that formed the Smoky Mountains sat in stark contrast to the disposability of Gatlinburg. Multi-storey minigolf courses and go-kart tracks lined the main street. Glowing fast food vendor signs reached up between buildings. Ye olde candy stores and gift shops vied for our attention. It didn’t exactly feel like the gateway town to one of the most popular National Parks in the United States.

“Yeah, it wasn’t until we were driving through Gatlinburg that we realised this was the town Bill Bryson was so disappointed with,” I enthused.

“‘Disappointed’ is putting it kindly, I think,” said our through-hiker, smiling.

A blue tarpaulin covering the front of Icewater Spring Shelter rustled and a second, worn looking through-hiker staggered out, half-eaten Snickers Bar in hand. “We also found some locals in Gatlinburg last night who enjoy their whiskey,” through-hiker number one grimly informed us.

“Ermpf,” through-hiker number two offered, as he headed towards the privy.

Realising our new idols’ need for peace and quiet, Lachie and I wished them good luck and headed back towards our car at Newfound Gap, back to the world where people don’t walk 2000 miles.

It turns out black bears are the only bears that live in the Smoky Mountains. Bear and other wildlife information can be found at www.nps.gov/grsm/naturescience/animals.htm

The Great Smoky Mountains National Park straddles the Tennessee and North Carolina border. It can be reached by car via US-441 or by foot on the Appalachian Trail.

Camping at Cades Cove costs $17-$20 per night, depending on the time of year. 

There are nine other car camping grounds around the National Park. Bookings can be made at www.recreation.gov

Permits are required to stay at backcountry campsites.

Park entry is free.

Maps and other information can be found online atwww.nps.gov/grsm/planyourvisit or at the many Ranger Stations within the National Park.