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GATLINBURG, TENN – It has begun. The change in the air marks the time to be in Florida. Our cool nights and sunny, warm days will soon become the envy of the ice and snow-bound north. But indeed, Florida does not have it all.
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| It wasn’t difficult to find the color in autumn in the Great Smoky Mountain National Park. As of Oct. 18, the colors were reaching peak in the higher elevations but there is still time to see it for yourself. Mitch Traphagen Photo |
The only ‘white’ in a Florida Christmas is found in the shorts and sneakers of the tourists. And, almost without exception, the fall colors range from green to brown. Autumn in Florida marks only relief from the heat of summer –it definitely lacks the wondrous magic of color.
But just a few hundred miles north are scenes of art on a giant canvas. Growing up in Minnesota, fall was my favorite time of year. The sound of leaves crunching underfoot is burned into my mind – and the smell that can be found only in a pile of those leaves is like a childhood dream. The cold breeze of an October evening amongst all that literally warms my soul.
Recently, I have learned the hard way that holding on to memories is like hanging onto a ship’s anchor as it’s tossed overboard. By clinging to it, I’ll still have the anchor but eventually will hit bottom.
But I was not holding on to an anchor on this trip. In searching for fall color, I wasn’t trying to look back – I just wanted to look around. And what I found was incredible beauty mixed with a fair share of madness.
I had reserved three nights in a mountain cabin just a few miles from the entrance to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park in Tennessee. On the map, it’s a good road trip from the Tampa Bay area. At 650 miles, it could be done in a single day but even for those, like me, on a slower pace, northern Georgia is a beautiful place to stop for the night. From there, the best way to reach Gatlinburg is the Newfound Gap Road across the park.
In the 1980s movie “Vacation”, a family endures countless hardships and mishaps to cross the country to visit a theme park. When they finally arrived, they found an empty parking lot and a smiling security guard played by John Candy.
“Park’s closed! Moose outside should’ve told you,” Candy told the family with a jovial smile.
Somehow I had passed by the signs telling me the road across the park was closed. A fact I discovered when I reached barricades several miles into the park. There was no moose, there was no jovial John Candy – but rather a young woman in a park service uniform patiently telling each incredulous driver “no, we can’t let you through.”
Apparently, on the day before my arrival, the area had experienced a significant windstorm and several trees were down on the road.
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| he beauty in the park is stunning and beyond my ability to describe in words - or even pictures, for that matter. With nine million visitors, it is the most popular national park in the country - for good reason. Mitch Traphagen Photo |
I turned around and minimized the foul words I was uttering under my breath by finding an historic mill just a short distance off the road – it was a beautiful place. After that stop, I drove entirely around the park to reach my destination – all the time trying to ignore the fact that I although I was within 30 miles of my destination, I now had 100 miles to go.
That event did little to endear me to the traffic and chaos I found upon reaching Pigeon Forge. There were strip malls, giant rides seemingly designed to fling people into space and, most worrisome, a tourist destination unto itself named Dollywood. I was searching for quiet and color and instead apparently found a twisted form of neon psychedelic insanity.
Eventually, I found the rental office for my cabin and they assured me that my temporary home was well away from the cacophony of cars, people, human slingshots – and Dollywood.
And it was. The cabin was in a beautiful location – up a road so steep and winding that I could feel the Porsche engine race as I downshifted to make the climb. The A-frame seemed exactly what I had pictured in my mind’s eye. The madness was only a few miles away but it might as well have been in another galaxy. I walked in, stole a glance up to the loft and felt relief that my drive through the tourist nightmare of Pigeon Forge was behind me.
I was delighted beyond words. I ran back out to the car to gather my groceries (another hard-fought battle), walked into the kitchen and – it was then that I first saw the bodies. There were hundreds of them all over the floor, table and kitchen counters.
A few moments later, I noticed they weren’t all dead. In fact, most of them were very much alive. There were seemingly thousands of ladybugs crawling all over the walls and ceiling of my cool little mountain cabin. I called the office – they said a maintenance man would be up when he finished another job. It wasn’t easy telling them I was infested with ladybugs. I mean, it’s not like they were rattlesnakes or grizzly bears or anything. But there were thousands of them – probably tens of thousands – the walls literally appeared to be moving.
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| Once home to early settlers, the park contains numerous historic structures - such as this grist mill near Cherokee, NC. Mitch Traphagen Photo |
The maintenance man arrived around 30 minutes later. All of the work I had done to sweep up a few thousand ladybugs achieved nothing – they had returned to cover the places I had swept. He made a valiant attempt with a small vacuum cleaner before admitting defeat. In 20 minutes of vacuuming, it didn’t seem as though any progress had been made.
“They’re coming back as fast as I get rid of them,” he said.
There was no way I could stay there. I had hoped to write – and a few thousand ladybugs flying in my face and hair (not to mention my dinner) is just a bit of a distraction. I again called the office. No, they didn’t have another available cabin but they did offer me a discounted rate on a “suite.”
Unfortunately the “suite” was in the very heart of the tourist hell in Pigeon Forge. I took one look at the room and knew that this was no place to be. It was extremely clean and extremely depressing – not what I needed at the time. Additionally, there was a gigantic sign just outside the window advertising the little strip mall below – it would likely have appeared as bright as the sun by nightfall.
The entire area seemed booked up – fall is among the most popular times near America’s most popular National Park. I went back to the office, told them I couldn’t stay and they refunded my money. I won’t mention their name because they felt extremely bad about the situation with the ladybugs– and they were very apologetic about it. I sincerely believe they were as surprised as I was.
Just about the time I had resigned myself to testing the overnight accommodation potential of a 23-year-old Porsche 911, my wife found a place over the Internet. It was outside of Gatlinburg, even closer to the park.
The new cabin was less remote and in some sort of subdivision for log cabins. But the roads leading to it were steep and twisty and the homes were spaced far enough apart to provide a good illusion of solitude. Not only was this cabin beautiful, it was also entirely bug free. It was inviting, comfortable and cozy – and the hot tub promised a reward for carrying pounds of camera gear around in the coming days.
I have been fortunate to visit many places in the world – but there are few places that can compare to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park in autumn. I do not have the talent as a writer to describe the beauty of the place. On top of that, unlike other national parks, there is no admission fee. But it is also the most popular park in the nation with more than nine million visitors per year. I suspect at least eight million of them were there during my visit.
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| To me it seemed as though my little rental cabin outside of Gatlinburg stood on a divide between the artistry of God and the excess of man. It was a warm and inviting place to stay. Mitch Traphagen Photo |
Yet it is possible to find your own space – it is possible to find peace and solitude in this park. In many ways, it is the literal definition of that – assuming you make the effort to get away from the crowds.
There is an almost divine boundary between the overly busy little town of Gatlinburg and the park. Literally, in the space of one stoplight, a visitor travels from chaos to quiet – the town on one side of that light, the park on the other.
And the peace and beauty of the park stands in stark contrast to the hectic commotion of the nearby tourist centers. The beauty is intense yet welcoming – being there is almost like coming home. For me at least, it is proof positive of the existence of God – and it is proof that He is indeed an artist.
To travel from the park to my cabin at the end of the day, I had to again drive through the crowded little town replete with restaurants of every type and every shop and tourist attraction imaginable. And I drove through without stopping – to reach the solitude of my hillside home. It seemed to me that cabin stood on a divide between the artistry of God and the excess of man. There was peace there, too – along with a fire in the fireplace and rocking chairs on the front porch.
In the cabin there is a little guest book with a note from the owner asking visitors to leave a few words about their stay. There is so much that has happened here – from honeymoons and anniversaries to simple escapes from life. I enjoyed the brief glimpses into the lives of others – the last note was left on the day I arrived.
I could live here. No, not in Gatlinburg but I could live here in this little cabin. I’ve enjoyed opening the shades to welcome in the morning light and lighting the fireplace to bring warmth to the autumn chill. I would certainly enjoy watching the days draw to a close on the front porch with my wife. I think I could forget about the fact that thousands of tourists were swarming just a few miles below. On a different day, I might even enjoy that, too.
But the adventure is drawing to a close. Tomorrow, I will add my words to the guestbook for the people who will move in later in the day. Perhaps they will marvel, as I did, at the passing of humanity – some almost recent enough to touch, others long gone.
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| I’ve spent a great deal of time in the backcountry around this nation and until now had only once seen a bear - and that was from a great distance. This little guy came pretty close on a chance encounter about a half mile off the road. Mitch Traphagen Photo |
I didn’t have enough time there but it was time to go. The beauty of that place is stunning. But that and the warmth of my little cabin were, in my mind, not meant to be experienced alone. Yet I was alone amongst this beauty and color and was keenly aware that a part of me was missing - back in Florida is a glazier’s daughter who provides the light with which I can see the colors in the world. I will go back – but next time, I’ll be with her.
If You Go:
Fall colors were reaching their peak at the higher elevations of the park as of Oct. 18. There was still a good bit of green at the lower elevations, however. A severe windstorm on Oct. 16 and 17 stripped the trees of some leaves (and closed roads around the park) but that did little to mute the incredible vistas the park offers.
There are at least two good routes to take to get to the park – one through Atlanta and another on the back roads of Georgia. By the time you reach North Carolina, most road construction will be behind you – and the roads in good condition. As of Oct. 23, all roads in the park have been re-opened. It is a long one-day trip or an easy two days.
There are numerous cabin rentals available in the area. I would recommend staying near Gatlinburg - a neat but crowded little town that offers a huge array of restaurants, shops and entertainment - and it’s closer to the park. There are many places to get out of the car for a hike within the park – the area is replete with historic buildings and wildlife (including approximately 1,600 black bears). I would also recommend taking the Roaring Fork Motor Trail – a seven-mile loop road driven at a leisurely 10 mph pace with much to see.
For links to more information, visit the Great Smoky Mountains National Park Website at http://www.nps.gov/grsm/planyourvisit/index.htm.
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