Casual. I wasn't in any particular hurry on my hike to Alum Cave in Great Smoky Mountains National Park, and set my pace a little slower than my usual hiking speed. I had gotten out of bed early enough to ensure a parking space at the trail head for one of the more popular hikes in the park, and having secured the space, I was going to enjoy my morning.
This particular trail was undergoing maintenance when I visited the park, and they had it closed Monday-Thursday. I planned my hike for Friday, ensuring the trail would be open and I wouldn't run into any roadblocks. The morning was actually perfect, sunny and warm, with the light cutting between the leaves of the forest in ever-moving patterns and the mists rising off the mountains like smoke.
I wandered through the forest, following a mountain stream and crossing it more than once. It wasn't long before the trail started climbing, as it usually goes in the mountains. You almost always go up. As I turned a bend on the trail I stood facing what looked like a stream crossing, and a solid black rock wall. Then I noticed the stairs at the base of the wall, winding up into the rock and out of sight. I eagerly crossed the log bridge and stared up into "The Arch," a hole in the rock wall through which stairs had been chisled and cable rails had been attached. I started through the arch, admiring the work that had to have been put into such a trail, before I reached top and continued on.
I stopped often, pulling out my camera and snapping photos. I caught up with an older gentleman, who was using a cane as he hiked, and got to talking. I commended him on getting out and hiking on a beautiful morning and found out he was on a trip with a group of friends who take a trip in autumn every year, and have been for fifteen years. They had hiked ahead of him, but he didn't mind. I kept pace with him, exchanging travel stories. Eventually he stopped to rest at a gorgeous overlook and I kept going, promising to save him a spot at the Cave when I got there.
The path climbed sharply for the last half-mile or so, and it quickly became apparent why the trail was closed for maintenance. It was nothing short of a scramble up the bluffs to get into the cave proper. I was faced with a wide, shallow hollow in towering white cliffs over a hundred feet tall. I scrambled up the steeply sloping debris at the foot of the cliff which made up the floor of the cave, hundreds of years worth of decaying rock. I climbed all the way to the top of the cave and found a flat rock to sit on, stretching my legs and pulling out snacks. The gentleman I'd left behind entered the cave at the bottom, and waved when he spotted me, flashing thumbs up, before tearing into his granola bar.
Before long I was ready to hike back out and spend my sunny day elsewhere in the park; I was going to take full advantage if it wasn't going to rain. I waved goodbye to the gentleman as I departed and wished him luck with his future travels, and he returned the sentiment. The hike down didn't take me nearly as long as the hike there had, mostly because I was traveling downhill. I did get to see a couple of salamander on my trail, trying to stay under the leaves my boots disturbed. It was just a nice hike, on a nice day, and it couldn't have been better.
What I'm listening to: Dueling the Basilisk by John Williams
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