Date: 2004-05-03
From: NCÃÂÃÂ¢ÃÂÃÂÃÂÃÂ28, Near Fontana Dam

To: Avoiding the Dreaded Asterisk
Miles today: 12.4

It was mid morning when I stood beside a self registration kiosk located near the Fontana Dam, the gateway into The Great Smoky Mountain National Park. A form had to be filled out listing the shelters that I would be staying at within the park. It is illegal to camp away from the shelters.I faced the usual dilemma, to hike either at my own pace or at the pace of the people I have grown friendly with. I briefly wrestled with the decision then opted for a slower pace. The weather¢cold, windy, and overcast-played a role in my decision. I sensed that conditions would be nasty in the upper elevations of The Smokies, sometimes above 5,000 feet. Fortunately, my blister had shrunk and was not bothering me. As a precaution, I covered it with a patch of moleskin.A short hike led me to the Fontana Dam, which generates electricity for the Tennessee Valley Authority. Behind the dam lay the Great Smoky Mountains, shrouded from my view by a slate grey blanket of mist.The trail led me across the dam. Another hiker, an older man whose trail name is 2C (as in wants "to see" the Appalachian Trail) accompanied me. We peered down to the reservoir way below us and joked about the consequences of jumping into the water, specifically, the water near the turbines that probably lay within the dam."We'll contribute to the power supply of Chattanooga" I said."Chum for the fish," replied 2C.I moved ahead of 2C, left the dam, and soon began my ascent into the Great Smoky Mountains.These mountains have a mystique about them. Almost every day, I have listened to conversations between hikers about what these mountains are really like to travel through. Often, one hiker's description has contradicted another's. The time had come to find out for myself.I left a hardtop road and began a long ascent up a mountain. The weather grew colder and windier. Seeking to warm up with some food, I stopped and began to prepare lunch¢a bagel with peanut butter and honey. Just as I began squeezing out the honey, it started to rain. At the same instant, a wad of honey caught a gust of wind and flew against the side and mesh pocket of my backpack. This development alarmed me because The Smoky Mountains have possibly the highest density of black bears in the United States. And bears love honey.As the rain fell upon me, I hurriedly wiped the honey off of my backpack, stored away the food provisions, and then covered the pack with a rain cover. As I prepared to depart, the rain suddenly turned into sleet. And that is how I began to eat lunch, holding an umbrella in one hand, a bagel in the other, and ascending the slope of a sleet swept mountain.The weather got bizarre, going from sleet to drizzle to occasional snow. Sometimes the sun would poke through. The forest became shrouded in mist.The long ascent late and I was becoming chilled. I looked up the trail and stopped in my tracks. Thirty-five yards ahead of me, a black bear was standing beside the trail. We stared at each other for a few seconds, and then the bear moved off into the trees. I cautiously advanced on the trail and stopped again. About thirty-five yards away, two bear cubs were climbing up the trunk of a tree. The mother was eyeing me warily. I immediately retreated down the trail to a spot where I felt safer. There, I watched the mother browse on some plants as the cubs came back down to the ground. What a wonderful site.But I was feeling cold and it was getting late. I moved ahead on the trail with the bear family on my right. Again, the mother bear perked up and stared at me when I reached that certain spot on the trail. I retreated again, sensing that if I had gone further, I would have crossed an invisible security line and provoked an action at me. I had three choices:1. Wait until the bears departed.2. Circumvent the trail by hiking around a rise on the opposite side of the bears.3. Take a risk and proceed down the trail. The logical, or sane decision, would be to wait for the bears to leave or bushwhack around the rise. But the bears were staying put. And I did not want to leave the actual trail. I have a purist attitude about this thru hike; I want to hike the entire trail and pass by each and every white blaze (vertical splashes of paint on occasional objects like trees and rocks, for directing hikers). I want to finish this hike without, in my mind, a "dreaded asterisk," the knowledge that I missed a section of trail no matter how small.The mother bear turned around and walked a few steps in a direction away from the trail. I seized the opportunity and quietly walked up the trail, passing about 35 yards from the bears. I kept my eyes forward to appear non¢threatening. I made it! The mother bear did not realize what had happened, or did not feel threatened.Less than a mile later, I reached the Mollies Ridge Shelter at 4,570 feet. The large shelter was crowded with hikers, most of them on hikes of several days. There was a sense of urgency in the air. People were hurrying to eat their suppers, perform their evening chores, and get into their sleeping bags. An unseasonably cold wind was sweeping through the camp.Up on this wooded ridge, the temperatures are in the thirties and will probably dip into the twenties. My sleeping bag is rated for 35 degrees. Uh oh