Your Guide to Fun in the Smokies!

Laurel Falls Trail, Great Smoky Mountains National Park

by Shelley Gaskins

The hike to Laurel Falls is a moderately easy trek, one that even this overweight fifty-plus body was able to manage.  The trail head is located on Little River Road 3.7 miles west of the Sugarlands Visitor Center.  The 1.3 mile path to the falls is paved.  About a half mile beyond the falls is an old growth forest of hardwoods that escaped the ax during the early 1900s when these mountains were heavily logged.  I made the trip to this old forest in January.  

It was a beautiful day, the sky an intense blue, sunny, and completely clear of clouds. The air was chilly, as is expected in late January.  I wore a hooded sweatshirt and a goose down jacket. The jacket came off very soon--mountain hiking warms a body up fast.  I tied it around my waist and used it several times along the way as a blanket to sit on for a few minutes while resting and enjoying the quiet solitude. 

Richard (my hiking partner and soul mate) and I arrived at the trail head in Fighting Creek Gap about 8:30 am.  Fighting Creek Gap divides Little River drainage from Little Pigeon River drainage.  Sources say the gap is so named because of one-time bickering over the location of a schoolhouse.  Only one other car was in the parking lot, so we'd have the trail mostly to ourselves.  During warmer months this is one of the most popular trails in the Smokies.

The walk to the falls is on a wide, paved trail, a continuous moderate ascent.  We stopped several times along the way to enjoy the view of nearby ridges and valleys, easily seen through the bare winter trees.  (And for me to catch my breath.)  The falls were full and beautiful, a 75' high splendor.  To witness the full effect of the falls, we hiked down to the lower step on a rocky and fairly steep pathway. I wasn’t sure I had the strength to climb back up the way we’d come, but I didn't have to test that because we found an easier way back to the main path.

After a few minutes of enjoying the falls, we moved on toward the old-growth forest, a place I’d never been, and my personal destination. What a place it is! It felt sacred to me and I was in awe of the huge old trees. I walked over to one not far off the trail and stretched my arms around it so Richard could see how truly big it was. Standing there hugging the ancient mass, I looked up at the azure sky through the canopy of its bare winter branches and felt so very inspired. Jokingly I told Richard the tree had told me it had been a long time since it had been hugged. Richard said, "I’d say this is the first time it has ever been hugged."

"No," I said, "I’m sure it isn't. I’m not the only kook around."

Hugging that ancient tree, I wondered how old it was, how deep its roots went.  It made me feel connected and grounded, like a good Sunday morning sermon.  I was glad it was there and vowed to come back in the spring with a tree identification guide.  

"How big around do you think the tree is?" I asked Richard.

"Well", he said, "spread your arms straight out from your shoulders.  From the tip of the fingers on your right hand to the tip of the fingers on your left hand is suppose to be as wide as you are tall.  Now let's see how many times you can stretch your arms around the tree." It was a little over three times. I’m 5'5", so we estimated its circumference to be about 17.5'.  Other trees in the forest are even bigger.

We wandered through the forest, a gradual ascent up the mountain. We’d been climbing in elevation since the beginning of the hike.  Richard spotted the abandoned fire tower we read about in our guidebook. The tower is at the top of Cove Mountain, about four miles from the Laurel Falls trail head. It didn't look to be that far away and he really wanted to visit it, but I just couldn't go any further. I wanted to be sure I could make it back to the truck.  We'd already hiked at least 2.5 miles, probably closer to 3. (On checking the guide book back at the house, the tower was further away than it seemed. We’d not gone as far as the juncture with Little Greenbrier Trail at 3.1 miles and the tower was almost a mile from that.) I promised Richard that when I felt stronger and more confident, we’d hike the Laurel Falls Trail to its end at the top of Cove Mountain and visit the fire tower, now used as an air-monitoring station.

I was very tired as we started the 2-3 mile return trip, tired but invigorated by the beautiful day, the solitude of the mountains, and the wonderful scents of earth, forest floor, and spicy evergreens along the way.  My mind was clear and relaxed.  I mentioned to Richard that I want to bring a pen and paper next time so I can write down thoughts, phrases, and insights that occur along the way. He suggested a small tape recorder would be better, then added "so I can hear your innermost thoughts." I’m not sure I want to share some of my thoughts with him.

The walk back was much less strenuous. It was a continuing descent that didn't tax the breath, but beat my big toes black and blue as they butted against the tips of my Timberland hiking boots with every step. That incessant pummeling caused me to eventually lose one of my toenails. I vowed to investigate the pros and cons of hiking boots and find a pair more suitable for mountain terrain.

An odd thing happened during our descent. I’m sure I can’t describe it well enough--I know I can’t describe the sounds. We were walking along, enjoying the silence of the forest with its sensuous smells and changing currents of air,  now warm, then cool, when a red squirrel scampered down a tree at the edge of our path and barked at us. We stopped, startled.  He looked at us and made this funny little foot action with his hind legs, like running in place, like a ritualistic war dance. He chirped and grumbled, then ran around the far side of the tree, out of our view. In a moment, back he came with a dart and a bark. We sat on the ground and watched his antics for awhile. I believe if we’d had something to feed him, he’d have eaten out of our hands. He was very interested in us and came quite close. Of course, we know not to feed the wildlife. To do so endangers them, and sometimes us. I read later that this little fellow is called a boomer by the mountain people. Boomers are known for their antics and fussing when encroached upon.

By the time we made it back to the Falls, it was swarming with people. The walk from the Falls to the truck was a trek through many latecomers climbing the trail. The soles of my feet were burning. My legs and hips ached. I was thirsty and ravenously hungry. We estimated we had walked five miles round trip. Back at the truck, I couldn’t wait to get my shoes off. We found some water at a fountain in Elkmont and stopped in Townsend for a barbecue sandwich on the way home. We were tired but already thinking about our next hike. We’d try to go again next weekend, weather permitting. This time we’ll take water and a snack.

Notes:  Arbutus blooms on the Laurel Falls Trail in February and March.  Galax blooms in late July.

Copyright 2006 Shelley Gaskins All Rights Reserved. Contact mail@shelleygaskins.com