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Hiking Tremont Road, Great Smoky Mountains National Park

by Shelley Gaskins

Our plan on this early February day was to hike the West Prong Trail in the Tremont area of the Smoky Mountains National Park. (A 'prong' is what people indigenous to the Smoky Mountains call the fork of a river.) I chose this particular trail because a brochure had listed it as an easy hike. Since I was still sore from last week's hike, easy was what I needed. As it happened, we couldn't find the trail and decided to walk the road that follows the Middle Prong of the Little River. The Middle Prong drains the western end of the park from Elkmont to Cades Coves. The gravel road that runs along it is designated as an auto tour, but there are few cars on it during the winter months. This would be a six-mile round trip hike with the first three miles being an extremely gentle ascent and the final three being an easy walk back.

We began the day with breakfast in Townsend at Timbers Restaurant. I had wanted pancakes with warm maple syrup for months, but as a lifetime member of Weight Watchers, I knew that a serving of pancakes would use a big chunk of the day's allotment of calories. Even so I decided this was the perfect morning for them. After all, I reasoned, the high carbohydrate content would supply the energy needed for the day's walk. Richard had his regular breakfast fare: two eggs over medium, bacon, grits, and toast. We enjoyed the coffee at Timbers. Our breakfast was very good and the rustic atmosphere was conducive to our pioneer mood, just the two of us exploring the wilderness.

We picked up a tour guide from the roadside stand at the beginning of the three mile road. The guides are for sale on the honor system. I read to Richard as we began our hike. Tremont Road follows the path of an old railroad used by the Little River Lumber Company in the early 1900s. The guide explains that two-thirds of what is now the Great Smoky Mountains National Park was once logged. It tells the history of the logging operation in the Tremont area and refers to historic markers along the road to help us imagine what life must have been like in this area during those days. There are few remaining signs of the once bustling activity of loggers, the community of Turkey Flats, and the company town of Tremont.

It was an overcast day, cool, and damp. Like last week, I wore my hooded sweatshirt and goose down jacket. This time I put a bottle of water in my jacket pocket and Richard carried a couple of energy bars. We left apples and another bottle of water in the truck for when we returned. I had not yet bought a tree identification guide or more comfortable hiking boots.

The road along the Middle Prong offers picturesque vistas of waterfalls, cascades, and rose bay rhododendron. I read that rose bay rhododendrons grow in damper areas of the mountains and have white blossoms in July. We vowed to return with a camera when the banks of the river are in full bloom.

At the end of Tremont Road is the trail head for Middle Prong Trail. The marker says it's a fairly easy trail, but it's long--4.1 miles. That makes it an 8.2 mile round trip hike, but we'll walk it one day. We found an unmarked trail that led beside the river and walked it for a short while. It passed through rhododendron tunnels, thickets of rhododendron that grow like walled arbors along the trail. I wondered if park personnel train the plants to grow that way. It really is like walking through a tunnel and I bet it's absolutely beautiful in July when the rhododendrons bloom.

Also on this side trail we spotted what looked like a fur ball. I have cats and have seen many fur balls. This one was black. I wondered if it could have come from a panther, but Richard said he didn't think there were any panthers in these mountains anymore. I later read no one has seen a panther here for years and folks believe they have died out. I wish I had picked up the fur ball and sent it to the University of Tennessee for testing. I guess it could have been from a bear or boar or other such creature. I don't know if they spit up fur balls, but I know that cats do. Maybe I should carry some plastic bags for sample collecting.

As we walked, Richard and I discussed buying lightweight backpacks to carry things in, such as water, snacks, etc. I wondered if they make something substantial that fits around the hips. My neck and shoulders give me so much trouble that I'm afraid to add much weight to them. But I have fine, strong, female hips. I've learned from tying my coat around my waist that something like saddle bags would be good to carry. In my coat pockets, dangling around my thighs, I have bottled water, reading glasses, notes I've taken about the trail, and a chapstick. This trip I added a pack of Kleenex.

Something about walking in this cool mountain air makes my nose run. I didn't have any tissue last week and had to wipe my nose on the sleeve of my shirt and sniff a lot. Richard just pushes one nostril shut with a finger and blows snot from the other straight to the ground. I guess it's a male thing. If they could, they would mark their territory with little streams of pee, but snot and spit seem to be more socially acceptable. I told him how disgusting I think it is, but added "Don't change your ways just because of me."

"I won't," he said.

On the way out of Tremont, we saw the marker for the West Prong Trail, the one we had originally been looking for. I don't know how we missed it! "There it is," I said. "That's our next hike. I think we should explore the trails in Tremont, then go to another area. That way, we'll get a better idea of how the trails and rivers intersect and understand the area better."

"Fine with me," Richard said. He often talks in short sentences.

I don't know how long it took us to walk up and back the three-mile Tremont Road. We took a couple of short side trips here & there to get closer to the river. It was a pleasant walk, not as tiring as last week's, but I could still feel it in my hips and legs. I stretched out on the front seat of the truck and slept with my head on Richard's lap on the way home.