On Thursday, March 31, the Knoxville weathermen were
threatening serious rainfall all day for Friday (90% chance), so I had bought
some rain pants just to be safe, as well as having given up any thought of
descending via Alum Cave Bluffs. Having
never having hiked ACB in the past, I had no idea what kind of mess I might
run into with significant rainfall. Bullhead
is largely devoid of streams, making heavy rains less of an issue. Taking Bullhead on the return also eased the planning somewhat as I
would be able to leave the family vehicle at the parking lot, eliminating the
need for a shuttle. However, it
added about 1.5 miles to the total hike, and at the end of a long steep hike,
it could seem like double that distance.
I got a good early start on Friday. After leaving the Rocky Waters and picking up a few last minute
supplies (mostly liquids), I arrived at the
Rainbow
Falls
lot at 6:00 am. There were exactly
two vehicles there, but I really didn’t expect to see many that early,
especially with the rotten forecast. After
a few quick additions to the pack, I headed up
Rainbow
Falls.
A w
ord to those who have never attempted
Rainbow
Falls:
prepare for a steep
and rocky climb. Those people
who tell you that it is extremely rocky are not exaggerating. That being said,
Rainbow
Falls
is still one of my favorite hikes over the first 2.6 miles, mainly because you
can hear LeConte
Creek in the background almost the entire time.
One
thing that became evident early into the hike on this day
was the number
of downed trees on the trail. I
counted no less than five instances where trees blocked the trail before I
reached the falls. One of these
was a large tree that it took a little extra effort to get past.
I eventually reached the
falls at 7:45 am. They are
always an inspiring sight. I spent
some extra time here for a snack and water break, and to take
photos, and got back on my way by 8:05 am.
As I continued
up the trail, I kept looking at the sky for the rain, and dark
cloud after dark cloud passed over with no precipitation. Then, at 9:00 am, I rounded a switchback and I felt the first
sprinkles. I donned the raingear
(just my anorak since it wasn’t that hard) and pressed on. The winds began to pick up. Within
the next hour, mist and fog engulfed the trail and visibility decreased to the
point where there were no views to speak of. All I could see was the trail ahead and the vegetation on both sides. When ridgelines were reached, there was nothing but fog. This made it very difficult to stay motivated, without any visual cues
to judge how far you had to go.
I did meet two groups of four or five hikers each coming from
the lodge, on their way back down
Rainbow
Falls
for an undoubtedly risky descent in the mist and rain. These were the last people I would see before reaching the lodge.
Just as I was thinking the trail had no end, I came to the junction
with Bullhead. I turned left
after taking a few photos of the snow
patches and headed
for the lodge. About a
quarter-mile later, I got the big surprise. I saw a Bobcat. Not the
animal variety, mind you, but the mechanical kind, unattended. Work had been done on the trail. As
I proceeded, the winds began to gust, and my feet began to sink deeply into a
muddy section of trail that the Bobcat had been used on. In several places I sunk to the tops of my boots, but were just enough
rocks mixed in with the mud in places to keep from sinking further.
The junction with the ACB appeared on the left after leaving
the 100-yard stretch of mud, and then, through the mist, I saw a cabin. I had reached the lodge. What
a feeling of accomplishment the first
time you see it! It is a
moment I will not soon forget.
I met some folks inside the lodge from
Cincinnati
and a couple from
Illinois
who would soon be going down the ACB. After
warming up and eating lunch, listening to the winds howl and gust, I proceeded
out to High Top. Four young hikers
were trying to take a picture of their party there. I offered to man their camera for a shot of all of them, and they
returned the favor. They had
come from the Boulevard, which they said was quite icy and treacherous in
spots.
I started back; no point in going to Cliff Tops or Myrtle
Point today with the visibility near zero. Back down, through the mud, I reached the Rainbow Falls-Bullhead
junction again and continued straight ahead, down Bullhead.
Bullhead doesn’t seem to get a lot of press but has its good
points. On this particular day,
the fog cleared enough along a ridgeline about a mile into the descent that I
got a great
view of Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge in the distance. The trail is pleasantly
level in places (at one point for about a mile), and has a lot of
switchbacks but is still a good hike with good views.
As I descended, the sun returned, the winds died down, and the
weather had become pleasantly warm. I
was later to find out that the
Knoxville
meteorologists completely blew the day’s forecast; it had been sunny and
warm all day in town.
About 1.5 miles from the end of Bullhead, I passed a couple
who had been at the lodge that morning. The
woman had hurt her ankle on the way up (they had ascended via
Rainbow
Falls
the day before) and they were taking it easy on the way down.
Although the hike had been very rewarding, I cannot express
the joy I felt when I came to the Sugarlands
trail junction. A total hike
of almost 15 miles total (including on top of LeConte) was almost too much for
one day—for me anyway. I turned
right on the Sugarlands trail, crossed the final footlog over LeConte
Creek, and returned to the trailhead lot, exhausted but exhilarated at
what I had accomplished.
The next day, I visited the Happy Hiker to pick up a shirt and
a hat on our way out of Gatlinburg. As
I checked out, I noted the board behind their register that summarizes the
weather conditions in the park and on top of
Mt.
LeConte
. Overnight, there had been six
inches of snow dumped on the summit, and
Newfound Gap Road
had been closed. “Well,” I
thought, “I guess that means I-40 back home.” We left, but still I felt a little funny, knowing that the exact spot
where I had stood less than 24 hours before was now buried in snow.
The sage advice I had received had proven true: you just never know in the Smokies, especially in April, what you’re
going to run into.
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