Sunrise on Charlies Bunion (Part 4 of 7)

As we started our pre-dawn hike along the AT east from Newfound Gap, most of our night views were to the south into North Carolina, so we could occasionally see the subtle glow of Bryson City and Cherokee a few miles in the distance. That view to the south is a wild, uncivilized view because beyond the border of the Smokies lies the rugged, sparsely-populated Nantahala National Forest. As the day progressed, we would have many great views of purple ridge after purple ridge stretching to the southern horizon, with no civilization in sight.

Our views to the north into Tennessee were quite different, and that difference became immediately apparent as the AT crossed over to the Tennessee side of the ridge crest. Being night, the gaudy radiance of Pigeon Forge and Sevierville dominated the northern horizon. I suppose it’s in some way beautiful. But we were in the mountains for a wilderness adventure, and those city lights don’t fit in with a wilderness motif. Later in the day, after the sun had risen, the view would improve. The view into Tennessee is semi-civilized, with lakes, roads, farms, fields, hills, and towns. During the daylight hours, the tourist havens of Pigeon Forge and Sevierville don’t stick out like sore thumbs. In fact, they mostly just blend in to the green, hilly landscape. But during our night hike, they made their presence known with a vengeance. As one writer, George Ritzer, put it, Pigeon Forge is the epitome of “the consumption of fun and the fun of consumption.” Go-kart tracks and outlet malls, all under a blinding, halogen glow. At that moment, I had a bumper sticker idea: Nuke Pigeon Forge. It would be the perfect replacement for the Jon Stewart For President sticker that presently adorns my rear bumper.

About 6:15 am we passed the Boulevard, a trail leading north to the top of Mt. LeConte, and then we passed the Icewater Spring shelter, one of the most heavily-used backcountry campsites in the park. Normally, we would have stopped to rest and snack, but it was dark and there might be some backpackers asleep in it. We continued on another mile to Charlies Bunion, one of the most dramatic, unique spots in the Smokies. This barren, rocky outcrop was created by a fire in 1925 followed by a heavy rain in 1927 that completely denuded this spot. The result was a rugged, steep, rocky promontory with 360 degree views. Dawn was breaking as we arrived so we scrambled to the top and witnessed a dramatic sunrise. Schedule-wise we had hoped to be past the Bunion by sunrise, but scenery-wise it was perfect timing. There are numerous places in the park to watch the sun rise or set. None are better than Charlies Bunion. As a bonus, it will usually be an uncrowded event because very few people will hike in the dark. We had Charlies Bunion all to ourselves for those 20 minutes.

This was the point at which we parted company with Mark. The four of us had hiked 4 miles under a clear, moonlit sky in a beautiful place and had witnessed a dramatic sunrise with a few good friends. We should have had cheese and a bottle of champagne. In fact, if we all had gone back to the car, we still could have called the trip a success. I suppose that is the danger in having a great start to such a trip. It would be easy to be satisfied with those first 2 hours. However, a volatile mix of testosterone and peer pressure kept us going. So Mark went west while Keith, Greg, and I continued east.

Soon after we parted company it occurred to us that the point of no return had just shifted from the 16 mile point to wherever we happened to be standing at the moment. Mark’s return to the car would save us the trouble of having to drive back to Newfound Gap to retrieve the car at the end of the day, but we also realized that the three of us were now fully committed to finishing all 31.4 miles. When he drove his car away, we had at that moment burned our bridges behind us. We couldn’t go back now, even if we wanted to – which we didn’t.

[More to come.]