On one of our very first off-trail hikes, Greg Harrell and I looked up the creek valley which we were to follow and commented, “Just follow the creek. Easy. Only an idiot could get lost.” Of course, we both knew what that meant for our impending hike: we could get lost.
“What if there are two idiots? Does that make it half as likely or twice as likely?”
A couple of years later on Anakeesta Ridge we discovered the answer: twice as likely….
Greg and I stepped out of my truck at Newfound Gap on a Saturday morning in the middle of February. We were on the tail end of an unseasonably warm stretch, so the weather was bearable, although a bit on the moist side. Our plan was simple: hike about three miles northeast on the Appalachian Trail to the Boulevard trail and then about two miles on the Boulevard to its intersection with Anakeesta Ridge. That would be the point where the real fun began because we’d step off a popular, maintained trail and onto a ridge that had no official trail, so it would probably be littered with blown-down trees, mountain laurel, and briers. It would also be rocky and narrow, with a smattering of sand myrtle and rhododendron.
If you’ll look at Anakeesta from the road just below Newfound Gap, you’ll see huge, rocky scars where landslides of the past 60 years have scraped and scoured the ridgecrest. Greg and I thought it might be interesting to see those scars from above.
This stretch of the AT and the Boulevard is often fairly crowded, being a good route to Mount LeConte. The fact that there is a backpacking shelter near their junction means that many a hiker has made this route into a two night trip, the first night being spent at Icewater Spring shelter and the second on top of LeConte. The fact that the Jumpoff, Charlies Bunion, and the Sawteeth are nearby adds to the appeal of this route.
So at about 1:30 pm, Greg and I stepped off the Boulevard and into the tangle of Anakeesta Ridge. Because we’d be gone maybe two or three hours at most, I decided to fill my pockets with granola bars and my GPS and stash my daypack by the side of the trail. I’d be waterless for a few hours, but I was pretty sure I wouldn’t die of dehydration, and it would be nice to squeeze my way through laurel thickets without being encumbered by my pack.
Our first order of business was to crawl and push our way over logs and through mountain laurel and briers to the top of Anakeesta Knob. We then began a steady descent down the narrow, rocky ridegcrest toward a deep swag in the ridge about a half mile away. As with many of our off-trail jaunts, there was a remnant of an old trail along the crest, occasionally visible and clear, more often overgrown and tangled. It was dirty, wet work as the wind and lingering clouds kept us and the underbrush dripping wet. Forty degrees and wet is not one of my favorite combinations, but the exertion of pushing and weaving our way down this steep ridge kept hypothermia at bay.
The route was difficult to manage but easy to see. It was a nice change of pace from those off-trail excursions where you aren’t really sure which ridge to climb or which creek to follow. This route was obvious – stay on this narrow ridge. We didn’t have any particular destination in mind. We would simply follow the ridge as far as daylight would allow, looking for interesting sights, and then backtrack to the Boulevard and the AT before it got dark. So simple even a caveman could do it.
So for the next hour and a half we enjoyed the challenge of a steep, rocky, tangled, ridge hike. On a clear day, the views toward LeConte to the north and the main crest to the south would have been fabulous, but today the clouds and mist meant that visibility was 25, maybe 50, yards. I would have preferred warm sunshine, singing birds, blooming flowers, panoramic views, and a tailwind, but clouds and mist are useful for reinforcing our delusion that we are a couple of manly guys who aren’t afraid of some scratches, bruises, blood, and mud. [To be continued]
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