Our destination felt like it was
unknown, but in fact it was just the opposite. It was precisely known: 35° 33’ 44” N and 83° 48’ 2” W. But my hiking
partner, Greg Harrell, and I didn’t know exactly where on our map those
coordinates lay, so it felt like we didn’t know anything about Molly Creek
Cascade. It seemed safe to assume that Molly Creek Cascade was on Molly Creek,
so we weren’t completely ignorant. The most obvious starting point would be the
spot where Molly Creek crossed Forge Creek Road on the southwest corner of
Cades Cove. The problem was that this waterfall was not on any recent map that
we could find, and there was no clear trail along Molly Creek Molly Creek
You’ve probably learned by now
that nothing in life is ever as quick and easy as it seems: computers, tax
forms, fast food. You estimate how long it will take, then double it. The same
thing applies to bushwhacking in the Smokies. Make your best estimate of the
time, energy, and obstacles involved, then double it, then add some sort of
injury, equipment failure, topographic oddity, or good, ol’ stupidity, and
you’ll be in the right ballpark.
Our hike to Molly Creek Cascade would
have several challenges. First, we knew exactly where we would start. The point
where Molly Creek crossed Forge Creek Road was clearly indicated on the map. No
problem. However, we didn’t know exactly where our destination was. We knew the
general area, but as Molly Creek twisted and wound its way down the slope from
the main ridgecrest, we didn’t know which twist or turn held Molly Creek
Cascade. So, our compass couldn’t tell us the precise direction we needed to
follow.
Second, our intended route to
Molly Creek Cascade would be uphill. There might not be countless forks in the
river, but there would probably be several. The shorter the hike to the
cascades, the less likely that we’d encounter many forks in the river. A longer
hike would mean more forks, thus more chances for a wrong decision. And we
didn’t know whether our hike would be one mile or five, or somewhere in
between.
We’d do the best we could in
trying to figure out where we were and where we were going. We’d try to make
the right decisions at each fork in the river by following what appeared to be
the larger of the two. If we encountered a split in the river with two equal
creeks flowing together, then we’d stop, look at the map, eat a Snickers bar,
and discuss our options. If still undecided, we’d eat another Snickers bar
under the assumption that chocolate is the solution to many of life’s problems.
That was our initial plan. But
then, with the help of the folks in the Smokies Backcountry Office, we found a website
that told us not only the exact coordinates of the cascade but also the
location based on an old, 1931 map. According to the map, the cascade was right
on the 3,000 foot contour line. We had several useful gadgets: specifically, a
GPS and an altimeter. If we got in a bind we could use one or both of these to
get oriented and find the cascade. Greg and I are both old-school, map &
compass guys, so using barometric pressure and satellites to find our way
seemed like cheating. John Muir and Daniel Boone didn’t need those electronic
toys, so why should we? (The fact that those guys knew what they were doing,
but we didn’t, hadn’t yet occurred to us.)
So with a guilty conscience, we entered
the coordinates of the cascade into the GPS, and stuffed it and the altimeter
into Greg’s daypack. We didn’t want to resort to using them, but they were
there if we got desperate. They were our dirty, little secret.
[To be continued. ]
On the website only: The confession is that I’ve withheld the
real name of the creek and cascade. It’s not Molly. The clue is that
everything else in this and subsequent articles about M--- Creek Cascade is
true and accurate (including the fact that the world really would be a better
place if, when confronted with a problem, we’d just sit down and eat some
chocolate).
