Sometimes plans change, and due
to stupidity on my part, our plans to explore Molly Creek had changed. The most
significant change was that we’d now be bushwhacking down Molly Creek instead of up. We’d begin the last leg of our day hike
by picking up the headwaters of Molly Creek near the Russell Field shelter and
following it all the way down about five miles to Cades Cove. As it turns out,
this was a blessing in disguise. Trying to stay on track going upstream would
have been possible but very, very difficult. It’s surprisingly hard to find
your way up a creek in a steep-sided ravine. You focus so much on just trying
to walk on a steep slope through or around rhododendron thickets and on rugged
game trails that you can easily head up a tributary without realizing that
you’ve left the main branch. If you hike right next to the river, you can see
the main branch and the tributaries, but you rarely hike right next to the
river. More often, you are on the slope above the rhododendron thickets and river.
Okay, I’ve mentioned rhododendron
thickets a couple of times. Let me just say it again. Rhododendron! That one
word changes everything. When you look at the map, you think, “I’ll just stay
by Molly Creek all the way up (or down). I’ll see the tributaries and avoid
them. I’ll see the cascade when I get to it.” The flaw in that plan is rosebay
rhododendron. This is the shrub that blooms beautiful white-pink flowers along
the roadside in June and attracts thousands of sightseers. It also grows prolifically
in river gorges and moist, shady ravines. It forms a heavy thicket called a
rhododendron “hell” because that’s how you feel, what you go through, and what
you say (repeatedly) while you are in it.
 |
| Rhododendron! |
For off-trail hiking, the
significance of rhododendron is that it pushes you away from the creek and up
onto the slope. Not only is hiking along the side of a 45 degree slope
physically taxing – giving you a distinctive set of blisters from what you are
used to, mostly on your downhill foot – you also occasionally lose sight of the
creek. If you are going down the
creek, that may be okay. You’ll sometimes get too high on the slope and have to
work your way down, but there’s no question about what you should do – go down.
The slopes and creekbeds will funnel you down to the main river.
But if you are on the slope above
the creek and going up, you aren’t in
a good position to see the main branch of your creek. You might follow the
route of your creek, only to find that you have accidentally followed a tributary
that is leading you to the right or the left of the main branch. Of course, you
might not actually discover this until you get to the top of the ridge three
hours later and find that you are at Mollies Ridge, not Russell Field. Or, you
may find that you don’t know where you are. This, by the way, is one good
reason to stay on one side of the creek, rather than crossing back and forth.
If you end up at the top, bewildered, you’ll know that you must have
accidentally followed the wrong branch of the creek. If you spent the entire
hike on the left side of the creek, then you’ll know that you followed a branch
that led you to the left of your intended route. To get back to your intended
spot on the ridge, hike along the ridge crest to the right.
So, if you are going up a creek, you’d like to stay near the
creek to keep an eye on the main branch, but of course the rhododendron won’t
allow that. You can try hiking along the edge of the creek which means slow
progress as you climb and slip over rocks and logs. Unfortunately, the higher
up you go, the smaller the creek gets, and the more the rhododendron reaches
over the creek and blocks your path. One way or another, the rhododendron is
going to exert its authority over you… just to remind you whose house you are
in. You know how it is: “if you’re going to stay in my house, you’ll have to
live by my rules.” [To be continued.]
