On our wet, sloshing hike down
Molly Creek, after passing four or five small waterfalls, we began to wonder
where we were and where Molly Creek Cascade was and whether we had already
passed it. We both wondered aloud if perhaps the adventure of this off-trail
hike would have to be its own reward. Maybe the cascade was so unimpressive
that we had already seen it without realizing it. Maybe it was special only
because it was a secret, not because of its grandeur. We were both okay with
that. The hike had been a challenging, interesting experience so far. We were
deep in the Smokies wilderness, on a creek that humans rarely laid eyes on.
Yeah, that would be reward enough.
Then, without any noisy fanfare,
we got to the bottom of one of these 10 foot falls and looked downstream once
again, and we could see only the tops of trees. It was an impressive, even
intimidating, sight. Peeking over the edge (I was on my hands and knees with
water running under me), we saw a long, rocky, cascading descent. Looking over
the edge of a cascade such as this is not very safe, but there we were, at the
top. What else could we do? So, we crouched near the precipice and stared,
pretty dang proud of ourselves. The challenge of this off-trail trek (which had
now lasted four hours) would have been an adequate reward. Seeing a rarely-seen
cascade would be a nice bonus. The fact that Molly Creek Cascade really is
impressive made us feel almost unworthy of the honor of being there and seeing
it.
Getting to the bottom of the cascade
was hard work. It was too long and steep to crawl down as we had done with the
others, so we worked our way to the surrounding slopes and crawled up, around,
over, and through the dirt, boulders, fallen trees, and the rhododendron. It
was a wild scene in a wild place. I was too focused on the hike and the cascade
to grasp the significance of it all, but now I can see that this trip was
everything that I want in a wilderness experience. I’d rank it as one of my
best experiences in the Smokies.
One reason this trip was special
was simply that it was off-trail. Even if we had gone nowhere in particular,
the fact that we were walking (and crawling, sliding, wading, and falling) away
from the trails was supremely satisfying. Anything resembling a trail usually
turned out to be an animal trail leading to places not fit for humans. The
off-trail part of the trip was more physically challenging than a typical
hiking trip.
I’m trying not to exaggerate the
difficulty of this hike. The physical act was tiring, but it wasn’t something
that is beyond the physical capabilities of an average guy in decent, but not
great, shape. There were some uncomfortable moments, but nothing
life-threatening. We got wet and dirty, but no broken bones. In a sense,
there’s no dramatic story to tell. We weren’t Stanley and Livingstone (more
like Laurel and Hardy, really). We were just two guys who had heard about a
secret spot in the backcountry that might be worth a visit, so we spent a day
in the wilderness to see for ourselves. There were, I suppose, a few risks, and
a couple of slips and falls could have resulted in broken bones. But the main
features of the entire affair were sweat, a few aches and pains, and a modest
sense of adventure.
In fact, the biggest risk was the
potential confrontation with the Federal bureaucracy. A few weeks before this
hike, I had asked one of the rangers in a visitor center about off-trail hiking
in the park – were there any special regulations or restrictions? In the
process of talking to me, he commented that he had been a ranger in the Smokies
for over 10 years, and in all that time no one had ever asked him about
off-trail hiking. So, either not many people hike off-trail, or those that do
don’t bother to ask the rangers about it. I myself was tempted not to ask,
being afraid that he might say there was paperwork and permission involved. The
National Park Service is part of the Federal government, after all – the same
people who brought us the mother of all paperwork – the Internal Revenue Service.
Happily, I asked and there was no paperwork and no condescending lecture from
the ranger. Our little chat was actually rather pleasant. [To be continued.]
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