<p><strong>T</strong>he mountains are calling and I must go,” said John Muir, the great naturalist, preservationist and explorer. It’s been three years for me, and Muir’s words have been echoing in my mind for months. I, too, must go.</p><p>I had climbed to Gregory Bald in the Great Smoky Mountain National Park several times before, as recently as three years ago. But physically I didn’t think I could do it again. Too old, too fat, too out of shape.</p><p>I needed a carrot, and knowing the 10-plus acres of flame azaleas would be in bloom was just that carrot. Accessible only by foot or two horse trails, it meant walking, and walking meant being healthy. With the help of a local foot doctor, a chiropractor and her life-coach husband, my shoulder and foot pain subsided. Coach put a system into place to help me meet the goal of walking in this magical wonderland of blooms.</p><p>What is a bald anyway, and how did the azaleas get there? A bald is simply a mountaintop that is treeless; bald that is. It’s not clear whether this high elevation azalea meadow was created by nature, or was cleared by some of the early settlers to graze their cattle during the summer when their fields were being used to grow crops.</p>[sc:text-divider text-divider-title="Story continues below gallery" ]<p>Azalea lovers come here from all over the world to witness the fire red, wine red, orange, salmon, yellow, white, pink and multi-colored azaleas that reach peak bloom around mid-to-late June.</p><p>Deep in the Cades Cove section of the Smokies, I parked my car at the Gregory Ridge Trailhead, my route for the day as I climb 5.63 miles and gain 3,100 feet in elevation. Trails in the Smokies are ranked by difficulty, the easiest a 0.40, the most difficult at 22.39. This one is a stout 17.34. It’s gonna be fun, they said. Here, far away from the carnival atmosphere of Gatlinburg, I ready myself for the hike.</p><p>Instead of telling you about the trip though, I think it’s better to just put all of you in my backpack so you can take the trip with me. That way people who can’t hike, and those who can, will enjoy it. Warning: it’s going to be hot, sweaty and tiring. But first let me double-check my shoes and socks to prevent a blister, adjust my trekking poles and check food and water. All good. Okay, let’s go.</p><p>We are entering the trail now, a slight rise, then down again as we walk through what was once an old farm field in the 1920s. Do you see the large tulip poplars? The ground is surprisingly soft and level, giving no hint of the steep ascent that lies two miles ahead. Large red and white oaks line the path, with an understory of pure white rosebay rhododendrons, their blossoms accented by glossy, dark green leaves. Nothing else smells like this.</p><p>We’re giddy now, smiling, as we just seem to glide over these first two miles, interrupted with occasional uphill walking and stream crossings. My knees and feet feel good; I think we can do this. We are crossing a log that straddles a tumbling cascade. Now that we are over it, look at the fallen, monstrous chestnut tree corpses, victims of an earlier blight, decaying among their oak and hemlock neighbors.</p><p>At 2.1 miles we come upon the dreaded Campsite 12. I call it dreaded because I know from experience that it is here the ascent begins in earnest. We look up and see a very steep rise in the trail and follow its path until it turns the corner. What you don’t know is that past that corner it turns and rises again as it zigzags up the mountain. Notice that sometimes it’s a smooth trail, sometimes a trail where we will struggle against steps made of indigenous rock formations or tree roots.</p><p>Feel how hot it is: 86 degrees, but a welcome respite from the weeks of rain. We are lucky to get this window of sunshine and not sure what we did to deserve it. Four miles up, and we emerge from the tunnel of trees for a minute and pinch our sweaty t-shirts away from our body. This opening allows for a cooling mountain breeze, one we needed and earned. This is a good place for water. So far we have seen six tiger swallowtail butterflies.</p><p>We are about one-and-a-half miles from the bald and play mind games now to convince us, or at least try to, that the end can’t be more than another hour. Sweat is stinging our eyes; our hiking sticks drag the ground. Earlier in the hike, when our sticks weren’t so tired, they punctuated the trail with authority and purpose.</p><p>We are traveling on, slower than before, but quick, look over there. What’s that? It’s a solitary orange azalea blossom sticking out like a beacon. We are getting close so let’s quicken our pace. We are no longer tired, only exhilarated. There, just up ahead, is an opening, and past that opening is the bald, its massive azaleas in full bloom. What a hike, what beauty.</p><p>Once here at the top, everything is optimism and happiness, feelings that seem to emanate from everyone up here, everyone who did the same hike, and had the same struggles. We spend over an hour here, taking pictures of the multi-colored bushes, smiling at everyone and they smile back. We enjoy the view of Cades Cove 3,100 feet below, and bask in the sun, having a picnic amongst the others.</p><p>I know the trip down, though hard on the knees, will be a little quicker and easier for us, and that after nearly six hours round-trip, it will end too soon. As a final word of advice, I might suggest taking several ibuprofens tonight or maybe a little bourbon. Bourbon would be good.</p><p>Since the trip is difficult and because the bloom is past, I would like to suggest three other options to enjoy the Smokies — two less aggressive hikes and a motor trail that does not require you to get out of the car.</p><p>Elkmont has a graveled, smooth trail the follows beautiful Little River. It can be an out-and-back trail for as far as you want to go, or you can add on the Cucumber Gap trail for a loop of six miles. Bears can occasionally be seen on the trail. Bench seats are provided along the trail. I just did this moderate six-mile loop and loved it, even though a pop-up downpour drenched me.</p><p>Tremont has a trailhead you can access by driving down a gravel road. It follows the Middle Prong of Little River and is a smooth gravel trail with occasional seating at vista sites. This is a favorite out-and-back of mine. When you get out of the car at the trailhead you think you are hearing jet planes overhead; in reality it is the roar of the cascades. In August and September I have seen as many as 150 butterflies made up of six different species. Top notch.</p><p>Cades Cove is an 11-mile loop that goes around the early settlement it is named after. You can drive it or bicycle it. The best time to drive it is early morning or late afternoon/early evening as the air will be cooler and more deer, turkey and possibly bear will be on the move. It is a slow trip, so count on two hours due to traffic and people taking photos. Pack food and drinks, as it is often dark when you are done and it’s a long way to anyplace for food. Call ahead as gate closure/opening times vary.</p><p>A few final words on hiking: No cotton — especially t-shirts and jeans; use picardin or DEET for repellents due to mosquito, fly and tick populations; pack lightweight rain gear for pop-up showers, comfortable shoes and socks made for hiking.</p>
