I was on my own for hiking this weekend, so I picked a longer hike that I assumed neither Ben nor any of my other hiking partners would want to do. The hike was supposed to be 14.9 miles, starting at the Middle Prong Trail, then turning onto the Panther Creek Trail and hiking to its intersection with the Miry Ridge Trail, then hiking Miry Ridge to the Lynn Camp Prong trail, which goes back down to Middle Prong (a "lollipop loop," duplicating some miles on Middle Prong at the end). It's been really hot this week, but the forecast for Saturday was in the low-to-mid 80s and partly cloudy (with a 15-20% chance of rain, as we have almost every day in the summer). Nonetheless, I wanted to get on the trail early and get at least the climbing portion of the hike finished before the heat and humidity got too high.
I parked my car at the end of Tremont Road at 6:30 and was on trail by 6:40. The temps were in the low 70s, but it was already a little humid. The problem is that I was on the wrong trail. When I came back off the wrong trail, I took this picture to help tell the story:
What I see here is a trailhead sign sitting between what looks like a road (on the left) and what looks like a trail (on the right). The sign doesn't point to one or the other of the routes as being the actual trail. I will admit that it's closer to the left, but again, I was confused because the one on the right looked more like a trail, while the one on the left looked like an extension of Tremont Road (albeit one that you'd have to cross a bridge to get to). I checked the park map, and it doesn't show two anythings (road and trail, or trail and trail) here. It just shows one trail. Anyway, I went to the right but had some trepidation about it. I knew that my trail was supposed to parallel a river for the first several miles, though, and this one did that:
This trail also had this bridge constructed over one of the river crossings:
So I must be on the correct trail, right? Because if this weren't an official trail, why in the world would they go to the trouble of building the bridge? Sadly, I don't know the answer to that question. This trail ended after about a mile of (uphill) hiking, at another river crossing. I couldn't tell where I was supposed to cross and couldn't see any continuation of the trail on the other side, so I turned around and went back to the trailhead.
I decided to walk up the "road," because I had driven over an hour for this hike, and I didn't want to leave after two miles. I knew that the Middle Prong trail was supposed to reach the Panther Creek trail in about 2 miles, so I reasoned that I'd hike up the "road" for 3 miles (or to the end, if it ended before then), and if I didn't see Panther Creek, I'd just turn around and go back to the car and call it a day. Just a short walk up the "road," there was a small sign saying it was a "Quiet Walkway" and mentioning something about it having no destination and you can just walk however far you want to walk and turn around when you're finished. This did not provide encouragement that I was actually on the Middle Prong trail, because, well, I had a destination. There are several other trails that are accessed from Middle Prong and that can be an ultimate destination. But I kept hiking, and sure enough, after a couple of miles I came upon a trail junction with signage indicating I was, indeed, on Middle Prong and had found Panther Creek!
I was excited because I had geared myself up for a 15-mile hike, but I was also a little apprehensive because I had already added about two miles to my hike by taking the wrong trail at the beginning. I didn't know if I was up for a 17-mile hike, but I was about to find out. Two miles doesn't sound like a lot, but when you add it to the end of what is already one of my "push yourself" hiking distances, it may be the straw that breaks the camel's back. Or knee. Or foot. Or whatever. I havent hiked 17 miles since our 20-miler in the Spring of 2019, and I was miserable for the last three miles of that hike. Ha!
Anyway, now that I know it was actually the Middle Prong trail, I can tell you that it's a beautiful trail. It does parallel the river for several miles, and there are several cascades and other cool water features. Obviously (because it looks like a road), it's also a very generous trail. Nice and wide, and pretty easy walking for the most part. I mean that in the sense that there aren't a ton of roots and rocks to kill your ankles, although there are some portions that get a little rocky. It has a gradual uphill grade from Tremont Road, so it's not easy in the sense that you'll have to exert no energy walking it, but it's also not a steep climb.
When I got back home, I referred back to the "brown book" ("Hiking Trails of the Smokies" published by the GSMA) and read that "Middle Prong Trail follows the railroad bed upon which the last logs were hauled out of the Smokies in 1939" and also that the "trail is a wide, graded roadbed...." I had read the description previously but didn't remember that part. To be fair, though, the brown book also says that its purpose is "to complete detailed descriptions of every trail in [GSMNP] (excluding Quiet Walkways and Self-guiding Nature Trails)," (emphasis added by me, of course) so is this daggone thing a trail or a quiet walkway? Anyway, lesson learned: I'm going to have to start carrying the brown book in my pack. I've resisted that to this point because it's bulky and heavy, but referring back to the detailed description while making my trailhead choice would have been helpful. This is yet another reason I appreciate the AT and its ever-present white blazes.
Moving on, I knew (from the brown book, of course) that shortly after turning onto the Panther Creek Trail, there would be a large river crossing. There were approximately 500 river/stream crossings on this entire hike, but only one was described as "at best challenging," and "extremely dangerous" in high water conditions. The crossing was of a Prong of the Little River, so I had been checking the Little River outflow levels all week. They were generally below average (with higher outflows around midnight and then dropping throughout the day), but of course they jumped up above average on Friday because we got a ton of rain Thursday night. I planned an alternate hike just in case, but I checked the water levels again before I left the house Saturday morning, and they were right at the average mark and falling, so I decided to proceed. This is what I found when I got there:
The picture is a little misleading because it doesn't convey that the water was actually moving pretty fast through this area, but it wasn't very deep, so I wasn't too concerned. I had strapped my water shoes to my pack in case I needed to put them on and just wade across, but I didn't end up using them. I just used my trekking poles for extra points of contact and rock hopped across the line of rocks on the left. They were slippery, but I moved slowly and made it across without incident.
The Panther Creek trail eventually leaves the river and climbs on up to the ridge. It gains about 1500 feet of elevation in 2.2 miles, which doesn't sound like a crazy amount, but it felt pretty crazy. Maybe it was because of the extra two miles at the beginning (the first half of which was uphill) and the steady climb of the Middle Prong Trail, but there were some butt-kicking steep climbs on this one. There were some pretty rhododendron still blooming at the higher elevations and some other wildflowers, but barely any mountain views to reward me for all that climbing.
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| This was the one "view" that I found on this hike. |
And then back into the green tunnel (literally):
I don't think the Miry Ridge trail gets a ton of use, as it was pretty overgrown by vines and other plants trying to creep their way across. I always freak out when I have a lot of contact with plants on the trail. I know that sounds ridiculous. I'm hiking in nature; why am I freaked out by plants? Well, a few years ago I picked up some chiggers from some tall grass at Panther Creek State Park (purely coincidence that I was on the Panther Creek trail on this hike!), and the insane itching that caused has made me hyper-vigilant about protecting myself from trailside pests. All of my clothes and gear get treated with Permethrin regularly; I always wear pants when hiking (even when it's 500 degrees); and if I'm going to be walking in tall grass I tuck my pants into my socks so bugs can't just crawl up my socks and get on my legs (instead, I want them to die on my Permethrin-treated shoes, socks, and pants; sorry, bugs, but I hate you). Worse than the chigger experience, however, was the Great Poison Sumac Incident of 2018, which involved me, who has never had a reaction to poison ivy or any other poison plant, having an insane systemic reaction to poison sumac I found (and did not recognize, although you bet your butt I recognize it now) while weeding a shrub bed. It took me more than 12 weeks to get rid of that rash, including steroid shots, topical steroids, and two rounds of oral steroids (because I got a "rebound rash" after coming off the first round). The rash was EVERYWHERE and was the worst itch I could ever imagine. I was severely sleep-deprived because the itching wouldn't let me sleep at night, no matter how many drugs I took to knock myself out (apparently steroids also counteract any sleepy drugs). I got maybe two hours of sleep per night, in 15-20 minute increments, and that is just not conducive to survival. I was so miserable and hated my skin so much. If there was ever a time that I would contemplate suicide, that constant, severe itching on 95% of my body would drive me to it. I don't say that to make light of suicide; it really was a torture situation to which I could see no end. Also, ever since that incident wreaked havoc on my body, I've developed a predisposition to contact dermatitis. The Rodan and Fields face wash that I'd used for more than a year suddenly caused me to break out in a huge, itchy rash (requiring yet another steroid shot - 2018 was the year of the 'Roid), and my skin gets irritated at the drop of a hat these days (I have NEVER before had sensitive skin).
SO...long story not-so-short, I am militant about protecting myself from itch-causing bugs and plants on the trail. I love nature; I just don't love it touching me. That being said, in the summer, sometimes you come up on some overgrown trails and you have to just press on. Miry Ridge was such a trail. When I got to the end of it, the first thing I did was set my pack down, get out my Tecnu wash, and have an impromptu bath of my face and arms on the side of the trail. I think I missed a spot on my neck because I have a couple of itchy bumps under my chin, but I'm already hitting them with the 'roid cream in hopes of staving off a full-blown attack. You do what you gotta do.
GOOD things about Miry Ridge were the two deer I saw. They were pretty close to me, and I didn't see them until I startled one of them and it took off. Of course, when I heard it moving around, I was startled because I thought it might be a bear. The second deer was much more chill and just walked slowly past me to join her friend.
Shortly after rejoining Middle Prong, there was another situation where a clearly-defined trail cut off to the left, while a wide roadbed completed a switchback to the right. History told me that the roadbed was the Middle Prong trail, but someone had lined up some birch logs pointing an arrow toward the smaller trail.
I had come down the hill and was about to curve to the right to continue following the roadbed/trail, but I wondered why someone would've taken the trouble to make this arrow in a, "Hey, I know it looks like your trail curves to the right, but it actually goes to the left" kind of way. So I decided to follow it. What's a few more miles if it's a wrong turn, right? I heard loud rushing water in the direction of the arrow, and I knew that the big water led to where my car was parked, so maybe this was the right direction after all? Worst case scenario, the placing of the arrow was an evil ploy by a serial killer to attract victims to his location. Here's hoping that's not the case.
I was pleasantly surprised when the side trail ended at this pool/waterfall:
There were a couple of other people there, but no serial killer (that I know of), thankfully. Apparently this is Indian Flats Falls, which I have never heard of but which is apparently a destination to which people hike using the Middle Prong trail (or "Quiet Walkway with no destination," to some). The brown book did not mention this, and if it hadn't been for the kind potential serial killer who placed the birch arrow, I would've never seen it! I'm glad I hiked to it and was able to see it, but I didn't stay long, as it added another 0.3-ish miles to my already-longer-than-planned hike, and my family freaks out if I'm on a solo hike and don't check in to let them know I made it off the trail safely within the time that they think it should take me to hike my planned route and get back into cell service range. I had tried texting them a couple of times from the top of the ridge to let them know I was running behind, but no dice. No Verizon, I cannot hear you now.
Anyway, coming back down Middle Prong, I found a couple more water views (in addition to all the ones I saw earlier in the morning) and a LOT more people. On my way up the trail, I saw one lone guy hitting the river for some fly fishing. He stopped about a half mile up Middle Prong from the parking lot. I didn't see another person until I got to Indian Flats Falls, but after that there was pretty much a steady stream of people hiking up Middle Prong, some undoubtedly heading for Indian Flats but some just finding places in between to get in the river.
I didn't love the Miry Ridge trail, but it was pretty short. Otherwise, this was a good hike. I missed the mountain views I love so much, but being next to the river for so much of this hike was a good substitute. The river is so pretty and just so "quintessential Smokies." I've always been a water person, so the water sounds and views definitely helped with the stress relief that I trust hiking to provide. It was a good day on the trail, although my feet and joints were certainly ready to be off the trail by the time I made it back to the car.
Unduplicated Smokies Miles: 34.8
Total Miles: 47.1
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