A Lodge Called Folkestone - The Appalachian Trail

A Lodge Called Folkestone

The Dream, The Challenge, The People
 by Bob Kranich

(Excerpt 11)

You may wonder why the first half of the book is about my many adventures throughout the USA. Well, this first part explains just why my interests changed from hot rodding cars to backpacking. How the idea of a lodge came about, and just how the lodge came to be in North Carolina and next to the Smoky Mountain National Park, Deep Campground to be exact.

I was now on the high trails. I could look out through the balsam and Fraser firs at a great vista of mountains and ridges falling away. About a mile further, I came to a national park trail sign stating: Appalachian Trail, one mile. As I contemplated this information, I sat down, took off my boots, and began rubbing my sore feet. I had skimped on quality when I had bought my hiking boots, a mistake I would learn from.

All at once, I stopped what I was doing. My ears perked up, as off in the distance I could hear what I thought was the sound of bells! Yes, jingle, jingle, to the pace of stepping feet. I didn’t think that I had lingered so long on the trail that Santa was on his way!

No, here came a hiker, but with no pack. He had plenty of bells though. I thought to myself, he kind of looks like a hippie with all those bells around his neck on a leather thong.

“Howdy, where you headed?” I asked.

“Oh, hi, man. I’m hiking to Silers Bald. Got two buddies there with my gear.”

“That’s my destination too, but with this load, I’ll have to meet you there, ’cause I’m not going to hurry. By the way, what’s the bell bit?”

“Suppose to scare the bears,” he stated. “Works too! I’ve got to be hurrying along. See you later this afternoon.”

I finished lacing my boots, slipped into my pack, and was off. In the distance, I could both see and hear my new acquaintance jingling out of sight. Turning onto the Appalachian Trail, I was greeted by a rewarding sight. It was like being on top of the world. This particular area is named the “Narrows,” and I could look off and down on either side of me. The path was a worn cut in the top of a ridge with the sides sloping sharply off either side. At this elevation, the evergreen is present in great numbers, and multicolor wild flowers are in abundance, complete with honey bees. On this trail, the smoky mist rolls up one side and down the other.

Here I was, on the Appalachian Trail. It went up one peak, down the other side, and up again. Either I was climbing, trying to get my load up, or holding back on the downgrade. I was beginning to take notice of the AT blaze markers. This trail is the Colossus of the East, 2,000 miles from Maine to Georgia...and today I felt as if I was really part of it!

Well, what do we have here? A sign said, “Double Springs Shelter,” and just a short distance off the trail was a three-sided log shelter built by the National Park Service. This style is used all along the Appalachian Trail, and they are placed about a day’s hike apart. There were some campers in the shelter area.

“Hi folks. I’m looking for three hikers, supposed to be at Silers Bald. Seen them?”

“Yep, we camped there last night, and they passed us on their way to the Bald this morning. It’s back about four miles.”

I thanked them, and was on my way. It must have been a family and friend’s group, with two men, a lady, two teenage boys, a girl, and a small boy. I stopped and decided that I had better take advantage of the Double Springs and go back and fill up my canteen. It seemed that one canteen was not enough. As I mentioned before, next time I hike, I’ll bring two.

I set my pack down, propped it up with my walking stick, and decided to jog back with my canteen and fill it up. Of course, you should never leave you equipment alone. Your pack has everything in it that you need to survive. However, not realizing this back then, I did this. As I was running back to the springs, I almost ran headlong into a mamma bear and her cub. They were crossing the trail behind me. I can’t say to this day which of us were more surprised. I was abreast of them before I realized it, and my momentum carried me by. When I stopped to look, I saw that the bears were hurrying the other way. Since I was very close to the trail shelter, I sang out my discovery. The people came running, armed with cameras to get some memories of the occasion.

Enough excitement. I got into my pack and continued on my way. On the trail, you never know just what the next turn will bring. I finally arrived at Silers Bald, which is one of the many strange, unexplained, open meadows high up in the Appalachian Mountains. It is surrounded by forest on all sides. With the sun rapidly sinking, I decided that I would leave this phenomenon and explore it tomorrow.

I found the trail shelter, along with my jingling acquaintance, who promptly introduced me to his two companions. One was a boy his age, and the other was the boy’s father. I next turned my attention to the three-sided regulation trail shelter. It had mountain flagstone for the sides, and timbers covered with corrugated sheet metal for the roof. It was different than the Double Springs shelter, which was made of all logs. There were six bunks on top and six bunks on the bottom that ran across the back of the shelter. The bunks had chicken wire substituting for an innerspring mattress. It was not a castle, but would do for the evening. Even in a shelter, you rough it.

With the coming of the morn, my newly-made friends hastily departed. They had to make twenty-five miles to Fontana Dam, which would take a couple of days, and therefore had to push on. As for myself, the Bald was beckoning. However, I’m sure my sore feet had something to do with the fact I wouldn’t roam too far that day.

I left my equipment on the back of the top bunk, tied my food bag to the cross beam in the roof, and went exploring. The shelter was in a wooded area, but I soon burst out into the sunny meadow and stood in awe. There were animal trails that ran in many different directions. The flowers and blackberry bushes were waist-high, with many grassy areas about. It was a wonderful place to spend a lazy day.

While I was exploring, I found myself attracted to the highest point on the Bald. To my amazement, I found a brass disc. It was an elevation bench mark of the U. S. Geodetic Survey, and was set in a large rock. Close by on the main trail was the trail marker sign reading: Silers Bald trail shelter, 300 yards; Silers Bald, elevation 5,600 feet.

I decided to lay back against the bench mark rock, and watch the clouds float lazily by against a beautiful blue sky. I could see back to the wooded peaks I had climbed...even all the way to Clingmans Dome. I watched the Dome get clouded in, but there were no clouds here at my domain. By consulting my contour map and using my compass, I located where I had begun in the Deep Creek valley.

Evening found me preparing my supper when “they” rolled in. What a team! A tall one, a medium one, and a small one. Three boys in their teens, but looking like a Green Beret guerilla squad. Even today, I can still remember the big bayonet and sheath slung bandolier-style across the medium one’s chest. But with their menacing looks, they were still a comical lot. It seems that they had taken a bus up the mountain from Gatlinburg, and gotten off late the night before at Newfound Gap.

After sleeping only a few hours on the trail, they had hiked all day. Even though they were dead tired, they were thinking of pushing on to the next shelter. As we discussed the matter further, our attention was suddenly called to the fireplace. We sat there speechless as a mother bear and her cub suddenly walked around the side of the shelter, and put their noses into the fireplace. They were looking for tidbits and scraps.

From The Author:

This is a new book. It is about the Lodge I built in the Smoky Mountains, near Bryson City, and Deep Creek campground, North Carolina. Having been from Florida, I know that a lot of Floridians love to visit the Smoky Mountains National Park. Therefore hopefully you will enjoy my story of the building of “A Lodge Called Folkestone”.