A Lodge Called Folkestone
The Dream, The Challenge, The People
by Bob Kranich
(Excerpt 19)
“The Lodge Called Folkestone”. 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.
This was a great hike. The elevation I hiked in ranged from a low of 3,000 to a high of 6,000 feet. At one point, I was on a glacier following rock cairns. It was rugged and beautiful mountain scenery, with the top of Mount Rainier constantly looking down at me. I only saw three large animals. The brown bear, thank goodness, was running the opposite way. But when I was on a trail overlooking a valley meadow, I saw and heard below a huge elk. Its bellowing was bouncing off the trees and rocks. Last and really the best, on a craggy overlook above me, I saw a bighorn sheep looking down at me.
On my sixth evening, I was at my campsite and sitting at a picnic table eating my meager rations. I had a few of the last of my crackers laying in front of me when a gray-colored bird landed on the other end of the table. I said to myself, my, how cute, and then the bird jumped over, grabbed one of my crackers, and took off! I was not happy. I found out later that the bird was a Gray Jay, sometimes called a camp robber. They are known to steal any food that they can get in their beak. Every day one learns something new.
Lassen Volcanic National Park: As I entered California, I decided to hike in the Lassen Volcanic area. Approaching the national park, all along the road, I could see round volcanic boulders called lava bombs. I pulled into the visitor parking lot late afternoon. I thought that it was strange that it looked closed, and no one was there. I cooked my supper on a picnic table, and then loaded my pack with food for about four days of hiking. I would start out in the morning towards the peak.
Got to thinking. I couldn’t drive in this deep snow. Looking around, I saw way up the road what appeared to be a lodge.
I figured that I would walk up there in the snow, and see if anyone was around. Just then I heard a strong loud motor coming up the road. A huge road grader appeared, pushing snow out of the road. It came into the parking lot and stopped in front of me. The door opened, and a guy leaned his head out and said, “What are you doing here? Didn’t you know that the park was closed because of the snowstorm?”
I said, “No sir. I’m from out of state. I just got in last night.”
He said, “We got to get you out of here. If the highway patrol find you up here without chains for your tires, they will come down on you. Follow me, and I’ll take you out.”
I jumped in my Ranchero, and backed out into a cleared parking lot. I got behind him, and he plowed the road down to the main cleared highway.
He opened his door and hollered, “You will be ok from here, just stay out of the mountains.”
I hollered, “Thank you sir,” and waved.
As I drove down the coastal highway, I thought how the Good Lord had looked out for me, again. What if I had got there a day earlier and hiked back in? I was not set up for winter hiking, and the trail would have been obscured by the snow.
Mount Whitney: This is the tallest mountain in the United States at 14,505 feet. There are trails that go to the top of this mountain, but I figured that wasn’t for me. The best trail to get to the top was on the east side. I was following the coastal highway, and it was on the west side. I decided to just take an overnight hike at the base of Mount Whitney. I stopped at a ranger station and got a hiking permit. I picked up a brochure which showed the trails. I didn’t buy a detail Geological Survey map, and I was to find out that I should have.
I camped at a small camping area. There were only a few people in it. The next morning, I loaded my pack with food and set out. That afternoon, I came to a deserted Outward Bound camp. It had a couple of huts, campfire rings, a sign about their activities, and a small stream so I camped there for the night.
The next morning, I set out using my simple park brochure which showed the basic trails. I said to myself, I’ll just turn right here at this trail junction, right again at the next junction, another right, and I will be back where I started. I hiked, and I hiked, and I realized that the brochure trail map was not very good. I also realized that since I didn’t have a detailed map, I didn’t know where I was. I had hiked all day. I didn’t want to turn back, and return the way I had come. I walked a little bit more, and prayed as I walked.
I was hiking amongst very large evergreen trees, a type that I had never seen before. I guessed that they were Sequoias that had not reached the size of a few thousand years old, like the ones in the groves I had seen. It still gave me a feeling of ‘lost in the woods’. Then I came to a trail. There wasn’t any marker but it looked familiar. I turned left, and thank the Good Lord, I was soon back at the small camping area with my Ranchero pickup truck. I had never been so relieved. I vowed that I would never go on a hike again without a good map!
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”.
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
