A Ship in Harbor is Safe

...but that's not what ships are built for." ~William Shedd

My hands were dirty and sore as I gripped the stone in front of me, flat on my stomach against a wall of nearly-vertical rock. To my left—the sun, dropping lower into the haze of the smokies, closer to the rounded peaks in the distance. To my right, a far-off mountain side speckled with dead hemlock trees that have been killed by the invasive wooly adelgid. Behind me—dare I look—a steep escalation of rock that was the backbone of the mountain ridge known as Chimney Tops. Looking down caused my stomach to turn, and looking down either side of the fairly narrow ridge I was pressed against had the same effect. I looked up to my friends and colleagues as they slowly guided me up the crest of the mountain.

A view of Chimney Tops from a nearby overlook. We climbed to the very top of the rock outcrop!

Chimney Tops is a relatively short hike in the park—2 miles up and 2 miles down—and yet I would argue it as one of the most challenging. The hike is entirely uphill, at one point gaining over 700 feet in under 0.6 miles (that’s over two football fields!). After crossing numerous bridges over a river, the ascent begins in the forest. The trail at this point is even with few roots and rocks to tangle in and trip over. As we climb higher, staircases begin to appear made of large stones or wooden frames. Switchbacks continue to take us up higher and higher, and for the first time I realize that I am climbing a mountain as opposed to hiking in the mountains. A few brief overlooks reward our efforts by showing us how high and far we’ve come in a short amount of time. At one of them, the view of Chimney Tops can be seen, the sunlight illuminating the eastern side. But now’s not the time to stop—it’s almost sunset!

As I reach the bottom of the rock scramble, my stomach dropped. Never in my life had I ever completed such a steep, flat crawl up a hillside. We encouraged each other as we began to scale the wall, doing our best not to look down. “Three points of contact!” Someone shouted from above. I dutifully made sure that I constantly had three of my four hands and feet gripping the rock face. The ever-popular park motto “slow is smooth and smooth is fast” was also passed around as we continue to climb.

And then as I finally pull myself over the last edge of rock I can see that we made it.

The air itself looked golden as the sun cast light across the mountains. We were standing on a small platform—the first Chimney—and I settled into a rock to watch the show. A panoramic view around our mountaintop treated us to spectacular views and sounds. It was a hazy afternoon. I watched as the orb sank below the mountain ridge, and what an incredibly special experience it was.

 

As the sun sank away, we began to guide ourselves down the rock face once more. I felt more steady going down as I slowly scrambled, but looking down the entire time was less than pleasant. As we entered the forest—which was pitch black at this point—we turned on our headlamps and began to descend the mountain. We felt safe hiking in the dark with a large group of people, and what a beautiful night it was!

When we piled back into our cars at the trailhead, I remembered that earlier in the afternoon I was unsure about coming—that I almost passed it up for a night sitting at home—and I grinned to myself. I was excited that I had stepped outside of my comfort zone.

Green is the prime color of the world...

...and that from which its loveliness arises." ~Pedro Calderon de la Barca

Lately I’ve finally started to settle into the new rhythm of my summer here in Tennessee. My house feels like a home, my coworkers are friends, and I’m comfortable in this new environment (which is surprisingly very different from Minnesota). I’ve figured out how to shop for groceries that will actually give me nourishment and I’ve been pretty decent at cooking that way, too. I can also finally say with confidence that I have become tolerant (key word, tolerant) of the climate here—very hot and very humid. However, while the day is hot, because we are in the mountains the nights are on average about 20-30 degrees cooler than the peak of the day, and higher elevations have never recorded a temperature above 80. I guess that’s where I’ll do most of my hiking.

On the 15^th (was that already over a week ago?) I had the privilege of participating alongside other volunteers and employees in a photography workshop led by the current Artist in Residence of the Smokies. After a brief intro and talk we went on a short hike and she gave us pointers of things to watch out for in nature when out shooting. She is incredibly talented, and what a wonderful way to spend a Monday morning! Here are some of my photos below. As you can see, the theme of my summer photography will most definitely be the color green.

Later in the week I was lucky enough to participate in a two day National Park Service Operational Leadership training, which focuses on hazards and risks in the workplace and how to avoid and/or manage them. I learned a lot of useful information that will not only come in handy at my job this summer, but jobs in the future, as well.

It’s hard to get around without a car, so unfortunately last weekend I didn’t get to go hiking. But I did spend some quality time with my camera at Cataract Falls and the nearby Fighting Creek nature trail, experimenting with water movement and long exposures. It was a lot of fun! Here are some of my favorite shots.

  

When I’m not participating in workshops or classes during the week, I’ve been taking online training at work. I’m finally getting into learning more about web design, and I also have been doing a couple graphic design projects using Adobe InDesign, which has been a blast. And I get to learn more about the park in the process! In the rest of my free time I’ve been attending weekly trivia at the local brewery (our team actually won last week after we bet all or nothing and ended up with a question based on the periodic table—thank you, four semesters of chemistry), exploring local bookstores, practicing my instruments (shout out to Dr. Lin J), and reading.

I miss all of you so much back home and I look forward to seeing you again! But for now, the Smokies await.

Love, Lindsey.

Keep close to Nature's heart...

...and break clear away, once in a while, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean."  ~John Muir

A Morning in Cades Cove

One of the things that sets Great Smoky Mountain National Park apart from many other national parks is its connection with people throughout its history. Because the park wasn’t created until the 1930s, many people lived and thrived in the Smokies from the times of the Cherokee to European farmers and herders moving in to the mountains. There are many remnants of this history, most of which occur in the form of mountain-style log cabins spread throughout the park.

Cades Cove is a valley in the Smokies containing an 11-mile loop that takes visitors by some of these historic buildings such as churches, cabins, and even a mill, most of which were built in the 1800s. The one way loop is for cars, bicycles, and hikers alike, but on Wednesday and Saturday mornings the loop is closed to traffic until 10 am exclusively for non-motorized visitors. On June 6^th, Saturday morning, some National Park Service employees and interns met at the start of Cades Cove Loop for a get-together. The plan was to bike around the loop and meet back at the park service building for a pancake breakfast.

In my short time at the park so far, I have already seen many beautiful sights throughout the Smokies, but Cades Cove had to be one of the most breathtaking. As we entered the cove, a pasture full of horses grazed on grass that glistened with dew. Behind them, blue mountains were shrouded in the characteristic mist that the Smokies were named for. It was a sunny, clear morning with a blue sky and no sign of rain.

The road was narrow enough that it was hard to believe it was not only a bike path. At the back of the loop, there was a visitors center with a mill and more houses from days past. We saw white-tailed deer dance over the landscape, and heard that some kids in our group behind us saw a bear, but we didn’t spot it.

The northern side of the loop became more and more uphill and less downhill, which involved a lot of walking the bikes. We rode by pastures and through forests, next to log cabins and intersected with horse trails. A pancake breakfast with friends was a perfect end to the morning trip (and also a wonderful reward).

Journey to the Top of Mount LeConte

On Monday morning, a new adventure was in store for me. A few rangers had some work to complete up at LeConte Lodge, which consists of 20 or so cabins situated on top of Mt. LeConte, one of the higher peaks in the park. Once a year a helicopter drops food and supplies for the guests staying and crew working at the lodge, and llamas travel between the lodge and town three times a week with fresh linens for the cabins' beds and eggs for breakfast. A few other interns and I were invited to accompany the rangers to the lodge for an overnight stay in the trail maintenance crew cabin, since the rest of the lodge books for the summer in October the year before.

Alum Cave Trail is a five mile hike to LeConte Lodge that starts from Newfound Gap Road. The first mile of the trail leads through a dense forest and along a wide creek. There are dense thickets of rhododendron along the dirt trail that is wrought with roots tangling over each other. Views of the river are interspersed periodically between the foliage. We crossed a few foot bridges over the river, most of which were logs with a railing attached to the side. It was only quarter to nine in the morning when we started, but the air was already humid and warm.

About a mile up the trail we came to Arch Rock, a geological feature formed by ice and water. Walking up to the rock, I could see the stone steps leading to the other side of the boulder on the top of the hill, but the trek was steep enough that I couldn’t see the other side from where I was standing at the bottom. I had to lean forward so that my backpack didn’t catch the ceiling of rocks as I climbed through. The steps were wet from a recent rain, and I held on to a cable attached to the wall to keep my footing. From the top of arch rock, the trail began to climb more steadily, away from the creek and into the forest.

One of the most beautiful vantage points on the trail was Inspiration Point, less than another mile up the trail. Mountain laurels and rhododendrons were both blooming pink flowers around a rock outcrop. Standing on top, we were fully immersed in the mountains with no sign of development in sight. Further up the trail we reached Alum Cave Bluffs, an enormous rock outcrop that marks the halfway point of the trail. Though these higher elevations of the Smokies get enough rain to be classified as a temperate rainforest, it is ironic that the space beneath the bluffs is one of the driest places in the park. The ground beneath it is covered in sand and the rock outcrop stands so tall that I had to crane my neck up backwards just to see the top.

A wooden sign read that the summit of Mt. LeConte was 2.7 miles away, and the rest of the hike was almost entirely uphill. As we climbed higher, the path became more rocky and the forest around us became dominated by pine and fir trees. We were treated to amazing views of the surrounding mountains as we climbed along cliffs, clinging to the metal cables that were attached to the rock walls covered in dripping moss.

About 45 minutes away from the top, the sky opened and poured rain. Water soaked my hat and then began to pour off of the rim. I pulled out a poncho and pulled it around my backpack to keep my clothes and sleeping bag dry. As we got closer, we walked through a pine forest that covered the trail, offering a break from the rain. Finally, buildings appeared through the trees, and we stumbled down some stone steps and into the LeConte Lodge dining room for lunch.

Cliff Tops overlook is a short walk from the lodge, and offers a popular viewpoint for watching the sunset (when it’s not raining or foggy). Such an amazing view!

Dinner and breakfast at the lodge are served family style around large tables in the dining hall. It’s easy to feel like a part of this mountain family that exists high on Mt. LeConte secluded from the bustling tourism culture of Gatlinburg. We spent the night playing Phase 10 by lamplight in the lodge’s lounge cabin.

The next day we left around nine in the morning after a breakfast of pancakes, scrambled eggs, biscuits and peaches. After fastening my poncho to my pack as a rainfly and donning my rain jacket and rain pants, we set off down the mountain.

How different the hike was when the weather changed! Beautiful views along steep hillsides were replaced with a blank canvas of fog, so dense that sometimes it was impossible to see past the dropoff of the cliffs. The rocks on the trail were slick from the night’s storm, and sometimes it felt more like we were hiking down a stream than a trail as the water cascaded down the clearest path that was available. This meant that I was holding more tightly to more of the cables on the way down, which slowed me down a considerable amount of time. Going down takes less energy than going up, however, and we shaved over an hour and a half off of our time from Monday. (Is it worth the knee pain, though? That afternoon after taking a nap I tried to go downstairs and almost collapsed because my knees were so worn out).

What an incredible trip it was up to Mount LeConte! I am so thankful for this amazing experience that my supervisor helped set up for me, and I am constantly amazed by the variety of ecosystems that exist in the Smokies.

Since Tuesday, I've been working on online training at my job, as well as starting to become more familiar with the website. The days are starting to go by faster as I continue to settle in. If I'm going to be honest, it has definitely been a challenge moving out here. Every adventure comes with its own challenges and experiences, but I feel prepared and ready for the rest of the summer. Thank you to everyone who has shown me support over the last few weeks--I am grateful for your encouragement! :)

Say hi to Minnesota for me (and Lake Superior to all the Duluthians reading),

Lindsey.

Synchronous Fireflies and the Beginning of Summer

“1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6… 7… 8.”

As I finished counting under my breath, the hillside before me slowly began to glow by the light of thousands of fireflies. The top of the hill lit first. As the rest of the population began to follow suit, a wave-like motion developed through the trees, creating an effect that could only be compared to twinkling stars cascading down the hillside. Eight seconds later and everything was dark. I counted to eight again, and tiny lights appeared on cue at the top of the hill once more.

This waterfall of light is a behavioral pattern of the synchronous fireflies of the Smokies. Each year their mating season peaks for less than two weeks, which is predicted in advance by the park to encourage viewing. In addition to the synchronous fireflies, there are flashbulb fireflies—the most common—and a rarer firefly known as the blue ghost, which stays lit for more than a few seconds and hovers near the ground.

I reached for my flashlight—wrapped in red cellophane to prevent white light pollution—and continued down the gravel road that once facilitated logging before the days of the park. The synchronized cycles between light and darkness were mesmerizing. I knelt down on the ground to inspect a female firefly that was flashing out of sync with the males floating overhead. As they go dark, she flashed three times, more slowly than the males she was signaling but just as bright. As I stood up, it was like being submerged in the middle of a changing universe, with constellations of fireflies rearranging and shifting all around me.

Two camera men from a local news channel and a public relations park ranger stood next to me. My supervisor set me up to shadow them so I could see how the public relations of the park works behind the scenes, and I could also get in to see the Synchronous Fireflies. Tickets for the public to view these fireflies go on sale six weeks in advance and sell out 900 tickets for each night within three minutes of going on sale, so I felt pretty lucky to be there! This experience was just one of the many varieties of “shadowings” and trainings that I will be able to complete with other areas of the park over the course of the summer. These trainings will be interspersed throughout my web design and computer work that will be the majority of my job. I look forward to all of the exciting adventures ahead!

From the Lakes of Minnesota to the Hills of Tennessee

Back to the journey: After seventeen hours of driving over two days, we pulled into Great Smoky Mountains National Park early Monday morning. I’m living in a house with another intern, sharing it between the two of us. It’s settled on a hill in the middle of a forest, and all I can see out my bedroom windows are leaves and trees, which is really beautiful and peaceful. A neighbor stopped by as I was moving in and told me that there was an active black bear near the house: the day before I arrived he walked through our driveway and sat on my roommate’s car! Later in the afternoon a park ranger came up with a crate to trap and relocate him. Since then the trap has been closed by the rangers for reasons unknown.

The nearest town to the park is Gatlinburg, a bustling tourist town of 4,000 people with a main street that has enough stores to keep a family busy on vacation for a month. Some buildings and restaurants have lodge-style architecture, while the rest have neon signs. Old-time shops and villages with cobblestone streets that I have yet to explore branch off of main street. I have a feeling that though I will be making a few trips into Gatlinburg for entertainment, most of my time will be spent within the park.

In the beginning of my first day, I spent two hours organizing a schedule with my supervisor and meeting the rest of the crew in Park Headquarters, which is a beautiful building built in the early 1900s. Because I was going to work fireflies later at night, I was let off early to explore the area surrounding headquarters. I walked over to the Sugarlands Visitor Center and watched the introductory park video to learn about the natural and political history of the park. I also picked up a book to learn more about it.

Park Headquarters!

There’s a one-mile loop nature trail near the visitor center with a log cabin at the very back that used to belong to a man named John Ownby (gotta love all of these Appalachian cabins). One of the most remarkable things that I’ve noticed about these forests are the incredible canopies. I strain my neck upward just to stare at how tall the trees are here and how many layers of leaves wave slowly above me before I can see the sky. The thickness of the trees makes the woods very dark, and if it starts to rain it’s hard to tell if it’s actually raining or if the trees are just letting water finally spill off of their weary leaves.

The weather is also very different in the mountains. In Duluth, the sky will be overcast for at least a few hours before and after a storm. But here in Tennessee, blue skies welcomed me back to my house around lunchtime on Tuesday, and twenty minutes later as I sat on my couch with a bowl of soup I noticed thunder and rain coming down outside. Within two hours the rain—and clouds—were gone, and they returned later that evening. It’s just enough water to make the air humid, but also make the landscape and environment very beautiful. I am also constantly amazed at how much the temperatures vary between elevations, as well as during the day. Most mornings are around 65 degrees when I wake up, and around middle-afternoon highs are in the mid-80s. At high elevations, however, highs are generally in the 60s, which can quickly become chilly if a rainstorm comes in. I've yet to master layering and packing to be prepared for everything, but I've already learned a lot.

For the last two days, I had the opportunity to participate in a two-day science workshop for pre-service middle and high school teachers. On Thursday a seasonal staff member from the education center and I drove up to the Clingman's Dome trailhead. Clingman's Dome is the highest peak in the park at around 6,600 feet, compared to the visitor center at around 1,700 feet. The drive itself was amazing. Once at the trailhead, a ranger took us on a short bypass trail that connects to the Appalachian Trail for a short stretch before coming to the Clingman's Dome overlook. We also learned about the air quality monitoring station, which was really interesting.

View from the trail leading to Clingman's Dome

Today, two other interns and I drove to Purchase Knob Appalachian Highlands Science Learning Center, which is about 2 hours away. The land on top of the mountain was donated to the park within the last two decades, and what a beautiful spot it was.

A ranger took us hiking on a short loop from the center, and we participated in collecting data for citizen science studies on salamanders and snails. I never realized that citizen science was so prominent, and I encourage anyone interested in learning more to check out Hands on the Land!

Just a few of the friends we found are pictured above. The diversity here is incredible!

Happy Friday, everyone! Love from the south, Lindsey.