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.