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Smokies Chronicle

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This is the third in a series of hikes from the 2017 book Smokies Chronicle: A Year of Hiking in Great Smoky Mountains National Park by Ben Anderson. Anderson, a trail patroller and Adopt-a- Campsite volunteer for Great Smokies Mountain National Park, lives in Asheville. “The book provides a fresh look at the Smokies wilderness as witnessed during its four distinct seasons” in 40 individual hikes and personal narratives.

Long rated by some hiking guides as easy-to-moderate, the short hike out Forney Ridge Trail to Andrews Bald was, in fact, not at all easy to walk until several years ago. Rocky, wet, eroded, heavily traveled—all these elements made the trail quite difficult to hike. Fortunately, that has changed thanks to the trail reconstruction work of park staff and volunteers, work funded by an endowment called Trails Forever. New drainage structures, steps, planks, and other elevated sections make today’s short hike from the Clingmans Dome parking area to Andrews Bald considerably more pleasant. As for the destination, it remains one of the most inviting in the entire park, especially in mid- to late June, when the grassy bald’s flame azalea are erupting in a profusion of color. But the views from atop Andrews Bald are impressive anytime the skies are reasonably clear. 

Because it’s less than two miles one-way on Forney Ridge Trail to Andrews Bald, I’ve decided to tack on some extra mileage to today’s excursion. On the return trip, I plan to pick up the short Clingmans Dome Bypass Trail to the Appalachian Trail; head south for a short distance on the AT to Mount Buckley, the little-known but fourth-highest peak (6,580 feet elevation) in the entire park; double back on the AT to reach the Clingmans Dome summit and observation tower; and then join the hordes of people walking the paved path to and from the Clingmans Dome parking area, itself situated at about sixty-three hundred feet in elevation. But even with the additional mileage, I’ll hike just over six miles total, one of my shortest trips all year.

Karen joins me on this outing, and we are both stunned by the traffic jam we encounter on a weekday at the large Clingmans Dome parking lot. Not only is it overflowing with vehicles large and small, but also traffic through the lot has halted because the driver of a large recreational vehicle is blocking—for whatever reason—the traffic flow. Finally the RV inches forward, and soon we are fortunate to land a space that has just opened up. Even on typically busy summer days, we’ve never seen traffic and crowds like this at Clingmans Dome. But in just a few more minutes, we’re on the Forney Ridge Trail, away from the clamor of the parking area. 

The quiet and coolness of the trail, piercing the high-elevation forest, provides an almost immediate refuge. We see dozens of people hiking to and from Andrews Bald on this hot summer day in the valleys, but not so many that we feel as if we’re dodging hikers all day. It’s a terrific time to be up high, especially since we do not have even a drop of rain in an area that receives an average of eighty-five inches of rainfall annually. We soon stop for a bite to eat, savoring our hard-earned environs even more than our sandwiches. Farther down the trail, there’s an opening in the spruce-fir forest that yields a good view of Andrews Bald. At 5,920 feet, the grassy bald is nearly 400 feet lower than the trailhead. We continue descending on Forney Ridge Trail until it reaches a junction with Forney Creek Trail, the latter stretching about 11½ miles before ending at the Lakeshore Trail near Fontana Lake.

Just past the junction, the trail finally starts to ascend. In less than a mile, it emerges from the forest to reach the open, grassy bald that got its name from a corruption of the first name of nineteenth-century cattle herder Andres Thompson. We wander through lush mountain oat grass on several short side trails in order to enjoy closer views of flame azalea in full bloom, most of them a bright orange. As for long-range views, today they are somewhat limited by typical summertime haze and clouds, but especially prominent to the southwest is the nearly mile-high High Rocks along Welch Ridge—a lofty perch Karen and I doggedly hiked to on a four-day backpacking trip thirty years ago. Also clearly visible is the sprawling, man-made Fontana Lake. Unless the weather is foul, Andrews Bald is truly a summertime garden spot in these mountains.

The origin of mountain balds remains unclear despite several theories. But what is clear is that natural succession (led most notably by tree growth) would have overtaken much of Andrews and Gregory Balds if the National Park Service had not begun managing them in 1983, so that they would remain mostly open. Strong public opposition to a 1979 park service proposal to allow natural succession to occur on all grassy balds in the Smokies prompted the park to institute a management plan for Andrews and Gregory, enabling visitors to continue to enjoy those two balds’ grand views and showy flowering shrubs. In contrast, grassy balds such as Parson Bald, just south of Gregory Bald on a former section of the Appalachian Trail, have closed in dramatically since the 1980s. But on this pleasant summer day on Andrews Bald, we are enjoying the results of that ongoing management plan.

A dozen or so hikers are wandering around Andrews Bald during our stay of perhaps forty-five minutes on the bald. Except for someone’s odd yell at one point, the quiet is broken only by an occasional nearby voice. Encompassing several acres, the bald is large enough to make it easy for us to feel as if we have it mostly to ourselves. On the lower part of the bald, we take turns sitting on a comfortable rock rising from the swards of mountain oat grass. It’s a wonderful perch as the warming sun pops in and out of the clouds.

On the return trip, we overtake a few groups of hikers who are struggling with the steeper sections past the Forney Creek Trail junction. Even if perhaps not in the best of shape, they deserve credit for venturing nearly two miles from their cars and the clogged parking area. They have decided to take on one of the park’s most rewarding hikes, short or long.

Soon we arrive at the junction with the Clingmans Dome Bypass Trail, leading left about one-half mile to the Appalachian Trail. As Karen heads toward the parking area, I take the rocky bypass to the AT and meet several hikers coming down the bypass trail. But somewhat ironically, I don’t see a single soul after I reach the AT and begin walking south to Mount Buckley and then back north to Clingmans Dome. It takes me only a few minutes to attain the summit of Mount Buckley, just 63 feet lower than Clingmans Dome’s elevation of 6,643 feet—the loftiest peak in the park. For the first time this year, I hear a veery—a high-elevation bird with a distinctive song that sounds almost muzzled. Because the forest limits the views from Mount Buckley’s peak, I decide to descend somewhat sharply for a few hundred feet till I reach a lovely, open area to the left. From this spot, I have exceptional views of nearby High Rocks and the more distant Gregory Bald.

I start back north toward Clingmans Dome. After again clearing the Mount Buckley summit, I have a straight-on view of the dome’s observation tower until a bank of clouds obscures it. Fortunately the cloud bank has dissipated by the time I take a short side trail off the AT toward the paved path that leads to the tower. I climb the spiral ramp leading to the circular viewing platform, which allows panoramic vistas when the summit isn’t bathed in clouds.

Opened in 1959 amid some controversy over its unusual design, which resembles a flying saucer that landed on a pillar, the lookout tower was chosen a couple of weeks after our visit to receive a grant of $250,000 from Partners in Preservation. The money will be used to correct foundation settlement and general deterioration of the concrete structure, stone masonry walls, and the flagstone terrace. Unfortunately, throughout most of its life the tower has yielded views marred by the sad sight of countless Fraser firs killed by the balsam woolly adelgid, likely with an assist from acid deposition. But Clingmans Dome, or Old Smoky as some still call it, endures as the crown of the Smokies, a peak nearly as high as one can get east of the Mississippi River.

From Smokies Chronicle: A Year of Hiking in Great Smoky Mountains National Park by Ben Anderson. Reprinted with permission of Blair Publisher. You can purchase a copy of Smokies Chronicle: A Year of Hiking in Great Smoky Mountains National Park at blairpub.com.

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