HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVES--Trip 2

On the road to Cades Cove by 8:00 a.m., we avoided some of the crowds. We had learned from yesterday that by 11:00 a.m. all the pullout parking slots are filled. Weathermen predicted sunny skies and colored leaves, so today may be even more congested.

"I read somewhere," said Andy, "that the real reason for founding Great Smoky Mountain National Park stemmed from congestion."

"I guess things haven't changed all that much," I joked. Once again we followed a particularly slow sightseer on the road into Cades Cove.

"Apparently there was a heavy rain storm in 1923 or just before that," explained Andy. "So much mud washed down from the denuded mountains that those who lived in the valley around Knoxville were inundated. The erosion resulted from the farming practices and poor soil management by so many settlers in the mountains." It all but washed out the valley.

"Interesting how people impact each other without even thinking," I said. "I wonder if the guy who tosses his coffee cup each morning at the end of our street even considers the impact on us."
When we drove the 11-mile auto route of Cades Cove 31 years ago in May, the crowds caused a traffic tie-up for hours. Already this morning at 9:15 a.m. vehicles filled the orientation lot. We picked up a pamphlet and headed for the first tourist stop, the John Oliver Place. One of 80 historic buildings in this park, the farm cabin had been hewn from native American chestnut logs around 1826 by John and Lucretia Oliver. The notched corners needed no pegs or nails, and Oliver filled the chinks with mud to seal out wind, snow and rain. He crafted 3,000 shingles for the roof and cut all exposed logs at a slant to ward off rot from rain water. Most tourists who stopped with us here were more interested in the white-tailed deer grazing nearby.
At the Primitive Baptist Church, established in 1827 and replaced in 1887, women and men practiced gender separation. The church closed during the Civil War because of split sympathies. 

One very unhappy bear is not pleased
with all the photography below her.

Three bears, a mother and two cubs, had taken to the oak trees near the Methodist church. A hundred tourists with cameras lined the road, and two rangers politely controlled the traffic. "It's normal behavior for the bears at this time of year," said one ranger. The bears munched on acorns a hundred feet up in the trees. Everyone gasped when a branch cracked. "She's fine," said the ranger, "but, yes, she would die if she fell from there."
The Methodist Church had two doors, an indication of gender separation when men sat on one side and women, on the other. But this church, established in the 1820's and replaced in 1902, didn't follow that custom. Designers just borrowed the building plans. J. D. McCampbell, a blacksmith and carpenter, constructed the building in 115 days for $115 and later served many years as its minister.

Missionary Baptist Church on the hill was established in 1829, when the group favoring missionary work was expelled from the Primitive Baptist congregation. It closed in 1884.

Elijah Oliver built a whole complex of farm buildings in the Cove after the Civil War: a spring house to cool milk and butter; a smokehouse to store pork and ham; a corn crib for grinding corn into meal; a barn to shelter horses and mules for transportation; a second barn to house milk cows and store the hay to feed them; and a bath house near the stream for laundry, cooking and bathing.
The Cable Mill area at the center of the farming valley marked the site of the original grist mill with grind stones that dated to the mid-1800's and a wooden flume. John P. Cable built the water-powered grist mill and a sawmill here around 1870.

"They grow hay in the valley," said the ranger. "We get the corn we grind here from the Co-op." Two-pound and five-pound bags of freshly ground flour lined the counter. When the ranger wasn't looking, a little girl dipped her fingers in the soft, ground corn powder that awaited packaging.

Nearby stood the blacksmith shop, a LeQuire cantilever barn and the smokehouse for curing pork.

Leason Gregg bought an acre of land from John P. Cable in 1879. Cable's daughter Rebecca and her brother Dan later operated a store on the first floor. When Dan's wife died of tuberculosis and Dan was hospitalized for mental illness, Rebecca, by then the owner of 600 acres, raised Dan's children. The area also included a barn, sorghum mill and corn crib.
Some farmers husked their corn before storing it, and corn shuckings became social events. Any fellow who found a red ear got to kiss a girl. "Sounds like 'Spin the Bottle'," I told Andy.

I took a picture from the front porch of the Dan Lawson place, built in 1856. Lawson bought the land from his father-in-law Peter Cable and built the house with boards sawed at the mill and bricks cast on the site. "It's easy to see where Lawson added on," said Andy. The original boards were lighter in color. Nearby a wild turkey picked at acorns.
"Colonel Hamp" Tipton built a modern wood dwelling in the early 1870's that housed his Cove school teacher daughters "Miss Lucy" and "Miss Lizzie." Later James McCaulley and his family rented the place, and McCaulley ran his blacksmith business in the nearby hollow.

Crippled Battle of Shiloh Civil War veteran George Washington "Carter" Shields bought a lovely nook in 1910 and built a cozy cabin, the last stop on the auto tour, but he only stayed 11 years.

Traffic totally blocked the road ahead of us near a spot where a mother bear and three cubs foraged. "If rangers had been around, we never would have gotten so close," said Andy.

"You got that right," I told him, clicking away with the camera, as the mother bear sent wood chips flying. She clawed the rotting stumps, digging for grubs. "Good thing she was so intent on simple life lessons like finding food," I told him. All the pamphlets said that a change in an animal's behavior indicated that fascinated tourists were too close. Mama Bear kept clawing diligently for dinner. We were wary but felt safe.
To further check out the area, we drove the Rich Mountain Road--eight miles of gravel and four miles of paved twists and turns. We didn't see any more bears, and there weren't any views.

Instructors at the small log Greenbrier School taught children from 1882 to 1935. "Miss Claire"
Burrell, retired teacher and school administrator and a park volunteer, conducted classes for tourists here from 1969 to 1999, when she passed away at age 95. Adjoining the school was an old cemetery with the earliest dated marker reading 1889.
"Our one and only hike will be Laurel Falls," Andy announced at 2:30 p.m. "It's only 1.3 miles each way." We had been walking all day.

Next weekend will be a zoo, because the leaves will peak in the valley in about eight or nine days.

"I can't believe the crowds of people here in October," said Andy, as we drove toward the hike.
Laurel Falls Trail, another 1.3-mile trek uphill, led to a triple-drop waterfall. The asphalt path attracted young and old, but in spite of a consistently uphill grade, this walk was an easier one than our hike yesterday because of the semi-level footing. The reward? A beautiful cove of smooth boulders sheltered in a grotto of trees.
From the Visitor Center movie, we learned that Smoky Mountain National Park has more tree species than all of Europe and some species of plants and animals, like the red cheeked salamander, are found nowhere else in the world.
Glaciers from the Ice Age drove northern species into the Smokies where they cohabited with more southerly varieties of plants and animals. The region is an amazing melting pot.

"How can people not want to take care of such a treasure?" I asked Andy. "How can they deface buildings with graffiti and toss garbage along the road?"

Andy just shook his head.