I hate to admit it, but I have never really explored the national park located right in my own backyard.
A concise list of what has kept me away:
1. it is usually crowded (it is the most visited National Park in the US)
2. No dogs on trails
3. Growing up in the local area, the scenery within the official park boundaries didn’t seem any different than what was literally in my backyard
To be completely honest, all these negatives are still very much true for me in most of the park. I prefer simple, uncomplicated hikes, camping, and scenic drives and having to leave my dog behind, get a parking permit, and potentially even take a shuttle to a trailhead is a hassle. So, when I dropped my dog Hao off with my Dad for the week, I thought, “What am I doing?” It’s mid-October and I wanted to check up on the fall colors along the southern end of the Blue Ridge Parkway and spend a little time in Cataloochee Valley witnessing the elk rut.
I get on the Parkway in Asheville and drive all the way over to Balsam Mountain Campground, a National Park Campground located 8 miles off the Blue Ridge Parkway. The fall colors around this area are really starting to peak. The sun is still shining when I arrive, but it lets me know that this is not to last. This campground is not one of my favorites, with unlevel roadside camping spots and very little privacy between campsites, not to mention it’s expensive at $30 a night! But there are elk here. And they walked right through the campground twice while I was eating dinner! The cows (females) and yearlings come out first, with the bull (male) waiting to make sure everything is safe before making his appearance. This bull appears to be fairly young, but he is healthy with a gleaming thick coat and absolutely gorgeous. I share the moment with my campsite neighbors, an older couple who give me a tip about a great sunset spot only moments from the campground. I glance at the clouds gathering above and mentally log that information away for another time. As I settle into my nice warm van, I glance out again and notice that there is a bit of a break in the cloud bank. I pop into the driver’s seat and drive towards the Balsam Mountain picnic area where there is an overlook with a magnificent view west towards the setting sun. It’s still a bit too cloudy for optimal sunset colors but it is a nice end to the day.
The next morning, I eat a bowl of cereal before driving back out to the Parkway and down the mountain towards Maggie Valley. I make a quick stop at Soco Falls, a double cascade that’s a short, but steep, walk down a gravel trail. I’d planned to get second breakfast at Joey’s Pancakes, a longstanding icon in the area, but I am too late, and the line goes out the door. If you want to stop here, and I recommend you do, get there early! I grab a muffin at Ingles as well as some dinner making materials for the next couple of days. Now it’s time to drive up, then down the mountain into Cataloochee. It’s a well-maintained gravel road that is accessible for all vehicles and I love that it keeps some of the crowds out. Arriving in the valley, I stop and buy a parking pass for a week, even though I am only here one night, since I don’t want to have to drive back to this machine to purchase another tomorrow morning – complicated. Then I drive the now paved road past a stream and through meadows that I imagine will be inhabited by elk come dusk. I park and explore the old chapel, schoolhouse, and Caldwell house – all accessed by an easy flat walk along the meadows. I check-in to my campsite (#8) at the Cataloochee Campground. I got this campsite last minute due to a cancellation and I am pleasantly surprised to find that it is one of the better ones with private access to the creek running behind the campsites. It’s been a couple days since I have had access to a shower so I brave the cold and take a quick dip in the creek. Dinner tonight is spaghetti, quick and satisfying.
By the time I’ve cleaned up, it’s nearing 5pm and I drive back to the valley. There are already a couple cars parked along the road awaiting the arrival of the elk. I park behind them and mosey around. A man walking with a family tells me he saw a bull elk standing in the creek right behind the chapel. Excited to possibly get a picture of an elk in the creek, I carefully but quickly make my way down. I don’t see him, troubling, but there are several cows drinking from the stream. I give them space and try to determine which way the bull may be going. I see him cross the path a good 100 yards in front of me, completely unbothered and confident with himself. I keep my distance and take a few shots of him emerging into the meadow, bugling his challenge? Invitation? Contact info? It is in the middle of rut, the time of the year when the males partake in skirmishes to see who the best mate for the ladies is. The winner gets to keep or add to his harem of cows. This bull seems to have no competitors and I can see why.
I watch them for a while from the bushes, a crowd forming along the road complete with tour groups and lounge chairs. The only issue with where I’m at is that now my path back to the van is blocked by a group of cows. I walk in a wide circle around them and finally arrive back at the van, wiping my ankles off with a poison oak wipe. That stuff gets me bad. It’s dark now and I drive back to my campsite stopping for a few elk that will not get out of the road.
The next morning I get up at 6:45 and immediately drive back to the meadow. I’m greeted by a smaller bull who is following a cow around. She seems to get aggravated and runs off into the woods. A loud bugle sounds and the bull from last night steps out of the meadow, sounding a warning towards the young bull. The young bull takes one look at the older male and decides to high-tail it out of there. Smart guy.
