Camping in the Smokemont campground of Great Smoky Mountains National Park

Our campsite in the Smokemont Campground - Photo: Still Gravity.
Our site in Smokemont Campground - License our images here.        

This camp is at the eastern entrance of Great Smoky Mountains National Park in North Carolina. We got a nice campsite facing Bradley Fork Creek. Good background noise for relaxed dreams. 

There was a town in this place in the logging days before the park. Its name was Bradleytown. All is gone now, except for a church and the cemeteries. Old pictures show the area stripped of trees. Looks a lot better now. 

We walked the short nature trail on the other side of the creek. The crossing is over a log bridge. Then the trail climbs the western hill in a loop of around a mile. 

A thousand feet to the south, we went for the Smokemont Loop trail. This trail is longer and begins by crossing an old road bridge in terrible shape - it's closed to vehicles. A company from Knoxville, Tennessee, built it in 1921. 

We also visited Mingo Falls - means Big Bear in the Cherokee language. This is a tall waterfall reached after climbing long stairs. Also stopped by Mingus Mill, once the biggest mill in North Carolina.   

A sky full of stars covered the dancing shadows from many campfires in Halloween night. Mysterious forest. Mysterious mountains.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Chekika: Forgotten spot of Everglades National Park close to Miami

Image
During our last visit to Chekika ( map ), we found closed roads and dilapidated buildings. This was our fourth time here. Little by little, nature is coming back. Wilderness taking over what was always its property.            The closed entrance to the Grossman Hammock -  License our images here .   Everglades National Park closed indefinitely the Chekika Day Use Area in 2013. They claimed budget constraints. One year later, Chekika was on the news when a juvenile Nile crocodile was removed from the area - the animal was captured in a canal north from the Grossman Hammock. Two others were caught in 2009 and 2012 further to the east. You know the script with invasive species: they escaped, or someone released them.  The Everglades already have the mighty Pythons running wild. I don’t want to imagine the River of Grass ruled by “man-eaters” crocodiles that can reach up to 17 feet. That would be madness. 
More »

Google search and the little blog

Image
Many small websites are going dark like the sands of the desert at nightfall -  License our images here .   Little blogs are dying. They are jailed in a dark and remote dungeon of Google organic search, the non-index dungeon. The mighty gatekeeper, like Saturn , is devouring its children. Betrayed for money, the good old-fashioned blogs are the collateral damage of their "helpful" content update. Long gone is that 2004 when Loren Baker wrote: Google likes Blogs. Blogs do well in Search Results Listings on Google. This is because Blogs contain fresh content and are richly interlinked, despite their relatively small audiences. Some would go so far as to say that Google over-represents Blogs. (Source:  What if Google didn't like blogs? ") That's ancient history. A jump to 2022 shows a different picture. According to Sandy Maguire: The Internet is dominated by a few big websites. Out of social, the amateur opinion is vanished. (Source: " Why Is the Web So Monoto
More »

Ernest Hemingway's "Oklahoma": "All of the Indians are dead (a good Indian is a dead Indian)"

Image
Page of an edition of "Three Stories & Ten Poems" from Ernest Hemingway.  Here we go with Hemingway poetry. Harsh. But we know what to expect from his sharp journalistic prose and  iceberg theory .  "Oklahoma" was published in 1923 in Three Stories & Ten Poems   - affiliate link to Amazon . The name says it all: the "Oklahoma" of the Choctaw language - means "red people" -, and Oklahoma the state seen through its genesis, the Indian Territory .  American Indians or Native American - whatever suits you, but many of them prefer the first name - in their new way of life.   Now to the poem.  All of the Indians are dead (a good Indian is a dead Indian) Or riding in motor cars— (the oil lands, you know, they’re all rich) Smoke smarts my eyes, Cottonwood twigs and buffalo dung Smoke grey in the teepee— (or is it myopic trachoma) The prairies are long, The moon rises, Ponies Drag at their pickets. The grass has gone brown in the summer— (or is it
More »