Deep Creek

I mentioned (see previous post) that our guide on the Freedom Train was both entertaining and informative.  One of the places he told us about was Deep Creek Park, which we had never visited before today.  The Firecracker 5-K course crosses this cascading little creek (which looks shallow to me), follows the valley north, but then turns left on Deep Creek Church Road and returns to Bryson City.  This morning we continued past that road, going by the Deep Creek Tubing Center and Campground, and then entering Great Smoky Mountains National Park on a cool and shady morning.  There was plentiful fishing, camping, picnicking, and hiking in the park, and we decided to take the so-called Three Waterfalls Loop trail.

The first of the falls is called Juney Whank Falls.  I presume they are named after a real person with both an unusual first and last name, but I have been unable to discover any information about her.  But the little waterfall was lovely, a bridge spanning the creek below it.

The trail was a wide one and we saw signs that horses had been here.  As we continued on, we heard a group come up the trail behind us on horseback, hooves clattering over rocks, and stepped aside as they came by. 

A little farther on we saw these Indian Pipes, also known as the ghost plant.  We do not have these in our area, or I have never seen them here. 

On the other side of Deep Creek, we could see Tom Creek falls, flowing down a series of rock shelves into the creek, which we now noticed was filling up with visitors from the Tubing Center we had passed down the road.

Our last waterfall was Indian Creek Falls, the largest of them all, and we stopped to take this "selfie" with outstretched arm.

At this point, the trail narrowed and continued on - a hike for another day - and this was where most of the tubers were putting in, having carried their big inflatable vessels a long way up the trail.  Martha stood on a rock and watched several families deploy around her, preparing for the long, leisurely float downstream.

Now it was late in the morning and there were so many tubers that we had to dodge them as they walked up the trail.  A couple was carrying a tube between them in which slept a tiny baby, too young, we thought, to be in any kind of tube over these rapids.

We returned for lunch in Bryson City, and then started up the road to Robbinsville and our destination, Snowbird Mountain Lodge.  On  the way we discovered Wehrloom Honey, a small operation that makes candles, lotions, lip balm, soap, and even mead from the hives on site.  We took a little walk through their gardens, past a small herd of goats, and watched these industrious little creatures through the windows of a little building.

Late in the afternoon, we drove past Santeetlah Lake, and then higher and higher, toward the Cherohala Skyway, and finally up the steep, familiar drive to Snowbird, a place that holds so many cherished memories for us.  We have spent many anniversaries up here since the first time in 2003 - our 24th Anniversary - and it never fails to provide that sense of peace and serenity that we love so much.

It is the same every year we come here:  we enter the 1941 lodge, walk into the big library, smell that wonderful fragrance of a cold fireplace, and then go out to look at the view from the patio.  Home away from home.