X-C Ski Sojourn: Clingmans Dome Road

I awakened ~06:00; it was then that I decided that I should X-C ski today. After eating breakfast and walking the dog. I prepared for a trip to the GSMNP. I arrived at the Park a little before 11:00 and then drove to Newfound Gap; at ~11:30 I set out from the parking area below the gate to the road to Clingmans Dome.

One unique factor was that today I just stepped over the gate that blocks access to the road in the winter; in prior trips the snow level was such that I walked around it. Despite my late start I envisioned skiing to the top. At this time a couple of “pedestrians” and one bona fide snow-shoe “hiker” had left the parking area. I passed the pedestrians almost immediately and then caught the snow-shoer (Jeff Waddle). This was the first time that I had ever encountered anyone on snow-shoes on this trail. Because a skier can move a bit faster even up a grade, I passed him. The snow was deep; although I became the first one to travel on this virgin snow, breaking trail is a challenge. At one point, when I was checking a presumed animal track, I pressed my left pole down and it kept on going and going; the result was my first “X-C ski fall down” in I don’t know how many years. It was very difficult to get to a standing position, for as I pushed with my hand the snow went up to my shoulder; eventually I positioned my skis (still firmly attached to my shoes) so that I could push against them. The first picture includes a jet contrail.



Although I had planned to ski to Clingmans Dome, I realized that breaking trail was requiring much more energy than I realized would be necessary. I do not remember having to stop on the way up to rest in previous trips; it seemed that on this trip it was almost necessary for breaking trail was exhausting. I then decided that the Fork Ridge Trailhead (4.2 mi.) was a reasonable goal (the AT closely parallels Clingmans Dome road on the opposite side—Mount Collins shelter is nearby too, it’s on Sugarland Mountain trail). I was thinking my goal was just a short distance past a “spruce nature sign” (forget the exact wording); when I did not reach it shortly I became concerned that it (and the AT sign across the road) might have been covered with snow causing me to bypass them. However, I plodded on and finally reached the Fork Ridge Trail sign and the AT sign across the road. The next picture shows my tracks to get there; the one that follows shows what was in store for me if I went further up the mountain. At this point I decided to go a little further than my goal; I wanted to determine the point that the Road to Clingmans Dome actually descends prior to resuming its trek upward.







On the way up the snow laden trees at the right edge of the road appear to be covering ~half of the road. After I reached this crest (0.25 to 0.5 mi. passed the Fork Ridge Trail sign), there's 0.5 0.75 mi. of downward slope and I strongly considered the pluses and minuses of shooting for the Dome. My late start and the possibility of encountering black ice on U.S. 441 from Newfound Gap to Sugarlands suggested that going to the Dome may not be the best decision. On the way down I met Jeff and talked with him a bit; he is very interesting and has written a book I believe titled “Mayday—Mayday” on airplane crashes. (I’ll have to check this out—perhaps I can trade a copy of my book on exercise and the back for a copy of his.) Of course since I can coast a bit, my speed going down was quite a bit faster. Very soon I met another skier going up; he advised me that I would be meeting his wife shortly. I did meet her but it was not shortly; she had a major equipment problem in that the “membrane” on the bottom of one ski had peeled off this ski. She advised me that I’d meet a group of backpackers; she hoped that they would be walking on Jeff’s snow-shoe trail rather than the skier tracks that I had initiated and that she and her husband had been following. I met them at Indian Gap; they were about to get on the AT at this point. I doubt that they would have had this endeavor if they knew how deep the snow really was.

Almost immediately I found that a few of their group of six had walked in my ski tracks; when you have at least one-foot deep footprints in ski tracks, it’s as easy to blaze a new trail so I did a bit of both. Surprisingly I did not meet a soul on my last 1.7 mi.; however, when I reached my vehicle a few true tourists parked there so that they could look at snow on the up-side of the gait.