Getting There: Travel to Cades Cove in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Make two lefts into the picnic area and park at the far end of the picnic area parking lot.

Poet Carroll Bryant once wrote, “Don’t bite off more than you can chew because nobody looks attractive spitting it back out.”

Most people comply. We sink our teeth into safe, manageable bites. We follow the familiar. We undertake the understood. We pursue the predictable.

Nothing wrong with that. The bulk of life consists of competently handling safe, manageable tasks. A guarded, conservative approach, according to Poet Bryant, saves us the embarrassment of spitting out excess food. No one wants to be the young, red-faced bovine mishandling his first cud.

Every once in a while, though, I recommend biting off more than you think you can chew. Be bold. Color outside the lines. Choose a task that awakens your butterflies, dilates your pupils, and tightens your sphincter. 

A few months ago, I was approached by Erika, a friend who shares a common Christian faith. That, and a love for Mexican food, is about all we share. (I’ve also shared carne asada and a hot tub with her padre, Flavio, in northern California, but that’s a different blog.) 

Erika is an energetic, Hispanic Pocahontas. I am a sluggish, Caucasian Captain John Smith. Erika is a young, flexible teacher of yoga. I am an old, frangible writer of blogs. Erika is short, thin, brown-skinned and fit. I’m the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. Erika is married to Kevin, a bearded outdoorsman cut from Duck Dynasty cloth. I’m married to Janet, a beardless crocheter. Erika doesn’t hike. I’ve done some hiking. We’re different.

Erika wanted to go on a challenging hike—to bite off a little more than she could safely chew. The kind of hike that, if accomplished, she would never forget. A trek that would, at first thought, awaken our butterflies, dilate our pupils, and tighten our sphincters. Rejecting Poet Bryant’s advice, Erika wanted to throw caution to the wind and venture out into the wilderness. She had entered my wheelhouse.

Joining us as charter members of the Eastside Striders were Brian, Valerie, and Bri Wininger—one half of a sweet, home-schooling family from our congregation. Unlike Erika, they had done a fair amount of hiking, though nothing north of 10 or 11 miles.

It fell on me, Fob W. Pot, to choose our route. I wanted a Smoky Mountains hike that would be long, physically challenging, and would reward us with stunning, panoramic vistas, lots of rushing water, and some time on my beloved Appalachian Trail. Our chosen trek would begin with a nearly 6-mile, 3500-foot ascent, followed by 10 miles across and down a ridge, which would add up to 9+ hours of hiking and over 40,000 steps! Chew on that cud! 

We made it to the Cades Cove parking lot by 8:05 a.m. on Saturday, October 3^rd, 2020. We walked over to the picnic area restrooms and I discovered that the restroom door I had entered on my previous visit had a picture of a woman in a skirt next to it. To the woman who was in the stall next to me, in case you ever read this, I sincerely apologize for my creepy behavior.

We, the Eastside Striders, said a prayer and were on the Anthony Creek Trail by 8:15 a.m. As the designated tour guide, I knew that we needed to keep moving at a decent clip to finish before dark. Within the first few hundred yards, I realized that wasn’t going to happen. After about three minutes of hiking, Erika stopped to bond with a butterfly and collect the first of a dozen or so colorful Fall leaves she would adorn herself with. Brian released the first of several dozen booming, mountain-shaking belches. Meanwhile, teenager Bri posed for scenic photo shoots and Valerie stopped to listen to and identify birds. Based on our pace over the first half mile, I calculated we would finish our hike by Thanksgiving.

I exhorted our crew with a cry of “Vamanos, por favor!” After being informed the “V” is silent, I started calling Valerie “Alerie” and that stuck as her trail name. We eventually got into our hiking groove and began the 5-mile ascent along the Anthony Creek and Bote Mountain trails to the Appalachian Trail. Along the way, we talked. By that, I mean Erika talked. Erika has a lot to say and makes a point to say it all. She learned to talk shortly after exiting the birth canal and hasn’t stopped. Fortunately, she’s interesting. I learned Mexican history and several Hispanic words, including “Órale!” (an exclamation expressing approval or encouragement) which, for the rest of the day, I unfortunately pronounced “Orajel!” (a pain relief gel for severe toothache). 

As we hiked, I watched Erika and Bri stop at interesting rocks and downed tree limbs to raise their legs above their head because…well…they can. In 2000+ miles of hiking the AT, I can’t recall a single time a fellow hiker stopped, looked at me, and then raised his hiking boot over his head. Yoga people are odd.  

I was also asked to lead us in several mini “dance parties” featuring songs from Queen, Prince, and The Greatest Showman soundtrack. Yes, rather than complain about the long, arduous climb to the top, we partied like it was 1999. Never a dull moment with this crew.

After a few hours of hiking, singing, dancing, panting, navigating rhododendron tunnels, and listening to Brian belch, we arrived at the AT and turned left (AT North). Had this been June, we would have been overwhelmed with the most spectacular display of mountain laurel on Planet Earth. Even in October, the grassy pastures, shade trees, and variety of flora and fauna were reminders of a loving, Creator God. 

Arriving at a particularly scenic spot along the ridge, I informed the group it was break time and that Fob wanted to take a short AT nap. Ten seconds into my nap, I heard “dog pile!” and soon felt Erika (aka Loca Leaf Catcher) and Bri (aka Panting Puppy) crowding my personal space and wanting to play. After a few more yoga poses and photos and a handful of Swedish fish and beef jerky, we continued our journey northward.

About a mile and a few more ups and downs later, we reached the summit of Rocky Top, a rocky peak along Thunderhead Mountain. How appropriate that as I rested along the rocks and sang Rocky Top, the Tennessee fight song, the Volunteers were in the second quarter of their game against Missouri. We took in the views of Fontana Lake, Shuckstack Fire Tower, Clingmans Dome, and Mount LeConte, ate lunch, and visited with a handful of other hikers enjoying the rocky summit. 

After a half hour enjoying each other’s company and God’s magnificent creation, we began our descent off Rocky Top. Brian motivated us with another in his repertoire of ear-splitting belches. Alerie called him the “Belchin’ Yeti” but I misunderstood her so he ended up with the trail name, “Belgian Yeti.”

We made a quick detour over to the Spence Field Shelter so the ladies could experience the joys of an AT privy (outhouse). Then we traveled three mostly flat miles along the AT, highlighted by more yoga posing, mushroom sightings, bird identification, and dance parties. By the time we reached the Russell Field Shelter, which sits right along the AT, we were exhausted. I know this because Erika had (momentarily) stopped talking. After visiting with some section hikers at the shelter, we began the 5.1-mile descent back to Cades Cove.

Our descent was notable for what didn’t take place—complaining. Yes, we were tired and aching. Our legs were wobbly. Our armpits were clammy. My feet were mostly numb. We reeked of sweat and beef jerky. We were ready to be done. But we didn’t complain. I love that. I have a deep respect for any person or group of people who have every right to complain—to moan about their circumstances—but choose not to. Complaining is contagious. So is having a good attitude. This group chose the latter approach and, by doing so, passed the most important test of the day.

My take-aways…

1. Don’t enter a restroom if there’s a picture of a lady in a skirt by the door.
2. Life is about the journey, so try some yoga poses, listen for birds, collect pretty leaves, and have a dance party or two.
3. Appreciate Christian friends. You’ll need their encouragement to finish life’s journey…and they’ll need yours.
4. Don’t complain.
5. Once in a while, bite off more than you can chew. Those bites are the ones you’ll remember.