I had a head full of dreams and sleep still clinging to my eyes when Nidhi nudged me It’s already 5:45! I leapt out of bed, chasing visions of bears and strong morning coffee as we hit the road for our early hike in the Smokies.
By 6:30 AM, we rolled past the Cades Cove Visitor Center, only to see a line of cars already queuing up. The loop here is a well known 11-mile one way scenic drive through wide Tennessee meadows, dotted with historic cabins and country churches more than a century old.
Being in a bit of a hurry, I casually pointed out a few cars parked along the side. No one paid much attention we were all too focused on reaching the Abrams Falls trail. The drive, however, quickly turned into an exercise in patience. Despite posted signs urging folks to use pull-outs and not block traffic, we saw plenty of folks in lawn chairs in the backs of pickups, leisurely inching along at 5 MPH like it was a Sunday parade.
After nearly 50 minutes of slow crawl, we finally reached the Abrams Falls trailhead only to be hit with a curveball. A sign informed us we needed a parking tag displayed on our dashboard. But there were no kiosks nearby. That’s when it hit me we were supposed to pick those up at the Visitor Center the very one we drove past at the start.
No, no, no, I groaned. We debated risking it but decided not to tempt a rental car fine (those things multiply faster than rabbits). I felt dejected, but then—hope! I found another visitor center just a mile down the road. We zipped over, only to discover it wouldn’t open until 9 AM… and no kiosks in sight.
Figure 1: White bush tailed deer, Cades Cove
So, with spirits slightly bruised but not broken, we steeled ourselves and decided to loop back around Cades Cove again. However, luck was on our side, the loop delivered: white-tailed deer, a pair of black bear cubs ambling near the brush, a few turkeys strutting about, and what we think was a fox darting off into the woods. Fueled by the excitement, we returned back to the Abrams Falls trail, this time legally parked and ready.
Buzzing with energy, I decided to hike ahead of the group to burn off some restlessness. Around 0.7 miles in, I waited near a stream and hopped onto some rocks. A couple nearby asked me to take their picture, and as I obliged, and without watching my footing, my sneaker hit slick moss, and I went down hard.
Next thing I knew, I was underwater—fully submerged in a five-foot-deep stream. My knees were scraped, my wallet and iPhone soaked, and my pride bruised… but thankfully, my head spared.
Figure 2: Drying up, Abrams Falls
Gripping onto a rock, I pulled myself up and rejoined the group, dripping wet but mostly intact. Abhai came to the rescue with a hiking-pack Bengay, which gave instant relief to my throbbing knees.
Figure 3: Single log bridges, Abrams Falls Trail
The trail to Abrams Falls was narrow, wooden-log bridges spanning the creek. When we finally reached the falls, it was worth every bump and bruise.
Figure 4: Abrams Falls, Cade Cove, Smokies NP
The cascade was thunderous and powerful. We snapped our well-earned photos and trekked the 2.5 miles back, stomachs now growling louder than the falls.
Figure 5: Truffle Fries and Belgian Ale, Peaceful Side SOCIAL, Townsend
We drove straight to Peaceful Side SOCIAL in Townsend for lunch. The air was filled with mouthwatering aromas, and we didn’t hold back—buffalo chicken and Italian veggie pizzas, truffle fries (because why not?), and cold Belgian beers and kombucha. I even picked up dry socks at a nearby gas station. Wined, dined, and dried—we were back in action.
Figure 6: Spirits high, Kuwohi viewpoint, Smokies NP
Next stop? Kuwohi (formerly Clingman’s Dome), the highest point in the Smokies. Mitu suggested it, and two hours later, we were there. A brief parking scare proved unfounded, and we started up the surprisingly steep paved trail. Huffing and puffing, we made it to the top, rewarded by sweeping 360-degree views. The skeletal trees bore signs of acid rain. Mother Nature’s quiet reminder of our responsibilities.
As the sun began to dip, we headed back to camp, detouring through Pigeon Forge for some tasty Mexican takeout. Abhai also discovered a Mexican-style boba milk that hit the spot. While the girls picked up more wine, Abhai and I chilled in the car, Coke Studio songs playing in the background.
Back at camp, we laid out our feast—chicken fajitas under the stars. Abhai whipped up some perfect S’mores by the fire, and we struck up a conversation with a friendly couple from Atlanta: Shranek and his wife, second-generation Indian Americans who shared stories of their parents’ immigration in the ’70s.
A curious skunk gave us a little scare, but the fireflies dancing through the trees made up for it.
Another day, another story—and this one had everything: bears, falls, falls, and fajitas. We were living the Smoky Mountain dream, y’all.