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We arrived and washed up - a hot water tap on the dining hall building exterior wall filled out kettle and we used a wash pan in the cabin to get cleaned up. Construction of the lodge was begun in 1926, before the National Park even existed, and consists of numerous single-room cabins, a couple two bedroom cabins, a dining hall, common area, and staff/utility cabins. The cabins are furnished with a big bunk bed, table, chair, and propane heater. The weather was pretty mild, perhaps 55 degrees up top, and so the pilot light of the heater kept our cabin plenty warm throughout our stay. The cabins, while charming in their own way, are hardly the place to spend any more than sleeping time. They’ve only two small windows, and so we went to the dining hall for some hot chocolate, and then to the lodge (”common cabin,” of sorts). With its new skylights, this was the place to burn time before dinner. We played a few hands of rummy and made our way to the dining hall where the usual menu awaited us. They serve the same thing each year at LeConte Lodge, yet it’s still as delicious and satisfying as it was the first year I attended. A bowl of vegetable soup (which was thicker this year), cornbread, mystery meat with gravy, mashed potatos, green beans, a canned peach (or apricot?) slice, and a cookie, all served family style. The four of us were the only ones at our table, which seated eight, so there was more than enough to eat. Stuffed, Glenn, Scott, and I emerged and made tracks for the Clifftops, an area about a half mile out of the camp that overlooks the mountains beneath us - Mt. LeConte is one of the Smoky’s highest peaks. Upon arrival we found the sky cloudy - clearly there would be no spectacular sunset tonight. Still, it was worth the hike. Gatlinburg was just visible over the ridge to the north, and the rest of the park lay sprawled out before us. As time passed the sky cleared somewhat, but it was too little too late; the sun had already sunk. We stumbled back down the moonlit rocky trail toward the lodge and played several more hands of rummy with our dad, receiving periodic score updates on the Georgia/Arkansas game from Glenn. At 10:30pm I was in bed. We rose for breakfast at 8am to find the camp completely socked in. Thick clouds clogged the walkways and put a somber mood on; it had rained during the night, too. There’s a reason they’re called the Great Smoky Mountains. Breakfast, too, never changes at LeConte Lodge: Tang(tm), tasty pancakes, eggs, Canadian bacon, grits, and biscuits. This time with two seats empty at our table we ate well and were back on the trail in lightly drizzling rain by 9am. I had been hoping to capture some of the beatiful vistas on my film camera on the way down, but clouds shrouded the mountain the whole way. Only once did we get a glimpse of the ridges below. I settled for a nauseating number of long-exposure water shots down in the last mile of the trail before the parking lot. We were at the cars in a little over two hours.

As much as this trip stays the same each year, it’s still a pleasure - one of my favorite traditions. I never tire of the sights on the Alum Cave Bluffs Trail: from its rhododendron-rounding, creek-paralleling low sections to the rugged cliff-clutching portions that feel like they could scratch the sky, to a tunnel of evergreens (the best-smelling portion of the trail) that tells you you’re minutes from hot chocolate in the dining hall. Predictable? Yes, with the exception of the weather. Still, LeConte Lodge is like that good book you love to read over and over and over. Its pages are worn from use - soft on fingers, hard on feet.