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On Tuesday, we drove up Big Cove Road in Cherokee to Indian Creek Campground, a private campground where the four of us got hot showers for $20. From there, we took in the Museum of the Cherokee Indian. Their's is a fascinating, but depressing, story. While much of the Cherokee tribe was relocated via the Trail of Tears to what is now Oklahoma, the Eastern band of Cherokee were farmers who assimilated with White settlers and they were allowed to stay. Even still, they suffered the effects of years of racism and unfair treatment under the law. I left thinking that the White race has much to learn from the simple and purposeful lives of the Cherokee.
After the museum, we visited the Qualla Arts Collective to see craft work by local native artisans. There were stunning pieces of all types, including baskets, pottery and beadwork. We drove to Bryson City for lunch, but we arrived at 2 PM, too late for the Everett Diner. So we ate at Loretta's Snak Shack across the street.
From there we drove to Cove Creek on the eastern edge of the national park. From there we took a sketchy gravel mountain road over a pass to descend into the Cataloochee Valley. Park literature suggested we might find elk there. Did we ever! We saw dozens.
At the base of the valley, there is a National park Service campground. Farther down the road are several large meadows that the elk frequent. We arrived in late afternoon, but many people arrived after we did, so perhaps it's a sunset phenomienon. We jad several good sightings and even heard a few bugle calls.
After this we took a beautiful late day drive on the last 14 miles of the Blue Ridge Parkway. We made a quick stop at the Cherokee Welcome Center to check in and then headed back to Smokemont. It was much quieter that evening as many of the campers returned home.
Smokemont was fine for the most part, and it served our needs as a base of operations. That said, as a campground it would have benefited from a few relatively minor improvements. Each site had its own paved driveway. This caused much confusion, however. Each driveway was clearly marked at the east end of the site, but was your site to the right or the left of the sign? We saw many campers park on the actual site because they couldn't determine the correct driveway. If a camper took the wrong road, or traveled in the wrong direction, they couldn't find their site at all. That got a bit old after three nights.
There was vitually no ranger presence in the campground. In our six days staying at Smokemont, I saw a ranger patrolling only once. Many campers arrived after after quiet hours (10 PM), although only the Jackass Family of Virginia arrived at 2 AM.
No showers at the campground—okay, I knew that when I booked the campground, but NO hot water in the bathrooms? No soap dispensers? No recycling wither, so we adapted by bringing our recyclables to Bryson City. The sites had lots of shade due to old-growth trees and a high, leafy, canopy. However, there was no provacy between sites. I prefer wooded sites with at least a little green to define boundaries between sites.
On the plus side, the sites were generous and each had a tent pad with fine gravel for good drainage. In addition, the park's stables near the entrance sold large $6 bags of firewood (we used 2 in six days) and $3 bags of ice.
—SBW