Middle Crag gully

I want this one to remain enshrouded in thick Smokies fog. We descended a gully that drops a thousand feet in a quarter of a mile. I slid down a good part of it on the seat of my pants (I worried that embarrassing rips in the fabric might occur, but they didn’t). We dropped down fast, and the front member of our party would call out, “Watch out! Twenty foot drop!” We clung to the branches of aromatic Rhododendron minus, and we were surrounded by the pale purple blossoms of Rhododendron cawtabiense. We plunged into deep cushions of moss saturated with water—I sent up a big splash as I landed in these deep green pockets, which caused my companions much mirth. It was the “Ogle Water Park” hike. These experiences are nearly beyond description—but I try.

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