It has probably been twenty years since I wandered into this place. I remember going in there with Wendi and we hiked a good loop and spent the night somewhere. When a break in this usual January dreariness happened, I wished to go outside the Smokies and this was the result.
Comes by the name honestly. It was cold but sunny. The wind was consistent as we embarked along what ended up being 1800 feet of climbing in about 3.5 miles.
I knew that I could conscript Laurel with a hound friendly area.
I was reminded of the regional beauty of Wartburg. Proximity to Knoxville is one hour from downtown and it was the opposite direction of Maryville. I drive to Maryville daily and any opportunity to go in another direction is appreciated.
It was a climb, though and my thighs remembered the joys of toting a true Highlander pack. Still we found solitude and a fantastic campsite high along a 4000 foot ridge.
By now the wind had increased and as Laurel set up the tent, I walked about in search of the two W’s, water and wood. The latter was no trouble, this spot had obviously seen no action in months. Water took some walking. But it was there as well.
You see strange things in the backcountry. I guess Indians were on our trail.
Good thing we had hound protection. It was a bit chilly for Longstreet so he took to running the hills till he figured supper time approached.
Not much on the wood gathering, this mutt, though.
Sunset was amazing and we braved the wind to soak in full effect.
So pervasive was the wind, our fire conferred little benefit. Longstreet chilled down some.
At about 7 pm, the hound decided it was time for everyone to bed down. Problem was, we were not ready. All I could see were his eyes glowing in the dark over by the tent, where he wished to escape the wind. The temperature was in the high twenties and you could certainly feel it.
Wasn’t that a bodacious sunset?
After a one dog night, wherein the hound crawled into a sleeping bag, (and not with me, I might emphatically interject) Sunday morning rolled in with snow flurries. We hurriedly packed in hopes of catching the buffet at Bombay, Knoxville’s best Indian Restaurant.
And with that, we concluded our ascent in Frozen Head with frozen hands and feet. However, there was one sad reminder of things. I can’t seem to escape it.
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