Lightning flickered and thunder rumbled again. The Parkers said good-bye to the bug catcher and hustled up the trail. They arrived at the parking lot just as the storm eased up. Morgan, James, Mom, and Dad looked at the steamy, wet asphalt walkway leading up to Clingmans Dome.

  Dad checked his watch and the brightening sky. “It’s noon,” he announced. “Shall we?”

  Morgan, James, Mom, and Dad walked quickly up the trail. The sun was peeking through where they were, but clouds and fog still clung tightly to the summit ahead.

  Soon they approached a circular, raised cement walkway leading to a round tower. The family wound their way toward the top.

  “It looks like we’re heading into a UFO,” Morgan joked.

  “Or a ride at Disneyland,” Mom added.

  The Parkers stepped onto the tower at Clingmans Dome. Signs posted along the viewing platform pointed out mountains in the distance. But all the family could see were clouds being whipped across the horizon.

  “I guess we’re supposed to see out there,” James commented.

  “What we can see up close, though, is interesting enough,” Mom said. “Look at all those dead trees.”

  “It looks like a ghost forest,” Dad said.

  “Why are the trees all dying?” Morgan asked.

  “I heard,” Mom replied, “that an insect called the balsam woolly adelgid is killing them. Also, acid rain and pollution are adding to the problem.”

  ACID RAIN

  Rainfall in the Great Smoky Mountains is five to ten times more acidic than normal rainwater. This can harm the park’s plants and animals. Clouds hanging over the spruce-fir forests around Clingmans Dome, the highest peak in the Great Smoky Mountains, can be as acidic as vinegar. Acid rain can also fall out of the atmosphere as a dry deposit of tiny particles. Coal-burning power plants and emissions from cars in large cities nearby are the main causes of acid rain in the park.

  Dad looked at the large raindrops beginning to plunk onto the dying forest. “We should get off this peak now.”

  Morgan, James, Mom, and Dad jogged the half mile down to the parking lot. The shuttle was waiting when they arrived.

  The driver rolled down her window. “Hop in!” she called out. The Parkers piled into van, and the driver took off to Newfound Gap.

  “It’s not even raining down here,” James noticed.

  The driver smiled. “Oh, I’m sure it will be, real soon.”

  7

  A few minutes later, the Parkers arrived at Newfound Gap.

  Morgan, James, Mom, and Dad piled out of the shuttle and grabbed their backpacks.

  “Three days of backpacking to our car waiting at Cosby,” James announced.

  “Can you deliver a pizza out to the Icewater Spring shelter tonight?” Dad joked.

  The driver smiled and then pointed to the clouds. “You better get going,” she suggested.

  First the family wandered over to a large stone memorial.

  “It’s a statue of Franklin Delano Roosevelt,” Morgan realized. She looked at the sign with the picture of the former president giving his dedication speech. Morgan closed her eyes and imagined herself there, standing next to her great-grandfather, who wore CCC work clothes.

  Dad cleared his throat and began reading from the information plaque in a bold, presidential voice. “We meet today to dedicate the mountains, streams, and forests to the service of the American people…”

  Morgan opened her eyes. “You sounded very dignified,” she complimented him.

  Dad stood up tall. “Maybe it’s time for me to make a run for office.” Then Dad laughed. “Or not!”

  Finally the Parkers walked over to the trail. Morgan took several pictures of her family at the mileage sign.

  “The Appalachian Trail at last,” Dad announced. “At least a small part of it.”

  “How long is the whole thing?” James asked.

  “Over 2,100 miles,” Dad answered. “And it goes through fourteen states, from Georgia all the way to Maine.”

  Morgan stopped and looked at her father. “Fourteen states?”

  “Yep,” Dad answered. “But don’t think our short trek is going to be easy. The trail through the Smokies is supposed to be rough and remote.”

  The Parkers began their journey. “What are those white marks on the trees for?” Morgan asked.

  “I think,” Dad replied, “those marks show we’re on the AT Trail.”

  “You mean they have them all the way to Maine?” James asked.

  “All the way,” Dad said. “Consider them our escorts.”

  “As well as these delicate bouquets of bluish lavender flowers,” Mom added. “They seem to be lining our path.”

  Mom pulled a laminated wildflower sheet out of her pack. She studied it for a minute while glancing at the flowers. “I think they’re thyme-leaved bluets,” Mom announced. “They bloom in June in the high elevations of the park.”

  The trail followed the ridge of the mountains with views into deep wooded valleys far below.

  “At least we don’t have to carry our tents,” James said.

  The Parkers got into the rhythm of the hike. The high alpine forest was full of ferns, mosses, and dense underbrush. Clouds drifted by and engulfed the forest as they traveled.

  At 1.7 miles they reached the junction to the Kephart Trail. Morgan slipped off her backpack. “Can I rest a minute?” she asked. She put her pack against a tree and plopped down on a rock. Morgan wiped some sweat off her forehead, then scratched the back of her head and neck. I’m still itchy from that tick, she thought. Then she remembered their picnic in the grass at Andrews Bald a few hours ago. Morgan quickly stood up. That’s weird. My legs and back are sore, she realized.

  Dark clouds continued to drift about. At times it seemed late in the day, but then the sun would poke through and the forest would quickly brighten up.

  Mom passed James some trail mix. He grabbed a handful then passed the bag to Morgan.

  “No, thanks,” Morgan replied while scratching under her arm.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance.

  “Come on,” Dad called out. “I think our shelter is calling us.”

  Morgan, James, Mom, and Dad put their parkas back on. They hustled along as rain began to plunk down. Their feet squished along the wet, soggy trail.

  Soon they passed the Boulevard Trail junction.

  A short while later they came to a shelter just off the trail. It was in an open area, clear of trees. “It’s like a miniature bald here,” Mom said.

  The Parkers hurried out of the rain and into the three-sided structure. They placed their packs against two large wooden shelves near the back. “Welcome to Icewater Spring shelter, our home for the night,” Dad announced.

  Morgan, James, Mom, and Dad started unpacking. “Where do we sleep?” James asked.

  Mom looked around. She gestured to the two wooden shelves. “On those, I’m sure.”

  “Really?” Morgan asked.

  “Don’t worry,” Dad said. “With our mattress pads, camping pillows, and sleeping bags, we’ll have all the comforts of home. And,” Dad said, pointing to a bench with a thin wooden slab above it, “we can cook over here and still stay dry out of the rain.”

  8

  The Parkers set up for their night at the shelter.

  Mom strung up a clothesline. “That way, even if it’s raining, at least we’ll start tomorrow in dry clothes,” she explained.

  Meanwhile, Morgan and James blew up the air mattresses and placed them side by side on the lower wooden slot. They fluffed up their sleeping bags and pillows and spread them out on top of the mattresses.

  Dad boiled a pot of water on the wooden board above the bench. He added several bags of ramen noodles, then mixed in some dried vegetables and tofu.

  Morgan, James, and Mom joined Dad. The four of them sat down and watched the rain drip while their pot of soup cooked.

  James looked at the gear spread out in their corner of the sleeping area. “I wonder if we’re going to be the only ones here tonight.”

  “Well, there’s supposedly room for twelve,” Mom said. “But maybe the weather will keep a few people away. Either way, we’ll make it work.”

  Dad lifted up some ramen with his fork and tasted it. “It’s ready,” he announced, then dished the soup into their plastic bowls.

  James took a sip of the hot, savory dinner. “It’s perfect.”

  “I agree,” Mom acknowledged. “But I think we’re biased toward the cook.”

  “Biased toward the cook?” James inquired.

  Mom smiled. “It means that since we like Dad, we’re naturally going to prefer his cooking.”

  Mom passed around some crackers to go with the soup. Afterward, James found the bag of chocolate chip cookies for dessert.

  They passed the cookies back and forth while staring at the wet forest. Morgan didn’t take any.

  Rain continued to drip down, but it had eased up a bit. In the distant sky a brief burst of sunlight illuminated the horizon.

  Other hikers had now made it to the shelter. They, too, had set up their gear, hung up clothes to dry, and were preparing dinner.

  Morgan looked back at all the camping gear strewn about. She counted the sleeping bags. “It looks like there are ten people staying here tonight.”

  Dad noticed how dark it was becoming. “Let’s get everything cleaned up and put away now, okay?”

  “And then,” Mom added, “once we’re all tucked in, I’ve got another journal entry to read.”

  Dad cleaned the dishes and put away the stove. Mom joined James and Morgan to filter water. Meanwhile, Dad took all the food and scented items and placed them in their stuff sacks. He walked over to the bear cables and clipped the sacks in. Then Dad hoisted the stuff sacks high up off the ground.

  Dad walked back to the shelter. Morgan, James, and Mom were already snug in their sleeping bags, each wearing a headlamp.

  Then Dad slithered into his own bag. Once he was comfortable, Mom opened the journal to a marked page and read.

  July 27, 1939

  Max Davis here.

  It’s the summer o f 1939. I’m spending another season in the wilder ness building trails in the park.

  Our base camp is NP-5, or “Camp Kephart Prong.” It isn’t a bad place to be, but sometimes we’re lucky enough to get shipped over to Cades Cove.

  Yesterday we had one of those days. The fellas and I played some softball. Afterward, we got in some billiards, but I lost to Freckles. At the end of the day I checked out a few books at the library, took in a show at the minstrel house, and even got a rare hot shower (it had been a few weeks!).

  But now we’re back clearing a trail right out of the mountain high above where we’re camped.

  “Wait a minute!” James whispered. He sat up and reached for his pack. James pulled out his park map and unfolded it. “We passed Kephart junction today.” James shone his headlamp on the map.

  “There’s Kephart Camp!” Morgan said.

  “So somewhere down there, my grandfather camped with the CCC,” Mom realized.

  “That means,” Dad added, “that the section of trail we’re on just might be the part he cleared.”

  The Parkers heard a few people turning over in their sleeping bags. Morgan looked outside. It was now pitch black.

  “Maybe I should put the journal away for now,” Mom said.

  James lay back down. “Can’t you just finish this page?”

  Mom looked around at the dark shelter full of hikers trying to sleep. “I’d better not,” she whispered.

  Morgan, James, Mom, and Dad turned out their lights and slid deeper into their sleeping bags. Somewhere on the other end of the room, a person was snoring lightly. James looked at Morgan and grinned, but she couldn’t see him in the dark.

  Drips of rain pattered down on the metal roof. Tiny scratching sounds came from somewhere. And now, several people were snoring.

  Eventually, each of the Parkers drifted off to sleep.

  At some point, James felt something tickle the top of his feet. Then, a small, scratchy feeling crept up his legs. Is there something alive in my bag? he wondered.

  James lay still. He listened to Morgan next to him. Her breathing told James she was sleeping.

  Suddenly, James felt something tiny hop off his sleeping bag and land on his chest. James carefully reached back and grabbed his headlamp. He turned it on and held it up.

  A tiny mouse was staring right at him. “Ahh!” James shrieked while swatting at the mouse.

  The rodent dashed back the way it came. James shook his whole body and bumped into Morgan, who rolled into Mom and Dad. Now all four Parkers were awake.

  Dad looked over at James. “What happened?”

  “A mouse was on me!” James exclaimed.

  “Where is it now?” Mom asked.

  “It ran away,” James answered.

  Mom searched with her headlamp, but she couldn’t find the mouse.

  James scrunched deeper into his sleeping bag. It took a while, but eventually James went back to sleep.

  Sometime later, Morgan woke up. She tried to concentrate on any sounds a mouse might make while scratching its way through holes in the wood. But nothing sounded like a mouse. Morgan did hear her own heavy breathing. Do I have asthma? she worried.

  Morgan rolled onto her stomach and noticed how achy her body felt. She peered outside through the opening at the front of the shelter. It was still pitch black, clammy, and wet outside. But Morgan couldn’t tell if it was raining or not.

  Morgan felt something itchy near her neck and shoulders.

  She scratched herself. I bet I look like a cat itching a flea, she thought.

  But the itching didn’t go away. Morgan scratched harder. “Get off me!” she gasped.

  Mom rolled over and flicked on her headlamp.

  “I think there’s another tick on me,” Morgan whispered.

  “Lean your head over here,” Mom directed her.

  Mom shone the light on Morgan and sifted through her hair. But she couldn’t see anything.

  “Is everything okay?” Dad asked.

  “No!” Morgan called out.

  Several people in the shelter shifted around in their sleeping bags.

  “Let’s walk outside so we don’t bother anyone,” Mom said.

  Mom put on her headlamp and grabbed her day pack. Morgan and Mom slipped into their shoes and jackets and walked away from the shelter. The rain had stopped, but everything was muddy and wet. Morgan looked up but couldn’t see any stars.

  “Turn around,” Mom directed Morgan.

  Mom carefully checked through Morgan’s hair. “Aha!” she declared.

  “What?”

  “You’ve got another tick back here.”

  “I thought so,” Morgan gulped.

  “Hold still, honey,” Mom said.

  “Why me?” Morgan asked. She thought again about the picnic at Andrews Bald. “Do you think it’s because we were lying down in the grass?”

  “It might have gotten caught in your long hair,” Mom replied. “But the rest of us could have ticks too. We’ll have to do another complete tick check in the morning.”

  Mom brushed Morgan’s hair aside. “Oh, no,” she said.

  “What?”

  “It’s engorged,” Mom replied.

  “What’s that mean?” Morgan asked nervously.

  “It means,” Mom explained, “it’s been feeding on you. And it’s filled with your blood.”

  “Yuck!” Morgan shuddered nervously. “Can you get it off me? Fast?”

  “I have to do it carefully,” Mom replied. “Otherwise it can get stuck inside you. And get you sick.”

  I wonder if I’m sick already, Morgan thought.

  Mom reached over to her day pack. She pulled out the first-aid kit and fished through it. “I knew these would come in handy someday,” she said, holding out a pair of tweezers. “Hold still, Morgan.”

  Morgan grimaced as Mom, like a surgeon, slowly moved the tweezers closer to the tick. “Okay, here goes.”

  Morgan looked at the ground. “It’s like I’m having an operation,” she observed.

  Mom placed the tweezers around the tick’s head. She gently but firmly pulled the tick out. “Got it!”

  Morgan looked at Mom. “So it’s all gone?”

  “All gone,” Mom confirmed.

  Mom used a bacterial pad to clean off Morgan’s tick bite. By then dawn was breaking and rays of sun were poking above the horizon to the east. “Well at least the day’s going to start out sunny,” Mom said.

  Morgan and Mom walked back into the shelter. James and Dad were lying there awake. “Where have you been?” James asked.

  “Mom had to operate and get a tick out of me,” Morgan answered.

  9

  The Parkers walked off into the woods.

  Dad and James went in one direction and Morgan and Mom in the other. They worked in pairs to check for ticks on each other. They put on clean clothes and wrapped their dirty ones in garbage bags, then met back at the shelter.

  “We didn’t find any others right now,” Mom reported. “But we should check again later.”

  “We should also tuck our pant legs into our socks and wear long sleeves,” Dad added. “That way our skin is almost all covered.”

  “And I’m putting my hair in a ponytail,” Morgan chimed in.

  The Parkers ate breakfast and finished packing.

  Morgan took a picture of her family posed in front of the shelter before they took off on the trail.

  The path, like on the day before, followed a ridgeline with steep drop-offs in both directions. Dad gazed down at a valley far below. “And I always thought the Appalachian Mountains weren’t rugged,” he said. “Now I know that’s not true.”

  The Parkers trekked on. The sun was shining, and it was pleasantly cool and dry.

  Morgan’s leg muscles felt funny. She stopped hiking and shook her legs out. Then Morgan leaned over and tried to calm her breathing. Dad came up to her. “Are you okay?” he asked.

 

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