Caesars Head State Park
South Carolina
June 2001
Stepping off the Appalachian Trail at the Fork Ridge Trailhead after summiting Clingmans Dome, we decide to take a drive to the place where 99% of the people who visit Clingmans Dome begin their summit hike. This “trailhead” is three and a half miles to the end of the road where you will find the Visitors Information Center, the store, a large parking lot and the all-important public restrooms.
Folks who choose to start their summit hike here gain 332 feet by walking up Clingmans Dome Trail, essentially a sidewalk. When I see them at the top, I am reminded that America is getting fatter. Some of these tourists struggle and break a serious sweat on this very tame walkway. But at least they have done it and at least they are out here. Let’s give them that. I applaud you no matter how out of shape you are, when you get up off your voluminous tuches and move your body.
Five rangers hang out here at the Center. I know that a ton of activity goes on behind the scenes, and seeing a park ranger just sitting in a chair doesn’t look like working, but they could be in the midst of some very important business. I never want to give someone a hard time for taking a break when they do very important business. I also want to be careful about assumptions.
However… Four of the five rangers are clearly contributing to America’s growing statistics. Each one clearly outweighs most of the tourists. No matter how I try, I just can’t imagine these four effecting a rescue. I sincerely hope I’m wrong.
Rangers are well-trained. They study ecology, forestry, rescue procedures, archeology, landscape architecture, police activity and more. They have and learn many skills, all for the benefit of you and me. However…
I am reminded of a story told to me by a park ranger at Caesars Head State Park in South Carolina.
This ranger was young but experienced, in great shape and an excellent guide to the area. I asked her if she could recommend any hikes that we wouldn’t find on a map. She led me to one trail that wound down for several miles to a rocky outcrop with a sublime 25-foot waterfall. “Be sure to climb down under the falling water,” she instructed.
Her directions for my hike were flawless. Two miles in I found a way to get under the waterfall and there I discovered — remember, we’re in the backwoods of South Carolina — a still! Rubber hoses, metal beakers, a few small barrels and a fire ring. Moonshine, baby! Hooch! Not something you see every day on the trail. Not something you see every day.
We got to talking, the ranger and me. She told of the first time she had to perform a rescue. Seems a hiker had broken her ankle up on the mountain. The district had very few rangers on staff so when she needed a rescue team, she was instructed to call on the local volunteer fire department.
She put out the call and five volunteers met her at trailhead, by the road. When they emerged from their cars and pickup trucks, she saw more evidence of America growing fat. Her heart sank in expectation. But this was the crew she had so she tried to make the best of it. Besides, firefighting was a tough job and if these volunteers were able to do that, they should be able to climb a mountain and carry someone down.
She quickly reviewed procedure and assigned specific tasks. To see how they would do, she sent them up the mountain first, choosing to follow behind. By six hundred yards, she had passed every one of them. They were staggered by the side of the trail, huffing and wheezing. The guy who made it the farthest was leaning against a rock, sweating abundantly, smoking a cigarette.
Her immediate thought was that now, instead of one rescue, she would have six. She sent the volunteer rescuers back down to their vehicles, told them to summon an ambulance and, by herself, got the injured hiker down off the mountain and to safety.