Are Smoky Mountain lodges really that bad?

Leaving Smokey Mountain National Park, I’ve been thinking about how the experience compares to everything I heard beforehand:

«Prepare to climb.»

«There are bears everywhere.»

«The climate changes rapidly.»

And above all:

«Don’t forget the earplugs.»

In the Smokies, it is a requirement that hikers camp not only in shelters, but inside them. Hikers can only camp outside if the shelter is already full. Which means two things:

A) You are sleeping on a hard wooden platform.

B) You are surrounded by complete strangers, shoulder to shoulder.

night one

I came in the first night thinking it wouldn’t be that bad. After all, it was supposed to be below freezing and the shelter would provide some protection. I wore my half-length pad under my torso and covered myself with the top and bottom pads. Lying on my back in corpse position, I slept my first few minutes of the night.

Then I woke up. The snoring had started.

Not just snoring: gargling, choking, deep, guttural noises coming from all directions. It echoed through the shelter like some kind of cursed orchestra. My body shivered from the cold, so I pulled my knees closer to my chest in an effort to consolidate the heat. I dropped to the left side, then to the right, then to the left again. A few more hours of this torture passed until I again fell asleep for just a few minutes.

View from my sleeping spot on the top bunk

At one point, I seriously considered getting up and going for a night walk. I decided against it and curled up on the padding of my torso, knees pulled up to my chest, hands tucked between my legs, and a shoe as a makeshift pillow. The snoring echoed through the shelter and I could feel its vibrations in my bones.

Tonight was comically bad. I don’t want to be dramatic, but it could have been the worst thing in my life.

Learn to adapt

The next three nights I adjusted. I started arriving late on purpose, looking for full shelters so I could set up outside.

The second night I was in my hammock. It was cold, but at least I could sleep.

On the third night, I arrived in Gatlinburg and split a room at the Days Inn motel with my two trail friends, Froggy and McRib. We had a hot shower, sink and breakfast at the hotel. It felt like a luxury.

Mini Golf in Gatlinburg

After that, we headed back to the hammock at Icewater Spring Shelter. The temperature was still cold, but bearable.

When I arrived at Cosby Knob, the last refuge in the Smokies, things were feeling a little chaotic again.

There were so many people that the tents were squeezed directly under the bear wires, and the toilet was… at full capacity. Fortunately, I had the flexibility to set up my hammock on uneven ground.

The reality

Overall, my stay in the Smokey Mountains was beautiful, cold, and memorable. The shelters? Yes, they can be tough.

But with a little strategy (and maybe some earplugs), it’s a stretch of trail worth savoring.

Summit of Mount Kuwohi with Froggy and McRib

Rose, Thorn, Bud

Pink

Being surrounded by hikers and tourists visiting SMNP was surprisingly pleasant. It provided a different attitude on the trail than when you’re surrounded by other hikers. Especially near Newfound Gap, the vibrations were high.

Reality sets in at Newfound Gap

Thorn

That first night at the shelter definitely wins the award for biggest thorn.

Outbreak

Hot springs, here I come! I’ll be taking my first cero (rest day) in this small trail town in North Carolina.

This website contains affiliate links, which means The Trek may receive a percentage of any products or services you purchase using links in articles or advertisements. The buyer pays the same price they would otherwise pay, and their purchase helps support The Trek’s ongoing goal of bringing you quality backpacking information and advice. Thank you for your support!

For more information, visit the About page of this site.