Imagine for a moment being among the highest mountains in the world.In the distance, there stretches a seemingly endless sea of other tall peaks.Below, you can make out a temperate forest on the way down that gives way to a lush semitropical valley below.The valley is a deep shade of green that suggests it’s a place where all kinds of life thrive and adventures await.This place is the small Buddhist kingdom of Bhutan.
It’s a unique and fascinating country that, unfortunately, I’ve only seen in pictures.Sandwiched between China and India, it was almost entirely closed off to the world until the 1990s, when a new king decided that it was time to embrace some modern technology and have the country become a democracy.The government lifted a ban on television and the internet in 1999, and the country held its first elections just last year.Now, I’ve read that rap music can be heard on the streets of the capitol city and laptops had to be banned from their new parliament because lawmakers were caught playing computer games while in session.
The part of Bhutan’s story that’s really remarkable for me though, is their approach to economic development.As they take their first few steps into the modern world, they’re not rushing to adopt everything that we have.They seem to understand that doing this would bring the bad aspects of modernization in with the good.Instead, their government is working to develop an indicator of progress known as Gross National Happiness (GNH).
This measurement is supposed to contrast with the usual indicator of economic progress known as Gross Domestic Product (GDP), which measures the value of goods and services produced in a country.The idea is that high GDP doesn’t necessarily mean that a society is happy, and when we really think about it, happiness is what we want for our society.People have very different ideas about what that means, but most can agree on the goal.
Bhutan’s GNH rests on four pillars:
Equitable and sustainable socioeconomic development
Preservation and promotion of cultural values
Conservation of the natural environment
Establishment of good governance
As you can see, traditional GDP would be encompassed in the first pillar, so it does still play a role in the development of a country, especially a poor one.Research suggests that happiness in a society increases until the income per-person reaches about $10,000 (for comparison, income per-person in the U.S. is about $48,000).After that, becoming wealthier doesn’t really do much for the overall happiness of a society.This idea is backed up by surveys taken in the United States for decades that show that people now aren’t any more or less happy than they were in the 1970s.
I’m not saying that rich countries shouldn’t worry about economic growth.We can see now that negative growth is bad, and we need growth in the future to create jobs for our growing population.Ensuring that people have jobs is an important part of creating a happy society.
But perhaps some of the priorities that we focused on that led us into our current mess should be rethought.Maybe we shouldn’t just be obsessed with having a wealthier society as we were for a long time.Maybe we should be trying to have a happier society, as the Bhutanese are doing.Despite being a poor country, a study from the University of Leicester in England rated Bhutan as the happiest country in Asia and the 8th happiest in the world in 2006.
Of course, we can’t control how people choose to act in our society; a lot of happiness is determined by the general mood of a culture.But we can let this new attitude frame what we support and what we don’t.It may mean taking a different approach to our own lives, too; where we try not to become stressed-out and obsessed with money beyond what we need.Instead we focus on living the Simple Good Life, full of adventures, simple pleasures, and dreams of places like Bhutan.
I’m pleased to introduce the second author of this site: Nick Reksten. Nick is an American University economics graduate and Washington D.C. resident who’ll be keeping up with adventures in the northeast. I’m also considering him our official economy and sustainable development correspondent. He’s lived in London, romped around Europe and North Africa, gone through a harrowing adventure involving the Olympics, worked for the Japanese government and danced in nightclubs with me in New York. Nick definately brings a very different personality and voice to the Life of Adventure. You can read his own intro under on the AUTHORS page. Enjoy!
(Photos in this article must be clicked on to display, so those intending to try this route can enjoy the surprises I did.)
Since the Tour de Libraries, I’ve been looking for a partner to go with me to the Cat Stairs. But by Friday night, still no one is available. But as other plans fell through, I really need to be getting some experience hiking off trail. So I’m putting together a last minute plan that might seem a bit extreme.
I’m going alone into Huggins Hell, a nonglacial cirque (steep-walled mountain basin) off trail in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. I found this route in the secret book of this adventure series. It’s said to be extremely steep and remarkably rugged. As it’s off trail, a fall here that injures and limits mobility could be a death sentence, as you’d lie hours in the cold in a place where no one will find you. God only knows what’s out there, and its supposed to take 4 hours to climb the 2,200 feet to a final elevation of nearly 6,500 feet. All that rise, and only 1.5 miles of run. That’s a lot steeper than the Chimney Tops in Adventure #2, through thickets of dense rhododendron and slippery fallen rock.
The forecast is calling for a 22 degree low, and a high of 53. In the mountains, that’s going to be quite a bit colder, especially at elevation. But there will be over 11 hours of daylight, and I’m only in need of 8, if the book is correct. Of course, I have to get to the entrance first, which will require a bit of hiking on established trails.
I’m also still sick with a broken voice, cough and runny nose. Thus, I’m being told this is a stupid idea, but thankfully I’ve given up listening to such negative thinking.
Here’s what’s on my side. I’m an experienced hiker/climber. I’ve climbed straight up trail-less mountainsides in the backcountry of China near Tibet, and there’s no way this thing is going to be worse than that. It’s early enough to get plenty of sleep and be the trail almost at sunrise. I’m leaving directions to where I’m going with my roommates and instructions on when to call search and rescue should I not get them a message that I’m safe. Also, I have all the gear I need to mount a decent self rescue attempt or keep myself warm if I need to wait for help. For sustenance, I’m taking plenty of food and two liters of water, so shouldn’t run out of energy.
Any thought of not going with these precautions in place is just plain fear talking, and I’ll be having none of that.
Jing Jing plans the route
GETTING THERE
I’m not telling which trail leads to the entrance to Huggins Hell, but I did have to go about 1.5 miles to get to the start of the off route climb. The guidebook references Dante’s “Inferno,” even quoting in reference to this route: “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.” We’ll find out if this place is as bad as all that. I hope it is, because I want to see how far I can consciously push myself.
Appropriately, getting to hell requires going through a cave, just like in the Hades underworld myths. One must even cross the Styx. I’m not joking. Plus, it was brutally cold. I rarely hike when gloves, a hat and multiple hoods are required. The cold wind reminded me once again of the “Inferno” and I wondered if I’d find the devil beating his wings, encased in ice somewhere ahead. But I was too far to turn back. And that’s all you get to go on.
The cave to the underworld
Follow the Styx
HUGGINS HELL
I had been hoping for a dry stream bed to follow up the cut, but my heart sank momentarily when I saw instead a rushing torrent of freezing water, flowing down a steep gully whose sides were covered in ice. Adventures must go on. I needed only one slip, one bad footing to end up with a leg in the water, and that would be the humiliating end to my journey, as I would have no way of properly drying myself and continuing in the cold. I know what you’re thinking, but no, this doesn’t conclude with a swim.
It wasn’t until the stream began to fork many times that I doubted myself. I was assuming that it would only fork once, and very noticeably, as the guidebook suggested. One way is said to lead to the base of a cliff, a dead end; the other way is the ticket. But I was able to follow what seemed to be the main part of the stream, and every time the water percolated through the rock and became visible again, I decided I was going the right way, again as suggested by the guidebook. The stream of course went dry eventually, and beams of fallen wood closed in all around me. What was a stream turned into a steep slide, full of snow-covered slick rocks, pointy limbs and loose dirt covered by leaves.
I was amazed at how much I felt the sensation of climbing, rather than hiking. I clambored up loose rock, and scaled 45+ degree slopes by getting on all fours and leaning back with my weight over my toes. I grabbed hold of trees, roots and bits of rock and heaved myself up near 90 degree sections with my arms. I climbed onto fallen trunks and shimmied my way across to follow the best approach. I would look over my shoulder and feel 10 feet higher than the ground, knowing a long slide awaited me if I fell.
At one point, I was down to two Tee shirts, a hoodie and gloves because I was so hot and out of breath from the ascent. But that’s the feeling I love, being sweaty and breathless, far away from civilization and other people, not knowing if I’m going the right way or how far along I am. In the middle of the wilderness alone, going with the flow of nature, I got a full strength dose of adventure.
The stream I was following eventually disappeared, becoming just a pile of rocks on a steep slope. I found myself in a band of thick evergreen trees, with snowy branches and underbrush hemmed close in all directions. But just a few yards on, the trees disappeared, and the snow cresting the top of the ridge shone brilliant in the sunlight. I walked up to the top, unable to supress a “Whoo!” I wore an uncontrollable smile. I saw the trail running by perpendicular to how I’d come, and the peaks of other mountains in the distance.
Icy ground
The icy claw
Frozen banks
The hidden path
An uprooted tree
The ridge
View from the trail
I still had a full tank of energy, most of my water, and all of my food. I decided to take Huggins Hell back down, rather than follow the beaten path the long way around.
The way down
Plunging through
The path of most resistance
I stopped on the way down, to reflect for a few moments in the noon sunlight. I felt an overwhelming sense of peace in that cirque, hidden away from all other travelers in the Smokies, with the unmodified works of God/nature all around me, holding me up, covering me with trees, talking to me in splashing water and wind. And I felt as if there, away from security, amid the snow and rock and slopes and sunlight, that I was in God’s/nature’s embrace: I felt the joy of being alone, communing with God’s/nature’s works. It seemed to me its the joy we are all meant to find — the joy of being alive and enjoying our pure environment. What you will pine for as you look for happiness in screens, in buildings made by man, in restaurants, in all the world of man, you can find in places like Huggins Hell, over-dramatized though its difficulty is, for it is for the adventurers. Experiences like this are the answer to the craving that makes us read stories of fantasy and high adventure.
When I returned to the established trail, a mile or so from my car, I began passing hikers. Two, four, six, ten, twelve, fifteen. They came in group after group. It was like going through the mall. Seeing so many people just starting on the trail made me smile to myself as I passed them, knowing I had already been up and down a secret route free of other souls, a path all for me that I’ll probably take in the future to shortcut this area of the park. What an incredible find.
I was back to the car by around 1 p.m. That means I hiked 3 miles on established trails, plus Huggins Hell up and back in about 5 hours. That’s far less than 8 Huggins Hell is supposed to take all on its own. It was one of those times where I could say with a laugh, “Is this the best you got?”
This also proves once again that you shouldn’t let negative people keep you from pursuing your dreams. If I had taken advice, I would have stayed at home. But I decided to head alone to a cold hell off trail while sick, and I was rewarded immensely, even laughing at the challenge.
HEAVEN
So then I realized that my whole day’s plan was already accomplished, and it was only 1 p.m. I’d been through the cold, so I decided to reward myself. The gym I work for has a new location on Chapman Highway, the route I took to drive back from the Smokies. So I stopped in, took my bathing suit out of the backseat, and went in to soak in the bubbling whirlpool. I spent time in the steam room and sauna, even swimming a few laps in the pool. I would say something clever like “out of hell, into heaven,” but actually, I feel like the gym was just earth, and what I thought would be hell turned out to be the real heaven of this story.
ADAM FULLER
My friend Adam Fuller recently returned from a nearly ’round the world trek studying biology. He’s creative and smart, with a mind for science and a heart for adventure. So I called him up to see if he wanted to help me fill out the day by going to Ijams Nature Center. When I went to Adam’s house, I got to see his newest paintings (I know, a scientist who paints; how cool) and see his rather large lizard and other pets, including a funny salamander. Adam was once responsible for the treadmill routine of lizards for the University of Tennessee, as I recall. You get the picture: this is the kind of person you want on your adventures.
Ijams is an environmental education center and park, connected to Knoxville’s impressive greenway system. It has a few exhibits inside the main building, a solar array, a composting area and gardens, plus lots of other neat things. It also has a system of short trails, more like leisurely nature walks.
Ijams has a boardwalk between rock and river, and several interesting spots to hang out in. But its real beauty is in the simple relaxation of a trail through bare trees, silty banks by a lazy river and the smell and aura of backyard adventure.
Ijams is also connected to a longer trail around Mead’s Quarry. After Adam and I had played around some by the river, we were joined by Monica, whom some of you have met in previous adventures.
What is it about walking down railroad tracks that makes me feel so meditative? I will remember my very first visit to this place for walking in the summer heat, heel-to-toe down the track’s right rail as if it were an endless balance beam, leading to an unknown paradise. Bugs buzzing and chirping, the air filled with life, I was alone in a pocket of beautiful nature, touched by humans long gone.
We walked the railroad tracks into Mead’s Quarry and climbed up some of the remains of past works. We hiked a trail around the quarry, stopping to enjoy views of the still deep water so far below. Along the way, we all got acquainted, debated tree vs. rock climbing and stopped to play with vines. Unfortunately, two I pulled on gave way and came tumbling down like as much rope. We talked philosophy and future adventures, then took the boardwalk back to Ijams, back to our cars, back to the business of life that can’t penetrate this oasis, a refuge that lies peacefully just outside Knoxville’s downtown.
The tracks
Remains
A concrete tower
The first overlook
ALI BABA’S
The mysterious guide in Adventure #4 had first made me realize this, but though I think I’ve visited every local restaurant in Knoxville, I have neglected Ali Baba’s Time Out Deli. I was going to meet LJ there, but by the time I called him, he’d already eaten, so I went alone.
Ali Baba’s interior is a mix between a roadside delicatessen and a little market. On the shelves you see a variety of goods in jars or exotic packages for sale, but there are also a few tables, a counter facing the front windows and a menu over the register. I sat facing out into the night, watching the cars (well, mostly SUVs) pass on Kingston Pike. I grabbed a drink from the sliding glass refrigerators. What I love about this place is you can grab chips, cookies, a drink or anything you see and start chowing down, as you just pay before you leave. I put in an order for a hummus plate, and took a Kinder Egg, something LJ had told me about. Here’s the scoop on Kinder Eggs.
The chocolate part of the treat was positively delicious. But, as the cheap toys inside are a waste of plastic doomed to the landfill, I have to give this food the thumbs down for their environmental irresponsibility.
So I sat in my bathing suit (which I hiked Ijams in because I had been in the gym’s whirlpool), a Tee shirt and my hoodie. I had bark in my matted hair and the general look of someone who’s been in the woods all day. Then I got a bowl lined with hummus and two steaming hot pita breads.
This is one of the best dinners I’ve had in Knoxville. Simple, cheap, warm, delicious. I will return.
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