Guidebooks for the Great Smoky Mountains National Park tell of a remote campground at the park's far eastern end where elk are often sighted -- and where few of the park's millions of yearly visitors ever go.
The campground is Cataloochee, a 27-site primitive facility accessible only by leaving the park, driving around its southern and eastern borders on state roads, and then coming back in over a mountain pass.
The drive was a challenge, but the view of the Cataloochee River from our campsite was worth it.
The promise of seeing elk, and the notion of a remote campground, hooked us. And so Deb and I headed off to find Cataloochee.
As it turned out, I'm glad we made the trip -- even though if I'd known then what I know now, I might never have visited Cataloochee.
The road would have scared me away.
Described only in park literature as state-maintained and safe for passenger cars, this is a single-lane road, dirt for much of its length, that snakes its way up and then over the 4,000 foot high Cataloochee Pass.
As we drove, we discovered that the narrow road clings to the sides of mountains, with numerous hairpin turns, dropoffs of hundreds of feet, and not a single guard-rail.
It was, in short, a white-knuckle drive -- all the more so because we were traveling in a 29-foot motorhome. And once we'd begun up the road, there was no turning back.
"I can't do this," I said to Deb a couple of times at especially tight turns. But, of course, I had to keep going. And so I did.
Eight miles after entering the point of no return, we descended into the remote Cataloochee Valley.
What a magical place! The campground was spread out along the clear and rushing Cataloochee River. Campsites were were spacious, private and beautiful.
Surprisingly, given its remote location, we discovered we had a perfectly adequate cellphone signal at Cataloochee, and thus could keep in touch with the world and use the Internet.
After getting my rather frayed nerves settled from the drive, we went off in search of elk. We didn't have to go far.
Less than a mile from the campground, we came to a field with eight elk grazing in it. A few minutes later we found another group of six elk. They were close to the narrow dirt road we were on, and utterly unfazed by our presence.
Elk graze less than a mile from our campsite at Cataloochee.
While we watched, the elk grazed in a large field that was surrounded on all four sides by forests and by rugged mountains. It was a special moment.
Later, talking with the local Park Service ranger, I learned that many RV owners indeed shy away from the rough road into Cataloochee, but that owners of 40-foot-plus motorhomes sometimes make the trek.
So maybe the road wasn't so bad after all. Or maybe it was. Either way, I was glad we had made the trip.
Campgrounds Guide 
