Two Roads Diverged in a Yellow Wood (Page 1 of 1)

The Great Smoky Mountains National Park and its gateway communities attempt a sustainable version of the tourism that’s both supported and plagued the area over the last 75 years

In Hardwood Groves

The same leaves over and over again!
They fall from giving shade above
To make one texture of faded brown
And fit the earth like a leather glove.

Before the leaves can mount again
To fill the trees with another shade,
They must go down past things coming up.
They must go down into the dark decayed.

They must be pierced by flowers and put
Beneath the feet of dancing flowers.
However it is in some other world
I know that this is way in ours.

— Robert Frost

It’s almost that time of year again. The time when tourists flock in a mass exodus to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park to see the undulating green hills and peaks transformed into a rolling sea of orange, red, yellow and purple. The leaves typically begin their transformation near the end of September and the color show continues through mid-November — though the most impressive time is late October. It’s not only the leaves people journey to see, however; the fall weather is without fault and the air is perfect for a hike or camping trip.

The Great Smoky Mountains National Park is one of the most purely natural places in the world, full of splendid and diverse nature. About 12,000 species of plants and animals have been discovered within its boundaries, and there are an estimated 50,000 to 100,000 more waiting to be unearthed. Because of its beauty and proximity within a one-day drive of 65 percent of the U.S. population, it is the most heavily visited national park in the country. But the very assets that draw an approximate 10 million visitors each year are threatened by the tourist traffic and tourist attractions that accompany its popularity.

The park has brought enormous prosperity to a historically poor area, but with that prosperity came trouble: Development sprung up rapidly, with little care for natural surroundings, aesthetic taste or future planning. The park itself suffers from pollution caused by cars and nearby coal-fired plants, and now faces “shrinking scenic views,” plant, stream, soil and animal degradation and even acid rain, according to a GSMNP air quality report.

To get to the natural beauty of the park, many travelers pass through one of the most unnatural places: the gateway communities of Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg. Those communities have received hearty criticism from environmentalists and some locals, but they’ve also been a huge draw for tourists since the park’s establishment in 1934. The cities around the park cope with the same pollution and environmental issues as the mountains, but they face another problem: the ruin and bastardization of the original mountain culture and heritage that once intrigued an entire nation and, along with the mountains themselves, encouraged thousands of people to flock there.

It’s a convoluted, many-sided sword. Sevier County has new schools, libraries, recreation centers and other amenities unavailable before the tourism boom, but it also houses dozens of airbrush T-shirt shops, go-cart racing tracks, elaborate mini-golf courses, pancake houses and hillbilly-themed gift stores — most of which are no longer locally owned. Much of the imagery is offensive, depicting native East Tennesseans as a moonshine-guzzling, bear-riding, shotgun-brandishing, banjo-picking, short-tempered, illiterate, toothless bunch. The hillbilly gift stores sell mostly generic, China-made goods like stuffed bears, shot glasses, confederate flag T-shirts and personalized key chains.

Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg are inevitably linked to the park both geographically and culturally. More people enter the park through those cities than through any of the other gateways — Townsend; Cherokee N.C.; Maggie Valley, N.C.; Sylva, N.C. and Bryson City, N.C. Some tourists vacation in cabins, theme parks or resorts in Sevierville, Gatlinburg or Pigeon Forge without ever visiting the park; those who do may drive the popular Cades Cove 11-mile loop or Newfound Gap route and literally never step foot on the ground, preferring the view from behind a steering wheel.