A Special Note of Thanks: I’d like to thank Grant Petersen for inventing the S24O. Before that we had to stay out 25, sometimes 26 hours.
Saturday night, oddly enough and through no fault of my own, my house became infested with belly dancers. This sort of thing can be either a blessing or a curse. Not willing to take a chance, I abandoned the house and retreated to the woods for a quick impromptu bike camping trip. So with no real destination in mind, I just headed out. I knew I wanted to be near water and some place in the shady cover of trees. I also knew I wanted the solitude and primitive setting that only a stealth camp can provide. The Smokies are blessed with plenty of just such places. If you’re not afraid to do a little bush-whacking with a bike across your shoulder, sweet tranquil solitude is just a stones throw away off the side of the road. I’ll keep the exact location a secret; one: to keep from incriminating myself, and two: I want to return. But rest assured there is no shortage of stealth camping opportunities in the Smokies.
(Note: Don’t stealth camp in the Great Smoky Mountain National Park. You may be fined and/or diminish this beautifully preserved wilderness. There are plenty of places outside the park in the surrounding forest to make a wild camp).

I took the advice from comments on my last trip report and left the cooking gear behind and suppered on an American classic, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. No fuss, no muss, just unwrapped it and gobbled it down. Not cooking is a good idea when stealth camping. There is usually a lot of leaf-litter on the ground and nothing gives a stealth camp away like an out of control forest fire.
Another thing that gives away a stealth camp is a big blue hammock hanging in the trees, so I spend a few hours fishing before making camp. The Tenkara fly rod performs great and even though a dry fly may have been better suited for this mountain lake, my Killer Kabari snagged a few trout, or perhaps I was catching the same one over and over again. Either way, I was having fun and if I was catching the same fish over and over, it must have been having fun too.

I rigged the hammock between two trees in the last few minutes of usable light and crawled in. Despite being only a few dozen yards from a paved road, the location had the feel of a true back country camp. Soon the night-time forest sounds that evoke peace and calm in some, and fear and anxiety in others, slowly began to grow in volume. A chorus of frogs, crickets and the pitter patter of some four-legged creature very close to my hammock kept me entertained till sleep overtook me.
The lower portion of the Hennessy Hammock has a slit in the middle for getting in and out. It’s held closed with a combination of Velcro and good Karma. At about 10:00pm I pushed my heel through the Velcro and stood myself up. Just then I heard a soft thump, a muffled bouncing sound and a ker-plunk as my Thermo-Lite 2 bivy, still stuffed in its sack splashed into the lake. I shined my head lamp on it and it was spinning, paddle wheeling its way to freedom. Luckily I was able to hook it on my third cast of the fly rod.

I crawled out of the hammock at first light and did a little early morning fishing. Early dawn is a beautiful time to fish. Mountain lakes and streams are the source of much of the foggy mist which gives the Smokies their name and patches of puffy clouds clung to the surface of the water. The lake was a mirror, perfectly still except for the occasional trout breaking the surface to feed. As the sun rose the mist burned away and left heavy humid air behind. Cravings for caffeine pulled me away from my secret mountain camp. A short ride and I was back at home in time for fresh brewed coffee and breakfast.
Packing List:
Small Nashbar Pannier
Topeak Handlebar Bag
Tenkara fly rod and a few Killer Kabari flies
Hennessey Hammock
Summer sleeping bag
Thermo-Lite Bivy (by the way, it floats)
Novel
Camera
A few hygiene things, A few bike tools
