Feature article
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The Vandeventer Hotel
By Doug Janz
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A place to catch your breath, or take your breath away
When I encountered the Vandeventer Shelter, I noticed it was a low shelter, the kind most of us have to duck down to enter. The site contained: a fire ring, a few pieces of firewood and “sitting” logs, some scattered trash the wind had strewn about, a rake and a shovel, a piece of string fashioned so overnighters can hang food from it, and a trail journal.
After walking for miles through the forest, it’s always interesting to come upon something manmade, with evidence of human use. So I surveyed the site for a few seconds, taking it all in. My two dogs did the same, only via smell more than sight. And then I noticed the view.
Right behind the shelter there are some large, sharp boulders. They form a cliff, and from those rocks you have a 180-degree panorama, stretching for miles in the distance into three states, with Watauga Lake down below. It was, to me at least, a destination view, easily worth the 4.4-mile hike up the mountain to the far end of the lake.
It’s the kind of location realtors will describe by shouting, “Location, location, location!” It made me want to spend the night there, just to know I was sleeping next to this view.
The Vandeventer is situated on the Appalachian Trail between Watauga Dam and Tenn. Highway 91, on Iron Mountain in the Big Laurel Branch Wilderness. You can go northbound from Watauga Dam Road, about 2,240 feet elevation, and ascend to the ridgeline above the lake on the southern side. Opposite the lake is the Stony Creek area, and the trail eventually reaches Damascus, Va. The shelter appears at about 3,500 feet elevation.
It’s a fantastic winter hike. The lake views are not possible during any other season. I went on a gorgeous, chilly day, with a nearly cloudless sky, and the water shimmered throughout the hike. The sky was brilliant blue. The water was calm, with only a handful of sailboats and fishing boats out.
This is a relatively easy trek (8.8 miles round trip) that only challenges you during the first mile. The trail ascends sharply from the crossing at Watauga Dam Road. Part of our first half-mile was covered with leaves that hid the rocks. Under these circumstances it’s hard to see where you’re stepping, and once you step, the footing is tricky and slippery. At times, my boots disappeared in the leaves.
But beyond that short stretch, the hike is an easy, rolling stretch, with the lake visible most of the way. Most of the time it was bright and airy; we went through mountain laurel thickets, stands of evergreen, some snowy sections and lots of stretches with sharp rocks dotting the crest just off the trail, offering high views of the lake and horizon.
It’s a good vantage point for studying the lake, and for history buffs it’s a chance to trace the history of the town of Butler, which now exists just below Vandeventer Shelter but was originally situated in the lake bed.
Just before the TVA built the dam and flooded the land, the people of Butler were relocated several miles north, at a higher elevation, directly below the shelter location. The former town of Butler rests under the water, and there’s no better view than up on this trail, unless you’re airborne.
Along the way, in the winter, you can see the various boat docks, islands and even a few spits and mud piles on the lake that are hidden during the summer but appear in the winter when the water level is drawn down.
The next task at the shelter was to clean up, and I used the tools to capture the trash. The dogs sniffed around the shelter, oblivious to the history and the view. Before long I sat down on the raised wooden floor/bed of the shelter. A portion of a paperback book — the prologue to a Leon Uris novel called “Topaz” — was lying next to me, left by a hiker. And there was the tattered shelter journal.
In the logbook, which chronicled visits by people from June until the present (December), I read passages that were mostly boring and mundane — meaningful to the hikers who left them, and possibly to hikers coming by later on, because the journal is a means of communication for thru-hikers, much like a bulletin board — and then there were some oddly entertaining entries.
In a young girl’s writing: “We are here shouting to our family from the shelter. I can’t wait to get hom (sic). Nov. 26 2005, Ashley G.”
On Nov. 11, someone had written: “Dear Virginia, Welcome to Dumpsville, population: You.” It was signed “Steven.”
In October, Fox Trot had written “Kiss my artichoke.” The next day’s entry read: “Foxtrot’s entry is just chicken-sh...sh-cabobs! ... Treetop.”
I read entries about a cat who frequented the shelter for several days and became aggressively friendly, eating handouts, leftovers and sometimes stolen goodies. He was nicknamed “Killer Appalachian Trail cat,” or KAT cat.
“6/22: Stopped here for the night. Met ’Kat.’ Fed ’Kat.’ Now ’Kat’ sleeping. Not sure if ’right’ to care for a lost cat but... I do what I think best.”
Someone apparently took KAT cat back to civilization because the entries about the creature stopped abruptly after several hikers implored someone to take the kitty home.
There was also a picture drawn onto one page, titled “Hike Naked Day” (a day that actually exists), that showed a fat, naked hippie-style hiker flanked by two naked women.
Finally I stood up to leave. The dogs grew excited. (One is a large black lab, slightly overweight. The other is a young Jack Russell Terrier, medium-large, who spent the entire hike sprinting 20 or 30 yards ahead to the black lab, the circling back to go behind me, then sprinting up the trail again to the black lab, ad infinitum.)
I walked over to the cliffs and climbed up to a good seat on the rocks to study the vista. It was easy to get lost in the view. I could see Sugar Mountain and the obnoxiously distinct condominiums on top, and Beech Mountain to the left of it. Farther to the left was Virginia. There were mountains for miles, ridgeline piled upon ridgeline.
I didn’t have my sleeping gear and it was only a day trip. Snow was on the ground. But I found myself yearning for a night in the Hotel Vandeventer, just to do it. Maybe a fire in the ring, a view of the sunset, and a warm sleeping bag with a couple of exhausted dogs snuggled next to me.
Instead, I shook myself back to reality. We gathered our stuff and headed back — a painless walk back to the car, and from there a short drive to Watauga Dam and more excellent views of the lake. Winter’s not such a bad time for a day hike on the AT.
--------GoTriCities--------
Doug Janz writes about outdoor adventures in the Tri-Cities and beyond for GoTriCities. E-mail him at
DouglasJanz@aol.com.
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