Narrator: On the eastern edge of Great Smoky
Mountains National Park, tucked among the mountains of North Carolina, is a place called Cataloochee. A windy, bumpy drive from I-40, nearby Maggie Valley and Waynesville, or from the Big Creek area, this is one of the more hidden
gems that the park has to offer, and well worth the extra effort required to get there. Just think of the narrow, partially gravel
mountain road that leads to Cataloochee as part of the adventure, and also part of what makes this one of
the quieter, more remote areas of the park. But with its quiant historic structures
and exciting wildlife viewing opportunities, this small valley has become a favorite
spot for many Smokies visitors. The Cherokee called this place "Gadalutsi", which means "standing up in a row," possibly a reference to the mountain peaks
that surround the valley or to the trees that line those ridges. Archeological evidence suggests that the
Cherokee were the first to come to the valley where they hunted and fished but
apparently did not settle here. White settlers came to the valley in the
1800s and by 1910, there were more than
1,200 people living in the Big and Little Cataloochee areas. Hattie Caldwell Davis was born in
Cataloochee and has written books about this special
place. Her great-grandfather was one of the original white settlers to the valley. Hattie Caldwell Davis: My great-granddaddy
went in there in 1834. And there was not a road. In previous times, the Cherokee Indian and the eastern buffalo
had made trails. And that's what now is most of the trail--
the road mostly follows that. These first two men that went in there was my
great granddaddy, Levi Belese Colwell. And his friend was an herb doctor, and he was an older man. And his name was Young Bennett. I think Young Bennett has a wife and
3 or 4 children. But when they got in there it was just a wilderness. They said it looked like a great cathedral. The trees were so big
and the limbs were spread way wide. And the ferns was waist high, and they're still big,
beautiful ferns. And the creek was so full of fish they couldn't hardly swim. Nobody had ever lived there. They would take cattle in from all over
Haywood County and maybe other places and put them on the pasture. People say, "Why in the world did they come way back here?" And at that time, the
mountaintops had grassy balds--b-a-l-d- bald--with what looked like bluegrass. So they had free pasture and then the hogs could get all the fine american
chestnuts. The closest neighbors that my
grandparents and the Bennetts had was six miles away,
and that was the Cherokee. And they had their trail that came through
Big Cataloochee. They'd sometimes go up across Mt. Sterling. They'd stop and spend the night.
They'd want to sleep on the porch. And they'd give them food if they had it,
you know. There was never any trouble with the Cherokee.
Got along wonderful with them. In fact, three generations before me
spoke Cherokee. Of course, they all farmed. And they was lucky if they had cattle to raise and hogs and sheep. They grew flax and wove it and made their clothes. And they dyed it with indigo. And they could make them black by using it real
strong or different shades of blue. They used marigolds and things to get
yellow color. Narrator: Hattie's grandfather's home, the Hiram Caldwell House, has become an
enduring icon of Cataloochee. Hiram’s son Eldridge, Hattie’s father,
was 5 years old when the family moved into the house where he would eventually
start his own family. Hattie was born in the Hiram Caldwell
House in 1927 and lived there for the first 6-1/2 years of her life. Hattie Caldwell Davis: See, at first
they had little bitty log cabins I think 24 X 16 feet is about the only size two men could build. Granddaddy and Bennett had built theirs. Then others started coming in and they
got enough help they could build two-story log houses. They had plenty of logs. In 1882, they pulled an old water-powered sawmill
in there and that’s how they built this house. All my granddaddy's brothers had nice big homes like that. But when they brought that sawmill in across the mountain--it was a portable. And I don't know if they pulled it with horses
or if they got it on a wagon and brought it. But anyhow, they could put it by the creek
and get the water and-- it was water-powered. And then they'd saw the lumber there and stack it and when it dried, then they'd start building. The reason it took five years, first of all it was a saw and a hammer and nails.
They had no electric stuff-- you know like today they zap it on. They built it well.
And they took their time. Then when it came time to put the crops in, they had to go back
and plant their crops and take care of that. And when it slowed down, they'd come back again
and work, then… My granddaddy was hauling the ceiling in there.
I guess it must have taken some time to do that cause they matched all the patterns so well. I said to Daddy, "Well, why would it stand up
so long?" and he said, "Well didn't use anything but #1 lumber." And I said, "What's #1?" And he said,
"Not a knot hole. Anything that had knot holes was
used for kindling." And so that's why it's so solid and then had
the good ventilation because it's sitting up on rock and i think it's locust posts on top of the rocks then to hold it up. It's a wonderful place to play because you have the round porch
way around the sides and all. It's a good old house. It's stood all these years.
And the steps are almost worn on the edges, but they will not squeak. And all that beaded ceiling is still in place. Those men were not carpenters, they were
craftsmen. Narrator: Eldridge Caldwell constructed the barn across the road from the house
using logs from his grandfather Levi Colwell's old cabin. A variety of other buildings were on the
property as well-- a cattle barn, sheep house, tool shed, chicken house, and smokehouse. Hattie has good memories of helping with the
chores as a child. Hattie Caldwell Davis: My grandma made the
lye soap you asked about. She'd stir it with it a stick and sometimes it would be sassafras. And it would make the soap smell so good. And she'd let me stir it a little bit. I was about six years old. And then she would
pour it up in a big box and when it was cold to cut it,
she'd let me cut it in any shape I wanted. She was always picking geese and chickens
for the feather beds. Cause we had feather beds, feather pillows,
wool blankets, we had plenty to keep warm. But... They had this chicken lot and it was fenced and then overhead
so they couldn't fly out. And she would get in there and catch one
and she'd let me pull them little feathers. So I learned to do about everything that I was big enough to. I churned
plenty of times. And people say, "What's that other little
house down there away from that house?" I said, "That's the early refrigerator." I said, "That's where we kept the milk
and any leftover food." That's where the milk was skimmed off
and made the churning in the big crock jar. It had a cement trough. And it was only about 3 inches deep here
and that's where you could set small things, and then it was like this and you
could set buckets of milk. And I remember all this kind of lard buckets we had that went down one side and
the other side was a shelf all the way down. And they'd take the cream up and get the
cream off into the churn jar and they would leave it there till they got enough to churn and it was brought to the back porch
and you'd do all this churning. We carried our lunch to school. Some had little lunchboxes and some had bags
and a good many of them brought cornbread and milk and they put it
in the creek to keep it cold. Of course, all of them liked it. But then they'd trade with people that had brought
biscuits with ham, jelly, jam, cake or stuff. They traded with each other. Anyhow, I remember carrying our lunch and swapping and trading for different things
and sitting under a tree at lunch time. If it started to rain, boy, they got out in a hurry
to get their dinner before the creek washed it away. Of course, the Palmer's Chapel... It didn't have the bell tower.
They didn't have the money, you know. When the park paid $1,100 for an acre and a quarter
and the church, then they built the tower. And they had permission to always come back for
worship service and the reunion. It had a big pot-bellied stove in it. And I remember it from going to church. And then it had lamps on the walls with
reflectors, and this was for night service. And then they had a great tall lamp
for the pulpit. They dressed up on Sunday. On Saturday they were getting all fixed.
Their shoes had to be polished and shined. Their clothes ironed and spic and span. And this picture was made in 1912. And you can see the buggy-- horse and buggy here-- barely see it. And over here there's a horse, I think
it's got a saddle on it. That shows that they were not too
backwoodsy if they dressed like that. Narrator: A drive through Cataloochee today offers a chance to see several historic
structures including the Caldwell House, Palmer Chapel, and Beech Grove School. Auto tour booklets are available near
the backcountry permit station. For those looking for a nice walk, a 2-mile round-trip walk to the Woody House
is an easy trip, almost flat with a few creek crossings
on footlogs. It is found on Rough Fork Trail at
the end of Cataloochee Road. Old-growth trees, long-gone homesites,
stone walls, and scenic streams can be enjoyed along many of the hiking and horse
trails in the Cataloochee area. A hike into Little Cataloochee is a chance to see more historic structures,
like Little Cataloochee Church, constructed in 1889. Today, the fields and forests of Cataloochee
are home to the park's elk herd, animals that were at one time hunted out
of the Smokies but have been reintroduced by the park service. The best time to see them is in the early
morning or in the evening. September and early October bring the rut,
when males compete for females and the sounds of elk bugling resonate throughout
the valley. Enjoy these majestic creatures from a distance
with binoculars or a zoom lens. The industrious people of Cataloochee cleared
and worked their land for 100 years, making productive farms from the wilderness
and supporting their families. Now those who visit here experience only a remnant of what this mountain
community and its fine people were like. Hattie Caldwell Davis: Everybody that goes
says they love it. And they say they feel something. Those were good people. When they left, they left their spirit. They died, but their spirit's still there.
