Trails and Batteries at Fort Donelson

Early on a Tennessee Sunday, Clarksville still slept as we passed through. The lagoons, ponds and marshes of the Cumberland signaled the outskirts of Dover.

Here the river curved toward its confluence with the Ohio, one of the nation’s parks less-visited sites hugged the bank. In winter 1862, the Union captured the fort, opening up a path to Nashville and the interior of the Deep South.

The thickly forested ravines and grassy hills contrasted with the scene of battle, a February assault famous for freezing temperatures and artillery exchanges known as Iron Valentines. Situated on the Cumberland, now impounded by dam into Barkley Lake, the eastern lake that formed Land Between the Lakes, Fort Donelson is one of the lesser known Civil War battlefields, but a beautiful spot on the Cumberland River.

Small remnants of the old fort were scattered across the property, mainly huts that once quartered Confederate soldiers. At one of the soaring stone monuments, we turned into the woods. For the rest of the hike, we had the 3.5-mile trail to ourselves. Not everything was authentic; as we hiked the steep trail through the fort’s wilderness areas, a speedboat continually throttled into a nearby inlet before gunning out with similar abandon. In this Sunday's perfect weather, anyone who could get outdoors was already there.

The battery's modern occupant

The clear highlight was the riverfront batteries aimed at the Cumberland, which came after a mile or more tracing the wooded banks. The river’s bend gives those guns a height advantage over the Union ships that would have filled the waters.

Lizards skittered along the battlement walls. Given the number of bass boats that marred most photographs of the river and the gun emplacements, I almost wished they were still loaded, if only to scare away the fish and the boaters with a warning shot.

More than 150 years ago, those guns successfully warded off Union gunboats in the Cumberland. Later, after the Confederate commander fled, his replacement surrendered to the besieging Army of the Tennessee. In the aftermath, the Donelson victory earned the notice of Washington D.C. and earned Ulysses S. Grant a promotion to major general.

Deep in the woods, we flushed out our only non-arachnid wildlife encounter, a solitary deer deep in a ravine. At the visitor center, I grabbed a few postcards that highlight the cannons and the fort’s prime spot for wintering eagles. At less than half the distance to Reelfoot Lake, Fort Donelson could be our next January raptor-spotting destination.

Keeping with tradition, I almost bought a shirt for my brother Joe, but decided to defer till October, when I could get him several new wardrobe choices from Maine and Atlantic Canada.

Long after we crossed the last meadow back to the visitor center, Fort Donelson would remain with me. Along the route, I picked up a nasty batch of chiggers. The little beasties left bumps on my feet that itched worse than anything I’ve encountered, even poison ivy. A month later, they have not faded and still itch when the mood strikes them. The fort deserves no blame; I should remember my susceptibility to mean-spirited parasites.

With the batteries behind us , only one lunch place would do - The Dip Dairy Freeze, a local burger and ice cream parlor. A no-nonsense place, The Dip simply offered what every American town had before moneyed chain restaurants forced them off Main Street. We chased Cokes and massive cheeseburgers with soft-serve ice cream.

As Nancy observed, if we lived in Clarksville, the burger and ice cream cone would be worth the 30-minute drive. So would the batteries and trails, as long I remembered the bug repellent.