Chapter 2 – Sit a spell, take your shoes off.

… that’s how this last week has been. Laura has been in Maryland with her dad and the dogs and I have been kicking our heels waiting to head north to meet her. We finally hit the road today at 8am and what a relief it was to have some wind in the sales. While listening to podcasts, to combat the boredom of the incredibly dull drive up I-95, I heard the term “Covidian doldrums”. It stuck me that it’s the perfect term to describe what I (and I suspect many others) have been feeling since the seas of life were becalmed mid-March. Each day the sun rises, chores get done and meals are consumed and there’s a certain degree of normality. People go shopping, there’s traffic on the roads, music has thankfully been occurring with more and more regularity, and yet there’s also a distinctly palpable undercurrent of abnormality. It’s more than masks, limits, or constant reminders that “we’re all in this together, yada yada blech…” and something other than electoral mudslinging and the constant reporting of man’s limitless ability to be unkind to one another at the slightest intimation that we differ in opinions (which are generally poorly informed and rarely researched). For me, these are all just signals indicating the extreme degree of uncertainty of not only when the wind may start blowing but in what direction it will set and for how long. And perhaps the abnormal part to all this will be how strong the wind will blow. Personally, I see gale warnings ahead.

And so we’re taking this opportunity to row out to even quieter waters and enjoy some calm before the storm.

The last trip was a whirlwind (sure are a lot of weather references in this post) tour of the Midwest and a chance to break in RV and get the family used to setting up and breaking down camp. This trip is going to be quite different. We’re going to set up camp and stay long enough to enjoy it. The focus is 100% relaxation!

Today I drove to Fort Matanzas National Monument just south of Saint Augustine. I figured I’d get in a little solo sightseeing and pick up another Unigrid for our collection (more on that later) but on arriving was greeted by signs stating that they couldn’t be bothered to be open (at least that’s how I read them). So frustrated in my first attempt at playing with myself by myself, I journeyed on to Fort Frederica National Monument arriving after a short but beautiful drive through the moss-draped oak-lined streets St Simons Island. Here I was able to secure a Unigrid modeled here by Polkadot who, although no doubt now fully informed on the history and significance of this settlement, seems unimpressed…

Tonight the dogs, cat and I are staying just south of Savannah. Tomorrow it’s a short drive to Fort Pulaski National Monument and then on to McDowell Nature Preserve where we’ll wait for Laura’s airport Uber!

Today was mostly solo+4 for the trip north to Charlotte. Laura is in the air (no, in a plane dummy) as I write this. This morning I visited Fort Pulaski National Monument outside Savannah. My original idea was to circumvent the city rather than maneuver RV through the somewhat narrow streets but I totally forgot that until I was headed straight into town. Not a big deal, there was no vehicular drama and Savannah is a very pretty old southern town (if you’re into oak-lined streets, Spanish moss, and quaint well landscaped parks that is).

Fort Pulaski is a well preserved brick fortification who’s main claim to fame is that the Union Army used it to test rifled cannons in combat. A test that was so successful it ended the utility of bricks and mortar for fort construction.

The best thing about Fort Pulaski is that it’s extremely pet friendly. In fact it’s the most dog friendly National anything that we’ve ever visited. The dogs enjoyed touring both inside and outside the fort and on part of the extensive trail system. Here they are checking out one of the powder magazines in the demilune (earthworks) and the moat that surrounds the entire fort:

We started the day, unsurprisingly where we spent the night, at the McDowell Nature Preserve just southwest of Charlotte, NC. I can’t say enough about how nice a place this is. The campground is laid out nicely with large campsites under a dense tree canopy. It’s clean and well maintained and has direct access to 8 miles of dog-friendly hiking trails. We actually tried to come up with some reasons to go back to Charlotte so we can stay there again.

Next it was a little backtracking into South Carolina to visit our 35th National Park. Congaree NP is billed as “The largest tract of old growth bottomland hardwood forest left in the United States.” For a Floridian the first question is “OK, but why is this swamp a National Park?” and the obvious answer would be that it was a pork … er … pet project of South Carolina Senators Strom Thurmond and Ernest Hollings. Regardless of it’s dubious origins, if you’re into canoeing, kayaking, fishing or just hiking while being hunted by the plethora of biting insects that go along with hanging out in a swamp then this place was made for you.

We are now ensconced in our haven for the next 18 days, the beautiful Smoky Bear Campground in Gatlinburg, TN. Time to start sittin’ and relaxin’!

A rainy night and now a rainy day. That’s OK, keeps things green and gives me time to sort, deduplicate, organize, tag, etc. the 21 years of photos I brought along for just such an occasion. Many of those will end up on toddandlaura.com – my wedding present to Laura 20+ years ago (Don’t go look at it. I’ve been not working on it for 20 years and there’s once again nothing there while I once again re-think what we want on there and once again figure out what tool to use and once again learn to use a new tool and once again … you get the picture. If it keeps on raining long enough maybe it’ll get done 😉)

Fun anecdote: During the night we would occasionally hear a loud thud and the whole RV would rock a bit. Random period of nothing … thud … rock … nothing … repeat. It was pissing down rain and I was too comfy in bed to check it out so instead I lay there theorizing what could be happening; were the jacks that we use to keep RV steady settling into the gravel? Hmmm, no that would only happen once and we don’t put too much pressure on them anyway. Perhaps the fresh water tank was over pressurizing and a relief valve was kicking off? Possibly but it was a pretty loud thud so that would not be a good thing and it was only happening when it was raining. Rain … a clue! Maybe there was something in the tree canopy over RV that would catch and release water onto the roof? Finally something that made a little sense. Having come to this conclusion and looking to share my insight with Laura, I went outside where she was walking one of the pups in the dry area under the awning – You see, RV has an awning that extends out about 10 feet for shade and I extend it even with trees because: why not? So here it is raining and boy is that convenient, a big umbrella so the dogs can pee in relative comfort – Anyway, there I was expounding my theory when all the sudden the awning does a little curtsy, dumps a load of water over the side and then resets all with a, you guessed it, thud … rock!

The day starts pretty early for me. I’m up somewhere between 3:30 and 5:00 to start my day. Every morning is different, sometimes the dogs are panting at the door to go out, and sometimes they are passed out and have no idea that I’m on my second cup of coffee when consciousness finally breathes life into their canine brains. This morning however was an exception. I woke an hour before the alarm in a tired stupor heading for the bathroom. Unfortunately, the first foot that hit the floor this morning did not land on the floor as intended. No, my precious clown foot landed squarely in the cat box, in… you guessed it. I must admit, that will wake you up. I had to hop on one foot into the bathroom and throw my defiled clown foot into the shower to extricate the cat’s dookie from my sole without vomiting or waking up Todd and the dogs. 

There may be a better place to work but I don’t know what it could be:

Since we’re staying “in” Gatlinburg we thought we may as well go “to” Gatlinburg so we called a cab – wait … isn’t this the 21st century? what about Uber? what about Lyft? 😂 We love this campground but it isn’t exactly what you’d refer to as “in town” or even “near town” and apparently the 3 or 4 Lyft drivers (Uber “doesn’t service your area”) weren’t up for the 1/2 hour drive out to pick-up our butts and drive back into town … so yeah, we called a cab and even though Brandon was a good conversationalist we would have preferred that he spent just a little more … any … time cleaning the inside of his windshield which did a fabulous job of scattering the light of the setting sun into a glowing haze that almost but not quite completely obscured the view of the road ahead. Fortunately Brandon was able to navigate by some sixth sense or maybe just dumb luck and we were dropped off at our destination in the middle of the Gatlinburg strip.

Dinner was very good. We chose a restaurant called Crawdaddies because nothing says Tennessee and Great Smoky Mountains like a good bowl of jambalaya 🤪. It was my birthday and I like spicy food – don’t judge. We were also so very lucky that there just happened to be a professional photographer at this restaurant and when he observed us enjoying a romantic meal he decided to add us to his portfolio. After a bit of arm-twisting we were able to obtain some copies of the pictures:

Curiously he must have run out of paper as one of these turned out to be a magnet but there must not be much metal in the refrigerator door in RV because even with my personality it wouldn’t stick.

After dinner we strolled the strip and among the 5 Ripley’s Believe It or Not!s, several “old tyme” photo studios, ice cream parlors, fudge factories, and other “fun” activities, we were able to find a, not-very-well hidden, distillery! – imagine that! a distillery … in Tennessee … right out in the open! Well we weren’t going to pass up this once-in-a-lifetime chance so in we went and, you may find this hard to believe, they actually let us purchase some whiskey & moonshine. Which we did purely as a souvenir (and 153 proof is purely enough for us 🥴):

We cannot recommend the Salty Caramel Whiskey enough, it smells and tastes just like salted caramel and is way to easy too drink (at least that’s what we’ve heard😉)

In the last post, I said that Gatlinburg was like an amusement park for old people and that just doesn’t feel quite right. So I’ve been working on figuring out just what it does feel like (and for clarity, when I say “Gatlinburg” I’m really referring to the whole Gatlinburg-Sevierville-Pigeon Forge metro-plex.) Is it Disney-esque? kinda but that’s not it. Is it Vegas-like? aside from some similarity to a few of the attractions that were brought in when some idiot decided to make Sin City “family friendly” no, not hardly. There’s music, so is it the “New Orleans of the Smoky’s”? uh… no. The target audience and wholesome presentation bear absolutely no resemblance to the filth that can be found along and around the Bourbon Street area – and I don’t mean to put New Orleans down (except for Bourbon Street – I mean really? yuck🤢) but if the folks here visited the Quarter and strayed off Canal or Frenchman’s Streets they’d probably feel totally lost not to mention morally accosted. These are strictly Garden District, zoo and museum type people.

After much consideration I/We finally figured it out: It’s a carnival – there’s cheesy rides, Ferris wheels, bumper cars, fudge shops, old-timey photos, funnel cakes, ice cream, and a bazillion t-shirt and throw-away souvenir shops, etc. The one thing we didn’t see, and we didn’t really look hard, was carney games to flood the streets with stuffed animals (business opportunity💰🤑!!) The one thing we DID see was pancake shops. There are no fewer than 22 pancake restaurants and that’s just those that have “pancake” in their name. This has to be the highest pancake-per-capita density of any place on the globe and I challenge anyone to dispute it (because 3 googles is all the research that I’m willing to put into it😉)

I loved walking around the Gatlinburg carnival, the smell of corn dogs and funnel cake arouses the wannabe child in me and I transform instantly into a 10 year old. To be honest, if I were there alone I’d have ridden all of the rides and eaten so much junk food that I’d be sick for the next 2 days. Thankfully Todd is there to save me from my bad self and from at least 5 extra pounds and 4 new zits on my chin.

There is a sock store in Gatlinburg, and as soon as I saw it I dashed across the threshold as fast as I could to find the elusive socks I’d been after since I moved to Florida. I asked Todd to assist me in my hunt, but he’d never heard of flip flop socks and wasn’t sure what to look for. Sometimes I just don’t know who he is. The socks were a bit pricey so I only picked up one pair since I can get them on Amazon for half the price (if I remember to order them). I am now sporting sudoku socks, which unfortunately did not come with a fabric pen so that I could solve the puzzles. Go figure.

We make our own beef jerky, it’s one of our favorite road snacks. The last batch of cure we purchased on Amazon was a bit lack luster, so we went on a hunt in the many jerky stores for the perfect cure to use in the next batch. We ran across this sign in one of the stores:

I am trying to get a job at this store for obvious reasons, think they’ll hire me?

There is an obsession with big foot here in the Smokys. Not my clown feet, big foot the large mammal. Do you think he’s real, and can he read the sign and understand that marked trails are my safe space?

He looks pretty friendly to me, kind of like a kid from my 9^th grade science class.

Since it’s nearly impossible to get an Uber or Lyft, we took a taxi to Sevierville early one morning to pick up a rental car. The driver was a local man who also sells real estate on the side. The trip between our campground and Enterprise doesn’t pass though too many areas of interest, save one. The driver kindly pointed out a couple of large garages and a modest house that he says belongs to none other than Dolly Parton, and he said it’s where she stays when she’s in town. I’m a huge fan, I hope someday to see her perform in person or dare I hope to meet her. Her home resembles a house I lived in before I moved to Florida. It wouldn’t surprise me that she would be so modest (if that’s really her house).

Just beyond the entrance to our campground is an access point for the Old Settlers Trail, a 16.2 mile trail along and across several streams and creeks that was also home to hundreds of settlers during the late 1800’s to early 1900’s. Since Laura was working diligently to keep me comfortably kept in the lifestyle to which I’ve become accustomed I decided to go for a short 7.5 mile walk (I’d call it a hike but I was wearing sneakers not boots) along this very nice trail.

I started my walk on a short spur that acts as a mid-trailhead for the Old Settlers Trail. This short trail also goes to the remains of the homestead of mountain farmer, and apparently old settler, Tyson McCarter. There are several structures including a barn, corn crib, smokehouse, and springhouse.


Smokehouse, corn crib & barn:




Note the peg hinge:

The springhouse…

… and spring with water still springing.

The only remains of the house are a couple chimney stacks:


This rock wall is about four feet high , three feet wide, and at least a couple hundred feet long.

There are sections of wall like this scattered all through the area running along the streams and back into the woods as well as chimney stacks here and there standing forlorn. Although there is no shortage of material as there are boulders and stones of all sizes everywhere, the amount of time and manpower that went into selecting, digging, carrying, and stacking all by hand is very impressive. And that’s without considering the time and effort it takes to fell, cut, stack, chink, etc. the house and out buildings. And caring for livestock. And planting corn. And I’m getting tired just thinking about it.

Leaving the homestead site behind, I came to the Old Settlers Trail where it crosses Webb Creek, a tributary of the Little Pigeon River.

The creek was running high due to several hours of non-stop rain a couple days ago and rather than chance getting my sneakers wet, I turned south and took the trail towards Snag Mountain which it then climbed and crossed over to descend into a beautiful valley where it crosses the Snag Branch. The trail is lined with rhododendron which in places is dense enough to create a canopy and which must be stunning when in bloom.

From the little acorn a mighty oak grows…

… and they grow everywhere and somewhat quickly. There are areas off the trail where the remains of homesteads can be seen and it’s evident that although 100+ years ago the land may have been cleared it has now been reclaimed by oaks of all sizes.
There was also all manner of cool undergrowth, moss, fungus, and whatnot covering the forest floor:





And of course, there were walls…

The best part of the walk was where “helpful” trail angels had setup some challenges assistance over a couple of the more technical creek crossings:
Challenge #1 – cross the river using this timber that we’ve conveniently placed pointy side up.

Challenge #2 – walk upstream through the underbrush and use this handy bamboo railing that we’ve fixed in place with shoestring. Helpful hint: you may have to duck below the cross-member to get around the upright so that your shoe gets on the one rock that will keep you from getting wet.

Fun!!!😄😬😄 Both challenges accepted. Status: Dry.

The portion of the Old Settlers Trail that I took ends 1.2 miles up the Maddron Bald Trail, a gravel road which serves as the trailhead for the Albright Grove & Snake Den Ridge trails. At this point I had the option of retracing my route of approximately 5 miles or continuing down the gravel road and along US Hwy 321 (a hilly two lane moderately trafficked road with no shoulder) for another 2.5 miles. Well, like Patton, I don’t like to pay for the same real estate twice so down the road I went which brought me to the last sight of the day, the Willis Baxter Cabin. Built about 1889, the one room cabin was built by Willis Baxter as a wedding present for his son and was constructed from one giant chestnut tree.

Today we drove down to Asheville to visit our good friends, Patrick & Wendy. The McGavocks left Stuart a few years ago and the place hasn’t been the same since. It can be difficult to keep social momentum when one of the key couples departs and that’s certainly been the case for us so it’s always a treat when we can spend time with them.

I spoke to Patrick a day earlier and he said that Wendy was going to make us a quiche for brunch and asked if we liked pork 🤣. Now I have to admit that I’m a bit of a picky eater and when he said quiche my mind heard cheese – my gastronomic nemesis (I’m not lactose intolerant, I just don’t like cheese) but I figured that however it was, I’d suck it up and eat it. Wendy is a good cook and these are our good friends and the last thing I’d want to do is offend them by being picky. So it was with some trepidation that I sat down and began to eat. I couldn’t have been more wrong or relieved. That was one of the best things I’ve ever had in my mouth. It was meaty, spicy, and delicious 😋 and of course I had to have the recipe.

After that wonderful start to the day, we were off to the aptly named Point Lookout Vineyards where we met up with another ex-Stuart-ite, Renee Althauser, for some wine with a view:

After a glass we were whisked off to the Saint Paul Mountain Vineyards for some bluegrass and a bit more wine:


yes, there’s 12 glasses on the table but who’s counting?!

One more stop and then it was time to get back to the kids. Patrick was very concerned that they could be in distress after being left alone for so long so we checked the camera in the RV:

hmmmm, maybe just one more glass.

It’s been a very relaxing 12 days and everyone has been getting along, even me and Laura … well, at least in our campground they have (from our rare views of the media – social and other – the rest of y’all don’t seem to be playing together well at all.) Anyway … as many of our friends are aware, Laura and I work from home and have had the luxury and privilege (at least it was a privilege before the covids came) of doing so for many years. And since she’s (mostly) stopped traveling for work, we spend 99% of our lives within 50 feet of one another save the odd trip out alone for an errand around town. Now that 50 feet of separation takes place in a fair sized house and we each have our separate spaces. The dogs can roam freely and the cat sleeps wherever it wants. In fact it’s not out of the ordinary for us to not see each other until dinner time. So it was with some concern that we undertook the objective of not just vacationing but also working and living our usual lives and schedules in a space that comes in at under 200 square feet (including a queen-size bed, dinette, kitchen, bathroom and cabinetry.) Happily, what concern there was, little though it may have been, was unnecessary as each member of the family quickly adjusted to their own version of “RV normal”. The dogs seem content and I think they enjoy the extra attention they get from going on their poop walks several times a day. Laura and I are content being away from the drama and it’s been nice being just a little bit closer. The cat is content because it’s a cat.

We’ve taken to going to the hot tub here at the campground. It’s a very nice way to cap off the day and have an excuse to imbibe a shot or two of the butterscotch moonshine we picked up in Gatlinburg (just the two of us drinking in the RV is just not us – drinking in the hot tub however…) However, as we walk to and from the pool in our swimsuits enjoying the crisp 55 degree air it’s difficult to not feel a little self-conscious when we pass other campers huddled around their campfires wearing coats.

This staying-in-place kind of camping is nice. Since we’re spending 18 days in the same spot, we put up a doggie fence so the animals could enjoy the outdoors without being on-leash. We had our chairs outside the kennel but they insisted that we’d all be better off if we shared the same space so here’s the setup under our backyard trees in our little fenced yard:
Citronella tiki torches to keep the few bugs at bay and a cooking fire heating up

We thought it would be fun to actually do a “camping” thing so we got some firewood, hot dogs, makings for s’mores, and a bit of whiskey for the adults (even though there’s none here)😉

and roasted our dinner over an open fire:

Today was another warm and lovely fall day. When we went to bed, the leaves were still green and this morning they turned brilliant shades of yellow, red, and orange. After a refreshing constitutional with the dogs, I took a long hot shower after which I spruced up our tiny bathroom just a bit. I decided to exercise my prowess as a pitcher and tossed a wet washcloth across the RV towards the hamper. Instead, I threw a curve and the washcloth banked right and landed squarely in, my nemesis, the catbox. I pretended it didn’t happen until Todd got up at which time I suggested that he retrieve the wayward pitch.

Todd was ready to embark on an epic journey to the Hen Wallow Falls (It’s really hard to not say “Fen Hollow” – Todd). As a former (non-abused) Boy Scout one would anticipate that he was ready for anything and today was no exception. I noted his choice for hydration and nutrition which consisted of a Coke and handful of Starburst’s as he bounded out the door on the way to start his hike. I don’t know if I’m more jealous of the hike or the Starburst. I know it sounds strange but Starburst’s are fruit right?

Rather than sit in RV while Laura wallowed in self pity worked, I took the opportunity to hike the trail to Hen Wallow Falls which begins just outside the Cosby Picnic Area in the northeast corner of Great Smoky Mountains NP. It’s a moderately strenuous (and I really hate it when people use highly subjective terms to describe hikes. It was moderate for me, it may not be for you) 4.4 mile up and back … or should I say up and down?

hike to a 90′ waterfall. I did this on a Friday and met about a dozen groups coming and going so it wasn’t terribly crowded. The trail, which runs through hemlock, oak and rhododendron forest, is wide and well maintained:

but not very smooth and it did bring to mind the unevenness of the Inca trail and thoughts of that epic trek with our good friends the Quesenberry’s. Although it isn’t “paved” with stones like that Peruvian highway, it does have many stair-like sections made primarily of roots exposed by the constant foot traffic:

and rocky sections where the runoff has exposed small to medium sized boulders:

There are three fallen-timber creek crossings that are in excellent condition with each having a handy … hand rail.

For much of the start of the hike, the sound of small creeks, springs, and rivers is a constant companion even though the trail does not follow along a stream. Then about a mile and a half in, the path takes a turn around a shoulder of Gabes Mountain towards Three Top Mountain and all the sound fades away. The litter of leaf debris, which in some places was thick enough to obscure the tail, muffled most of the forest sounds except for an occasional cricket or the sporadic tick-tick-tick-thud of acorns falling through the canopy.

There were a few people resting at the end of the trail and some kids climbing among the boulders at the bottom of the falls. Fortunately my limited Photoshop skills sufficed to either remove them or turn them into rocks:

After spending Sunday mostly stuck in RV as the last bits of Hurricane Delta made their way through, we decided to take a road trip through Great Smoky Mountains National Park (hereafter known as GSMNP) down Hwy 441 which bisects the park on it’s way to Cherokee and points south.

There was quite a bit of fog and residual cloudiness when we started out and we didn’t figure we’d get many good views but by the time we made it up to the pass at Newfound Gap the ceiling had lifted to the tops of he hills:

But before we got there we took a detour to Clingman’s Dome, the highest point in GSMNP and Tennessee, and the third highest mountain east of the Mississippi. On a clear day you can get views like this (from the National Park website):

What we got was this:

It wasn’t a total loss however as we did have a nice 1 mile walk up and back to get the blood flowing and besides, we have been there before when it was clear so this was a whole new experience 🤨.

Anyway, it wasn’t long before we were back on our way below the fog and we were rewarded with some great views. The color was predominantly yellow punctuated with orange and although there were some beautiful red trees scattered about, they didn’t seem to come out much in the pictures:

We were also able to hike a little on the Appalachian Trail and after taking it across two states, we went almost some but not very much of the way towards Maine:

After a full morning of riding in the car looking at leaves, we stopped for lunch in the Cherokee Nation by visiting the aptly named city of Cherokee:

where we strolled the avenue and perused the shops seeking a souvenir, objet d’art, or even a pair of moccasins that would be represent authentic Native American craftsmanship but with no result. Possibly due to the proximity to GSMNP and the traffic of tourists, the purveyors of such items have universally sold out to cheap imported goods from Mexico, China, and India. Being defeated in that quest we sought nourishment and recalling the restaurant on the way in from the park with a sign proclaiming “BUFFALO BURGERS” we headed back north. Predictably, the covids had shut down the dining room but they were still doing a, what appeared to be popular, take-out business. So we masked up and placed our orders for burgers. 40 tedious minutes later we received our order of overpriced, over-cooked, disappointing, previously-frozen buffalo.

After that experience, we turned for home making one last stop at the Mingus Grist Mill. Built in 1886, the mill is in good condition and still has a functioning sluice, turbine & other machinery:

This kind fellow with a banjo explained that as an industrial mill, they relied on the sluice and vertical penstock to drive a turbine rather than a less efficient water wheel. If you ever visit the mill, go down below and you can see the turbine housing, shaft and drive belt that makes it all work.

This was the day that kicked our asses both figuratively and literally (more on that later)

With a height of 100 feet, Ramsey Cascades is the tallest waterfall in GSMNP and while that doesn’t rank it very high in the world of falls, it is a beautiful sight as it cascades over rock outcroppings and boulders and it’s well worth the journey.

The trail to the falls was challenging to say the least and required that we do what we would consider “strenuous” hiking. A short distance from the parking area, it began it’s upward climb and it didn’t let up until for four miles at which point we reached the base of the falls 2,000 vertical feet higher:

Along the course of the trail, we passed through the largest old-growth forest in the Smokies. There are several “fallen log” bridges that cross the Ramsey Branch and Ramsey Prong of the Little Pigeon River and the trail follows these two creeks as they wind up into the watershed of Mt Guyot.

After an initial approach via a dirt road and smooth trail head, the path quickly becomes rocky and even boulder-y with a fair amount of roots thrown in for interest. It had rained quite a bit for a few days before our hike so the path was fairly wet and the rocks very slick. Given the thick forest cover I suspect that this trail is always on the moist and slippery side.



We were rewarded for our few-hours-long climb with sunny skies above the falls and a very nice view for a short rest …

before heading back down.

After reaching the falls we were both pretty footsore and having to navigate down the slick and uneven path was just as tiring as going up. This was compounded by Laura’s neck getting jolted each time she landed after stepping down from a boulder or washout. Many times the drops were over a foot down from slick rock onto loose dirt. That doesn’t sound like much unless you picture a staircase three miles long with treads unevenly spaced from 2 inches to 2 feet apart … and wet … with no handrail. Thankfully we were dressed appropriately and we have great hiking boots. Still, after a bit, bracing before and recovering after each step did a number on Laura’s back and neck. To help, I started standing in front of her for the larger drops so she could hold my shoulders as she stepped down. That worked well until I went to get in front for a somewhat large drop after a rounded and, apparently I didn’t notice, particularly mossy boulder. As I said, we have great hiking boots and I trust my gear and mountain goat skills implicitly so I don’t always look closely at where I’m stepping – well, I should have because I slipped and went straight down landing my tailbone quite firmly on the offending rock. My ass. hurt. for weeks. Want to know how bad? A week after we got home from this trip, I hopped on my motorcycle with it’s (I thought) generously padded seat. After getting just a quarter mile from the house, I turned around and went back for the car and if I ever swap my bike for a car and it’s not a-hurricane-ing out, you can bet there’s a problem!

Nevertheless, we did eventually make it back to the car and the sweet relief of getting our feet off the ground. And we saw a turkey:

The day after our challenging (but still fulfilling) hike to the cascades, we relocated to the Douglas Dam Tailwater Campground and setup our home-away-from-home next to the rolling waters of the, you guessed it, Douglas Dam on the French Broad River – not a bad view at all!

Getting ready to roast some dogs…

We were fortunate to spend one more night in Gatlinburg and had a fun evening because not only were we able to re-stock our alarmingly low supply of Salted Carmel Whisky but we also met up with our good friends Ron & Danni for an evening of moonshine-tasting and karaoke-watching (we didn’t have enough moonshine to participate but watching the locals was a hoot)