Ahh, good morning Tennessee! I awoke in my motel room in one of those towns that isn’t really a town. With a reasonably early start, I headed for points south. First Stop: Sevierville, to pay homage to that wonder of wonders, Dolly Parton. Sevierville being Dolly’s hometown and all, they have placed a statue of her on the Courthouse Square. In addition to just appreciating the fact that there’s a Dolly Parton statue, I especially like that the statue is of a young, barefoot, “mountain” Dolly rather than glitzy glam Dolly. I love them both, but given that this is where she started out I like that the statue reflects her down home roots. After snapping my pics of the divine Ms. Parton I walked around “downtown” Sevierville a bit, in search of a coffee shop (I was struggling a bit as a result of my Mello-Yello induced, semi-sleepless night) but I had no luck in my caffeine hunt, so I headed on down the highway to Pigeon Forge.
I hadn’t planned to stop in Pigeon Forge (intending to make a return visit sometime in the not too distant future to pay Dollywood a visit) and while I didn’t pause there, I was sorely tempted. There was all kinds of magnificence around me. A huge replica of the Titanic, a Hatfields and McCoys dinner theater of some sort, and a Hill Billy Village --- which I should probably be offended by, but no, I don’t want to protest I want to buy a ticket. I even happened to see a random person going down the (very busy) highway on horseback. It was as if I was driving through the awesome, redneck progeny of Panama City Beach and Las Vegas.
I bypassed Gatlinburg and headed straight into Great Smoky Mountain National Park. This was probably the first National Park that I ever visited, and certainly it’s the one I’ve been to the most but it has been ages since I’ve really explored it. I was not alone in my exploration. The park was chock full of visitors. There were tons of people everywhere, including a fair few tooling around in old-timey cars. Also, loads of motorcycles. I’ve since learned that Great Smoky Mountain is the most visited of all the national parks. Given that the traffic levels were bordering on congestion, I am unsurprised by that fact. While I didn’t get to do an in depth tour (there’s this thing with synchronized lightning bugs that I missed out on, plus not a salamander in sight) I did make it up to Clingman’s Dome, along many a winding road. The whole trek through the park was just lovely. There were babbling brooks, mountain laurel, and even a tunnel or two!
I exited the Park at Cherokee, NC a place that is much cooler in my memories than it is in reality. I contemplated staying until sunset to see Unto These Hills (outdoor drama telling the story of the Trail of Tears) but I decided to be responsible and try to make it all the way home tonight. I didn’t take a direct route back to Douglasville, however. Instead I took a leisurely drive down the very twisty Mountain Waters Scenic Byway (which I didn’t even know existed until today) and saw many a lovely waterfall. I even got to walk behind one and see the other side of water.
Eventually I made it back into Georgia and shortly after crossing the state line I stopped at a little scenic overlook to take in the view of the North Georgia Mountains (totally prettier than any of the surrounding states) and as I was taking off from there I happened to spot a Bartram Trail sign.
Digression: The Bartram Trail approximates the trek that naturalist William Bartram took through what is now the Southeastern US in the late 18th century. Basically he walked all over, wrote about things in nature, drew pictures of various flora and fauna, and confabed with some of the native tribes in the area. In my opinion, way cooler than Audubon, but there’s this whole back story in my family that makes me partial to Bartram, which I will spare you for now. In any case, I’ve always kind of wanted to retrace at least part of the Bartram Trail. While that may never happen, I was pleased that I spotted the sign.
I soon started looking for a gas station, as the Civic had dipped below a quarter of a tank. I very nearly broke my neck when I did a double take to see the gas price on the sign of one lonely station that I passed. I think I actually yelled out loud “Gas for $2.85!!!” but my joy was fleeting, as I soon realized that the sign was attached to a gas station that had clearly ceased operations some time ago. I finally gassed up, and continued heading southward, but soon regretted not getting a bottle of water at my earlier stop. By now I was in a fairly well populated area so I pulled off at a generic convenience store, and made my way inside to procure a tasty Dasani. The guy at the counter hit me with some basic banter about how I was old enough to buy water, he guessed. But then as I left, he walked out too. It had just started to rain and he was asking me some sort of chemistry related question about rain and oxidization, the specifics of which I can’t recall. He also kept talking away, as I’m trying to walk through the rain to my car. I may have been a little rude, but my rudeness was nothing compared to his strangeness. That’s North Georgia I suppose.
I zipped down I-85, making it into the city before dark. I tried to snag a nice end-of-the-trip picture of the city at dusk, but I couldn’t manage a good one from the car and I was too tired to make a special stop for it.
Finally, I was home and in bed. Magic over. :(
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