This Old House

Ha, so you thought I was done with vacation posts, but you were wrong!  July 28 was our last day in Tennessee, but there was a whole state in the way on the trip back to Maryland.  Yes, Virginia.

As we did waaaay long ago on our trip south, we also made a pit stop on the trip north, just to break up the monotony of the interstate.  This particular pit stop had been on my list of places to go while I was in the neighborhood, but I never quite made it.  The picture above (taken blind, of course) is from none other than the Dome Room of Monticello.  This was the home of Thomas Jefferson, and I am sure you recognize it, for it is also featured on the nickel.  (For my younger readers - the nickel is a "coin" which is a form of "cash".  This was used to purchase things before "credit cards".)

Monticello was built in the late 1700's and has remained pretty much in tact since.  It is restored to its state in about 1815, when "TJ" was retired.  He's a pretty smart guy, that TJ. He took interest in gardening, architecture, science, and the arts.  He also had a few nutty habits like sleeping in these "alcove beds" which are only like 5 feet long and crammed between walls.  He slept sitting up on pillows, and then he put his feet in a bowl of water every day.  He claimed this kept him from catching cold.
 

After the tour, we walked around the grounds and saw some unusual flowers in a horseshoe shaped garden.  Most of them were marked "TJ" to indicate that Jefferson had grown them back in his day.  Though the house was mostly original (with a few additional steel beams for support - it was a tad rickety), there were also a lot of reproductions of things Jefferson owned.  For instance, he gave all his books to the Library of Congress after the British torched DC in the war of 1812, so there were only a few volumes that he actually owned in the house. There were also a lot of reproductions of the paintings he owned, though they did have one of the original Gilbert Stuart paintings of Mr. Jefferson.  (I do think it is a little odd that he had a huge picture of himself hanging...but I guess that was the thing to do back in the day.)

How do they know what he owned and planted?  Well, he was a bit of a "Type A" person and he kept detailed records of just about everything.  Interestingly, he also owned the Natural Bridge, and there was a picture of it hanging in the dining room.  I wonder if that makes us groupies?

Anyway, after Monticello, we headed to nearby Charlottesville, VA - home of Jefferson's school, the University of Virginia.  The same architect did many of the buildings, and the campus was very nice.  Of course, the main attraction was the few breweries in town.  And the ability to get a burger after 10pm.

We checked out the South Street Brewery, which was a bit of a hike from our hotel.  Looked a lot closer on the map.  Ahh, well, it was all worth it for a tasty brew!

Cades Cove

Our last day in the Great Smoky National Park was Thursday, July 28.  We chose a driving loop which features views up at the mountains from the meadows, rather than views to valleys far below.  Alas many of my pictures are of things right next to the things I wanted pictures of, because the screen was destroyed during the previous day's exploits on "Chimney Tops" aka "Shale of Doom".  Digital cameras do not even feature viewfinders anymore, and there was no way to tell how far I was zoomed in, whether the flash was on, what mode I was in, or what, exactly, I was picturing.  However, taking "point and shoot" quite literally, one can still get a few good photos.

 

 Cades Cove - during spring, this is covered with wildflowers.

The Cades Cove Loop is an "Auto Tour" with lots of stopping points for looks at historic structures.  After all, the meadows only really exist because white settlers came to the area in the 1820's and 30's and chopped down all the trees.  The area was once home to as many as 271 (white) families.  (The native people, generally Cherokee, had lived in the area for centuries and I guess no one knows how many of them there were because it was not listed in my official "Self-Guided Auto Tour" booklet.)

Cades Cove is rumored to be a good place to see wildlife, including bears.  More on that in a moment.  First stop was a Baptist Church, established in 1827.

 The biggest appeal to me in stopping here was not the church itself, but the cemetery behind it.  I love cemeteries,  and after a PBS special which toured a bunch of them as scenic and serene parks, I am not afraid to admit it anymore.  Lots of people love cemeteries.  Really.  I am not weird.

OK, OK, so I'm weird.  I especially love the oldest tombstones.  I like to see how old people were, who their family members were, what sort of epitaphs they may have.  I like to look at the years, and try to imagine what life had been like for them.  I mourn a bit for those whose tombstone inscriptions have faded.

This cemetery had a number of old and interesting stones, including one guy who was "murdered by North Carolina Rebels" and another with an arched stone.  There were many whose lettering had washed away, and a number of infants and children.

It was also stinking hot!  And no shade!  So we continued past a homestead and two more churches without stopping.  We did stop for a short hike to Abrams Falls, and I don't think I would have taken such a nice picture if I could see the screen:

I do, however, have a few pictures of the rocks next to the falls, and about 8 pictures of ground because  I tried to photograph two beautiful butterflies that were opening and closing their wings.  I missed for every shot.  I did not even try to shoot a picture of the otter I saw later on.

The final historical stop is the Cable Grist Mill.  According to my booklet, this would feature about 10 old structures which were moved from various park locations to simulate a typical homestead with a mill.  One structure was to be a "Tennessee Cantilever Barn" and I was sort of surprised to see the use of a structural engineering term such as "cantilever" in the description.  When we got to the barn, we saw this:

 This.  Is not a cantilever.  An example of a cantilever is a diving board - something that freely overhangs on one end, with the other end fixed.  I thought perhaps they had screwed up their terms.

But then we saw this one:

Tricky.  There were two barns.

Anyway, we walked around the mill area a bit and then continued the drive.  Unfortunately, there was a bit of a traffic jam.  People were pulling off to the side to look at wildlife, but when the pull off areas filled up, they just parked themselves right there on the road.  We were patient, thinking this must be the bear we hoped to see.  So we get to the area, and we look, to find....

...deer.

Yes, deer.  Not reindeer, or elk, or any interesting species of deer either. These were the same freaking critters that eat the shrubbery in front of my house.  The ones I practically dodge on the street on a daily basis.  And looking at the license plates, it was clear that these people would be equally familiar with this "rodent with hooves".  Very confusing.

We made our way around the deer-gawkers, and found the bear-gawkers - outside their cars, and into the woods about half a mile.  According to a woman just outside our vehicle, people were looking at a mama bear and her two cubs.

Really?

This is EXACTLY what the park rangers advise us NOT to do.  Not so much because the bear will maul you (though it could, if you get too close), but because the bear will get used to you, and then attempt to steal someone's "pickinic" basket, and then maul some other random jackass.  And then it will be killed without a trial.

Sorry, I just get frustrated by the masses who seem to care for nothing but their own enjoyment, regardless of the circumstances of their actions.

We opted to leave the bear be, though I was sad not to see it.  We saw only two bears on our trip - in both cases they were frantically crossing busy streets in Gatlinburg.  Kind of like these deer things we have up here...

Better Than Most?

After a day in the car, we went back to hiking on foot.  I had picked two hikes, just in case.  We were very ambitious.  The first hike, called "Chimney Tops" was considered moderate in difficulty for most of the hike, but ends with 800 feet of elevation change in the last mile.  The last hundred feet or so are actually a "scramble" meaning hands and feet are needed to get up, but it is easy to do without true climbing gear.  It sounded fun, and the hike was relatively short - the one we did on Monday (that would have been July 25th) was 7.0 miles round trip, but this one (which we did on July 27th) was only 4.0.  I figured we could do this in about 2 hours, despite the signs at the trail head noting that most people take 3 to 4 hours.  It also said most people don't make it to the top.

"Pfft!" I thought, "MOST people is not me and Adam!"

Well, that may be true, but this hike took us about 3 hours, maybe a bit more.

We had stopped at a gas station deli and brought a few sandwiches to eat in the woods.  We missed the turn for the picnic area, so we just went to the river and ate on some large rocks.  The stupid people who only yesterday were walking in front of cars while eating ice cream cones were playing in the rapids without shoes.  One little boy in particular was clearly unaware of the potential dangers of this, and his father was equally clueless.  As a former lifeguard, I assessed the surroundings and imagined how I would rescue this boy.  Despite the drama of Baywatch, it is actually a last resort to go into the water for a rescue, and I eyed up a good stick which I would reach out to the kid.

Meanwhile, he came closer and closer to this rapid in front of us, and I wrestled with whether I should say something, because his father was right there watching him.  Just like that, the kid, who was about 10 and weighed all of 70 pounds, started to get caught.

He gets this panicked look on his face, and his dad tells him to "Stand up" which is not only hard for him to do, but like, the worst advice ever.  You see, when you stand up in water that is strongly pulling you in one direction, you will stand on rocks spaced closely together.  The water will still pull, and more than likely, you will get a foot stuck between rocks and either drown, or break a bone.  Or both.  Luckily, the kid was not able to follow this advice, and tried swimming.

I made a move for that stick as he struggled, and then thankfully, he got his hands around a rock and was able to pull himself out.  He ran, stricken, to his stupid father who told him he should be more careful and actually kind of made fun of hm for being so skinny.  Luckily, I think the kid is smarter than the dad, and he looked like he may have learned a lesson about swimming near rapids.

Meanwhile, we finished our meals and began our hike.  It was totally as advertised, and we reached the "scramble" section as a family with two teenagers was coming down.  Both boy and girl teen paused to tell us how cool the summit is, and wished us luck.

I started out just fine, and Adam quickly rushed ahead of me.  We have both done lots of indoor climbing, and this was easier than most of those.  However, it was much more of a sheer rock than I had initially imagined.  I guess I pictured a hike much like the one we did a few years back at Mount Monadnock in New Hampshire.  It required the use of hands, but the trail was through a narrow passageway.  It had higher rocks around us for most of the time.

This was just bare rock face, and I was climbing it.  On Monday, the body strongly opposed the brain.  This day, the brain was strongly opposing the body.  Believe me, this was decidedly NOT HARD.  My body was like, "Dude, I got this.  Piece of cake."

But my brain kept pointing out key differences between this, and indoor climbing.  Little things, like how I have always had a harness while climbing before, how I didn't bring my climbing shoes, how I might slip and fall to my death, and the most troubling point, how I normally do not climb back down.  In indoor climbing, you reach the top, and you let go, while your partner lowers you safely to the ground on a rope.  I highly doubted there would be one of those skyline rides on the other side of the summit.

Somewhere about mid-way, I froze.  Actually, no, I could not go up or down, true, but I was shaking like a leaf.  Arms, legs, hands, all of me.  Meanwhile, Adam nearly walked up the thing like stairs.  He marveled at the view, and told me to get up there.  I did make the choice to continue up, despite extreme concerns about getting back down.  If for no other reason, than to not be lumped in with "most people" who were currently shouting from swimming holes to add more lighter fluid to the campfire (or so I surmised).

A view of Adam about half way up.

 

Me, as close to the top as I could get.  It counts!

The view from the peak - Adam had to take this blind because I broke the fluid in the camera screen while clinging to a rock for dear life with the camera in my pocket...

By the way, we did not get to do the second hike because it was about 5pm when we finished this one.  I did manage to get down, thanks to my Hero (aka Adam) who told me exactly where to put my hands and feet on the descent.  Getting down was not as hard as I expected!

We instead went to the Newfound Gap by car, and hiked about a mile of the Appalachian Trail, just for kicks.

What Happens in Gatlinurg Stays in Gatlinburg

After the "trek" to the peak of Clingman's Dome, we headed for our hotel on the Tennessee side of the park.  In reading my pamphlets on the area, I knew that the Bryson City area, and the North Carolina side in general, was the quieter, less popular side of the park.  The center, right there at Clingman's Dome, is the Appalachian Trail, which is the border between states.  Based on the hundreds of ads I had gotten with my "Great Smokies Trip Planner", I expected Gatlinburg, Tennessee to be something like Ocean City here in Maryland.  Basically, a tourist trap - only here there would be woods instead of sand.

This was beyond a tourist trap - it was like Vegas for families.  As soon as we left the serene park borders, we were met with pure chaos:  Haunted Houses, Mini-Golf, Dig for your Own Gold, Zip Line Tours, Live Bear Acts, and at least Six "Ripley's Believe It Or Not" attractions.  (Adam called them, Ripley's "I Can't Believe I Paid That Much" museums.)  Along the mayhem, were pedestrians.  Inexplicably, they were all paying more attention to their ice cream cones or funnel cakes, and grown adults were walking into traffic without even a glance at the cars.

It was pure insanity, especially compared to the peaceful whips of clouds we had photographed just minutes earlier.  I held fast to the reviews of our hotel, which said it was "off the strip" and "quiet", but "close enough to walk to the town".  Thank goodness, these were right on the money.

A few scenes from our hotel room:

Yep, that's the Roaring Fork Creek, which runs right behind every room at this hotel.  It is loud enough to drown out any noise, but the hotel truly is located a bit away from the mayhem.  Also, they featured "wine and cheese" followed by "milk and cookies" every day (though we stayed in the park until sunset each day, and we missed them).  And the pool and hot tub were open 24 hours.  And there was a parrot in the lobby.  (His name is Cesar, and, according to the sign on his cage, he bites.  Good to know.)

The only complaint I had was the free Wi-Fi.  It was set up a bit funky, so every web page featured a banner with flashing coupons at the top.  It was either this, or the million other set-up issues Adam noted in their code, that made it impossible to load pictures to my posts.  So, yes, I have been back for full-on a week now, but will continue to bore you every few days with stories about my vacation.  You're welcome!

Clingman's Dome

Some pictures from Clingman's Dome, which is the highest point along the Appalachian Trail at 6,643 feet above sea level.  Only one other mountain, Mt Mitchell, is higher.  On a clear day, one can see Mount Mitchell, which is in Mitchell State Park in North Carolina.  We were there on a decidedly UN-clear day.  But the air was refreshing and cool at about 67 degrees, so we hung out on top of the man made tower that emanates from the dome, and eventually, the clouds rolled away a bit.

 The spiral walkway leading to the tower.

 View of some clouds rolling in.

 The long awaited southern view, with layers of mountains.

 The observation tower.

Contact with the Trail

The tires are the things on the car that make contact with the trail!

After yesterday's hike, we needed time to dry out.  We decided on a driving loop that would take us partially on unpaved road.  The drive started in the lower elevations on a hot and humid day, but the higher we drove, the cooler and less humid the weather.  At elevation 3000 or so, we put the windows all the way down, and at 4160 ft, we made our first stop at Big Witch Overlook.

 My attempt at humor...get it?  Witch's Overlook?  Geesh!  Tough crowd!

We continued on our drive up to the top, where, conveniently, there were potties.  There is a saying in my family - never pass a pot - so even though our needs were not dire, we used the facilities.  The area also had a number of beautiful tables made of piled up stones.  Alas, I had not thought I would need the camera on a trip to the restroom, so I will have to rely on my memory to picture these.  Fading already!

At this point, we entered the unpaved area.  A sign warned us that the road is 28 miles long and one way, with a speed limit of 15 miles per hour.  Adam maneuvered the car through twists and turns.  Directly adjacent to the trail, for the vast majority of the length, is a drop of about 40 feet or so.  It certainly kept him on his toes.  There also was no way one would reach 15 miles per hour without careening off the cliff.  He kept it an average of 10 miles an hour, going about 6 or 7 around these curves.

For those readers too lazy for this math: 28 miles at 10 miles an hour = a long time.  We did not reach the bottom in Cherokee, NC until about 3:30pm.  At that time, we were hungry!  A common theme on this trip is looking for food at non-traditional mealtimes.  No exception here - Cherokee has places for putt-putt and Christmas ornaments, lots of places to buy "authentic, Indian made jewelery", and Indians themselves, dressed in plastic feathers and beating plastic drums.  But the only food available was ice cream and candy.

I prefer to try local spots when I'm in a new place, so I noted a sign that said the "Cherokee Diner", complete with an "Open" sign.  Open signs appear to be in the windows of places 24-7 around here, so we still weren't certain it was, in fact, open.  Also, it appeared to be somehow between a Dairy Queen and a Dominoes.

Turns out, it was both the Dairy Queen and the Dominoes.  But, it was open, so we ate at the authentic Cherokee Diner.

Its a Natural Feeling

My body is a big fan of the Law of Inertia - at least the second part.  The law clearly states that an object at rest will stay at rest, unless acted upon by an outside force.  My brain occasionally attempts to act as the outside force.

But my body tends to do everything in its power to resist the brain's attempts to move it.  The body reacts violently in some cases - from overheating and nausea, to full out puking, the body makes it clear that said movement is not okay with it, and I had better get back to rest.

To exercise with me is to realize:  I may puke on you.  I am so glad you love me anyway.

Allow me to segue into talk of preparations for our trip.  I read the pamphlets on what to do if encountering a bear, what to do if lost in the woods, and how to prevent hypothermia in the event that I am caught in the rain.  The pamphlets contained an additional section on pooping in the woods.  Oh, I tried to convince myself I wouldn't need it, but knowing my body, there really was no deceiving myself.

Dear reader, you have guessed where this is going, but allow me to regale you with my tale:

We decided on a hike to the "Lonesome Pine Overlook" which is just the beginning section of the "Noland Divide Trail".  The hike is rated "strenuous" by most reviews, and has an elevation change of about 2300 feet.  We started out in good spirits, despite the heat.  It was about 92 degrees and humid.  It wasn't long before we were both sweating, and Adam commented that he hates the sun.

Apparently, this was more effective than we knew.  Literally a minute after his statement, it started to drizzle and turned quickly to a light rain.  At least this will cool us off, we thought, and we continued our ascent.  About a half hour later, there was no kidding ourselves.  This was full buckets of rain, dumped by the gallon over our heads.  The trail was steep and narrow, with water literally streaming downwards as we climbed up.  I pulled my camera from my pocket and buried it in a biking glove that was still in my pack, hoping to keep it dry.  I also used the rain cover feature of my pack for the first time.  A pouch at the base holds a cover that slips over the top, affording an additional defense against moisture.

As thunder rolled overhead, we considered sloshing our way back to the car, even though we were only about halfway.  However, we chose to trudge on with heavy clothes and squishy feet.

An hour later, the rain let up, and we reached a rocky ridge.  Finally, we were able to take a few pictures:

Plumes of "smoke" rising from the valley - giving the Great Smokies their name.

 The peak in this picture was our destination - about 2300-ft above our starting point.

 This "waterfall" popped up during the storm.

It threatened to rain some more, and though we were cool with it before, our patience was a tad thin.  So we began the trek back down the muddy slope.  It was about this time that I realized what punishment my body had set  up for me.  Evil of all evils, I had to poop.  This behavior was not unheard of from my body.  So of course, I ignored it.

About 20 minutes later I told Adam of my predicament and headed away from the trail to dig a hole as I was instructed by my pamphlets.  On the bright side, I was already soaked to the bone and feeling generally gross.  And I answered an age old question:  When a Baer shits in the woods and no one is around to smell it, does it make a stink?