Day 6 Smoky Mountain vacation

The new unit does not have the same peaceful balcony experience we had in the shitty unit. This one has all the noise from the road and the aesthetics of the jury-rigging job Wyndham has done to hold up these balconies. 

By now, we just laugh.

 Because our tickets for Dolly's Stampede were for 3:00 p.m., we were up and out the door early to cram as much into this day as possible. We headed off again into the Smoky Mountain National Park, with Steph driving and me in the passenger seat navigating.

Our first stop was at a picnic area. 

We used the restroom facilities and wandered past the crick. Somewhere in these last few days, we'd taken to speaking in a southern accent (nowhere near to the natives), using language probably not kosher if heard aloud. Which, truthfully, happened more often than not. Please forgive us, Tennesee.

Maggie: "Are you from Tennessee? Cuz you're the only ten I see."

Back in the car, we took the Roaring Fork Trail, a 5.5-mile one-way loop above Gatlinburg. We pulled off to hike the Roaring Fork Nature Trail. It begins at the Noah "Bud" Ogle Cabin, a 19th-century farmstead now reclaimed by the forest. 

The sign said it was an "easy walk," so off we went.

I don't know who was in charge of assigning the trail difficulty, but someone may need to reevaluate. Easy is what I'd classify as a hike for families wearing sneakers. Like us.

This was anything but that.

It was muddy and rocky, and everyone we passed wore hiking boots and carried backpacks with water bottles and used walking sticks. I had my purse crisscrossing my body. Nothing screams hiking novice like a cross-body purse and sneakers.

We hiked past the Ogle's tub mill, a structure that ground corn into cornmeal with the help of a waterwheel driven by the flow of Le Conte Creek and redirected to the mill by an 80-foot flume. 

Past the Ogle tub mill, we came to the Ogle farm’s four-crib barn. It is a “drive-in” barn, named because a wagon could drive and park inside the structure. Four logged-off pens in the barn, which once held livestock, show off some fine dove-tailed jointing typical of the era. It also showed off a lot of graffiti. What is wrong with people?

Back in the car, we continued driving, pulling over when we saw things we thought we needed to see up close. The rain held off, and we got some lovely pictures. No more so than the one I took of Steph holding up the mountain.

I told her to put her hand out, but she stopped me after the first snap and said she had to fix her hair. She combed it with her fingers, flopped her head around to fluff it, and then posed, hand raised just as the wind blew through.

Steph: "Okay, take it now."

Kim, Maggie, and I couldn't stop laughing. Don't tell her, but that is the picture I have with her contact information on my phone. 

Our next stop was the Alfred Reagan Place. Alfred operated the Roaring Fork community's blacksmith shop, general store, and grist mill. He was also a part-time preacher at the Roaring Fork Church, for which he donated the land and helped build. It is the only building in the park that is painted. Like Ogle's cabin, it is a saddlebag design, meaning two cabins with a single roof. 

We parked, and while the others chatted with a man standing nearby, I hiked toward the cabin, where I spotted a woman and her kid peering underneath the structure. 

Earlier, we'd discussed how tourists loved coming closer to people clusters as if they knew or saw something the tourists were missing. So, jokingly, I hurried over.

Me: "Whatcha looking at?" (I hope I said this without my southern accent, but I have a bad feeling that I did not)

Lady: "There's a snake under there."

Yep, sure enough, there was a coiled snake. I snapped its picture--because wildlife--and then I ventured s-l-o-w-ly and carefully into the cabin to look around. 

The others joined me, looked at the snake, and then Steph took our picture.

Steph: "I want a pic of you all in front of the Wyndham."

We hiked down to the water and peeked into the Reagan tub mill. It still has its flume that once redirected water from Roaring Fork to power a tub-wheel turbine. I checked for snakes and then decided I only needed a glance or two.

Finishing the loop, we passed Place of a Thousand Drips, a waterfall easily viewed from the car. But Maggie, Steph, and I decided we needed a closer look, and we parked miles away, and hiked up a steep incline, taking our lives in our hands from crazy drivers, to view it up close and personal.

People were climbing up it to peek into what looked like a cave, but Steph and I decided it a bit treacherous. There was no way in hell I was climbing it in my sneakers and on my shaking legs, having climbed the steep incline. Maggie, however, skipped on up.

She said it wasn't worth the trip. There was nothing to see, and she got caught behind an elderly couple who Steph and I had been keeping our eye on since we arrived. The woman was having a hard time getting down, and it was agonizing to watch.

Steph: "If she falls, we're going to have to act, aren't we?"

Me: "And do what? We have no first aid kit."

Steph: "Good question. I haven't seen a ranger yet."

We needn't have worried. She made it down with her husband and Maggie on her heels, and we hiked back down the incline to where Kim waited in the car. 

It was time to head back into town for dinner at Dolly's Stampede.