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. 

Day 6 Dolly's Stampede

We arrived at the Stampede in plenty of time, and I was starving. We always eat breakfast, but lunch is usually zippo, and by the time I have my first cocktail before dinner, I am loopy and dying for food.

Dolly (or whoever commands this joint) has it running like a well-oiled machine. Employees moved the line at the entrance to ticket takers, who checked us in and steered us to an alcove where we had a group photo taken. From there, we moved along a roped lane ala Disney ride lines that rounded around and around until we came into a large holding area complete with a bar and entertainment. 

The adults ordered liquor, the teen got lemonade in a souvenir boot, and we paid scant attention to the entertainment. Ten minutes later, ushers herded us up two sets of carpeted stairs into a dimly lit stadium. Picture any sports stadium. Oval shaped. Seating high to low. The only difference was a corral instead of a field or court. The entire place smelled of horse, manure, and wet hay. Our seats were at the top in the last row, with Kim on the end, Maggie next to her, me, Steph, and then fifty-plus strangers to her left.

Me: "Easier to escape if necessary."

Steph: "I think this is going to require another drink."

A server appeared, introduced herself as Melissa, and placed a plate and bowl in front of us. She took our tea, soda, or water order and explained that we would be served in stages, starting with Dolly's homemade biscuit.

Melissa: "Everything at Dolly's Stampede can be eaten with your hands. And yes, that means you sip your soup."

She pantomimed doing precisely that and told us she'd return with our drinks. If we chose, forks were in front of us with the napkins and straws.

Steph: "Did she say we drink our soup?"

Me: "She did. We don't get spoons."

Steph: "Should we just order another drink now?"

Music played. The room darkened. Out came the horses, and we were off. Suddenly, servers appeared at the end of every row. They each held large trays, and at some signal, and I'm not sure if it was via music or hands, but they turned and served buttermilk biscuits in perfect synch right down the line--boom, boom, boom.

Dolly's biscuit recipe? Delicious. Melissa told us this was all we could eat, so I anticipated getting another biscuit and devoured mine in record time. Next, just like with the first serving, the servers appeared like dancers in a chorus line with giant kettles. Down the line, they came, ladling our creamy vegetable soup into our bowls. 

Besides a few onions, there were no vegetables in my soup. It tasted like herbed milky broth, and if I'd had another biscuit to dip into it, I would've given it a B+. But Melissa was nowhere in sight to ask. We drank our soup and then took pictures of us drinking our soup because it was absurd. 

Without giving a play-by-play, the show included horses, dancing, singing, horses, an American north versus south storyline, over-the-top redneck comedians, horseback tricks, pig racing, jousting, competitions, pyrotech flames, horses, and more. 

While they performed in the corral, the chorus line continued to feed us. They collected our bowls and returned with gigantic aluminum tins. We received corn on the cob, half an overcooked cold potato, and pieces of pork loin. Before we could tackle that, Melissa returned with an enormous container and plopped AN ENTIRE CHICKEN on our plate. 

Steph and I looked at one another and burst into laughter.

Me: "Who is going to eat this thing? This food seems wasteful."

We ate--with our hands. The chicken was hot as hell, and I was thankful we were given a fork. The potato was not edible. The corn was not from a Midwestern field. I reiterated again about who would eat this entire cornish hen and turned to Maggie. 

WHO HAD EATEN HER ENTIRE HEN, sucking the meat off the bones. 

Steph and I commented on the corny entertainment, wished we had ordered that next drink, and stuffed our faces. We got about forty minutes to eat. There was no savoring of food. If you didn't eat it when the chorus line servers appeared to take your plate, it was bagged or tossed. Last was an apple turnover dessert that was very flaky and tasty. Not once were we given an opportunity for more food, so I'm wondering where we got the idea it was all you could eat. 

Not that we could've eaten anything more. 

An hour and a half was all we got, and then we were herded down an incline to the exit into the parking lot, with Dolly thanking us for coming. 

The animals and manure activated Maggie's allergies. She sneezed and whined. We were all miserable, having shoved all that food into our bellies in that short period of time. There was a lot of moaning and groaning back to the resort.

Maggie showered, took drugs, and slept. Steph took a walk around the resort. Kim and I stretched out on our beds and prayed for fast digestion.

Steph: "I don't know what I expected. I mean, I didn't think we'd see Dolly, but..."

Me: "But we hoped she'd show."

Steph: "Or at least sing some Dolly songs!"

2.5 for the experience. We should've gone to Dollywood.

Day 5 Smoky Mountain vacation

Each night, while we played games, I sat across from this picture hanging on the wall. It was like someone had cut out magazine pictures and spliced them into this frame. I really wanted to open the back and take it out. I don't know why it perplexed me so. I felt like my mother, who used to observe paintings and pictures in the hospital, commenting on them like she was some art connoisseur. 

Wyndham offered to move our stuff to the other unit, so this morning, we packed it all and left it for transport. I took a photo of the picture, bemoaning that I wouldn't get to study it some more. No one cared.

We ate breakfast (on Wyndham) at Oaks Farm Kitchen, a family-style place. There was a wait, so while Steph and Maggie investigated the surroundings, I interviewed people exiting. The consensus was we had to try the farm-sized cinnamon roll and their famous ring-baked griddle cakes.

Maggie ordered the latter. We wished we'd gone with the former. The eggs weren't cooked enough to my liking. The grits tasted boxed. The syrup wasn't warm. We should've known it wasn't a place for us when we stood next to the fire pit with a sign that said HOT.

It was raining when we came out, so we headed back to the resort to see if we could check into our new unit. We could, and all of our stuff was waiting for us. The unit was definitely an upgrade, despite the towel bar and toilet paper holder falling off the wall. 

And to my surprise, the same picture was above the table where we would play games tonight!

We made plans to go to an Escape room later and purchased tickets for Dolly's Stampede for Friday afternoon. Dollywood was also on the list, and after checking the weather for the rest of the week, I decided we needed rain ponchos to do that on Saturday or Sunday. We spent considerable time up and down the strip doing just that--to no avail. Every single tourist place was sold out of ponchos and umbrellas. One place would send us to another, and we'd navigate there, arriving just as they sold the last one.

We did, however, find a bear.

Maggie and I were the only ones who'd ever done an Escape Room, and my experience was more of that as an audience member than a participant (since my daughters didn't want to lose). Steph and Kim were newbies. They had no concept despite our explanations, but we assumed they'd receive an education at the place.

We could choose from five different rooms ranging from beginner to advanced. With the history above and our egos, we went with an intermediate room called Shipwrecked. 

An employee brought us into a small alcove where we watched a two-minute black and white video about the 1914 disappearance of Ernest Shackleton, his crew, and their ship. The TV shut off, the employee gave us a list of rules, such as no photography, and then she led us into a dimly lit room. Decorated as a ship's cabin, it had hanging ropes, maps on the walls, locked chests and cabinets, and books. Telling us we had one hour to escape, she wished us luck and shut the door.

Steph: "That's it? Good luck?"

We wasted precious minutes laughing and complaining, and then we scrambled about the tiny room like we knew what we were doing.

Steph: "We knew NOTHING. She told us NOTHING. She said good luck and left us!" 

Maggie scrambled. Kim wandered. I read things on the walls. Steph stood in the middle of the room.

Me: "Get to work!"

Steph: "Doing what? We have no idea what we're supposed to do!"

Meanwhile, a giant digital clock above the door ticked off the seconds. Kim and I spent tons of time on, of all things, a math question that had to do with ship supplies. Maggie tried to help us, to no avail. We finally waved our hands and asked for a clue. 

This went on and on. We couldn't get a damn thing, and we'd wave our hands for a clue. Somehow, we, and I mean Maggie, deciphered enough codes to unlock chests and drawers. We unknotted the ropes and got a handful of photographs on cards. A key opened the door to the next room.

Off we went, time ticking. This room had a mannequin wearing a captain's coat that I searched. I thought thoroughly, but apparently, not because later, someone found a clue in a pocket. 

Against one wall was a case with labeled bottles. On the buffet below were empty vials with droppers. We spent tons of time studying those until I figured out we had to use the information on the back of the photographs to mix stuff. Kim and Steph got to mixing while Maggie ran around doing everything else. By this point, the employees didn't bother to offer hints when we asked for help. They just gave us answers. 

Time ran out. We threw our hands up in defeat, feeling low on the totem pole. 

The door opened. A different employee entered. He gave us a sad smile.

Him: "Oh, sorry, but you were so close."

Steph: "We didn't really know what we were doing. This (she points at herself and Kim) is our first time in an escape room."

Him: "Would you like to know what you had left to do?"

Me: "Absolutely."

It took him five minutes to go through everything we still had left to do. It was long and involved and he pointed up and down and all around the room, talking about the photographs, about opening drawers, going into maps, and things dropping to reveal clues. The longer he spewed, the harder it was for me and Steph to keep in our laughter. Plus, this guy's somberness about us being "so close" to escaping was too much. He genuinely seemed sorry. 

We followed him out of the escape room back into the front entrance. It was dark and gloomy and deadly silent. The two employees behind the desk looked at our guy. No one knew what to say or do. Usually, people exit full of excitement at having escaped. They're talking and laughing and getting their pictures taken. 

Someone had to break the ice.

Steph: "Thank you."

Them: "You're welcome. Have a good day."

We opened the door, stumbled outside, and lost it.

Me: "They didn't know what to do or say."

Steph: "They are in there laughing right now."

Maggie: "We're probably going to be on the Internet."

Steph: "You think they were videotaping us? Of course, they were. We were so pitiful."

Me: "I can see it now. Three old ladies and a kid are totally clueless."

Steph: "Because we didn't know what we were doing! They gave us zero guidance!"

We laughed on the way back to the resort, chuckled through our takeout dinner from a BBQ restaurant, and were in hysterics replaying the guy telling us we were so close and then launching into a thirty-minute discussion of what we "just needed to do." 

Tomorrow, we're surfing the web for our video. I you happen to see us before then, give us the link.