We got up early Sunday morning and headed to Tennessee. We stayed in a lodge about three miles outside of the busy-ness of Gatlinburg. It was so nice and peaceful. We went down to Gatlinburg a few times to eat, but otherwise didn't spend a massive amount of time there.
We stayed at The Lodge at Buckberry Creek. Aptly named for the creek that flows on the property. After we got settled in, we decided to explore the trail that led down to the creek. It is only 1/2 mile down, but it's not exactly well maintained. It's pretty steep in parts. Apparently, most people have someone take them down to the creek in the ATVs. Boring . . .
It was worth the trip down. It was/is beautiful, and there is a great pavilion that the owners have built overlooking the creek. On the way back up we encountered a copperhead. A big, fat, super coppery, copperhead. I seem to have a knack for attracting the dumb things.
The views from all over the property were gorgeous.
The view from the main building at breakfast Monday morning. As a side note, the Lodge served the most amazing scones EVER. I mean oh! my! word! I could've eaten fifteen in one sitting, and I'm not even a big scones person. That's all.
Sunday night we went to Gatlinburg and walked around and had dinner. Gatlinburg is like a town fair on steroids. There are fudge shops, candy stores, and junk stores everywhere. It was fun to walk around, but I'm glad we stayed away from the center of the chaos.
On Monday morning we headed into the national park to explore. We drove up to Clingman's Dome to hike up to Andrews Bald. The Andrews Bald hike is 3.6 miles round trip. It's listed on the easy end of the moderate hikes. Andrew has great stamina, and so I figured it wouldn't be too hard for him. Mostly, it wasn't, but what I forgot to consider were his little four year old legs. What seems fairly easy to an adult (even a short one like myself) can be pretty darn steep to a four year old. It ended up taking us three solid hours (I know that's ridiculous), but Andrew walked the entire thing on his own. He took it like a champ. Although at one point he said with an incredibly loud sigh, "You know, I think I'm more of an indoor kind of peoples." I laughed at him. He didn't appreciate it. (I cannot get this paragraph to align left. It's irritating the fire out of me.)
The pictures are a little mixed up. I can't deal with blogger and trying to fix them so it'll just have to stay that way.
On the drive up to Clingman's Dome.
I'm pretty sure this is taken from the Tennessee-North Carolina state line.
At the top of Andrews Bald. Don't look too closely at my hair. It's a disaster.
Taken on the hike up to the bald (pics above and below).
The views from the top were unbelievable. There were clouds above us but none covering us, and you could see for miles into North Carolina. Seriously, these pictures don't do it justice. Actually none of the pictures really do justice to the beauty of the Smokies.
Side Story: On the way up this couple passed us. The lady was probably in her forties. The man in his fifties. They were kind of the earthy free spirit types. So about halfway up the trail widens and splits, and they are just standing there. The lady just keeps repeating in this creepy, irritating, sing-songy voice, "I just don't understand." So I kind of give her the "I don't really care, but I'm gonna be nice and ask anyway look", (yes, I know not very Christian like), and she says, "He lost his walking stick that he's had for seventeen years. I just don't understand." I didn't say it, but I was thinking, "What the heck? I don't understand either . . ." Once again, real sympathetic of me. But how do you lose a walking stick that's almost as tall as you? I mean one second your holding it, and the next . . . poof?!? These mountains really are magical. Then I noticed that it smelled like cigarette smoke, and the lady had decided to take a smoke break. Nice . . . in the middle of God's beautiful creation you decide to expose us all to second hand smoke. Thank you ma'am! Any sympathy I felt flew out the window. Anyway, we passed them again later, and the lady was still going about the walking stick. I mean, I understand sentimental value. I get attached to things too. But again, how do you suddenly lose a walking stick?
More to come . . . try to contain your excitement. Now I have to go resign myself to the fact that I am not hiking in the Smokies but instead about to iron a pile of clothes a mile high.
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