One autumn morning we packed up the RV with gear and our chow chow, and took a road trip to the Great Smoky Mountains of Tennessee for a week of hiking. We stayed in a three-story log home built on the side of a mountain in Sevierville, Tennessee. It was a bit scary driving up one-lane, rail-less mountain roads. Especially, after looking over the side and seeing only treetops. One wrong maneuver and we could’ve easily sailed over the side into treetops below. Our log cabin was spectacular. The newly constructed dwelling still carried a scent of freshly timbered wood, was nicely furnished and had magnificent peak views from the large decks on each floor. A private guide with llamas led us on our daily trips up mountainous terrain in several locations in Tennessee and Asheville, North Carolina. The llamas (well-trained creatures that ‘fortunately’ did not spit at us) carried our supplies and food. One mountaintop we reached reminded me of the movie, “The Sound of Music”, with beautiful flower-filled meadows and spectacular sky views. We were so high up that it seemed as if I could touch a cloud forming just above my head. One evening, we dined at a five-star restaurant a short descent from a peak we’d hiked earlier that day. But wait! We actually crossed (yes, we literally stepped over) the Appalacian Trail. Part of the Appalacian trail crossed our terrain. On the single day we didn’t trek a mountain we visited Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, which is Dolly Parton’s hometown and the location of Dollywood. Don’t laugh. Dollywood is cool. It’s an amusement park. We also walked through nearby Gatlinburg and visited art galleries (yes, there is fine art in Tennessee), sugar shops (the fudge is to die for) and pancake restaurants that make some of the fluffiest pancakes and scrumptious biscuits I’ve ever eaten. Southerners have an intense love affair with carbs and don’t apologize for it. They are experts at using white flour. I have not yet tasted anything as delicious as the down-home southern treats I feasted on almost daily in Tennessee. But, as good as the biscuits and fudge squares were, my thighs and omentum were screaming in horror. I had to do some serious cardio and dieting when I got out of the Smokies and back north of the Mason Dixie line.
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