This morning DH and I were soundly asleep in our bed, luxuriating in the fact that DH did not have to get up at 4am and I did not have to get up at 6am when at about 6:45am there were the sounds of gunshots, not piddly, wimpy little gunshots you understand but the sound of a very high powered rifle being fired in close proximity to our house. Initially we ignored it, as you do, and turned over, patted the pillows and tried to get back to sleep, but the gun shots persisted and got louder and louder. At about 7am DH had just about got to the end of his tether and he got out of bed and got dressed "that's it" he said "this is just ridiculous" he left the house and got in the car and drove to the direction of the gunshots. He couldn't find the perp but he did stand there in the road and yell very loud "quit with the gunfire!" at which point it stopped. I can only imagine that it was someone playing target practice cause if they were actually trying to shoot something then a) they were a lousy shot and b) every living thing within 500 miles would have disappeared by then. But my point is what on earth would possess a human being to wake up at 6am and think "okay I think I am going to go out and do some target shooting in the midst of a busy neighborhood at 6:45am" what an absolute inconsiderate a**hole. I just wish the sheriff's had got him, discharging a weapon within that close proximity of an occupied residence is a crime. DH should probably have taken Cueball with him, and then set him upon the said offending a**hole.

So the day after the pigeon forge debacle we decided to take a trip back up the great smokies to see if I could get some shots. As it turned out the weather was lousy, you could not see, let alone shoot a thing. From there we decided to go up to the ski area, just to see what it was like. The drive was interesting to say the least, very, very, very windy (dirt) roads for some areas but eventually we got up there. After we had parked the car and gone down to the base of the slopes we watched the skiers come in for a while when all of a sudden the clouds (or the fog) came swooping through, not only could we not see the ski mountain, we couldn't even see the skiers.



At that point we decided that it would be a good idea to get off the mountain because a) it was not going to be fun driving down a twisty mountain dirt road in the fog and b) pretty soon every skier on that mountain was going to figure out it was time to go home and there would be a traffic jam from hell. After we left the mountain we went to a store half way up another mountain to go and buy some mountain apples for my neighbors, a family tradition. From there we went to a genuine (and this time a mean genuine) Indian Trading Post just this side of Cherokee to browse for a while and a browse it was. Some of the artifacts they had there were just stunning. There was a buck skin jacket that was beyond belief, of course it was way beyond our budget but just standing there looking at it was just incredible. We mosied on back to Maggie Valley and headed for the Dish Barn (not that I am interested in dishes you understand but they have a wonderful selection of concrete yard art and it is now a tradition that on our yearly vacations I get a new piece of yard art). As luck would have it we pulled up just as the store owner was locking up the store, but I wandered to the back and looked through the chain link at the yard art in the back. And there he was, the most beautiful of gargoyles, wings folded, his chin leaning on his hands. "That's my boy" I said to DH as we looked "is that the one you want?" he asked, "oh yes, that is my baby right there". From there we went to Crazy Bob's Leather Emporium (another annual vacation tradition) and as luck would have it Bob was just locking up, as we pulled into the parking lot he looked at us, "do you want to come inside?" he said "yes please" we answered. So into crazy Bob's we went (where we have bought an item for at least the past four years) DH picked out a pair of fingerless gloves and a leather hat, I found a bird feeder then DH commenced to finding me a leather jacket, (he was determined to find me one), we looked at jacket after jacket and they were all too "butch" then all of a sudden, on a hanger on the wall we saw it, a patchwork leather jacket with faux fur trim (cause you know I would never wear real fur), we took it off the hanger, I tried it on, it fit perfectly. We took it to the register and to our delight discovered that crazy bob was having a sale 30% off all patchwork leather items, turns out my jacket was $30.00. We wandered out of the store, delighted that Bob had stayed open for us and headed back to Maggie Valley for a soak in the jacuzzi and dinner.

We rose the next day and after breakfast we set out up into the Great Smoky Mountains National Park to head for Pigeon Forge. To begin with there were traffic jams on the mountain, I kid you not, traffic was actually backed up on the mountain. At first we couldn't figure out what it was but as we climbed upwards we realized that it was "them" "them" being all of the people who go to the mountains for the holidays with the express intention of "seeing" snow. There had been snow previously so there were beautiful views of forests blanketed in snow, snow draped rocks, you name it. The other view was miles upon miles of Florida license plates parked at the side of the road while the occupants stood in the snow banks, holding snowballs, in front of thousands of digital cameras and cellphones. They threw snow at each other, they tasted the snow, they built tiny little snowmen, they built tiny little snowmen on the roof of their car, they built tiny little snowmen on the hoods of their car and then proceeded to drive back down the mountain with the snow man still attached to their car. It was, not to put too fine a point on it, bizarre. While we were driving I noticed that the weather was perfect and the views from the overlooks were absolutely spectacular. No problem thunk I, we will do the stuff we want to do in Pigeon Forge and then head back and do the photography thing on the way home. As we came down the other side of the mountain we took the bypass around Gatlinburg seeing as that looked way too "touristy" for our liking, thinking in our innocence that Pigeon Forge would be much quieter. How wrong we were. As we entered town we encountered, well it is hard to describe what we encountered, I would tell you that it was like Myrtle Beach fourth of July weekend on steroids. It was total and utter gridlock. As I looked at the map in the guidebook that we had picked up in Maggie Valley (let me say at this point that I should have looked at said map the day before I would NEVER have suggested the trip had I done that) I realized that there were 56 stop lights between us and where we wanted to be. And there were no detours, nope, just four lanes of traffic bumper to bumper for 15 miles. In fact the stop lights are so famous in Pigeon Forge that they number them and various attractions are identified by which stop light they are near. DH and I sat in traffic. We inched to the next stoplight. Repeat for two hours. It took us two hours, yep you read that right TWO HOURS to get 15 miles. And the awful part is that it is a NASTY place, I mean it makes North Myrtle Beach look like a classy joint. It is just miles and miles of t-shirt shops and go-cart rides and hotels and fast food restaurants. After we got to the Flea Market which had been our original destination we headed back toward the mountain. On the way we stopped (as is our favorite thing to do) for a slice of pizza for a late lunch. I spoke to the girl at the counter and expressed my disbelief as to the volume of traffic. She explained that it takes her 15 minutes to get to work, it takes her 1 and a half hours to get home. I think I would move. We headed home, weary and wiser for our experience (both DH and I agreed we would NEVER visit Pigeon Forge again). As we approached the entrance to the National Park we noticed flashing lights, not a good sign. A ranger was stood redirecting traffic and he explained that they had closed down the mountain due to snow and ice. "So how do we get back to Maggie Valley?" we asked the long way round he replied. Through Gatlinburg to 321 North to I40 back to Maggie Valley. DH and I looked at each other in dismay. We turned around and headed through Gatlinburg. Let me say that while Pigeon Forge was a nightmare Gatlinburg was somewhat worse, while Pigeon Forge had four lanes of gridlocked traffic Gatlinburg had two lanes of gridlocked traffic but with the added excitement of millions of people meandering around the streets and crossing the road at random in front of moving cars. It was an adventure to say the least. After an hour looking at store windows while creeping through Gatlinburg we finally got to 321 North and the traffic eased somewhat. Of course it was interesting in that we had no idea where we were going, and no idea how long it would take us to get there. The city faded away into the background and soon the only lights we could see were the stars in a beautifully clear sky. We eventually found I40 and headed back to the Motel. After a horrific day we headed out to find some dinner and discussed perhaps going back up the mountain the following day to try and get the shots I had missed. Well that was not to be.

From Waynesville we headed to Maggie Valley and the Four Seasons Inn, our favorite motel in the area. If you are ever in Maggie Valley then I recommend that you stay at this motel, the rooms are creekside so you can open the patio doors at night and listen to the sound of the creek rushing past your window, they have Jacuzzi rooms (which as you know is a requirement for me when we are visiting the mountains) and the staff are wonderful. So we checked in to the Four Seasons Motel and set about exploring the area as is our want. DH almost immediately found a jacket for me that he HAD to have, a fleece, covered in cats and cat paw prints, I think divorce would have been in order had I not allowed him to buy it for me. We wandered around Maggie Valley and then headed out to Waynesville for Dinner (the Irish Pub you will recall) and then headed home. The next day I thought it would be a nice idea to head up to Pidgeon Forge, they had an aquarium and stuff, it would be nice. For more of that tomorrow.

I have to admit that the next portion of our trip was my favorite. From Brevard we took Highway 215 North. For those of you who have never taken this Highway it is simply wonderful. It is a winding, meandering mountain road that takes you past the most wonderful of scenery. At every turn there is another waterfall, or breathtaking mountain vista to view. It takes you right past Cold Mountain (viewed out of the window of the car to the right as other than that it is accessible only by hiking) up to the top of Tanasee Bald which gives absolutely spectacular views. While up there we stopped so I could take pictures of the icicles on the side of the mountain, at this point we were pretty much to the summit. This side of the mountain was in the shade, hence the remaining ice.





From there we dropped down into the valley and the most beautiful sight, a meandering creek which was just bouncing back the blue of the skies onto its waters



and then as we turned around the creek emptied into Lake Logan, a vast stretch of water that was simply acting as a mirror for the Carolina Blue sky



From there we went to Waynesville, where in a moment of pure madness we bought me an alarm clock that wakes one up to the sound of a quacking duck. Vacation makes you do strange things, and this is an example of that. That bleeding duck has frightened the life out of me every morning since we got home. I hate that bleeding duck.