Fall Has Fallen

Whew! As I look out the window at the cold drizzle on this miserable day, I have to laugh at my posts griping about the incredibly hot temps of this summer! I guess there is always something, though I won't gripe now - I really love fall, and this weather comes with the territory. The only thing I'd wish is that I was home in my comfy sweats. "Home" as in our new house, not in park housing.

I must apologize for the absolute boringness of my blog lately. I think my creativity has run it's course for the time being...I'm going to call the malady "Blog Blight."

Anyway, to work through the Blight, here's a pic of my bro in Iraq. Dang that's some heavy-duty firepower!

Please stay tuned...I promise the Blight will end.

Aaaad...I'm back

So you've probably been wondering if I fell off the face of the earth...I did, actually, but now I'm back.

Marden and I decided we desperately needed a break both from work and from the seemingly endless remodel of Hooter Manor, so we decided a few days in the Smokey Mountains would do the trick, with great timing being so close to our *drumroll*…FIRST wedding anniversary. Plus, it was cheap – one of those “come listen to our condo sales pitch” kinda deals.

And unfortunately, due to some technical difficulties, you'll have to get the scoop on our trip "sans pictures" for now, though I will do my best to add them very soon. There are some good ones.

So we left Sunday morning at a fairly leisurely pace, trekking across Tennessee, stopping here and there at interesting points and civil war battlefields. We got to Nashville and decided to take an impromptu detour down to Chattanooga, which was WELL worth the trip. We spent most of Monday at the Lookout Mountain and Chickamauga battlefields, which are incredibly interesting and well-preserved. Marden, as a military history instructor and major buff of history and military tactics, was in hog heaven, wearing an almost constant expression of contented bliss.

We ALMOST, against Mom’s strong advice, gave into temptation to See Rock City, but time was a-wastein’ and we had to point our little car onward to the east.

We arrived in Sevierville that evening, checked in at the welcome center and found our hotel, all while constantly voicing our disgust at finding that Sevierville and Pigeon Forge are essentially the same town, as they totally run together, and that it looks exactly like Branson. To make a Branson all you have to do is take a city block and put on it a Nascar themed go-cart track, a laser-tag arena, a Levi’s outlet, a discount western boot outlet, a pancake house, and a hillbilly-themed mini golf course. Then repeat. Repeat again. Repeat again. Stick in an outlet mall and sprinkle a few corny theaters – it’s an instant overweight, fanny pack wearing tourist’s paradise.

Now, I’ve been known to frequent a few outlet malls…but it just seemed so out of place and unnecessary here. And they were PACKED with tourists, which I don’t really understand…it would be like going to the Bahamas to go to Wal-Mart. I guess if that’s your thing, then ok. But you have around you all this nature, history, and culture, and people are spending their days at the outlet malls? It makes you understand why kids are growing up with no concept of the outdoors.

So anyway, done with that rant. Day #3 dawns and we head down to Gatlinburg, which we find equally touristy. It does seem to have a little more character, but still commercial, and traffic was bumper to bumper. We had a couple hours to kill before our “condo spiel” in Sevierville, so we found the Gatlinburg craft village. Totally touristy, totally PRICY. We headed back to Sevierville bracing for the high-pressure condo salesman, only to get to the “preview center” to find they had overbooked. A small ray of hope? Would they just give us our Bass Pro gift certificates and let us leave? Didn’t look that way, though Marden was VERY adamant that we would NOT reschedule, that we were here as promised, and that it wasn’t our fault they’d overbooked. After a short time, we were called back to the front to be presented with the unbelievable – our gift cards and a salesman free afternoon! We practically ran from the preview center, giggling like kids, Bass Pro giftcards firmly in hand.

Back to the National Park, where we planned to hike the afternoon away. Armed with a map, some water, extra sweatshirts, and a .45 (yes I know it’s against park regulations), we began the 4 mile trek to see a 90’ waterfall. About a half mile into the hike, we get poured on. Soaked but still in good spirits, we trekked on, seeing some beautiful scenery, including some incredibly huge old-growth trees. We were, however, getting pretty tired…was it just a year ago we’d hiked the “hard side” of Pike’s Peak? A year of slacking off the exercise sure makes a difference. Three hours later, though, we made it. Nice little waterfall, took some pics, then decided we’d better hoof it if we were going to make the 4 mile return trip before dark – Ms. Park Ranger and Mr. Army Captain (soon to be Major) did not pack a flashlight. In our haste, I took a tumble on the rain-slick rocks, bruising my butt and adding a deep gash to my elbow, which severely halted our dash down the mountain. Oh, and Park Ranger and Army Captain didn’t pack bandages, either. Not even a single band-aid. Marden is at this point planning on spending the night, already making plans to take the .45 rounds apart to make a fire. But I recovered quickly, and we resumed Smokies Dash ’07. This time we’re nearly at a run, racing dark to the car, with me feeling like a groundhog has been gnawing on my elbow. But, WE MADE IT…literally without a minute to spare.

Back at the hotel, I cleaned up while Marden practically bought out the nearby CVS Pharmacy. Bandages, antiseptic, athletic tape…and of course, a flashlight. Even some superglue. I had to threaten him several times with bodily harm and/or divorce if he kept trying to superglue my elbow. Yes, I know it can be done, but it didn’t sound like fun at the time…a band-aid active strip was doing wonderfully. Those things have saved me from the prospect of stitches several times. In addition to a damaged elbow, I’m also sporting a SPECTACULAR and very large black and purple bruise on my left posterior cheek…felt great to ride on that from eastern Tennessee to Arkansas.

Day #4 is fishing day. Marden had been acting like an ADD kid concerning going fly fishing in the Smokies, so that was our plan. Normally I’m game for fly fishing whenever/wherever, but the summer’s drought in Tennessee was incredibly hard on the fish and the streams, and I was afraid we were in for a tough day. Besides, my butt hurt. But fishing we went, after our obligatory stop at the local fly shop to spend $40 on flies I could’ve tied at home for free, and more money on souvenir t-shirts and fishing licenses. It did, however, turn out to be worth it. Fishing was terrible…Marden caught a trout that would have been considered bait here, and I caught some kind of minnow. Yes, a minnow. But, during all our fishing angst, I SAW A BEAR! Yes, a genuine bear. I know, they’re not uncommon in Arkansas and are thick as rabbits in the Smokies. However, I’ve gone looking for them numerous times in places where they practically come out in droves and have STILL never spotted one. I’m practically the only person in Arkansas who hasn’t seen a bear - and being a park ranger, I have suffered some severe bear envy. So imagine my surprise when I spot one right across the small stream from Marden, who was totally absorbed in his fly selection. My thoughts at the time were something like this:
“Hey…there’s a big black dog over there…wonder what he’s doing? Where’s his owner?...Wait….THAT’S not a DOG…HOLY CRAP THAT’S A BEAR!!!”

By that time Yogi has spotted me and raced away up the hill, and I unfroze myself to run to Marden and see if he’d seen it. Nope…he was all about his fly selection and hadn’t seen the bear…and seemed more concerned that the bear “could’ve eaten him” and here I was dumbstruck.

Eh, just as long as the $40 worth of flies was safe…

So day #5, time to go home. We got up at 5 am to make it up to Clingman’s Dome for the sunrise, which we timed perfectly. With all the haze and fog in the valleys, it was pretty incredible. Then, on to Arkansas. We made a few stops on the way, including an impromptu stop at The Hermitage, home of Pres. Andrew Jackson. The impromptu stop turned into about 4 hours, which was pretty awesome. I’ve been to a lot of historical sites, but this one has to take the cake! Usually when visiting a historical site, I’m disappointed by the lack of authentic items and by how many things are reproduced. Many times, even whole structures are reproduced based on photographs or records. The Hermitage is totally different, as the whole home is preserved! Very few things are reproductions, and all items in the home were actual belongings of Jackson and his family. Even the wallpaper was original! Granted, some had to be reproduced, but most of it in the upstairs portion was original and in excellent condition. Needless to say, I was really really impressed….and after our tour, really really ready to get home.

The little vacation was great to recover from work and remodeling…now, can I take a vacation to recover from my vacation? Just a few more weeks...