The Hough's Great Smoky Mountain Adventure, Pt. IV

Hi fellas,

Well, I can tell you all this much right now:  my body is far past the time when staying up late drinking with friends is 'cool' and something that can be done without consequence.

Old age and having early-rising children make it impossible.

Back of the cabin.

Yet there I was, three hours after falling asleep, being shaken awake by my six-year-old, with frantic talks of 'pancakes' and 'ponies' and God knows what else.

As I stumbled downstairs, everyone but Smitty and Damon (who I guess were allowed to sleep in, the lucky bastards) was busy taking packed bags to their respective mini-vans, picking up around the cabin, and scarfing down one last breakfast before hitting the road.  After downing a half-pot of black coffee, I grudgingly threw in my lot and began loading up Kris' van for the long (and crappy) drive ahead of us.

The Sausage Pad mounts up.

To the right there is a crapload of unused firewood - during the summer months, you're not allowed to use the cabin's fireplace.  Which is, honestly, pretty lame.

Lazarus empties the last of the cabin's garbage.

Bear-proof receptacles.  Gotta love it.

After saying our farewells to the rest of the Sausage Pad and their families, we locked up the cabin and drove back into Gatlinburg for some last-minute business.  The pipe tobacco I had bought earlier from Gatlin-burlier was a little dry, and the day before (when I discovered this) I had called the store and they told me they'd switch it out for free.  Instead of parking, Kris opted to driving around the block about a dozen times, since the Mountain Mall is conveniently located on a busy corner and it was somewhat easy to do so.

While Kris drove around in circles, I was able to have one of the pipe experts there (a guy named Richard) walk me through how to moisten up one's dry pipe tobacco using a spray bottle and weird-shaped metal pan.  Extremely helpful guy.  For my troubles he even game me a pack of pipe cleaners and a pipe cleaner tool for free.

Can't argue with that.

I went back outside the mall and found Kris right at the corner, waiting on a red light.  Jumping into the van, she informed me that she had left her cell phone back in the locked cabin.  The problem with this was that the alarm had already been armed, and if we attempted entering the usual door code to enter it would trigger it.

As we drove back to the cabin, we were able to get the alarm code from Rita and spoke with the rental office to make sure us breaking back into the cabin was ok.  When Kris ran inside, there were already a few cleaners there working their way through our old log mansion.  It took her nearly ten minutes to find her phone, as it had been kicked underneath the coach somewhere, but phone in hand, we were able to get back onto the road and set off on 441.

It was 12:30pm.

As we drove through the Great Smoky National Park, we decided to stop at one of the pull-over areas along the side of the road so that we could get one last hike in with the girls.  While the climb up Clingman's Dome had been awesome, it was pretty intense for the kids (and us), and nothing you'd consider 'leisurely.'  We wanted to be in the woods, too, and show the girls what real forests are like (you don't walk through forests down here in Florida - snakes, alligators, and swampy terrain make it nearly impossible.)

Here's some pics from our impromptu, hour-long hike:

Setting off we had to walk down a hill, away from our parking spot beside 441. . .

Lookouts atop a boulder.

Call me crazy, but I think this was man-made.

"Feeding caterpillars."

At the base of the hill was a river that trickled over a bunch of child-maiming, mossy rocks.

The girls wanted to explore further, and even play in the river, but posted signs suggested otherwise - that there was a 'higher than normal level of fecal matter present' in the water.  So, obviously, we decided against it. 

Discussing why we can't swim in the water.

The Houghs

Investigating more caterpillars, dodging daddy longlegs

No, Alayna hasn't adopted Hinduism - a mosquito bit her square on the forehead.  We weren't expecting insects to be so bad near this forest stream. . . mainly, you know, 'cause we live in Florida and don't get out into the woods much.

Preventing slip-and-falls

Working our way back to the van. . .

Abby and her LeapPad

Back in the car, we were faced with a tough decision.  The kids were pretty drained from nearly five days on the road, having a bunch of touristy nonsense thrown in their faces, so we were anxious to get home.  Then again, it was at least a ten-hour drive back to Orlando, and that's not including stops for gas, meals, and copious amounts of bathroom breaks (because, as you all know, little kids have pea-size bladders.)  We had initially planned on staying the night at BP's house again, about three and a half hours away, so we knew we could reach his place by dinner time at the latest.

The problem was the girls.  They just couldn't handle it.

So we decided to push through, come Hell or high water.

Since none of us could stomach driving all the way through Georgia again (the "Ohio of the South"), we decided to take the other proverbial fork in the road and sidestep through North Carolina and go down South Carolina instead.  Driving down I-95 instead of I-75 was 7 minutes longer, total.  And we'd only have an hour and half driving through Georgia.

South Carolina.  Meh.

Booya.

The biggest time-consuming chunk of the day, once again, was navigating through the Great Smoky Mountain National Park, which had us limited to about 30 - 40 mph, what with all its ascending/descending down mountains, twisting through tunnels, and the like.  Once we hit a major highway and actually started feeling some traction, the time began to pass much more quickly.

South Carolina is only slightly more boring than Georgia.  The scenery is 'meh' at best, but at least you're not peppered with hypocritical billboards along the way that damn you to the fiery pits of Hell for using contraception while simultaneously asking you to check out the nearby XXX Porno/Fireworks/Guns/Cigarettes store.  

Gotta love the South.

We stopped off at a McDonald's about half-way through South Carolina so the kids could stretch their legs in one of those unsanitary, plastic disaster-bombs McDonald's calls 'play areas' and not eat some chicken nuggets.  Kris and I grabbed some ice coffees, but she's grown into somewhat of a coffee snob lately so she had a hard time finishing hers.  Me, I'll drink horse piss so long as it has caffeine in it - I was still wrestling with my crappy three hours of sleep from the previous night morning.

I'm not a coffee snob.

Kris, parenting.

Chaos

Our drive through South Carolina was pretty uneventful, honestly.  The kids watched a few Disney movies, napped terribly, but otherwise kept their shit together.  We drove through a rainstorm that lasted a few hours and into the night, when the kids finally began to doze off for good.  I attempted introducing Kris to some audiobook mp3 CDs to make the time pass by faster - I have a book of CDs all legally ripped from Librivox, and threw in a Sherlock Holmes story for about fifteen minutes before Kris began nodding off behind the steering wheel.

Ultimately we decided reaching Orlando alive and in one piece was more important than uncovering the truth behind the Red-Headed League.

One more Georgia pit-stop.

We reached a rest stop in southern Georgia and let the kids use the bathrooms one more time, stretch their legs, and get some non-recycled fresh air before hitting the road once again.  Randomly, while walking back from the bathrooms, I found a miniature Louisville Slugger bat sitting abandoned on a parch bench with 'Tifton, Georgia' printed on the side - the same town where we had stopped for Chic-Fil-A on the way up and first dealt with Kris' van's faulty engine light.

One final souvenir from our Tennessee family excursion.

We didn't stop again until we were about a half-hour or so from home.  This time my bladder couldn't hold out any longer, for which I caught some hell.  Back on familiar ground, we made it back home by 2am, carrying our dead-tired kids to bed, emptying the van, and turning all the major appliances in the house back on.  

Kris passed out shortly thereafter, but Yours Truly stayed up for another hour or so, further unpacking things and putting things away so that when I woke up in the morning (hopefully after 6am, for a change), I wouldn't have to do crap but lie around on the couch, drinking coffee, and watching a marathon of movies.

- Fín - 

- Brian

The Hough's Great Smoky Mountain Adventure, Pt. III

Our room at the cabin

So once again, to no one's surprise, my kids woke up at the ass-crack of dawn.  Like a couple of assholes.  This is what they do when they're not going to school.  On school days, we have to drag them out of the bed and fight with them out of their pajamas.

I hate kids.

That said, the Houghs once again got around fast and got into Gatlinburg around 10am or so.  This was our last full day in Tennessee and we still had a lot of stuff we wanted to do and/or take care of.

Kris really wanted to check out this place called Ober-Gatlinburg - a ski resort that doubles as a family-friendly amusement park cradled atop one of the mountains overlooking the town.  I had no problem with this, per se, but knew it was going to take up a solid chunk of our last day, so I didn't want to be slow getting out of the cabin.

Plus the traffic down there, as previously mentioned, sucks butt.  And I was damn determined to nab a parking spot and beat the rush.

Pure glory in a mason jar

Yours Truly wanted to hit up a couple of shops that I had researched prior to leaving Florida.  Namely, the Ole Smokey Distillery and the nationally-recognized Gatlin-Burlier Tobbaconist.

What can I say?  I like my whiskey and I like me a good pipe.

Here's how the day unfolded. . .

We found parking right away, conveniently right in the heart of the tourist strip, for the usual $10 all-day rate.  The attendant, like every other southern stranger we've met so far on this trip, was eerily polite and friendly.  I guess living down here in Central Florida, we've grown accustomed to assholes - this trip has been a pleasant change.

First order of business:  find the Ober-Gatlinburg tram station.

We passed by Ole Smoky on the way to the Ober-Gatlinburg tram.  Rest assured I took mental note of its location.

Some sky-needle-looking thing.  I guess it's famous, but we didn't check it out so I have no idea what it is or why it's a big deal.

Here's this.

And this.

More 'Lies on Wheels.'

There are two ways up the mountain:  you can either take a tram (like a cable car, suspended hundreds of feet above the trees, at a cost of $30 for all of us) up the mountain, or you can drive and pay for parking ($7) at the top.  Since we had already paid for the parking in town - and the drive up was supposedly brutal on one's brakes and transmission - we opted to fork out the extra dough and take the scary-as-all-hell tram up.

I don't have any pics of the tram ride up - I was wedged by the door and the tram operator, and there were about 40 other people in there.  They hold more, but we were there somewhat early in the morning, so we beat the rush.  The trams ran every twenty minutes, with the last tram leaving the summit at 2:40pm (for servicing), so we made a mental note to try and catch the 1:40pm back to Gatlinburg and avoid the 'oh shit' crowds.

Getting off the tram, Kris bought a coupon book of 'tickets.'  Basically, they nickle-and-dime you up in Ober-Gatlinburg.  Everything costs tickets (which cost $4 apiece), much like a carnival, so you save money by buying coupon books (10 tickets for $30.)  Still, kind of a scam.

$20 a person to ice skate?  No thanks.

Who needs over-priced rides when you have a public fountain?

The guy at the left looks like he's either mildly annoyed I'm taking a picture of my family, or else he's guilty for taking pictures of kids that don't belong to him.  I'm going with the latter, as he totally looks like a child molester.

Going out to explore some of the rides

Kris scolds Abby.  Again.

Chairlift up to the higher part of the mountain.  Remember, this place is usually a ski resort, so they convert the slopes into summer-friendly activities, such as the Alpine Slide.

What the hell's an Alpine Slide, you ask?  This thing, more or less.  You ride this plastic sled with a brake over a plastic slide down the length of a mountain.  Sound fun?  It costs two tickets.

So does this gigantor waterslide. 

One ticket got the girls into this all day (Abby was free for everything, thank God.)

BALLS

After awhile of whittling away at her coupon book, Kris returned it, paid $9 more, and got unlimited wristbands good for all-day passes for Alayna and her.  Much better deal, so we were happy.

Kris had to talk me into allowing Alayna to go up the mountain on a ski lift in order to go down the Alpine Slide.  The idea of my child flailing wildly through the air as she fell from a rickety chairlift wasn't something I was too comfortable with.  Fortunately, as you can see, these chairs were fitted with really secure bars (seen above) that NO child over 700 lbs could possibly slide under.  Right?  What's there to worry about?

Well, long story short, they didn't fall, they didn't die, and they enjoyed their little slide thing down the mountain.  So whatever.

While Kris took the Cannonball up the second part of the mountain, I was left behind with a four-year-old in the midst of an all-out tantrum.  She was pissed Alayna got to go up the chairlift and she - Queen Squirmy herself - couldn't.  So, being the naturally good parent I am, I bought her a high-sugared, blue slushee to shut her the hell up.

Once Kris and Alayna made it down the mountain slide, Alayna and Abby hit up more of these carnival-ish rides scattered around the place.  Like this one - Slow, Rotating Car Ride.

Sick of this pose yet?  So are we.  Trust me.

Just tall enough.

I didn't think the Cannonball would do this one, but it ended up being her favorite.

Abby manages the vehicle while Alayna, evidently, meditates (note: that kid behind them was so mortified to be on that ride - I think she's in middle school.)

Abby braved the swings as well - they went around a few times before we were forced to pry them off in order to meet our 1:40pm tram ride down the mountain.

We had some out-of-nowhere-amazing Mexican food while we were up there for lunch, bringing our total Ober-Gatlinburg total to under $100 - which was way under our projected budget for a half-day excursion.  We got to the tram station ten minutes early and found ourselves first in line for the next tram.  When we boarded, we got front-row seats against the large, glass window that faced downhill (er, downmountain - whichever.)

The view from the tram was awesome - you don't get sick of seeing stuff like this.

The kids weren't nearly as terrified as I was riding the tram down the mountain, which was MUCH scarier than the way up had been.  Standing in the front row, you feel like you're falling, which isn't the best sensation for one who's horribly afraid of heights.

The worst part of these tram rides was when you had to pass one of these large support towers - the tram would swing past them, and the force of the passing would cause them to sway as they lumbered past.  I wasn't a big fan.

There were only two trams running the mountain, and both were permanently attached to their cables, meaning they always passed each other at the exact same spot each run.  

Coming back to Gatlinburg (and solid ground.)

Off the tram, we decided to do some souvenir shopping.  Kris I think was grateful for me not griping in the kid-friendly Ober-Gatlinburg, and therefore rewarded me with some walk-around time to check out the distilleries and tobacco shops.  First stop:  Ole Smoky Holler.

Not really a place for kids, what with all the free samples being splashed around.

Kris had the SLR, so I didn't snap as many pictures as I wanted to (I can 'fire from the hip with a camera' - not as easy to do with a phone without looking like a tourist.)  Some of these pics are taken off Google.

One of the interior bars, where they serve up free samples of moonshine.

Of course there's a gift shop.

Folks clustered around, waiting for free booze.

I ended up trying several different varieties of 'shine while I was there.  The original, White Lightning, and Charred Bourbon were all strong as hell, but they sold a hell of a lot more of the weaker, fruitier stuff (blackberry, apple pie, strawberry, peach, lemonade, etc.) - I take it most folks can't hold their booze.

Charred was probably my favorite, as it had that old barrel whiskey flavor to it, but I ended up buying a mason jar of White Lightning instead (mainly due to the old honky tonk song of the same name.)  I'll keep it in my bar, sealed. . . unless, of course, I run low on gas in my car and need some fuel to get out of the driveway.

Original moonshine

Another cool thing about the Ole Smoky Moonshine Distillery was, besides the awesome moonshine, free samples, and friendly/attractive staff, they had live bluegrass acts performing on a stage in their courtyard.

Now, maybe it was the six or seven complimentary shots of moonshine talking, but these guys sounded awesome.

While I was knee-deep in Tennessee moonshine, Kris had tracked down the only Dunkin Donuts in Gatlinburg, and had bribed our kids in to going in with the promise of sugar-loaded donuts. . .

Happy campers.

Following their coffee/donut binge, Kris and the girls began slowly idling their way back up the main strip to where I was, taking a few photo ops along the way (with the help of some stranger - my kids aren't that tall.)

I don't know what this is.

After Ole Smoky's, I rendezvoused with Kris at yet another distillery down the street - Davy Crockett's Whiskey.  Once again - great whiskey, great atmosphere, great servers, and great free samples of glorious, glorious whiskey.

I can't begin to describe how much I wanted to buy a few bottles of this, but knowing me, I would've purchased it, put it on my bar, and then never touched it.  I already had a mason jar of White Lightning from Ole Smoky, so I really couldn't justify it.

Alayna fails at utilizing a slingshot in the appropriate manner (though she does get points for a spot-on pirate impression.)

These were all absolutely delicious, but the salty caramel at the end was amazing - if I can find a bottle of that down in Orlando, I'm pouncing on that crap like a lion on a sickly gazelle.

Giving away free samples at the bar.  Not as organized as Ole Smoky's, nor as knowledgable - you kind of just walked up and said 'Can I try this one?' and the server would pour you a shot.  Still, who's to complain about free whiskey?

Vats of awesome

Hopefully these barrels aren't full - that's a lawsuit waiting to happen.

Gunfight in the distillery

Our last stop on the strip was a souvenir cul-de-sac called 'The Village.'

Kris had been here before, some twenty years ago, as part of a church group or something, and remembered it being good for shopping.  We hadn't bought much so far.  I had bought some moonshine and pipe tobacco (a 4oz bag from a store called Smokeyz, but I still wanted to check the Galin-Burlier out), Kris had picked up a shot glass and some postcards, and the girls had yet to pick up something.  

While Kris took the girls around shopping for souvenirs, I ducked across the street to the Mountain Mall.  Inside, was the nationally-renowned Gatlin-Burlier Tobacconist.

Damn straight I'm welcome, bear.

I apologize in advance for the shittiness of these Google pictures - I didn't take any myself ('cause I figured in such a small shop that might seem weird/creepy, some dude walking around with an SLR snapping pictures of pipe tobacco).  This store doesn't seem to have that much of a Google presence, which is odd because it is a pretty famous establishment (being recognized across the country and all.)  Pretty small, too - I was expecting something much bigger, but it was probably smaller than the old Smoker's Club in Mt. Pleasant.

The pipes on the wall there were pretty well priced, too.

The store was split up into sections - a cigarette area, a smokeless tobacco area, a walk-in humidor for cigar aficionados, and - for folks like me - a wall of pipes, tobacco, and related items.

The guy behind the counter (not the dude in the picture there - that's some shitty small-res image off Google) was extremely friendly, and allowed me to browse through the different blends freely.  I was kicking my own ass for not bringing a pipe along with me - this place (like most purveyors of pipe tobacco) allow you to fill a bowl and sample different blends prior to purchasing tobacco.  

They had about sixteen blends, pre-bagged and ready to go.

But, like an asshole, I left my pipes back at the cabin.

They sold 2oz bags for $9.99 - $11.99, which was a little more than I was used to, but, then again, this is a tourist town and this is a quality store.  However, since I was buying in bulk (I wanted to pick up four bags at the very least), they discounted the price-per-bag so that my total was closer to $29.  Since I talked shop with the guy for awhile, he gave me an additional $5 off.

I love pipe smokers.

My tobacco secure, I rejoined Kris and the girls back at the Village, where the girls had picked out two, small pink stuffed animals - Alayna got a giraffe, Abby a cat.  JUST what we need at home - more frickin' stuffed animals.

I walked into an outdoors-y store where they had a lot of hiking gear and bought a walking stick to add to my collection of sticks at home that stand in a corner and collect dust.  I deemed it a legit purchase, Kris disagrees. 

The Seloskes and Smiths had been back at the cabin for a few hours by the time we had gotten back, and the Loftises had arrived shortly before, so we cooked up some burgers for our last meal and sat around the living room watching the US/Portugal match (I guess there's this 'World Cup' thing and it's kind of popular, I don't know.)

GOOOOOAAAAALLLLL

Zack Smith, having a blast.

Sunset over the valley (and strange smoke emanating from the trees off to the right - my guess from Injuns.)  We didn't do much tonight - just stayed up drinking and talking after the wives and kids went to bed - so there's no pictures.  For whatever reason, Damon, Smitty and I stayed up 'til about 4am, though.  I haven't done that in years.

Stay tuned for the thrilling conclusion     ( pfft )

- Brian