It was with great anticipation that I planned my trip to The Great Smoky Mountains.

I’m pretty sure my parents took me there when I was a kid. Hell, for all I know they took me three blocks away and we stayed in a hotel while they told me it was The Great Smoky Mountains. What did I know? I was a kid.

Further, I am pretty sure I remember having a wonderful time. The details are a bit sketchy, though.  One of those details was swimming in the communal pool and my father turning to me and saying with grave earnestness, “I’d pay a thousand dollars for a Tuck’s Pad right now.”

I remember wondering how much a thousand dollars was and what, exactly was a Tuck”s Pad.  The blissful ignorance that is youth prevented that anecdote from spoiling one of my fondest childhood memories. The Great Smoky Mountains.

Since the only kind of returns I know how to make are of the triumphant variety, I decided this one would be grand.

To heighten my exquisite anticipation,  I avoided making a straight shot. I drove west, south, and east.

When the time came, I continued to make excuses to extend the delay. I went to Pascagoula, Mississippi just to take a pic of a squirrel (pic related)

But, I couldn’t find one so I took this shot of a cotton field instead.

From there I made a stop in Anniston, Alabama because it was down the road a ways from Jenifer, Alabama (pic related)

And I wanted to see if they had noticed. They had. I wonder if Jennifer Aniston knows.

Everybody loves a Guiness Book of World Records record holder, so I drove to see one that made the book in the 80s, the only decade that matters (pics related).

I went at night to beat the crowds.  It worked. I had the thing to myself.

I was getting antsy for The Great Smoky Mountains.  I drove to Pigeon Forge.  It is full of manufactured hillbilly charm. Dollywood, dinner theaters that feature the Hatfields and McCoys fueding it out every night, themed mini golf out the wazoo, country Xmas festivals and The Hollywood Wax Museum (pic related)

You got King Kong climbing the joint and Mt Rushmore reconstructed with John Wayne, Elvis, Marilyn Monroe and, for some reason Chico Marx. I dunno, maybe that isnt him. Either way, that building had to cost a fortune!

The Great Smoky Mountains, by the way, get their name from a perpetual haze that hangs about the ridgeline (pic related).

I slept in Gatlinburg that night so I could get an early start and be refreshed for my glorious return to The Great Smoky Mountains. By comparison, I was gonna make that MacArthur chump look like he was going to the market to return a piece of fruit…or something. I dunno. I was excited.

I rolled outta the EM-50 Phantom Rambler at the crack of 10am and made straight for Clingman’s Dome – the highest point in the mountainous state of Tennessee  (pic related).

Look at that altitude reading on my trusty GPS

The view is breathtaking  (pic related)

Or, so Trixie tells me. Since I was in a cloud I sent her a text and asked her to Google some images and describe them to me. Just…WOW!

But, this is a first hand account of what it’s like so, I will describe the smell atop Clingman’s Dome!

Kinda woodsy. Some pine. And rain. You know that smell that you smell when it is about to rain? It smelled like that. I’m not really sure what we are smelling there. I’m pretty sure it’s not water. Anyhow, yeah, it smelled like that.

But The Great Smoky Mountains isn’t all kitchy tourist traps and obstructed views. It is the crown jewel in the treasure that is our National Parks – receiving way more visitors each year than the rest combined…or something.

I went for the nature. I went for the hiking. Trails with names that capture the majesty  of the wild (pic related).

All in all, I think I picked me a winner.