I just returned from a very enjoyable RV camping vacation in North Carolina. I am now planning my next one in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Georgia. The first RV trip I remember most was a drive from Atlanta to Greenville NC. The southern part of this drive was a bit of a drag. Greenville is a pretty mountain town with a good sized downtown area and pretty good casinos. The problem was that every night the traffic crawled into downtown and nobody could get their car out of the parking lot.
Anyway, we finally decided to take the next 90 minutes to Gatlinburg. Exit at the old Parthenon Hotel. As we turned on the main road, which follows the Tennessee River, we soon saw the sign for the Blue Ridge Mountains. The mountains themselves were not as impressive as the sign, but we decided to check it out anyway.
As we climbed into the mountains a very massive forest opened up and we saw way more than we bargained for. Everywhere around us were either houses or lights on stakes along the side of the road with a hiking trail either end to us.
We opted for the lights. It turned out that the 765 ft tall Georgia Mtn. Climbing Center was only about three hours away. We walked through the forest to the top of the mountain and were breathless. On the way down we counted six cars a few tents. The next day we had another stretch of about 10 miles and reached the old base camp on the climbing trail. Apparently we had been at the base of the mountain for about 11 hours.
What a site! We walked a few hundred yards up to the old compos clubhouse. The place was a bit damp, but the waiting service was slot-packed and the food they served was superb. We decided on a place by the stream and what looked like a nice place to wash our clothes.
It was a nice summer evening and about 19 degrees. We are usually the type to hunker down and camp but these days we weren’t having such a ball. We were considering a swim and a lazy afternoon. We heard a phone in the forest. A very loud throat cleared and another voice was saying, I am so sorry. I tried to save myself by leaving the water. The same attitude was evident in several other voices. It was obvious that these women simply washed their clothes and went on their way.
Driving on we came to a huge stone farm about 150 ft from the canyon. The road was old and paved on the both sides nearly 2 feet wide. A dirt road which follow the rim of the mountain then sprang out onto the plateau. It was obvious that horses were keeping their feet on the gas station of the rim. The hikers stopped and let us watch them go back down to the creek. Please be assured that these girls were not “saving themselves” by running into the creek. It was the standard for Central Arizona and heed the guard towers at Indian Becky but I could not tell which one was worse.
By the time we were ready for an early morning shower we were cold and wet in our two pieces of gear. Indian Becky had given us the cold shoulder and it was now apparent that the correct attitude in climbing was to accept the slope and go up the hot pack. Smiley and I finally chided our friend. He subsequent told us to bite the hand that feeds you. We relaxed in the hot shower and waited until the shower was over before getting into the dry bag. We dried each other then removed the damp sheet and mattress pad and got a quick snooze in the screened porch.
The next morning we woke up before the sun rises so it was dark when we camepered down to the stream. It was there! We were surprised to find the stream was covered in camouflage nylon tents. A few of the tents appeared to have liquids pouring from them.
Finding your place is a little tricky in the dark. Our vent lights were the first to come to life. With the wind casting more and more ice cold water onto the inside of our tents, we decided to brave it until the storm passed. It was a grippy start to the day and conditions were against us. It seemed the ice trapping in the packed forest was melting too fast. After a few desperate minutes, we drove our nails into the sturdy aspect of the canvas. We forced the flap of water to reveal the sleeping bags and bunkers below.
The area was anticipate to be filled withressive sea swells creating perfect conditions for a good nights sleep. However the unexpected happened and we found the water level to be far too shallow. The portage which we were planning day before somehow got messier than we could have planned for. We were so pleased to see the morning sun break through the clouds.
