'Rent Check

So I rolled into Cosby Campground around 5 pm on Sunday. Beautiful campsite in a beautiful corner of the Great Smokey Mountain National Park, about 300 miles due West of the City of Bull. The 'mater plants were spread around to make the most of the gentle rain and occasional wan sunshine. The intermittent rain was in remission, so we went for a little stroll up the Gabe Mountain Trail to Hen Wallow Falls. Two and a half miles, each way. Turned into a hike more than a walk. Saw bunches of Showy Orchis, Foam Flower, Hick Seed, Violets in every color and nationality, Demonstrative Ruffian Flower, and at least 6 different types of Trilium. Also a Morel Mushroom. And a fresh pile of bear scat right in the trail like it owns the place. We made it home just before dark, just in time for a lovely supper and a few spirited hands of Rummi-Cubes. In which they tuned me up proper.

And then Monday broke rainy and cool. Riding the Surly I'd packed in the Prius was contra-indicated. Crossword puzzles were hammered into submission, a couple of sudokus were sorted out, and as it warmed and hinted that the rain was over, Poppa and I set out to tackle the Lower Cammerer Trail. Momma was listening to her rusty hinge which suggested that another hike would be frowned upon. We never quite exactly actually found the trail we were looking for. Well, we did, but by then we were rocking the Low Gap Trail. Which we decided was named by the same guys who named Greenland. But we saw all manner of Bishop's Mantle, Dog Hobble, Whispering Vetch, Galax, Smilax, Dusky Bladderwort, Squaw Corn, Rat-tail Chickweed, and, at the top of the ridge, right there were the Appalachian Trail cuts across, was a big beautiful bank of Frizzy Phiselium. Or something. Looking for salamanders in a little stream that crossed the trail, I found a perfectly sound, professional grade carabiner. We also spotted a Yellow-shouldered or a Blue-winged (confusing fall) Warbler and some little greyish squirrelly bird that was setting a nest under the moss on the side of the trail that flew out as we walked by, which is the only way on this green earth we'd have ever found the nest and four (delicious) eggs it held. We made it home as the sun was setting and the sky was clearing and a delightful catfish dinner was waiting.

Followed by the 'rents schooling me in the finer points of Rummi-cubes.

Suddenly it was Tuesday morning and either I'd started smoking again or it was Cold. The sun rose righteously around Mt. Cammerer. But was soon obscured by couds. If I'da brought some serious cold-weather gear, I'd unpack the Surly and smoke these mountains. As it was, crosswords were decoded with extreme prejudice, a little tutorial in Rummi-Cubes was received (by me) and then Mr Poppa and I lit out for the Lower Cammerer Trail again. Which, it turns out, is only a rumor of a trail. So we walked the "Nature Trail", which was actually really nice. We saw Slipshod Pantaloons, Squirrel Corn, Cutthroat Lillies, Flatulent Elms, Jackstraw Philodendrons, Spiculated Conundrums, and every manner of moss and lichen you'd ever hope to encounter. This, like all the previous trails, had bridges over the raging brooks. Bridges made of a single log, flattened on top, covered in asphalt, and a handrail on one side made of small logs as struts and a log on top as a baluster.

We made it out of the woods and home in time for a lovely lasagna and succotash. The 'maters had excaped the cold of the previous night and were enjoying the sun, but frost was predicted for this night so the plan was for them to be ensconced beneath the motorhome. I assume this happened, but I can't say for sure, as I pulled out of camp around 6:30 pm and headed East, taking the road I had planned on riding. Neither straight nor flat, but smooth and car-free. Maybe this summer I'll slide back over that way and ride that, the Cherohala Skyway, the Cade's Cove Loop (which is closed to cars on Saturday and Wednesday mornings in the summer) and the gnarly Western Terminus of the BlueRidgeParkway. Any body else feel like getting their legs ripped off and their lungs blown out in Deliverance Country. What's the worst that could happen? {You gotta perty mouth.}

So they were fine when I left them. The plan was to be in Dayton on Friday, and home and dry by Sunday. That's my story. And I'm sticking to it.