Recipe for an Outstanding Day!
1 weather perfect day
1 great family
1 additional ready to-do-anything-family, not seen in years, but previously very fun neighbors with children the ages of yours
1 great destination with lots of nature to see
1 tasty picnic
Lots of energy
My wife and I had been friends with, I’ll call them the McCulloughs, for 20 years. Shortly after they became a couple, we became one too. Then shortly after they got married, we also got married. When a house became available in our neighborhood, we introduced them to it. The house needed to be finished and it was going to take a lot of work. I volunteered to help. Bill did an awful lot of work himself, and on many days I was there to help them. We spent late nights insulating the house and doing minor carpentry work. I’m not a carpenter, more like a carpenter’s helper’s helper. But I was there offering what support I could and we became very close. This house that we were working on was just down the dirt road from our house.
We went to the same church, our children were close, and it seemed that one-family or the other was always walking to the other families’ house at any given time. Bill and I walked every morning before work on a 2 1/2 mile route to help us stay in shape. Carol did not open herself up to friendships very readily. But Renee and Bill were exceptions. We laughed and had fun, every time we were together, like school kids on a playground. When we moved away it was a sad day for both families.
So it was with great delight that we accepted them into our home in the mountains for a three-day visit. Their three boys were excited, and our two children could hardly contain themselves. The first morning they were here we decided to go on a trip to Cataloochee Valley, the most north eastern section of the Great Smoky Mountain National Park. After a great and relaxing breakfast with the adults, and a laborious time getting the kids dressed and headed in the right direction, we loaded into Bill and Renee’s van, and with me driving, headed to my favorite place in the whole world.
The road into Cataloochee is a curving mountain road made of gravel and tight turns. The trick for driving into Cataloochee with new people who have never been, is to balance the skill it takes not to hit an oncoming unseen car and to be an adequate tour guide pointing out all of the sites along the way. Renée was sitting up front with me because she gets carsick easily(uh-oh) and I noticed the grip that she had on the dashboard. I reached over and touched her forearm to reassure her and in a voice which was strangely calm but remotely demonic, she told me to put both hands on the wheel. It is only a short drive through the rough part of the road, so when we returned to asphalt, she eased her grip and the color returned to her knuckles. The trip in was soon forgotten as she and the others were so visually stimulated by the view that it took all fear, and remembrances of such, cleanly away.
The remoteness of this place has protected it. Its beauty is unparalleled. It was a community of about 1300 people when the government took it over to make the Great Smoky Mountain National Park. Because of this community, there are still houses that have been preserved from the 1920s as well as a church and a schoolhouse, all of which are fun to explore. We usually have our picnic on the grounds of the church. Today was no different. We spread out a couple blankets that Carol had remembered to bring and quickly set up our picnic. I picked up some KFC chicken while the others were getting ready, and had prepared my Potato and Mushroom Chowder which was kept steaming hot in a thermos like container. For the adults, we had fresh baked bread bowls for the soup. It did not take us long to get our nourishment, which prepared us for the rest of our adventure.
As well-behaved as our children were, they were children, four wild boys and one strong-willed girl. We played kickball and threw a football with all of them, hoping to extract some of the energy that they were displaying. It didn’t work. But they were having a great time and it was good to see them play and enjoy each other.
After exploring the church, the schoolhouse, the old barn, a preserved house, and seeing a half a dozen deer in the field near the barn, it was time for my favorite part. I absolutely love the one-mile walk to the Woody House. It is a wide trail, wide enough for two couples to walk side by side, creating a more conversation friendly situation. The trail used to be a road, and still is to Park vehicles, but is gated to restrict normal traffic to foot and horseback. It is a beautiful walk that provides so much visual stimuli that one can simply not take it all in, in one trip. The return trip, back to the car, will be as equally stimulating, providing things to see that were unseen on the trip out.
Always, with the backdrop of sound from the rushing creek, the views seemed to be enhanced. The rays of light shining through the bent boughs brought us to a level of excitement that we rarely experienced for ourselves. It was a primeval experience, being in this forest so thickly treed, so devoid of activity, save Cataloochee Creek to our left. Even the kids marveled at the beauty of the sun streaming through the thick canopy, quizzing us and wondering out loud if the people who lived here, a hundred years ago, appreciated the magnificence displayed in this special place. Our business was all about the pleasure today, but we couldn’t help but think of the work that hands of the past had put into cutting the road, on which we walked, through the solid forest. My real love of this place was the solitude that was provided and the renewal of spirit every time we visited.
We were forced to cross the creek several times in the walk. Our waterproof hiking boots and tennis shoes, laced tightly, gave us footing as we walked the hand hewn log bridge, which stretched, with stoic purpose across the rapidly flowing creek. The kids, especially the McCullough kids, were in awe of the log bridge and the fact that they were invited to cross it. Renée’s eyes danced as she spotted, just off the trail, a coveted flower. The delicate Lady Slipper was perfection and came to life in a puddle of sunshine that highlighted it this afternoon. Carol forgot to breathe, it was so beautiful. Here it was, in the midst of rotting leaves and storm debris, a beautiful, small, pink flower of this primordial forest finding its way to the light of the heavens. It was much like the adult girls that gazed upon it. Even in the midst of the chaos of their days, they were beautiful, even fragile looking, because they were so feminine, yet they were strong enough, like the flower, to find their natural way into the center of light which easily becomes the axis of their days. This fascinated Bill and me and we quietly smiled and marveled at the similes that ran through our heads.
With our stop of admiration the kids had managed to get too far ahead of us and we had to pick up our pace in order to catch up with them. This was particularly troublesome as we could hear some commotion on the knoll above us. Something large was coming through the woods. I was particularly concerned because I had had a personal and intimate encounter with a bear on a recent family outing. The crashing of the rhododendron and the commotion coming from the hill was not only getting closer but much louder. The kids weren’t sure what to do and were beginning to get more than a little concerned. They were stiff and waiting for us to give direction. We were rushing to catch up with them but they were still some distance away, not far, but far enough for it to be an uncomfortable separation with an unknown entity moving in our direction. As we closed in, there was an eager extension of hands and arms from both sides, grabbing a parent’s legs or hands, in a feeble attempt at comfort. The sound was right at us, and honestly, it was unnerving.
There was actually no way to retreat, as our legs and feet were frozen in our chosen stance, and we had no choice but to stand firm and wait for the revelation of identity. In my mind it had to be a bear. It was coming off a steep grade to our right and was making way too much noise to be anything less than an animal of the mass of an adult black bear. In seconds, that seemed like eternity, not 15 feet away from us, a full antlered buck revealed himself, obviously winded from his wild ride down the sharp incline. For a moment, we had not interrupted nature, but were part of it. He looked at us, more concerned about catching his breath than he was about his safety. He was startled as we were, but saw no threats, and stood in the middle of the road for some time. We looked at his full rack of antlers, still in velvet, and I counted the points. He was sporting 10 proud points. The air was just cool enough, and he was just hot enough, and we were close enough, that we could see his steamy breath coming from his mouth and nostrils. His exhales and his gasps for breath were the only sounds we heard. It was an unbelievable moment for us, and I am confident, for him. When he caught his breath, and it seemed like minutes, but I’m sure it was seconds, he calmly walked the rest of the way across the road and back into the forest.
It was a moment that was for sure a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I hope our children remember this event. I know that for the rest of the weekend it dominated their thoughts. For me, it has been a highlight that I will forever cherish, an outing with wonderful friends and family. We were blessed that day by our guests and by the experience that we were all able to share together. These are the memories that give texture to our lives and to friendships.
