I just got back from a week's worth of camping in the Smokey Mountains of Tennessee with my future college roommate and his family.
It all started plainly enough. It was going to be a grueling car trip. From central Indiana to southern Tennessee, it was an estimated 8 hours. We loaded up all the cars and began the voyage. On the way there, I witnessed no less than 5 car accidents and immense slowdowns. People may say, "Jim! That is the entire highway! You cannot blame Tennessee on traffic problems!" Four of the five accidents occurred in Tennessee. Litter lined all the roadways of Tennessee. I have never seen so many blow-out discarded tires in my life.
After we get there, we go to a campsite and pay an astounding 19 dollars a day for each campsite. Let me explain these campsites. Imagine your lawn. That's the campsite. There is no bathroom; nay, no outhouse. There is no fire pit. There is a bare strip of land in which to put up a tent. Therefore, we have a fun bucket in which to defecate in, and we get to trod through a river quite far from all the campsites to dump it out into a small disposal hole.
After a restful night's sleep in out tents, we head out to do some hiking. We quickly learn the first rule of hiking:
1.) Never hike trails named after royalty.
My roommate and I seperate from his younger siblings and parents to climb a trail called "Queen Mountain". A sign post showed that it was a simple 2 mile hike. We climb up the ever spiraling hill, every so often taking a breather. Alas, the sign lied to us. There was no trail. There was Queen Mountain, no more, no less. We finally reach a semi-clearing, with chest-high grass, and take a look out at our surrounds. We saw... absolutely FUCKING nothing. The otherwise breathtaking visuals of a mountain landscape were obscured by more trees and a thick layer of fog (that stayed the entire trip). Just as we were about to go down, I spotted 3 snakes in a group advancing on us. My friend told me to just act calm, and then casually mentioned they were poisonous. They hissed hardcore. I ran like a bitch.
The third day, we visit a "national landmark of family vacationing", namely Rock City. Rock City is the biggest tourist trap... ever. A ticket inside costs 13 dollars. You pass through a few man-made rock crevices with clever names such as "The King's Throne" (a rock that kind of looks like a chair, just as a stump looks like a pile of books) and "The Goblin's Underpass" (The foot-wide portion underneath the man-made rock bridge). You can marvel at the amazing Mushroom Rock, a rock that looks absolutely NOTHING like a fucking mushroom! Then, you get to enter Fairytale Land. They lovingly recreate your favorite nursery rhymes out of porcelain dolls. But then something goes tragically wrong. They paint the dolls in neon colors and light the entire thing with black lights. Then, they pipe in the sounds of children laughing. When you are walking in the dark, listening to the sounds of children laughing the same laugh over and over, and then stumble across a rendition of a wolf with blood dripping from his mouth (I'm not kidding) hovering over a cowering girl in a torn red smock, Fairytale Land becomes Satan's Realm of Horror.
The fourth day, we went to go see a bunch of waterfalls. The guide assured us that these were mostly simple hikes, >1 mile one way from parking. What the guide didn't mention is what we would have to pass to get there. One of the very first waterfalls we visited extended on into the Cherokee Indian reservation. We turn down the road to the falls and pass some of the most unsettling sights I've ever witnessed. Every road was named after the people that lived there (Laura Riverfall Drive, Dr. Joshua Stevens Drive, and my favorite, Los Lobos Biker's Drive). There was an old man, sitting outside of his trailer, in a rocking chair, polishing his shotgun. There was a discarded bathtub sitting in a yard, and kids were hitting it with sticks. I shit you not. The falls were nice, though.
On one of the waterfall trails, we met an experienced hiker. He told us that Rainbow Falls were amazing, and that the hike was easy and smooth. We decided to head for Rainbow Falls on the fifth day.
The fifth day, I learned important lessons 2 and 3:
2.) Don't hike trails named after natural occurences.
3.) Never trust experienced hikers.
We get to Rainbow Falls, totally ready to attack that trail. We couldn't wait to see what our hiker friend shared with us.
Yeah, he shared Hell. The trail was straight-up 50 degrees the entire way, and it was made entirely of misshapen rocks and large streams. 2.9 miles later, we reached the falls. However, we didn't know that they were the falls. They weren't horribly impressive, and there was a warning sign that said "Make sure hikers stay on the path." So on we walked. Another 2-3 miles. Uphill, just rocks. Then, when we realized that the air was getting thinner, we turned around. Back to the shitty ass Rainbow Falls, downhill, on unstable rocks. So when we got down at the bottom, to enjoy the Falls, we had to start back down some more, as it was quickly turning night. So we hardly got to see the fucking Falls, and I got a tick on my leg. Hurray for the Smokies.
Oh, and I haven't even mentioned the fantastic drivers of Tennessee! You either get the slowpokes that drive 10 mph or the speed demons that drive 15 mph. That's it. Nobody wants to try and drive on mountains. No! They just want to coast their way down and tear up their brakes. And you'd think that they'd pick it up when they got off the mountain, but no! They keep cruising along at a jogger's pace, while I slowly trail behind them, grinding my teeth in agony. And of course, since we our in the mountains, gas gouging rapes you hardcore. $2.20 for a gallon of Regular Unleaded.
So, in all fairness, there is nothing good about the Smokies. The Smokies are a wicked place, filled with slack-jawed hicks that trick the tourists and bastard Park Rangers. I hated every moment of it, and I'd encourage all of you to never go there.
It all started plainly enough. It was going to be a grueling car trip. From central Indiana to southern Tennessee, it was an estimated 8 hours. We loaded up all the cars and began the voyage. On the way there, I witnessed no less than 5 car accidents and immense slowdowns. People may say, "Jim! That is the entire highway! You cannot blame Tennessee on traffic problems!" Four of the five accidents occurred in Tennessee. Litter lined all the roadways of Tennessee. I have never seen so many blow-out discarded tires in my life.
After we get there, we go to a campsite and pay an astounding 19 dollars a day for each campsite. Let me explain these campsites. Imagine your lawn. That's the campsite. There is no bathroom; nay, no outhouse. There is no fire pit. There is a bare strip of land in which to put up a tent. Therefore, we have a fun bucket in which to defecate in, and we get to trod through a river quite far from all the campsites to dump it out into a small disposal hole.
After a restful night's sleep in out tents, we head out to do some hiking. We quickly learn the first rule of hiking:
1.) Never hike trails named after royalty.
My roommate and I seperate from his younger siblings and parents to climb a trail called "Queen Mountain". A sign post showed that it was a simple 2 mile hike. We climb up the ever spiraling hill, every so often taking a breather. Alas, the sign lied to us. There was no trail. There was Queen Mountain, no more, no less. We finally reach a semi-clearing, with chest-high grass, and take a look out at our surrounds. We saw... absolutely FUCKING nothing. The otherwise breathtaking visuals of a mountain landscape were obscured by more trees and a thick layer of fog (that stayed the entire trip). Just as we were about to go down, I spotted 3 snakes in a group advancing on us. My friend told me to just act calm, and then casually mentioned they were poisonous. They hissed hardcore. I ran like a bitch.
The third day, we visit a "national landmark of family vacationing", namely Rock City. Rock City is the biggest tourist trap... ever. A ticket inside costs 13 dollars. You pass through a few man-made rock crevices with clever names such as "The King's Throne" (a rock that kind of looks like a chair, just as a stump looks like a pile of books) and "The Goblin's Underpass" (The foot-wide portion underneath the man-made rock bridge). You can marvel at the amazing Mushroom Rock, a rock that looks absolutely NOTHING like a fucking mushroom! Then, you get to enter Fairytale Land. They lovingly recreate your favorite nursery rhymes out of porcelain dolls. But then something goes tragically wrong. They paint the dolls in neon colors and light the entire thing with black lights. Then, they pipe in the sounds of children laughing. When you are walking in the dark, listening to the sounds of children laughing the same laugh over and over, and then stumble across a rendition of a wolf with blood dripping from his mouth (I'm not kidding) hovering over a cowering girl in a torn red smock, Fairytale Land becomes Satan's Realm of Horror.
The fourth day, we went to go see a bunch of waterfalls. The guide assured us that these were mostly simple hikes, >1 mile one way from parking. What the guide didn't mention is what we would have to pass to get there. One of the very first waterfalls we visited extended on into the Cherokee Indian reservation. We turn down the road to the falls and pass some of the most unsettling sights I've ever witnessed. Every road was named after the people that lived there (Laura Riverfall Drive, Dr. Joshua Stevens Drive, and my favorite, Los Lobos Biker's Drive). There was an old man, sitting outside of his trailer, in a rocking chair, polishing his shotgun. There was a discarded bathtub sitting in a yard, and kids were hitting it with sticks. I shit you not. The falls were nice, though.
On one of the waterfall trails, we met an experienced hiker. He told us that Rainbow Falls were amazing, and that the hike was easy and smooth. We decided to head for Rainbow Falls on the fifth day.
The fifth day, I learned important lessons 2 and 3:
2.) Don't hike trails named after natural occurences.
3.) Never trust experienced hikers.
We get to Rainbow Falls, totally ready to attack that trail. We couldn't wait to see what our hiker friend shared with us.
Yeah, he shared Hell. The trail was straight-up 50 degrees the entire way, and it was made entirely of misshapen rocks and large streams. 2.9 miles later, we reached the falls. However, we didn't know that they were the falls. They weren't horribly impressive, and there was a warning sign that said "Make sure hikers stay on the path." So on we walked. Another 2-3 miles. Uphill, just rocks. Then, when we realized that the air was getting thinner, we turned around. Back to the shitty ass Rainbow Falls, downhill, on unstable rocks. So when we got down at the bottom, to enjoy the Falls, we had to start back down some more, as it was quickly turning night. So we hardly got to see the fucking Falls, and I got a tick on my leg. Hurray for the Smokies.
Oh, and I haven't even mentioned the fantastic drivers of Tennessee! You either get the slowpokes that drive 10 mph or the speed demons that drive 15 mph. That's it. Nobody wants to try and drive on mountains. No! They just want to coast their way down and tear up their brakes. And you'd think that they'd pick it up when they got off the mountain, but no! They keep cruising along at a jogger's pace, while I slowly trail behind them, grinding my teeth in agony. And of course, since we our in the mountains, gas gouging rapes you hardcore. $2.20 for a gallon of Regular Unleaded.
So, in all fairness, there is nothing good about the Smokies. The Smokies are a wicked place, filled with slack-jawed hicks that trick the tourists and bastard Park Rangers. I hated every moment of it, and I'd encourage all of you to never go there.