I thought, when I left on my October road trip to the Carolinas, that I was getting out of Austin just ahead of the rain. As it turned out, however, I was overtaken by the storms in less than 30 miles, in the neighborhood of Georgetown. And, besides the weather, I'd discovered a glitch in the GPS system: in spite of my preparation, the GPS device could access all my waypoints but none of my routes. You know, all the routes I spend so much time developing in my trip preparation. In this case, I had stopped short of testing the routes in the local area, which would have been easy had I thought them necessary. I'm almost 66 now, and learning as I go.
It was an enjoyable morning in spite of the rain as I tracked across Northeast Texas, and Northern Louisiana. Focusing on the traffic and the rain, and the traffic in the rain, I was surprised on approaching the Mississippi River how dark it had become (or how little it had lightened since sunrise), how windy it was suddenly, and how much debris was sharing the sky with the torrents of rain. Several miles straight ahead (I-20 is nothing if not straight) there was a patch of blue sky, the first I had seen since daylight (such as it was). In no time at all, I decided that was where I wanted to be, not here in this nasty storm. As soon as I stepped on the gas I had to come off it immediately. The semi with the apparently empty trailer, ahead of me and in the next lane, was demonstrating what could happen on a wet highway in high winds. While keeping the tractor under control, the trailer swung left like a paddock gate. As quickly as that happened, the gate opened again and the trailer took up its proper position in trail of the tractor. I gave the situation about half a second to stabilize and headed for the patch of blue.
Crossing the Mississippi a couple miles down the road the rain stopped (for all of 43 miles, between Vicksburg and Jackson). It resumed on the east edge of Jackson and continued unabated through my arrival in Sweetwater, TN (which I had come to think of as my homeport for the evening). Reviewing my day, I made a mental note to listen in future to the local weather on the radio rather than allow my CDs to anesthetize my brain. The radio in Vicksburg (and all across Northern Louisiana, most likely) could have been telling me all about the tornado(s) I nearly caught up with.
The plan for Tuesday morning was to leave the motel in time to take pictures of the sunrise in Cade's Cove on the western edge of the Great Smoky Mountains NP. I was third in line at the Cove at sunrise, but the sun never showed up! Not one to dwell on things I cannot change, I blew off the Cove (I'd already been there on better days than this) and just sat in the queue until there was enough ambient light to appreciate driving through the forest and head for Asheville.
All the pictures in today's post were taken from the drivers seat of my Sierra through rain splattered windshields mostly, and occasionally (if the wind and the rain died down enough) through an open window. Some might find the pictures dreary; the lighting was poor, the waves of rain on the glass blurred things. A lot of negatives, to be sure. But I was thrilled to be back in my mountains, even on such a day, and I knew the weather could only get better.
The three things I could concentrate on were the autumn color, the Smokey Mountain mists that give them their name, and the high, fast water in the creeks and rivers, which is unusual in October (one of the drier months of the year in the Smokies). As I left Cade's Cove and the Little River behind me I Turned South at Sugarlands and headed up and south to Newfound Gap where I crossed into North Carolina. I was already thinking about returning here as soon as the rain cleared out and, hopefully, while the rivers and creeks were still running high. How many days that would be remained to be seen.
The first thing I discovered in North Carolina was a gate across the Clingman's Dome access road (as though
that was necessary). I could barely see the gate for the clouds.
What I've always liked best about US 441 are the many little waterfalls that come right up to the shoulder of the road, and never more so than today. Typically, tourist traffic would keep me from pulling off to snap a couple pictures. Today, traffic wasn't a factor at all. The picture above was shot (from the drivers seat), across the cab, through the open passenger window, zoomed out as far as I could go. It might have been cropped better had I managed to park at a better angle but, all in all, I think it turned out pretty well.
This is the Smokey Mountain homestead at the Oconaluftee visitors center at the North Carolina entrance to the park. For years it seemed like all my pictures here were taken about high noon because I was driving from Asheville or Atlanta or passing through on my way somewhere else. Today, the rain is steady and the clouds are thick. It looks like early morning, but it's about 20 minutes till 10 AM. If it wasn't so wet, I'd have gotten out and wandered down to the river to see what the high water had done or was doing. But it was warm and dry in the Sierra and I was ready to go see what things were like up on the Blue Ridge Parkway.
Up on the Blue Ridge things change quickly. You come around a bend at 10 miles per hour in the mist and, if you're lucky, you find an overlook to pull off the road and something in the immediate area to make you glad you've got your camera with you. On a day like today, the overlooks are just a place to park off the road. Vistas that often go on forever, show you on days like today just the inside of a cloud.
Sometimes, in fact, it seems like you have to rush to snap a picture or two before the overlook becomes socked in (an old aviation term usually applied to airports rendered unusable by fog). You might wonder about these pictures; they look like it's been rainy but not necessarily raining at the time I shot them. In each instance I've taken some Photoshop liberties with the picture to give you a sense of how I saw things that morning while minimizing the effects the weather gods were employing to ruin my first day in the mountains. They clearly failed to understand that any day in the Smokies or other Western North Carolina mountains is a fine day indeed.
As I mentioned, things change quickly on the Blue Ridge. The picture above was taken about 11:15 at an overlook some distance south of Balsam Gap. I can't remember its name, but the sign in the center of the picture tells visitors what the elevation is and that this place is the highest elevation on the Blue Ridge Pkwy. Wikipedia gives even more information: "The highest point on the parkway (south of Waynesville, near Mount Pisgah in North Carolina) is 6053 feet. . . above sea level on Richland Balsam Mountain at Milepost 431, and is often closed from November to April due to inclement weather such as snow, fog, and even freezing fog from low clouds." It wasn't November yet and, in spite of the weather, I was surprised at the number of visitors I encountered at these very wet overlooks.
Normally, I go on a blogging binge and put out seven or eight or more posts on consecutive days until I finish my trip report. It's taken so long to get this first post out, I can't guarantee how quickly, or regularly, the rest will follow. They will follow, however, and I hope you'll check back to see how things turned out. (I'll let you know when I've reached the end of the trip.)
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