Great Smoky Mountains Mist to the Emerald Green Atlantic Ocean

 August 20 - 21, 2013

I was nearing the end of my journey and a very small voice whispered, just keep driving until you get to John's house.  A  calmer voice countered, slow down and stop one more time. I needed the space in my head to transition from road traveler to house guest and assistant to the boat builder. Twelve days had passed since I left Portland. Days of scenic wonder, white lines on black asphalt over rolling hills, semi trucks hurtling past in night rain, sunrises peeking thru morning mist behind century old trees, bison lumbering along side a  quiet park road. Days and days of being alone without loneliness. This was a new experience for me and I wasn't quite ready to let it slip thru my fingers.

I conferred with a ranger at visitor center and picked the Smokemount Campsite on the eastern side of the mountain so I could lessen the next days travel to the Carolina coast. I drove up towards mists hovering over the tree line as the two lane road began to curve and weave alongside a cascading creek. I shut off the AC and rolled down the windows to feel the air. But it wasn't enough. I found a pull out and pulled over.  There was a 20' ragged dirt path down to the creek's edge. Trees leaned over the water, shading the creek like a hand over the eyes. I knelled down to get some photos. How do you capture the peace and serenity of water flowing over boulders?  Of shades of light and shadow across textured leaves.  Of tone and vibration of water cascading, bubbling past you. Sounds and visions that are so familiar, that you are not sure if you are feeling them from nature's hand or from within your own soul.

Creek side at Smokey Mountain National park

                                       

Reluctantly, I rose and headed back to the car. In another hour I found the campsite area and picked a spot across from a creek. The campsites were all under big trees which help shield the intermittent light rain falling. The creek was close enough that a few times I wasn't sure if the muffled sound was rain hitting the trees or the roar of the water rumbling along the creek.

I set up my tent and then got my kitchen set on the picnic table to heat up some soup and spend some time writing. I tied up a line over the table and pulled a short tarp over it to protect my notebook and IPad from light rain.

After an early dinner, I grabbed my crazy creek chair and walked over to the creek and found a nice boulder to sit on so I could dangle my feet in the water.

Maybe the rushing water mimics the flow of blood thru my veins, pumping and thumping, sometimes wildly, and the pull towards this water motion and vibration is at a physiologic level.

I awoke before the morning light eased over the ridge line. I broke camp after some coffee and yogurt eager to head down and find my way to the ocean.

 I pulled into the public beach lot in Cedar Point, North Carolina and parked.  As soon as the AC stopped,the heat was thumping on the windshield. I slid in the reflector shield and opened the door. I grabbed my sun hat, changed into my Keen sandals, locked the door and headed for the beach.

It had been a long trip, but surprisingly relaxing. I was tired and a little hungry, that can be a bad combination for me, but as soon as I saw the green Atlantic rolling ashore, that was all forgotten. It was 5pm and the beach was more crowded than I expected for a late August afternoon. I reached the beach, peeled off my sandals, and wiggled my toes in the warm sand. A squadron of brown pelicans soared quietly northward in a wide V formation and along the wet shore line, a sand piper scurried after receding waves, repeatedly dipping his beak down into the sand searching for morsels.

I had called my brother John when I was about a half hour out to ask him to meet me at the beach instead of me coming straight to his house. I needed my ocean fix. I needed to breathe the salt air, feel the waters swirl around my feet, and stand at the oceans edge. About five minutes later, I watched my brother jogging across the sand towards me.  We hugged and spun in circles, sand between our toes, sun beating down, and the rolling Atlantic waves tickling our ankles. After 3,540 miles I was learning how to let peace in.

PS-

my Toyota Prius used-

76 gallons of gas

costing about $265

Averaged  46 mpg

signing off for now