To Jonesborough, TN

When I woke I was still in the Smokey Mountains. This was no surprise, I was expecting it. The night before I walked by an espresso cafe in the downtown area. I figured this would be a good place to swing by and grab a cup on my way out of town. Ha! The folk can be so wild and crazy in these little towns, they just make up their own rules. The espresso place didn't open until 10am. Goodness what a time to start drinking espresso! It turned out to be a blessing in disguise, instead of coffee and driving into the hills right away I found a local joint for breakfast.

It was one of those places that has been there forever. A institution of the town founded on the success formula that states endless coffee and a breakfast for one that will serve three for about six bucks will keep the bubs coming back. There were two waitresses riding herd on the customers that morning, one who had been working there for forty years, the other starting her career. They whispered gossip at the end of the counter between rounds with the coffee pot as I worked my way around a plate-sized pancake. Forty years from now, I'll swing through Waynesville, NC. This restaurant will still be there. Today's trainee will have changed roles with her mentor and will be whispering gossip with a youth she is training. A life goes round but a single cycle, but the wheel of life spins endlessly. The roles we get to portray in our turn are parts written ages ago, hand-me-downs we update, polish and make our own while we play in the sun. Play your part well before you pass it along.

I figured the days drive would be short. Just to Hot Springs, North Carolina, perhaps sixty miles away. It was a lovely morning. The Smokey Mountains were still in a mist living up to the poetry of their name. The road caressed the curves of the hillsides as I drove amid woods of oak, hickory and walnut. The Adirondacks are tectonic mountains, sheaves of the Earth's crust folded up exposing the strata of time. The shapes and size of the mountains reminded me of the California coastal range. The difference being instead of being covered with redwoods and other conifers, they are wooded with broadleaf trees. Oh, they must be beautiful in the motley of autumn. Have I said that already? Oh, they must be beautiful. Oh yeah, and California doesn't have kudzu. Instead, California has Scotch Broom which shares some qualities of the kudzu; virulent, it covers hillsides, and smells sweet when it is blooming.

After a bit of winding the mountains opened up into some rounded hilly country. Some brave farmer had planted corn on the hills. I'm sure the farmers decision wasn't for the esthetics of the crop, but a hillside covered by a field of 6-foot corn is lovely. I am used to corn on flat fields, all you see is the side of the crop as you pass. When it is growing on a hill it is such a different look. Green and glossy, the hills shimmer as the satiny leaves rustle in the breeze.

The rolling hills were a brief interlude, soon enough I was back in mountainous country passing tiny towns that looked to be little more than a sign, a house and a wide spot to pull over. Who lives there, I cannot say, there was no place to buy a cup of coffee and ask.

I finally reached Hot Springs, NC. Hot Springs is right on the French Broad River. They have rafting, canoeing, and hot springs. The Appalachian Trail swings right by there so if you get the notion you can take a walk to Maine. That would probably be more than a day trip. Hot Springs is also renown for having no cell phone service. Well, they may not be renown for that but the woman I spoke with claims it was one of the reasons she moved there three years earlier. It seemed a sleepy little village when we were talking, but the woman looked out the door of the cafe at the three cars that were parked on the street and the four people eating at the tables outside and said it looked like a right busy day to her.

It was still quite early in the day, I decided I needed to make a call on my cell phone so I jumped back into my truck and high-tailed it out of there. I figured I would go to Tennessee, what the heck. I looked at the map and saw that If I just kept driving for a while, no decisions on destinations would have to be made until Newport, Tennessee. It was a lovely day for a drive.

Once in Newport, I had to choose between going Southwesterly to Knoxville or Northeasterly toward Johnsonville. I know very little about Knoxville and even less about Johnsonville so I figured I'd follow the path of greater ignorance and go Northeasterly. This was a good choice because I was able to cross the "Love" bridge over the Nolichucky River. The Love Bridge over the Nolichucky river is unassuming and has nothing about it that would make it stand out in any way. But it has a sign that states its name-or-title which caused me to wonder then about the origins of the name and remember and write about it now. I almost stopped in Greeneville, Tennessee. I even began my inquiry of hotels, but something told me to move on. You have to follow those hunches.

On I drove until I reached Jonesborough, Tennessee. They have a cute little down town there. A long row of small brick buildings. Lots of Franchise restaurants in the hotel district. I found a "Sports Bar" that wasn't a chain for supper. Dang there were a lot of TVs in that place. If I knew anything about sports, I might be able to tell you what was on.