on the border

Sometimes it’s hard to cross a major boundary in your life. And no I am not talking about the philosophical Rubicons that represent our major life decisions, our forks in the roads of our destinies (though I have been grappling with some of those lately) – I am talking about serious boundaries, like the North Carolina-Tennessee state border.

case in point: about as serious as it gets. taken in great smokey mtns national park

In our Appalachian ramblings, which took us from the foggiest weather this side of Boone to some nonpareil musical stylings in Asheville to an incredible folk art school (and the site of the start of the Trail of Tears) in Brasstown, we found the greatest challenge was simply getting across the border to Tennessee. I-40 has been closed forever due to rockslides, but little did we know how many other major highways are suffering similar blockages on account of rocks and weather and all manner of things.

So after many false starts, wrong turns and time spent being lost (see below), we finally found our way up and over the mountains into Tennessee through Great Smokey Mountains National Park…and although it was a balmy early spring day down in the valleys of the Blue Ridge, the top of the Smokies looked like this:

that state trooper weren't kidding when he said watch out for black ice

At the end of the day, though, crossing borders is really much better when you make an adventure out of it anyway.

One thought on “on the border

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