No Plans...No Destinations ... No Hurries... No Worries

Wednesday Morning... Caught up this morning on several days worth of travels and my gracious

hostess of Asheville, Connie, insisted I go for breakfast. She took me to a local haunt a block or two from her place where we had an awesome meal. We got to talk some more and I truly hope I can figure out a way to work her place into future adventures. I had actual baked apples with real whipped cream on my waffle, which was quite a treat too.

 We hugged and I headed back from whence I came, looking towards a well known biker destination of Maggie Valley, home of Wheels Through

Time motorcycle museum Unfortunately, this was an impromptu portion of my trip and, as it would happen, Wednesday is the only day of the week this folk lore destination is closed. Alas, I headed on towards the Great Smokey Mountain National Park. 

I stopped at the visitors center on the way in, where they had a mountain home site recreation from relocated and refurbished period structures to create what people probably lived in. There was a cabin, a store house for meats and perishables, another building where water would run through from an underground water source, that provided water for drinking, washing and also, amazingly, storing and preserving foods. There were also many other out buildings like a barn to store apples, and a pig shed with actual pigs in there.  

The house on the property actually had a sewing machine similar to the antique one I have in my living room at home so I had to take a photo of it!

I headed on through the park and found an amazing grist mill unlike any I have ever seen. 

All of the old grist mills I have ever seen have a water wheel along side of the mill. This mill, however, is an anomaly. 

For over fifty years, the Mingus Mill ground corn into meal and wheat into flour for the mountain community near Mingus Creek. 

In place of a wooden water wheel, a small steel turbine provided power to run the mill's stones and machinery. Rehabilitated by the National Park Service in 1968, the mill operates during the summer as an historical exhibit. 

This is what our taxes pay for and I am so much for this. I feel that this part of our history must be preserved. It is such a rich part of our heritage.

Heading out from the mill, I followed the road through the park and stopped at every opportunity. What a beautiful national treasure this is. What a gift our national parks are. The temperature slowly dropped as I climbed in elevation. I saw motorcyclists, and families and church buses all enjoying this gift of our park system. The over

looks reminded me of why they call it Smokey Mountain National Park. The clouds hang over the mountain tops and the views were incredible. I thought any minute it would rain, but it didn't.

And all along the way, I was reminded of my last trip through here. Buffalo and I had run the Blue Ridge Parkway for our first time. We had our camping gear and camped in the the Great Smokey Mountain National Park, sharing a camping spot with a couple of BMW riders from I don't remember where... but the trip is etched in my mind and I cried off and on throughout the day, today because this was my first time back here. It may be five years since I

lost that man, but the pain remains. And I am blessed he rides with me and I broken heart he does not. I struggle with the feelings. And I move on, one mile at a time. And one day at a time. 

And I am blessed you all ride along with me. Thank you for sharing my journey. 

Pece all. I head north tomorrow.