A room with a view.

I don’t know a lot about the Smoky Mountains, but I have learned from our previous trips that if you want a room with a view, you’re gonna have to pay for it. Yes, monetarily, but, more significantly, in the death-defying trip up the mountain. Perhaps this has been our best view and by far our most frightening (in my girl opinion) drive to the cabin. Featuring high bluffs, rocky terrain, breathtaking views, and switchback turns the map should have included a disclaimer: not recommended for people with serious or severe heart failure who have marked limits on their activity and who are comfortable only at rest or who are confined to bed or a chair or those who may be, as a general rule, big fat chickens.

Thank goodness there wasn’t the auto equivalent of a foot bridge or I would have refused to go further.

On the first trip up I resorted to controlled breathing methods (I knew that Lamaze breathing would come in handy eventually) and finally insisted I be let out to walk the last portion. Pathetic, I know, but I’m from Ohio, okay? We couldn’t find the cabin the first time around and dear husband had to back up and turn around on this narrow, high road. What would I have done if we stumbled upon another car on the way up and had to share our one-lane road?!

Could you just knock me out, please?

I even endured the trip up the hill in the rain (I confess I reclined my seat back to a lying position and covered my eyes with my hands) and in the dark (again, more tactical breathing). Nevertheless, by the end of the stay, I was riding with the window down and nearly hanging out the window (think dog on the highway), enjoying the breeze and leaning out to ascertain how far over the edge I could see from the car. Are those cows down there?