Welcome to the Ted Nugent Edition of the Odyssey! In the grand tradition of the Motor City Madman, this episode will feature epic bouts of Cat Scratch Fever, more than a few iterations of the Wango zee Tango, and a full complement of Intensities In Ten Cities. We'll conclude our doings for the day by running around the woods in loincloths, trying to shoot animals with a bow and arrow, all the while singing the chorus of Ted's classic, "Great White Buffalo." It's a Clip-and-Save moment, for sure!
Before we get too carried away with the whole loincloth thing, though, perhaps we should try something novel and actually stick with the point for a while. The point being, of course, our adventures in the grand state of North Carolina. As usual, we woke up feeling a little bit saucy. Ready for action. Eager to bite whole hunks of excitement from America's flank. We often feel this way after a nourishing breakfast of Diet Coke and Cheeze-n-Peanut Butter Krackers. You should try them -- they're almost exactly as good for you as they are good-tasting.
We started the day with an aggresive agenda. We wanted to hike a little bit on the southern tip of the Appalachian Trail, see Great Smoky National Park, drive the Blue Ridge Parkway (all 469 miles of it, if possible), see the town of Heaton ('cause it has such a great name), check out Chapel Hill (the site of the University of North Carolina -- also home to a Kinko's), and then drive out somewhere near the ferry to Ocracoke Island in North Carolina's Outer Banks to camp. Like I said, aggressive. We kicked off our dance with destiny by sashaying up to the Appalachian Trail and shaking our can-can down the path for a couple minutes. Now able to say "we hiked on the Appalachian trail" at cocktail parties, we high-fived repeatedly and then waltzed back to Otto. By the way, when we get to Maine, we plan on hiking a spell near the northern terminus of the Appalachian Trail, bookending the whole experience nicely. We'll keep you posted. |
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Jitterbugging in to North Carolina, we felt it best to two-step lickety-split on over to Great Smoky Mountains National Park, making time as best we could. The drive traced the Nananthala River Gorge, filled with mamboing kayakers and cha-chaing rafters. After a piece, we turned a corner from the river gorge and found ourselves staring at the aptly-named Great Smoky Mountains. We boogied on in, ready for some full-on outdoor adventure. Unfortunately, so was everybody else in North Carolina, it being a weekend and all. We barrelhoused out of there, polkaing our way on up the Blue Ridge Parkway. Salsa! Charleston! Everybody Limbo!
Quick Note Here -- I've unilaterally decided that the whole "dance" conceit is pretty stupid. I'm dropping it now, right after one gratuitous reference to "Lambada -- The Forbidden Dance." That's it. You can thank me later.
The Blue Ridge Parkway was gorgeous. That is, what we saw of it was gorgeous. It was a painfully slow drive, and we had a schedule to keep. See, we needed to be in Washington DC by Wednesday, the 15th. If we wanted to see the Outer Banks tomorrow, we needed to get on our horse. So, we abandoned the Blue Ridge Parkway after a scenic couple hours and hit the Interstate east.
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And then, Chapel Hill. Home of the University of North Carolina, alma mater of the Exalted and Supreme Michael Jordan. Also alma mater of the Strange and Maladjusted J.R. Reid, the Graceful and Philandering James Worthy, and the Strange, Smooth, and Slightly Stoned Sam Perkins, along with a host of others. We went to the Dean Dome, home of the basketball team, so I could genuflect and take a picture. It was a deeply spiritual moment -- please observe a moment of silence to mark its passing. |
| Thank you. Respects paid, we went off to Kinko's, another spiritual sanctuary of sorts. Now, we've been getting a little bit down on Kinko's lately. We hit a long streak of Kinko's that didn't have their computers on the internet and didn't have open phone jacks in which to plug the laptop. Deeply depressing, I assure you. It is never pleasant to have your faith so brazenly challenged by reality. Chapel Hill, as the name suggests, renewed our faith mightily. Greeting us warmly was a desk, a chair, and a live phone jack. We knelt in obeisance and proceeded to FTP the site back to you, the Odyssey reader. It's also a certified Extreme moment. |  |
We drove on and on and on, eventually camping in a private campground in Maysville, North Carolina. It's near enough to the ferry to the Outer Banks, that we shouldn't have to drive too much tomorrow...a welcome change!
Total Miles for 7/13 = 580