Cades Cove: The perfect intersection of nature, culture, and terrible drivers
I spent this morning making the 24-mile drive out to Cades Cove, where the preserved buildings of many Appalachian settlers still stand resolute. The Cades Cove loop is a one-way road that runs 11-miles around a wide valley where many buildings such as churches, houses, and schools, remain in tact. Most breathtaking of all was the landscape. It was crystal clear today, and the "smoky" clouds hung over the trees like a veil, suspended in place by invisible strings just below the freshly-powdered ridge. The sun was shining, the air was cool, the brooks were babbling, and I saw deer, woodepeckers, and even my first wild turkey. And it looked absolutely delicious. Yeah, it was kind of idyllic like that.
Unfortunately, this is one of those pesky areas of the park that is so beautiful, all the dumb people come out to see it too. The 11-mile loop is one lane with scenic pullouts every few hundred feet or so. Interspersed with these pullouts are signs that say something to the effect of
DO NOT STOP. PLEASE PULL OVER TO ENJOY VIEW.
To be fair, these signs are awfully distracting amidst all the beautiful splendor of nature; they sometimes can take seconds to read, so it should come to no surprise that every single car you come upon will be parked squarely in the middle of the road, its inhabitants oggling some spectacle of wildlife. After several minutes of hemming and hawing by said inhabitants, it will then necessarily dawn on someone that, oh! other people in the world exist in addition to ourselves? This is a shock to most people and often results in a further delay of at least two or three minutes – up to five if they are truly flabbergasted. At this point, something like a shifting of gears happens as the driver attempts to recall what seems to be the forgotten skill of driving. After some time, the feat is finally accomplished, at which point, I have peed my pants or starved to death or come to some other unattractive end, all while forcefully maintaining my "I'm in a government vehicle" smile, which I do because I am a good employee*.
It is a testament to the beauty of Cades Cove that this ordeal was absolutely worth it in every respect. You soon come to find out that every person you were stuck behind always gave a cheerful wave as you passed, indicating that none of them were the drooling mouth-breathers you had pictured, but instead, were good-natured tourists, dumbstruck by the beauty of the cove. And then you remember that the busy season hasn't even started yet, and then you feel slightly sad once more. Such is the dichotomous nature of a park, I suppose.
*I am, in fact, not an employee at all, but a lowly, unpaid, peon intern. Weep for me and my plight.
Pictures coming soon, I promise!
