Above the clouds in the Smokies

Posted on September 2, 2026 by Editor

My Harley FXBB across from Chimney Tops, twin peaks that have stood for some 200 million years in these mountains.

Clouds rolled like a whitewater river in the valleys below the Smoky Mountain peaks.

From my cabin to Cades Cove Loop in the Smoky Mountain National Park is a 270-mile round trip that takes you above the clouds, through lazy elk herds feeding on the roadside, and past more stunning views than a man can well comprehend in a single day-trip.

But if that’s what you’ve got, that’s what you make do with: A day trip, because Hazel, Phoebe and Poe would be waiting back home beside their dinner bowls.

SoI made it back to the cabin just before 1700 hours. The pups were disgusted with me but delighted to see that I survived yet another day.

I followed U.S. 74 East through Cherokee to U.S. 441 or Newfound Gap Road at the town of Cherokee. The highway runs through the Smoky Mountain National Park to Gatlinburg, but I turned west about two miles south of that tourist enclave and headed for the 11-mile one-lane drive known as Cades Cove Loop.

The loop takes you through flatter country, cleared and farmed by early settlers to the region. The area has several old homesteads, and at least three churches, an abundance of wildflowers, wetlands, pasturelands, and nice views of the landscape — but no elk, at least not on my day of touring.

At a visitor center, three women touring together from Georgia asked me to take their photo. I did. I passed one group of bikers and several lone riders, but it was mostly cars and the occasional recreational vehicle on this Tuesday. Traffic in the much-visited park is much lighter in September than in the summer months.

I went back home via Marysville and Tellico Plains, Tennessee, which made a nice loop itself.

I sat down inside a Chick-fil-A for a meal of chicken strips, where a photo on the wall caught my eye. It celebrated the eatery’s founding in Atlanta, Georgia, in 1967, and shoed three smiling young cafe workers — two white and one black.

Three young Chick-fil-A workers shown in a promotional poster at the Maryville, Tennessee, lokcation.

Nope, I thought. Not in 1967, Not in Atlanta, Georgia, would there be a young black man working alongside two young whites — not likely in the year of the Dixie Hill Riots, the year visiting jazz musician Les McCann sparked riots and mass protests when he was denied entry to the downtown YMCA even though he was a member. He just wasn’t the right color for Atlanta and the South in that year of racial turmoil — the year of school integration protests; the year Julian Bond, with the help of federal courts, finally gained a seat in the state’s General Assembly to which he’d been elected two years earlier.

Ah, well, I thought, what’s a little whitewashed history when the chicken is over-fried and over salty, the soft drinks are syrupey, and the skies outside are as blue as the dreams of the young, and the sun is shinning to beat the band.

Migratory birds begin arriving for seasonal stay in the mountains

Posted on April 11, 2026 by Editor

A hummingbird visits a feeder on my deck.

The first hummingbird of spring visited my deck on Thursday, two days ago, and today, Saturday, April 11, I finally got a photo of one.

The visitor I got a blurry photo of traveled to Cherokee County, North Carolina, from Central America. Like most of his fellow travelers, he is a ruby-throated hummingbird — the primary species we have in this part of the country.

According to researchers at North Carolina State, millions of hummingbirds make the trip back and forth from North Carolina to Central America.

The males arrive first, some as early as late March and others in early- to mid-April. The females are not far behind. The small birds are like many of our part-time residents — here for the season, where they will nest, mate and breed.

But before the weather turns too cold in the fall, they’ll head south again, many of them traveling across the Gulf of Mexico to warmer climates in Southern Mexico, Belize, or Guatemala. Some travel as far south as Panama.

By mid-October, most if not all of the tiny, colorful critters will be gone to spend the winter in the warmer south. While many travel overland through Texas and Mexico, others map a more direct route, flying straight across the Gulf of Mexico and into Central America.

Photo from the Cornell Lab of Ornithology. The small birds can beat their wings as many as 60 times per second, an astonishing feat that demands lots of oxygen.

To beef-up for the 1,500- to 2,000-mile trip, hummingbirds will gain roughly from 25 percent to 50 percent of their regular weight — and occasionally up to 100 percent — from 3 grams to 6 grams.

Even so, estimates are that nearly half the migrating population may not survive the trip. And for some species, the trip is much longer than 2,000 miles. Rufous hummingbirds, for example, migrate from their winter habitats in Western Mexico and follow the Pacific flyway north into California and then on to Alaska where they nest and breed over the summer.

Those who survive make it to Alaska by May, and by July have had their families, and are heading south again to take advantage of late blooming alpine flowers.

Migration isn’t the only danger these tiny specialized nectarivores. Some species have lost half their numbers to pesticide use and other environmental degredations of the modern era. But they also are highly adaptable.

There are now more than 330 recognized hummingbird species, but UC Berkeley herpetologist Jimmy McGuire believes that number could double in the next several million years. “We are not close to being at the maximum number of hummingbird species,” McGuire says.

The Old Stovall Mill

Posted on April 30, 2025 by Editor

The old Stovall Mill Covered Bridge at Sautee Junction, Georgia. Click on any of the images for an expanded view.

Fog wrapped the taller mountains in a soggy embrace along the Russell Scenic Highway as I made my way to the historic old covered bridge near Sautee Junction, roughly another 30 miles away.

This area of Georgia is part of the Russell-Brasstown Scenic Byway, which itself is part of our National Scenic Byways that dot this big country of ours. All told, there are 184 National Scenic Byways scattered throughout 48 states.

This one is in the beautiful Chattahoochee-Oconee National Forest. Brasstown Bald is somewhere off to my left.

The bridge is a popular spot for graffiti and seems especially popular for young lovers who need to declare their affinity for each other in chalk. The river is scenic here as it is elsewhere.

I have on a long-sleeve summer sun shirt, a T-shirt over that and then a leather vest — all topped off with a blue jean jacket. It’s border line enough clothing for motorcycling at these elevations and beneath this overcast, foggy sky.

But the sun returned as I reached the turn-off to Helen, Georgia, a tourist trap along the Chattahoochee River, which many people mistakenly believe is the river from the movie “Deliverance.” But, no, that’s the Chattooga River.

And while on “Deliverance” trivia, the rundown town in the movie wasn’t actually in Georgia at all. Those scenes were filmed in Sylva, North Carolina. Same thing with the movie, “Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Montana” — another cinematic wonder also filmed in Sylva.

Anyhow, the Stovall Covered Bridge isn’t much to look at.

There are picnic tables at the bridge along the beautiful Chattahoochee though, and it’s a nice stop for a snack and a break from the saddle — especially for motorcycle riders, who need more butt-rests than auto travelers might.

I had bought a root beer and a chocolate bar at the Old Sautee Store a few miles back, so I sat at one of the tables, snacked, and enjoyed the view for awhile along with the mid 70-degree day. The chill of the higher mountains long gone.

On the day I visited the mill fiber optic cable was coiled on the ground ready for stringing by crews hoisting it to poles.

The Old Sautee Store and Market make for an interesting if not critical stop for sightseers. There was a father with his two-month-old baby sitting on the porch during my visit. The little boy, wide eyed and smooth skinned as wee ones his age are, worked his month like a guppie and waved his arms like a sea amoeba as I walked by him.

Which gets to my sole bit of advice for the day: Never trust anyone who can walk by a new-to-the-world child like that one was without smiling.

I’m unsure why we always smile at seeing the very young, perhaps as a small way of rejoicing at the world renewing itself, replacing us wrinkled and mostly worn out old versions with new ones.