3/26/17, “The Smokies Again”
Raleigh, North Carolina
August 2003, I went to the Great Smoky Mountains for the
first time. I forgot my World Heritage
Site folder at home. September 2012, I
went to the Smokies for the second time.
I remembered my folder this time, but I forgot to stamp one of my brochures. March 2017, I have gone to the Smokies again,
and this time I remembered the folder and finally got that elusive brochure
stamped.
It may seem odd that what is,
by far, my most valuable possession is a blue Five Star Mead folder filled with
nothing but printed paper. It far
surpasses in value even such possessions as my “only one known to exist” signed
Natalie Portman Star Wars image or, for that matter, anything in my autograph
collection. In terms of material goods,
nothing in my wardrobe, nor any of my electronics come close in value. Why is this folder so valuable? Why is it so important? Why would I drive so far just for a stamp
that I should have gotten 14 years ago?
Reader, that folder is the masterpiece of my domestic travels. It is a one-of-a-kind possession, and it pays
testament to the effort I have exerted in some of my most ambitious domestic
trips. It contains all of my stamped WHS
brochures, my National Park passport with stamps from almost every US WHS that
I have visited, some print-outs that date back to the Clinton Administration,
again, stamped at 19 of the 21 US WHS that I have visited, and the centerpiece
of it all, the NPS-generated US World Heritage Site Brochure with a listing of
all WHS that had been inscribed when it was printed (three have been added
since). Before today, that brochure was
missing a stamp from Great Smoky Mountains National Park, due to my own
neglect. That has now been
rectified. That was the main activity of
today, and it was no easy task to get it.
I am now back in front of the state capitol, and it is 15 hours since I
left there this morning, the vast majority of that time spent behind the wheel
of a car.
After I closed last night, I
walked over to the cigar shop, though it was really just a glorified vape shop. It was slim pickings, and most of the cigars
they had were kept in poor condition and/or were brands I disliked. I selected a cigar for the evening and just
enough for the car today. It was about
9:30 PM, so I lit up the Padron Aniversario and waited for the shop to close at
10 PM. By 10:30 PM, he still hadn’t
kicked me out, but my cigar was almost done, so I said goodbye and walked back
to the car. I drove back to the hotel
and soon went to sleep, not setting an alarm.
I woke up around 7:30 AM, which meant I was an hour behind schedule, but
I didn’t think I would need the full two hours I had budgeted myself at the
Smokies. I was really just going for a
stamp, after all, and I doubted I would want to walk around for longer than a
cigar. I got ready and went down for
breakfast, which was much the same as yesterday. It was 8 AM at this point, and I realized
that I might as well go back to the state capitol to take a better lit picture,
so I did that.
I then noticed that the
church across the street had a NHL Plaque, so I took a ceremonial picture with
the church. From there, it was a
straight shot to my first site, Guilford Courthouse National Military Park, so
I lit up a Caoba and got on the road. On
the way, I saw a sign for JR Cigars, “The World’s Largest Cigar Store.” I do not need to tell my readers how badly I wanted
to stop. Unfortunately, it was not yet
open, and it would be closed by the time I got back.
I continued to the NPS, and, with some
difficulty, found the VC. I did my
business at the VC, lit up a Perdomo, and went to the Nathaniel Greene Monument
to take my ceremonial picture. It was a
Pyrrhic victory for the British, which actually had a net positive effect for
the Patriots, turning the tide in the Southern Campaign.
It was three hours from there to the next
site, Carl Sandburg Home NHS, so I stopped for lunch after my Perdomo. I opted for Bojangles, which is to North
Carolina what KFC is to Kentucky and Popeyes is to Louisiana. I got my usual, the chicken strips with fries
and a biscuit, along with coffee. After
my meal, I lit up a Fuente and was back on the road.
I arrived at the NPS with just enough cigar
left to walk up the hill to the home and take a ceremonial picture. The VC was inside the home itself, so I did
my business there and walked back down the hill to the car. At this point, I wondered if my ceremonial
picture counted, since the brochure was not stamped when I took the
picture. I lit up a La Gloria Cubana and
took another picture for good measure.
All
that remained after that was to go to the Smokies to get my stamp at
Oconaluftee VC. As I was driving, I blew
past my turn in an area with no signal.
I knew how to correct my mistake, but the navigation on my phone could
not readjust itself without a signal.
Fuck. I was taking the Blue Ridge
Parkway, so I figured there would be signs for the VC after the Parkway
ended. I was right.
It was a beautiful and scenic drive, and,
soon enough, at the VC. With great care,
I took out my folder and found the unstamped WHS brochure. I carefully added the stamp. I then took out my Great Smoky Mountains NP
brochure (the original from 2003) to see if I had a stamp from this VC. I did.
However, I learned that there was another stamp in Bryson City, but it
closed at 5 PM and it was 35 minutes away.
It was 4:12 PM at that point. I
got some souvenirs, went out back to light up a Montecristo and take a
ceremonial picture, and then raced to Bryson City. When I got there, I realized I had no idea
where the stamp was.
At 4:53 PM, I
pulled into the Chamber of Commerce, as that looked promising, but that was
closed on weekends, so that couldn’t be it.
I looked it up online, and it said it was at the campground. I raced to the campground, getting there at
4:59 PM, only to see a sign that it was closed for the season, so that couldn’t
be right either. What was I missing? Defeated, I headed back, and, then I saw
it. Across the street from the Chamber
of Commerce was a museum with the famed arrowhead logo of the National Park Service. It was 5:18 PM. I parked and tried my luck. It was closed. Reader, recall that I was across the street
from the museum at 4:53 PM.
Dejected, I
punched the stone column as hard as I could and walked back to my car.
I then saw someone getting into his
pickup. He had a lot of badges on his
jacket, the kind of badges a worker at a museum would wear. I rushed up to him and asked if he worked at
the museum. He said he did. I asked if he could let me back in to stamp
my brochure. When he slumped his
shoulders and reminded me that they closed at 5 PM, I knew that the simple
truth would avail. “I came all the way
from New York for this.” He let me
in. Victoriously, in the end, I added
another stamp to my 2003 brochure and thanked him profusely.
All that was left was to retrace my path all
the way back to Raleigh. On the way, as
I drove back through the Blue Ridge Parkway with a freshly stamped brochure for
that NPS unit, which I knew I had previously visited, I lit up a Rocky Patel
and took a ceremonial picture.
When I
got to Asheville, I stopped at a Dairy Queen for dinner, getting a burger and
fries, along with a Blizzard and pretzel sticks. It was
exactly what I needed. My navigation
showed an 11:15 PM arrival at the state capitol, which would be 11:30 PM with a
stop for gas. That was perfect timing to
get exactly 3 hours of sleep.
I got on
the road and lit up an Ashton. As I was
driving, I pulled behind a pickup truck with four kids sitting in the
back. That was a sight to behold. I then saw a sign for the Biltmore
Estate. Why did that sound
familiar? I then realized it was one of
the most iconic buildings in the country and possibly the top non-NPS, non-WHS
that I wanted to visit in the country.
It was still light out, and I figured that I could take my ceremonial
picture at a cost of no more than 15 minutes, but I didn’t have 15 minutes to
spare. Getting 2 hours and 45 minutes of
sleep is a lot worse than getting a full 3 hours. I also didn’t know how far off the highway it
was. If it was 10 miles, than it would
be 30 minutes, not 15 minutes. With
regret, I drove past the exit. It was
about 200 miles on I-40 E, and I had cruise control at exactly 9 MPH above the
speed limit. It would be an easy
drive.
I made up a lot of time on the
road, and I started to wonder if I made the wrong decision about Biltmore, the
regret further compounded when I learned it was right off the highway. I lit up an Avo, my traditional cigar to end
the trip, and there was nothing to be done.
Eventually, I stopped for gas and cleaned out the car. That was right before the exit for Raleigh
from I-40. Before long, I was in front
of the state capitol, and I went to my usual spot, where I proceeded to write
this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish and, hopefully, get my
3 hours of sleep.
No comments:
Post a Comment