We’ve been laying low since rolling into Thousand Trails Green Mountain in Lenoir, NC. Rain, gray skies, and the looming threat of Invest 94L meant we didn’t feel like fully setting up camp only to bug out two days later. Dog walks, coffee, hanging around the rig, that’s been our vibe. Until today. Today was beautiful. And that bitch, Tropical Storm Imelda, was yanked out to sea by Hurricane Humberto. Thanks, dude.
So off we went to Grandfather Mountain near Boone, NC. The drive itself was worth the price of admission: gorgeous mountain views, a whisper of fall color teasing what’s to come, and a quick stretch of the Blue Ridge Parkway. Then, boom, we’re in. You pay to enter, which always stings, but at least they gave us a thumb drive with an audio tour. Unexpected, and kinda cool. The entrance road though? Tight. Both of our sphincters were in full clench mode before we even reached the first stop.
We checked out the twin formations — Sphinx Rock and Split Rock — then parked the hoopty and wandered into the animal habitats. Thankfully, it’s not a zoo, but enough to spy some wildlife: a bald eagle, three lumbering black bears, a mountain lion that couldn’t be bothered to move, and an elk who apparently moonlights as a trumpet. The sounds that thing made? No one warned us.
Onward to the swinging bridge. Kylie hiked the steps, while I took the elevator (teamwork). At the top: about 60 miles of visibility, the kind of panorama that makes you forget your lungs are on fire. The bridge itself? A mile above sea level, and technically 280 feet higher than the altitude I’m supposed to be at. Screw it. I crossed. And yes, I got winded and yes, we turned back before I keeled over. But hey man, I did it.
The descent was even more “pucker factor” than the climb. So naturally, we needed a reward. Four miles down the road sat Grandfather Winery. Fate. We pulled in, grabbed a tasting flight, and plopped ourselves down with food, wine, and live music courtesy of some old dude with a guitar. He wasn’t Jimmy Barnes or David Johansen, but he did the job. The view didn’t hurt either.
Of course, no good road trip ends smoothly. Waze decided to reroute us over another mountain to get home. Tiny two-lane road, cliff drop on the right, school buses coming at us around blind corners, all at 25–35 mph that felt like 90. If the ride up clenched us, this one damn near vacuum-sealed us. Somehow, we made it back to Wanda intact. Dogs were fine, probably relieved we’d left them in peace for a while. We collapsed into a nap, sphincters finally relaxed.
Final tally: sphincter tension 9/10, views 10/10, wine 11/10. Worth it.