Simply Curious

*note* I realize this posts backwards, so scroll down to Friday and read up!

An unexpected side effect of traveling without family is that, when you get back, they all want to know every detail of your trip. Even relatives I rarely talk to anymore insist on seeing all the pictures! (If you were really that interested you would have gone with me when I asked!) As an appeasement, I'm posting a play by play.

Sunday morning we went to breakfast. The lady who runs the place went all out - this is possibly the first time I've ever eaten breakfast in courses! Granted, my idea of breakfast is generally: "what can I eat that doesn't assault my taste buds at this ungodly hour and won't make a mess?"

Course 1 was fruit (bananas, raspberries, strawberries, etc) and yogurt and chocolate sauce (NOT syrup) and whipped cream, and possibly grape nuts or other crunchy things. Taste buds said, "oooh, yum. I can handle this." Mind said, "whoa, chocolate at breakfast? I like this lady."

Course 2 was a frittata? or possibly a quiche? It was mostly egg, which means I know nothing about it. Growing up with a mother who was deathly allergic to eggs means that I never acquired a taste for them, and generally avoid. I was willing to try it, though, since there was bacon and spinach and tomatoes in it that would offset the texture. It was also very good, but rather rich, so I only had about half.

We shared a table with a couple from South Carolina. We had interesting conversations with them about politics, family, and travel. He was in the military, and since we were from a very political/military/world oriented area, we got along quite well.

After breakfast, it was time to get on the road again and head to our final destination - Chimney Rock Park!

We tried to take the scenic route, but missed the turn due to the area's bizarre lack of road signs. Sure, eventually there was a road sign, but it would be blocked by other random signs, or so small that you couldn't see or read it from the 3-lanes-in-each-direction highway. So we took the interstate to another scenic route (there's no lack of scenic down there). As I stared out the window I realized that the carpets of healthy green draped along the sides of the road (in some places right TO the road) was kudzu! It waved prettily in the breeze caused by the cars, and I tried to shut my mind to the internal lecture about invasive species.

We drove through what I call one road towns - towns that hug the main thoroughfare and don't branch off onto side streets. They couldn't, there was rocky mountains on one side, and a river on the other. We saw the town of Bat Cave, but alas, there was no place to stop and take pictures of any signs. All too soon we came to the town of Chimney Rock, and it's Rocky Broad River. The round rocks in the river were awesome - it looked like you could rock hop across the whole thing. The rocky part of the name was certainly accurate, but broad - not a chance. Here, buildings hung out over the river, almost desperately, trying to be a part of the Chimney Rock allure.

We crossed on a narrow wooden bridge and drove up to the admissions gate, and then on up farther to park near the famous elevator. Scary, wild trip up a narrow road with sharp turns, no markings, lots of trees and picnic areas in places I would never want to picnic for fear of a car crashing the party. We made it safely to the top, Brian enjoying the nice turning radius of the rental.

To get to the elevator, we walked up a long, cool tunnel that had been blasted out of solid rock. It was slow going, as every few feet there were signs telling about the creation of the elevator and the work done to make Chimney Rock a tourist attraction. There were also signs that told you how long your wait would be if you were in line there, and more signs explaining about the rock types.

The elevator itself was sleek, and modern, designed to withstand moisture and operate quickly and smoothly. I found this disappointing in comparison to the creaky, old fashioned elevator in Shenandoah Caverns, which was open so you could see the rock as you descended. Up we went as the elevator operator gave us a short intro speech to Chimney Rock. Then the door opened to reveal . . . a gift shop! Farther on was a snack bar, where I decided it was lunch time, and no way was I going to climb about on an empty stomach! I got a ham sandwich, which was on a roll of bread which was incredibly good. Then, cold water in backpack and camera in hand, we set out.

Brian had been here before, and had taken a personalized do-or-die tour of what sounded like the entire park, twice, backwards, barefoot and carrying grandma on his back. I requested a short, simplified version of just the most interesting route - Chimney Rock itself, then down to the routes with names like Subway, Needle's Eye, Rock Pile, Grotto, etc.

Such views! All over. And such paths! And such lack of safety? The top of the actual chimney rock was encircled with a metal fence, in many places the rocks were higher than the fence. Not a place to take little kids or clumsy people.

The pathways were wooden walkways with railings on each side - very sturdy, although one staircase was warped and awkward to maneuver. It snaked down along the edge of the cliff, causing you to lean and duck, and step carefully, because the stair treads were leaning and ducking, too! The railings were smooth to the touch - not a splinter among them, and trustworthy. We climbed down staircases and across bridges, rarely touching bare rock except in one or two places. We came to the 'Rock Pile' which looked exactly like it sounds. On the far side of that was a spiral staircase going straight down. At the bottom of that we encountered a wide eyed, sweating and gasping middle aged woman making her way towards us. I tried to console her that she was nearly there, but instead had to warn her to take it easy and enjoy the views before tackling all the stairs! Little did I realize that this was an excellent example of foreshadowing.

The Subway was a low hole in the ground, but wide and easy to get through. Lots of rock and crevices. Beyond that was the Grotto - a nice flat shady spot that looked rather like the Opera Box. They had put benches there so you could sit and admire the view. We went on past, down more stairs and paths, and passed, to my surprise, a food and souvenir kiosk, complete with employee and cold drinks.

Around the corner beyond that was the beginning of the Needle's Eye, staircases built into a crevice that ran up the rock. Rock climbers would consider this the easy way up, even without the stairs! Just wedge and brace your way along. Instead, we took another spiral staircase. Then it stopped, and I found myself staring up a long, narrow flight of stairs into rock and darkness. We waited for another couple to come down the stairs from above, listening to Brian gleefully whisper about the long staircase and hobbitses. Curse those hobbitses. If it weren't for them I would have been able to descend this flight instead of start an ascending reenactment. I think I took the stairs too fast, for by the time I got to the top, I had begun wheezing and gasping for breath. Before that I had been fine. (before that, it had all been downhill!) My legs were still fine, though, so I pushed on back the way we had come at a slower pace. (This had all been a circular route, we came out of the Eye near the Subway entrance.) Back past the Rock Pile, across the bridge, around and up . . . and up . . . and my legs began wheezing, too. Brian was ahead of me, taunting me with the promise of sorbet at the top of the stairs. Somehow I made it, but that was apparently the last of my energy. I wandered in a numb, fried daze the rest of the day. Sorbet ended up being ice cream, and 1 scoop was measured as 1 very tall cardboard cup. I could barely finish a quarter of it. I took two Dramamine in anticipation of the scary ride back down, and discovered that while 1 pill worked without affecting me, 2 contributed to my slumpish fog. I know we drove towards Charlotte, behind several Sunday driver motorcyclists, and that I actually spotted our turnoff sign at one point, and that Eminem was playing on the radio (and has been stuck in my head ever since, argh!), but other details are a blur. We waited in a long security line at the airport, and I struggled to get my hiking boots off, and back on. (really, they ought to just run everybody through that conveyor belt.) Then we wandered about looking for food, and also found rocking chairs.

Once on the plane, I found I just couldn't stomach the thought of eating, and held a sub in my lap the whole way home. (at one point, Brian leans over and asks me how my pet sandwich is doing.) I dozed and no longer cared, just wanting my quiet bedroom and a shower.

We began descending, and I stared out the window at all the sparkly yellow lights in the darkness below us, awed by my first nighttime flight. Then I became aware of a bright spotlight shining in from the other side of the plane. I continued staring at the tiny lights, thinking that was an awfully high spotlight, and we couldn't be that low yet, could we? So I turned and looked. It was the moon, almost full, gliding gracefully by. Oooh.

On the shuttle back to the main terminal Brian produces Biltmore chocolate from the depths of his carry-on and hands me a small piece of heaven. Other women on the shuttle stare at me in envy as I sleepily nibble on my chocolate coated rice krispy treat, chocolate so creamy I thought it was peanut butter.

We find the neglected yellow mustang and Brian drops me off at our house (at a more sedate speed), and we give my mother a random, disjointed summary of the weekend before he heads home. I finally unwrap my pet sandwich, zap it in the microwave, and managed to eat half. I gave my parents souvenirs (a thimble and a coffee mug - boring, but hey! that's them) and tried to disentangle myself from the dog, who, once Brian had left, ceased barking and instead attempted to permanently attach himself to my leg. He had his front paws wrapped around my leg and was alternately licking and bopping me with his head. Not sure if he was happy to see me again or not. I finally got upstairs and stayed up long enough to download over 200 photos. Then I crashed. And woke up the next morning grateful that I had taken an extra day off.