With a month of oppressive heat, the adventuring outdoors has been on the light side. Afternoons are spent running from one patch of air conditioning to the next, exposure to the sun resulting in instant farmer’s tans and profuse sweating. But I digress, five months ago, my home was buried under 57″ of snow and my snow shovel was lying in pieces of frustration on the sidewalk. It is what it is.
I recently traveled down south to the land of pine by way of a train that would make the 1800′s steam engines look like a Concorde Jet. I met up with a friend who had yet to traverse the highest hill east of the Mississippi. The trip was a whirlwind of mountains, parkways, meeting up with long lost friends, new friends, food comas, pubs, sampling local brews, new books, hours of listening to bluegrass, discovering guacamole isn’t the devil’s food, and learning that sleeping in a hammock on a windy night is a poor choice.
Since most of you have likely already seen the pictures, I’ll limit myself to just a few highlights of the awesomeness that was our trip.
US Park Police, ruining Parkway bike surfing since 1927.
What’s a good road-trip without a great soundtrack?
And a little eye candy to round out the post:
Dude sleeping in a hammock anywhere in the mountains is a bad idea. I froze last time I tried that it was miserable.
By: bd on September 23, 2010
at 9:51 pm
Dude, you’re spot on. It seemed like a good idea at the time… I guess it only works on beaches in the South Pacific.
By: coffeeonwheels on September 28, 2010
at 4:43 pm