Izzy, Taylor, Scott & Katie at the Aquarium
Our friends Luke and Laura Shyster (not their real names) are both ex-military which means you can set your watch by them and guarantee that at 5:05 am the coffee is ready. They enjoyed a pot on the upper deck while sucking in the amazing mountain views. Coffee sounds good so I fall out of bed.
Breakfast in the mountains is always a treat! Thick sliced bacon, fresh eggs, hot biscuits and country sausage filled me up. Katie had milk. That is about it for her. Babies have it hard. The smell of hot coffee up in the mountain air is invigorating. Throwing a shot of bourbon in it is positively heavenly!
I know my mom thinks I'm an alcoholic because she only sees me on vacations for the most part and I'm always drinking. The funny thing is that it is the only time I really ever have a drink. Seems like I should since it is a vacation. The bottle of rum that I brought with me is from our vacation last year.
Today's adventure will be a hike to Laurel Falls to show Taylor her first waterfall. This is the most popular hike in the Smokies and has a paved trail so I expected it to be non-eventful. Luke, Marie and Taylor joined me on the trail. The humidity was off the scale and the temperature was in the high 80's so it was a bit like walking with twelve wet towels on your head.
The hike started with about fifteen steps and then "are we there yet because my legs are tired." She changed her tune when she got to the waterfall. After she slipped on the wet rocks and landed on her booty, we hiked back. I carried her on my shoulders half of the two mile return to the car. She sang to me to make me feel better.
The Roaring Fork River is ice cold, clear and fast. Taylor changed into her swim suit and Luke and I took her down to the rocks. She loved it! The water made my feet numb in seconds even though it was now in the 90's. We waded in the water and through rocks for about an hour. Taylor is so comfortable in the water that I think she is really half dolphin. She slipped on a rock and fell face first in the the icy water and came out laughing. That's my girl! I like the river, too.
The grandmothers were a bit frazzled when we got back. Apparently Katie-kins decided to start crying the minute we left. She cried and complained the whole time. Lunch was ready when we got there and we all ate hardily of the grilled salmon steaks.
The grannies went to Pidgeon Forge to shop while the Shyster's went to speed around in their convertible hot rod. We put the kids down for a nap and I made it down to the hot tub. Since I'm not a big fan of sitting in a hot tub in 90 degree heat I quickly got out and fell on the bed asleep.
Marie and I had a pre-arranged date this evening so the family kindly took care of the children while we went to dinner. I've never been to the Alamo Steak House which is supposedly Gatlinburg's best restaurant for five years in a row. It was at the base of the hill where our cabin was so we decided to have dinner their.
We were greeted by ducks floating on the river. There was a wait for a table so we went upstairs to the bar and had a Cherokee Indian beverage - the ginnentonka. They accepted my photograph of my driver's license and served up our drinks. We chatted some and watch the TV that was located near the bar. Everything was decorated with wild west motifs and mementos and was as cheesy as a velvet Elvis painting. In fact the restaurant looked more like an out of business wild west museum than the town's best steak place.
We were seated way in the back by a family with fat children and a table of twelve that were talking drunk-kinda-loud. Most did not have sleeves...the men I mean. Sleeves seem to be very optional here. Mostly for showing off their ink I suppose.
We both agreed that the T-bone, which was a less expensive steak than the rib eyes for some reason, would be our meat of choice. Marie is still not able to eat milk products due to baby Katie's intolerance of milk protein, so she had rice. I had the baked potato. Against my better judgment I ordered the French Onion Soup. Onion soup is a favorite of mine and I order it often but the BEST onion soup I've ever had is Marie's own recipe. I've been sadly disappointed by all other onion soups since that first sampling of her soup. The soup went half eaten.
Marie and I chatted while we ate our salads. We aren't impressed with Gatlinburg the town. It is full of local rednecks and even a few imported ones. Manners are non existent. Service in Gatlinburg is atrocious. Almost everyone that works in a store or restaurant is stupid or worse. Seldom do you get good service. Our server tonight was better than normal, but still not much better than someone at the Shoney's on the strip.
The steaks were not cooked exactly right but we ate them anyway. They had a good flavor and the potato was steaming hot as it should be. I'll not go there again I'm sure but it wasn't all bad.
Marie and I like to spend our moments together talking since Taylor seldom gives us a word in edgewise. We decided against going to walk around the town and just drove in the mountains. Later Marie wanted coffee and desert. Getting a desert for someone who can't eat milk products is like getting good tires at a Firestone dealer. Almost impossible.
We parked on the north end of town near the hotels and walked to the corner at light number three. All of the traffic lights are numbered in Gatlinburg so you can find your way back to the cabin when you are toasted. Just follow the numbers. I've found them to be VERY handy in the past.
We pushed our way into a closed cafe that sits overlooking light number three and told them we just wanted coffee and desert. The Rhodes Scholar that waited on us told us they were closed and then took our order. Hello? Oh well. We did find a pie that Marie could eat and we enjoyed our coffee together while watching the Rednecks on Parade outside the huge glass windows. Women are putting tattoos in the darnedest places these days.
I guess I failed to mention that I do, in fact, have a tattoo. Guess where I got it? Gatlinburg Ink, right near the coffee shop where I'm sitting. I too am a redneck. Really, I'm a cultured redneck. That means I have a truck with a wine rack instead of a gun rack. Give me two Bourbon and cokes and I'll fit right in.
I enjoyed the time with my wife and we walked hand in hand back to the car. I counted twenty six fake blondes with low-cut t-shirts on the way back to the parking lot. The crowd is thinning out. Boobs are getting bigger this year, I think.
Back at the cabin all was quiet. Luke had already gone to bed and the grannies were winding down. Laura is counted as a grannie, too. Marie read her book while I dreamed of bears.
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