April 15-17: Strange surreal stories from camping in the Smoky Mountains

This is going to be a long one. Strap in.
We had a reservation in advance for one night at a riverside campground in the smoky mountains. It was called Fox Fire Riverside Campground. It was one of the strangest, most surreal and fascinating experiences of both of our lives.

We pulled up (it's right off I-40, in a tiny village within the smokies called Hartford, Tennessee) and we chose a camp ground right on the river. We were hoping a riverside campground would mean using our inflatable kayak strapped to the roof for the first time, but it just so happened to be white water rapids. We briefly considered finding another ground, either with swimming/kayaking potential or without and free (this site cost $25). Within moments of exiting the vehicle, a young fellow approached us, "Hey, guys. Name's Fletcher. Me and my wife live over there in the tent across from ya. Y'all kayak? I'm a river guide for the white water tours. The camp grounds and tours ain't in season just yet, but you can just throw in if you've got helmets and gear. Or I can probably take you guys out later today or tomorrow. It gets real crazy, up to class 4 and you're all like DUDE and you just gotta swim to safety when you fall out, cuz you will, but you just gotta worry about saving your boat. You don't want that to get away from ya, cuz you'll be waving goodbye to it real quick. Where are y'all from?" The conversation continued much like this for an hour or so. He was extremely friendly, and it quickly became apparent we were not in for the private riverside song writing experience we thought.... it would turn out to be something far more unique than that. He and his wife were the proud parents of this WONDERFUL puppy, Aphrodite:

She was about as sweet and adorable as they come, let me tell you. A Beagle/Basset/Terrier. I wanna get me one. After some insecurity and jealousy issues regarding the slight possibility she was cuter than him, Yoshi and Aphrodite became great mates.

     

During our conversing with our new found friend Fletcher (from local Moonshine making legends to how he wasn't a "banjo pickin' country dude" and had a "city accent"), he froze and asked: "Are y'all afraid a snakes?" Nope. "Me neither. I used to have one for a pet. Look up in this tree." Woo-ee! -->

Fletcher told us he (an aptly named "Black Snake") wasn't really poisonous... "If he bit ya, you'd mostly just get a belly ache. Which is good, since the nearest hospital isn't for 30 miles or so. But he might fall outta that tree, and we should keep the dogs back. Hunny! Come see this thing!" His bleary eyed young bride Danielle woke up from her nap and we officially met our other nearest neighbor. She was obviously much more shy than her talkative husband, but we ended up fast friends as well. 

Yoshi loves swimming and kept seeming dangerously tempted to jump in to the rapids, which would not have been fun to rescue him from. The water is around 50 degrees, and moves quickly. So Fletcher and Danielle told us of a small  eddy where he could swim nearby.

On our walk to the area, we passed by our other closest neighbor for the first time. He was a few sites down along the river, and as we passed by he queried, "Have you guys seen any snakes?" .... Why, yes. Just over there a few minutes ago. "Oh boy.... oh no.... geez... I'm from Alaska and we have lots of things there that don't bother me, but we don't have snakes. I can't handle that. Gotta mind your P's and Q's out here, really you guys. Can't be too careful. Thanks so much for warning me about that snake..I don't wanna hear anymore about that... just keep on walking.... oh man.." That was our initial introduction to DAVE. Oh, Dave. He is who stories are written about. And blogs. We'll get to all that.

We let Yoshi swim in the watering hole, though he mostly seemed interested in getting as filthy as possible... in true city-boy-turned-camper spirit:

 We wandered back over to our camp site and set up our adorably cozy tiny tent for the first time. We brought out our chairs and settled in for a mini lifetime in the woods.

It was quite a beautiful, unique place -- in space and time. Everything felt so different than it ever had before or would again. Dwelling there made me feel strangely stuck.. in a way that made me both confused and unsettled, while also feeling oddly more peaceful than I'd been in a good long while.

We realized we needed some supplies for dinner. After our first mini camping experience, we of course purchased our missing dishes. But we were not stocked with anything to put on said dishes. We asked the grounds keeper, Hue (a slow speaking mild mannered fellow, who showed more kindness than teeth, as he only had a couple) where to go to grab food to prepare. He answered "Wey-ell... the best place round here fer food... is Citgo. At least they don't keep all their stuff under them heat lamps." We got in the car and conferred with the smart phones ideas of groceries in the area. I said, "well, we can listen to Hue and go to Citgo... or it does say here that there is a grocery store a couple miles down the road called Freeman's, which is the same name as the supermarket my hometown had growing up. So that should have some options too." We decided to give it a try. We drove through the winding country roads, peering over the cliff at the rapid rapids flowing over rocks in the river to our left. Kevin was very interested in doing the rapids, but I had a bad feeling about it. I told him he was more than welcome, but I was quite uneasy about putting my life in anyone's hands around there. We drove and drove, eventually realizing 7 miles was further than we were supposed to go. We turned back, and I watched the glowing blue dot (the scuttlebuss) travel along the map of the smart phone. "It says it's right...... HERE." we pull up to a shack that has no semblance of a sign of any kind, except for one .."OPEN". Well... we can give it a try? A spotted dog lay next to the door, giving us a good hard stare as we approached. Nice doggy. We walk in, and it immediately reminds us both of the eerie start of a horrifying horror film. There do seem to be heat lamps, no real lighting, windows all blocked up... there are a few rows of some canned goods, though the middle of the room is only filled with strange baby carriages. Nothing is marked with a price, there is no one manning the counter. We open a few oddly placed coolers that are stocked but not as cold as you'd hope your freezer would be. We try not to make much noise in the few seconds we take in our surrounding so as not to awaken whatever may be living in the backroom. We quickly shuffle back out the door, a little more nervous than you ought to feel when picking up groceries. The dog has disappeared of course, in true horror story fashion. "Let's go to Citgo."

In our nervousness and confusion, we head in the opposite direction of Citgo, and come upon a gas station (again with no sign confidently stating a name) with a small store inside. We wander in, and although it's far more normal they don't have much. Kevin grabs some ice and a beer before we decide Hue was right about Citgo, we'll head there. As we pay, the kind Indian cashier checks K's ID and says: "Illinois? Where in Illinois?" "Chicago." "I am from the same place as you! Skokie." We are finding Midwesterners all over these parts.

We finally reach the Citgo (turned out if we'd turned right instead of left off the grounds we would've reached the best food in town immediately) a haven of edible meals. Velveeta and ramen noodles, thank goodness!

We return home, and soon after our neighbor down river (Dave!) wanders over. "Hey guys. Any chance you have foil? I was going to cook some hot dog, but I don't have anything.." Well, we don't have any foil actually. But we do have this little frying pan you're welcome to use. "Really? This? Wow. This is.... just... wow. This is really nice you guys. You sure I cane use this?" He says as he strokes it as gently as if it were his long lost puppy. "Of course. You're our neighbor -- we;ve got sugar too if you need it!" "You guys are really nice. What are your names? I'm Dave." We notice he also has DAVE shabbily tattooed on his forearm, so we won't need to worry about forgetting it. Not that Dave could ever be forgotten. "You guys, I'm from Alaska. And I can't handle this heat! I about died today! I think I got heat stroke. I was thinking of staying around here a while, but you gotta look out. I don't know. I'm just glad I have my knife. Gotta mind your P's and Q's, you have to you guys. You better be careful. There are a lot of things that can kill you in this world!" He said with an eerily intense stare.

As he walked away, I joked we may never see that pan again. KG replied, "Oh no. Probably not. But that's fine... I just hope he doesn't come back to kill us later tonight." Oh geez. Here I was, trying to think the best of this crazy old Alaskan man, and now I'm convinced it's my last night on earth. Wonderful.

We cooked up some Velveeta (tastes like being 14 again) and soon enough trusty Dave returned to deliver our pan, as well as a bit more of a taste of his special brand of crazy.
"Can't thank you guys enough. You're so nice. I burned the bottom and it's still dirty, but there it is. It worked real good. You know, I'm from ALASKA, and things are very different there. Originally I'm from Flint, Michigan and...." Really? WE'RE originally from Michigan too, I even lived in Flint for a few months! "Oh wow... I'm sorry to hear that." Replies Dave. "Well..." he continued, "I grew up there and did a lot of hitchhiking, and then lived in Alaska for the last 30 years, that's where my kids are... but hard times fell on Dave, and now I've been hitchiking around for the past 13 months... I'm not sure where I'm going to end up, or where I'm at, but I do miss my kids. I wish I could be around them but.... and now I'm thinking I'll go back to Michigan to borrow some money from my relatives there... but I was planning to start a brand new life in Panama City, Florida. That was my plan. But I got sidetracked by some punk kid, he got me into renovating Walmarts for a while...but he got me into trouble, he was really just an asshole. I should have known better than to go along with him. But in Alaska, I worked on a lot of fishing boats, and in Alaska...."
Oh that Dave. He talked a lot about Alaska. "And now I miss my kids, but I gotta keep moving..." I asked him, "Can you still get in touch with them?" "Oh yeah, I can. I don't have minutes right now, but I can. But..." Dave's eyes welled up. "It's a dark time for Dave. This place really makes you think about everything. About the type of person you wanna be, ya know? It's so beautiful. But you've gotta mind your P's and Q's. I feel a big sleep coming on. You guys be careful." And Dave wandered off into the night.

It was cold and awoke my back troubles, but still oh-so-much-fun sleeping in the tent and hearing all the critters and sounds of the night. I think Yoshi got a kick out of it too. Although at one point in the night he (and Aphrodite across the way) sensed some sort of creature outside and barked warnings at it. Who knows what it was, but it's fun to pretend he saved us from a bear or something.

The next day, Fletcher randomly had to dress up like an otter (AND I HAD DREAMS ABOUT OTTERS THE NIGHT BEFORE BECAUSE MY BRAIN KNEW!) and go to a Vietnamese parade, so we spent the day with Aphrodite and Danielle. Danielle was lovely, she was obviously extremely introverted but warmed up to us very quickly. We shared meals and conversation all day, and watched the dogs romp together. We both secretly melted a bit inside whenever Danielle called to or admonished her puppy, it was southern charm at its best: "Aphrodite, hee-ya!" And, "No, Ma'yam!"

 Hue came by for a long, slow chat about not very much, and then Dave came by hoping Danielle could explain where on the map he was "But do any of you have a map? I had some, but then I just threw them away this morning. In my garbage bag, and now I also need a garbage bag if you have one? I just realized Claire, you can't throw ANYTHING away!" Although Dave assured us many times he was a "survivalist from Alaska", we couldn't find any remnants of survivalist instincts left in him. Danielle asked him, "Dave... why do you have that tattoo of your name on your arm?" And for the first time, Dave shrunk away from the conversation and backed away slowly as he replied, "Let's not get into that... I'll just say... it was a bad time for Dave... and I wanted them to be able to identify me if they found my body... see you guys later!"

Danielle told us about a hike up through the smoky mountains to a waterfall 4 miles east, just across the border from Tennessee to North Carolina. We headed out around 3:30 or so, as she told us the hike would take 30-45 minutes up and then we'd have to go back down, and we hoped to return to camp before dark. So we took off, stopping on the way at a park with beautiful views -- where there also happened to be a family with two young girls. The girls approached us in true southern hospitable fashion. One was around 4 and the other was 9. She was very cute, and told us her entire life story for about an hour straight (literally). Every now and again her mother would call over, "Don't y'all wanna play with me?" But they didn't. The girl even told us, "Mah momma always wants me to play with her, but, I'll tell you somethin'... I never told her this... but I just feel a little weird hangin out with her. She asks me why I always love talkin to other adults, but it just feels more normal to me than hangin' out with mah momma." You'd try to offer opinions or advice, but it would usually go something like this "Well, you know --" "Yeah... also, when ah had psoriasis and ah was goin' to the doctah fo it..." It was pretty amazing, but the sun got lower in the sky. And while the elder orated, the younger insisted on holding Yoshi's leash. The other dogs romped around and at him and the little gal yanking about made him have a nervous breakdown. As the older girl's oration continued, it went more places than you can imagine... it even got pretty dark. "Wanna know where I got this scar on mah nose? Ah always been a real strange kid. Mah daddy told me when ah wasn't two years old, and ah even remember bein' two, and even bein' one, and when ah was two ah took mah daddy's knife and ah cut mah nose right heeya. An also mah daddy has a gun, and when ah was about three ah was playin with the gun an ah almost set it off when ah was jus' a little girl!"

Before I finally had to cut her off to seek the waterfall, she said, "Wey-ell, you know, I'm homeschooled..." "I was too!" I said. "Wey-ell, actually, mah momma says not to say that. We're more 'un-schooled'..." "Wow.. that's exactly what we called it too!!" I said, and our link seemed to tickle me far more than her. We finally parted ways and headed to the mountain, far later than we'd planned. Tennessee smoky mountain folk love talkin'.

We finally began the final stretch of the journey towards the waterfall trail. I was excited, but time was certainly running shorter than it was supposed to. As we followed the directions, we somehow ended up following a narrow gravel road directly UP a steep mountain, with a giant cliff drop just over the edge of the narrow path. This road was never meant for the Scuttlebuss. As we climbed up and up, my heart pounding faster and faster, I could help vocalizing my increasing panic: "OhnoohnoohnoKevinKevinKevinWeshouldn'tbehereI'msosorryI'mfreakingoutohnoohno" sort of business, which was met with "I know I know, Claire stop it, you're freaking me out more and I'm driving" type business. We were both 90% certain we wouldn't make it back down this path as we felt the Scuttlebuss teetering on the steep climb. We had to turn around, Kevin said, but there certainly was no place to do it. I figured the path would have to wind back down sometime, and turning around would be far too dangerous. But the path continued to climb and the drop over the edge into the rocky rapids became deeper and deeper. Eventually there was some semblence of a driveway on the cliff wall side of things, and Kevin decided he would try to turn back around as my heart leapt into my throat. As he carefully backed in as far as he could (so as not to fall off the million foot deep cliff) we heard a *smash* as the Scuttlebuss rammed the cliff... she slowly turned back the way we came (unharmed as it turned out!) and we inched oh-so-slowly back down the gravel path, hoping it wasn't so steep as to flip the Scuttlebuss. But the 3 of us (obviously) survived this predicament, as the sun sunk lower in the sky.

First we parked in the wrong lot, and started walking down a gravel path that we were too nervous to realize was the road to the correct lot which would lead us to the path. After walking a mile, then walking back, then driving to the correct place, we started our trek to the waterfall at 6:45pm. (Which would certainly have been pitch black in Chicago, but the sun still shone.) We knew it was a mile and a half to the majestic 45 foot falls, and we kept up a good pace. However, when 45 minutes had passed and we still couldn't make out the end of the journey... KG said in the interest of not dying that day in the smoky mountains (which had already felt almost like it was meant to happen) and since we'd heard tell of bears and panthers up there, we had to turn back. We literally must have made it within another 5 minute jaunt to the goal, but I grudgingly and achingly followed him back down the mountain. It wasn't meant to be. Good thing the journey was so beautiful or it would've been real heartbreak:

On the way back to camp (the sun didn't set until after 8, by the way... we coulda made it!) KG told me we shouldn't admit our failure to our friends.


We made another velveeta dinner on our trusty camper stove, and were invited to hang out by the fire at Danielle and Fletcher's camp (we didn't have any wood, of course). Dave came to visit and joined us, as well as the other river guide "Ziggy" (a brief description: always manically trying to be comical but more commonly casually racist, has had his license revoked for 10 years and buzzes around on a scooter... somehow still interesting with a hint of likeability in spite of his lack of likeability). A new loud group had arrived while we were gone, next to our campsite. Fletcher said he hoped they wouldn't keep us up and I replied, "If they do it's no big deal, we can just hop in the van to sleep." Dave quickly responded, "Oh that's nice isn't it Claire? Nice to sleep in your vehicle... if you've got one!" eee...
We knew Dave was hitchhiking, looking for a free place to live in his tent in the woods. I told Kevin in private that, although he seemed nice and we have trouble saying "No", Dave was not allowed to join us on our journey. Kevin assured me that would NEVER happen. He wouldn't even ask, and we surely wouldn't say yes.

As we all sat around the fire, Dave asked if anyone could spare some water. Fletcher handed him a cup to which Dave replied: "Oh boy. Oh... geez. Thank you SO much.... this cup of water is the best thing that's happened to Dave in a LONG time." Oh Dave.... the survivalist living in the woods on a campground on a river, which provides many water pumps and has full bathroom hookups..... Oh Dave the Alaskan survivalist.

Someone asked him where he was headed next, and Dave responded "I'm not sure.... Dave has to think some more. I guess wherever I get a ride to." Someone asked Kevin, "Where are you two headed?" Kevin: "Oh, we're headed to Asheville tomorrow..." Someone (probably that Ziggy bloke... I'm gonna lay the blame there) said "looks like you might have a ride!" To which Kevin brightly responded, "Sure, yeah! You can come with us if ya like!!" OY.
We all parted ways soon after (saying our goodbyes "just in case"...I gifted a CD to Danielle, and she promised to listen to it... I think she'll like it, too) and once alone in our tent, we agreed the best course of action was to wake up early, pack up, and sneakily hit the open road. It honestly felt like we'd lived there for years, and if we didn't sneak away while no one was looking we'd end up there for a few more. Fox Fire Riverside campground held some strange power. Fletcher was always encouraging us to stay, to move there, it was so cheap! And beautiful! And if we stayed one more day we'd finally get on that river! We'd never even intended to stay more than one night, but we were sucked in to this strange (and in many ways beautiful) little world in the mountains.

My eyes popped open naturally at 6am (very unlike me), and by 7:00 we had disappeared into the great beyond.