Author: Cassie

How to hike with busted lungs

Published by

Its pretty well established on this blog that I love road trips and hiking. They are just about my two favorite activities. So you’d think – as I did – that busted lungs means no more hiking, right? WRONG. I just needed some “modifications.” You know, like the bionic woman.

So what does one need to hike with busted lungs?

My Sjogren’s Story

Published by

I’m not one to jump on bandwagon decorated with colored ribbons, or start plastering social media with awareness campaigns. Usually, I’m of the opinion that all the ribbons and campaigns and marches and walks and fundraisers do less to raise awareness of something and more to annoy me. Don’t get me wrong, I think the intentions behind these efforts are fantastic. I just get inundated with them and therefore tune them out, making the entire point of an “awareness campaign” moot. But I digress. I’m going to make an exception and pay attention to at least one of these campaigns. April is Sjogren’s awareness month.

What’s this Road to Nowhere?

Published by

In a complete coincidence, I’m bringing you another tale of controversy in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park’s history. Or maybe it isn’t really a coincidence, its just a throw back to my days of being a newsie. I don’t remember ever actually running around the newsroom screaming, “If it BLEEDS, it LEADS!!!” but knowing me, its entirely within the realm of possibility. Not that I seek out controversy for the sake of it; but it does make for a more interesting plot. Scene: Another tranquil place in the Smokies. Its late March, around 60 degrees and sunny. Not many birds are out yet, so the only sounds you hear are leaves underfoot and, of course, my breathing. A gentle breeze tickles your arms and makes you grateful for the sun’s warm rays beaming on your scalp. A short walk up a slight incline will take you to the deceptively-long tunnel. I didn’t think there was much to the tunnel, until I was in its belly. Devoid of sunlight, the center of the tunnel swallows any light – …

Ghost Town in the Smokies

Published by

As we’re rustling though wet leaves, its hard to imagine that this tranquil plot of land has been the subject of so much controversy. In fact, its pretty easy to overlook the community entirely. The only sound is some laughing teenagers somewhere around a bend in the road ahead, and, if you’re close enough, streaming water from the Little River.  If not for the leafless trees granting glimpses the near century-old vacation homes, you wouldn’t even know they’re there. Elkmont started as a logging base in 1908. Within a couple of years the logging company had a bunch of cleared out land and no way to make more money from it, so they started selling plots to hunters and fisherman, drawing outdoor enthusiasts out to the wilderness of the Smokies. Cottages and hotels started popping up on the mountain and an elite social club – the Appalachian Club – was established. But not everyone carried enough snobbery to get into this club, and the Appalachian Club rejects wanted their own fraternity as well. So, made their own group – …