Never, Never Again - A Tale of Terror

Friday when Mr. came home from work, he suggested that we go exploring. He had Clingman’s Dome in mind. That the highest peak in the Smoky Mountains. We haven’t been there since Ben who is now in his 40’s was about 3 years old. I love the mountains so I was ready to head out and reach the cooler temperatures of the mountains. I should have re-read my March 6, 2010, post. As I am the navigator (map reader and the one who says “Turn here”) on these little trips, I saw on the map a route we had never taken before--the Blue Ridge Parkway. “Parkway. That must be a nice drive through the mountains,” I thought. Little did I know. There were no warnings for those of us who can’t abide heights. I was simply thinking that the word “parkway” meant of pleasant drive. I did learn my lesson--my days of mountain driving are over. Never, never again unless I’m on a four lane (minimum) highway.


While the Blue Ridge Parkway is no Yungas Road in Bolivia (I was going to post pictures of this road , but I can‘t even look at photos of high places. The link will have to do.) I was absolutely terrified for what seemed like hours. Mr. Fixit kept asking me if I wanted to turn around, but I was afraid that it would be even worse going down the way we came up.

We reached a maximum elevation of 6,030 (Clingman’s Dome is a little higher). That means that the only direction is DOWN--6,030 feet. The road is a two-lane road that is well maintained except for the area with the rock slide blocking one lane of traffic. There were numerous tunnels, none of them very long, thank heavens. Of course, the route is serpentine. It seemed that most of the curves turned 90 degrees. In fact, we saw two or three curve advisory signs with the curve going almost 360 degrees. While the width of the road was ample for a two lane road in normal terrain, we were literally ridge riding, meaning that in several places if you looked to the right you could see maybe 15 feet of grass and a drop of 6,000 feet, then turning to the left you could see the two lane highway surface, another 10 or 15 feet of grass and then 6,000 feet of DOWN. I was begging Mr. Fixit to slow down, whimpering, and using my imaginary passenger side brakes. I was terrified! I don’t think I have ever been so afraid. The worse part of the ride were the 90 degree curves when you couldn’t see the pavement around the curve--just the DOWN right in front of the car.

I tried not looking at the road, but I just had to look. Not down, mind you, but straight ahead to aid Mr. Fixit in his driving (begging and whimpering.)

Another astounding thing to me was the number of motorcycles and bicycles on this road. I didn’t know there were so many nutsy people in this world.

When we finally reached a four lane highway, I shouted “Hallelujah” and thanked my maker for our deliverance from the hellish road. I would have done a little victory dance, but my seat belt prevented that. We never made it to Clingman’s Dome.

Seriously, this worsening fear makes me sad and angry because it means I am giving up what used to be a great pleasure for me. I have always loved mountainous terrain and have dreamed of living in the high country. No more, no more.