The news sent shockwaves. We were finally taking a trip to Tennessee on a summer getaway for the July 4th weekend.
Neither my wife nor I had any warrants we knew of, so we were good there. I counted the days out and subsequently packed enough clothes, electronics and chargers, towels, blankets, drinks, snacks, and whatever else came to mind. Through all my meticulous planning, I knew we’d forget something. That turned out to be my flashy billfold. Don’t leave home without it.
As a travel first, we brought our three dogs long for the trip (two pugs and a terrier mix). We were one big happy family on our way to my mom’s cabin in Pikeville, TN. It had been a hell of a week digging ditches at Ditch Co. (For a ditch dug right, there’s no better choice than Ditch Co.!).
I was ready for a mini vacation, an escape from the day-to-day world and all its baggage.
My lifelong dream (for the past six months) had been to hitch a travel trailer to my Ford F150 and journey across the American landscape, stopping to see old friends along the way. But my truck wasn’t equipped with a trailer hitch bracket or anything of the sort, and there wasn’t enough time to visit out-of-state friends in a matter of days. Maybe another time.
Nonetheless, the drive to Tennessee was serene, relaxed, and enjoyable. Clear skies brightened our path along I-75 through North Florida, passing billboards, diners, grand pastures, roadside vendors, and the occasional “Adult Superstore.” My road trip playlist blasted as the dogs slept. Once we crossed into Georgia, even the dreaded traffic in Atlanta was surprisingly light and uneventful for a July 4th travel day.
Misty Mountain Hop
We made a few pitstops, including a ridiculously overcrowded Buc-ees for a bite to eat. I was excited to see my mom’s cabin after so many years. She and my stepdad owned it for over a decade, adding to it piece by piece. The cabin was atop a mountain near a lake, perfect for a slasher film. It was my second visit and my wife’s first.
During our travels, we tested the odds and picked up a hitchhiker who looked much like the late Rutger Hauer, but that’s another story.
We arrived at approximately 4:30 in the afternoon. The air was lighter, and the increasing elevation had its intended effect. Our pug Homer got carsick and puked as we ascended multiple hills along the narrow two-lane roads. We arrived tired but relieved to be in the great wilderness with burgers cooking on a small grill.
That was what Independence Day was all about. I watched with reverence as an American flag waved majestically outside the cabin in the mountain air.
Weekend Vibes
Free from their strict confines, our dogs roamed the sloped perimeter outside the cabin, enamored with a dizzying array of new scents. The rocky hill stretched to a small pier over a rapidly draining lake. That itself, was another story.
I cleared our bags out from the truck as we settled in. My mom presented their latest addition, a nearly completed guest cabin they had been working on. It was perfect for our stay and assuaged concerns of their dog Dayton, a greyhound mix, who was not thrilled at the sight of three unknown dogs invading her territory.
The cabin trip was the closest we had come to “roughing it” in some time. After nine hours on the road, we had entered a new American frontier like something out of James Fenimore Cooper‘s The Last of the Mohicans. There was little to no cell reception, no potable water, and no Publix in sight. The nearest Piggly Wiggly was a thirty-minute drive into town.
The drive hadn’t been perfect. We took a couple of wrong turns. I cursed at Google Maps for leading us astray. A century or two earlier, the trip would have taken months. We might not have even survived. So, I suppose I could cut technology some slack.
We hadn’t entirely accounted for the heat. I even packed a jacket in anticipation of some chilly evenings. Instead, we were immersed in a veritable hotbox second only to Florida. My mom’s windowsill A/C unit worked overtime the next few days, providing us comfort from the merciless outdoors.
That evening, we lit fireworks on the lake amid neighboring homes in celebration. The quality time with my family was everything I had hoped for. I gave up taking pictures of the fireworks due to the impossibility of capturing anything that wasn’t an abstract, blurry mess. Instead, I opted for video.
Living off the grid had its benefits and perils. How could I share such moments with my small group of followers on social media? How long could they wait?
Legends of the Fall
The following day, we ventured to Burgess Falls, a local hotspot featuring awe-inspiring waterfalls from grand heights. The twisting, narrow roads toward the park required intense focus while driving.
We hiked upward trails amid rushing water toward a platform overlooking the falls. We witnessed natural beauty beyond what we were regularly accustomed to in Central Florida outside our world-famous beaches. Around this time, I also started getting hungry.
The voyage home was decidedly different from our trip there. Instead of bright blue skies, we endured heavy rain, gridlocked traffic, and near hopelessness toward our eventual return. We did manage a quick visit to my brother and his family in Hoschton, GA. By the end, I just wished we had more time.
There’s never enough time for anything, but I know that the trips we take and the people we see are worth every moment, large or small.
Shawn McKee 
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