It’s Thursday morning and we are the only people in the only open campground on the North Carolina side of Great Smoky Mountains National Park boundaries. It is a cool feeling, not another soul around. Last night we saw a ranger drive through, but before and after that it’s been entirely our place.
Might have something to do with the fact that it’s been raining for two days and is forecast to continue raining for at least another week. Might be because they had the north/south road through the park closed yesterday due to a high wind advisory. Might just be because we’re lucky.
Yesterday evening it started pouring as I was out getting the RV up on the leveling blocks, and it doubled-down as I walked over to leave payment for our site into the envelope drop. Rain was cascading off me. Off the leather hat that kept my face dry, off the jacket that kept (most of) the rest of me dry, and running away in rivulets on the ground.
I think my typical reaction to this may have been frustration, but last night the solitude of the place, the feeling of sole residency and an imagined primacy of discovery, gave me a very contented feeling. I even opted to walk around and explore a little, in the rain, before heading back to to RV. I was wet already, after all.
Oh, and, no cellular, either. Rock on.